Until Then (The Blue Collar Boys #1)

23. Luke

23

Luke

S taring down at my phone, relief floods through me seeing Greer’s texts. Ever since the other night, she’s been giving me one-word responses, if she even bothered to respond at all. Not necessarily the reaction I was expecting after almost making love.

Never in my life has working felt like torture. I was slated to work a forty-eight to cover for a shift-trade I need soon, so I couldn’t exactly cancel it. It was an unusually slow two days, which made staring at my phone, anticipating Greer’s texts, that much easier.

My relief walks through the bay doors, and without a goodbye, I all but run to my truck. I’ve got plans for me and my girl today. Ain’t nothing going to get in my way.

“Hey, Luke.” Groaning at the sound of that voice, I turn to find Sadie walking up to my truck. I can’t help the eye roll when I notice the very un-Sadie-like outfit she’s wearing. I bury down the laugh threatening to escape at her poor attempt to dress more like Greer—deep brunette hair piled high on her head in a messy bun and sporting an oversized T-shirt.

Early morning sun beats down on the asphalt. My shirt is damp with sweat and sticking to my skin. Shoving things into my backseat, I double-check my fishing gear is all accounted for. All I want to do is get home to Greer; maybe if I ignore her enough she’ll leave.

“Hey, Luke” she says again, leaning against my truck.

“Hey, Sadie,” I respond curtly, breathing deep to push down my growing annoyance.

“I was hoping maybe you could stop by my house and look at my water heater.” She steps near enough to place her hand on the outside of my elbow. I jerk away from her, my body outright rejecting her physical touch. She balks at my reaction.

“Wish I could, but I’ve got plans already.”

“Oh? What plans?”

“None that concern you.”

Her face hardens at my gruff response. “It’ll only take a few minutes. I promise.”

And here it is, another realization that I’ve done this to my own goddamn self. I knew I shouldn’t have helped her with her car twice, knew she would take my assistance as me opening the door between us again. I’ve lost count how many times Hunter warned me not to allow my time to become inconsequential to the needs of others. And yet, as I stand here, looking back at Sadie’s expectant face, it all comes full circle. I have no one to blame but myself.

“Sadie,” I soften my tone, “I know you’re used to coming to me whenever you need help, and I’ve always been willing to drop whatever I was doing whenever you—or hell, anyone in this town—need me, but I can’t do it anymore.”

“Can’t or won’t?” She steps back, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her shorts.

“Can’t. My time is important too. For so long, I’ve allowed it to become less so, always allowing someone to pull me from whatever I have planned or what I wanted.”

“This is about her, isn’t it?” Sadie’s voice is soft, almost ashamed to ask.

Shaking my head back and forth, I say, “It’s about me. For once in my life, I’m telling someone no when they need help. I’ve already made plans, so I can’t come by right now. If it’s an emergency, call the plumber, okay?”

“I’ve seen you two together a lot,” she says.

I nod, having already guessed she’d done some recon based on her sudden change in style.

“You seem happy.”

“Happiest I’ve ever been,” I say, even though I know my words might hurt.

Sadie’s smile falls a fraction, but she recovers quickly. “I’m happy for you, Luke.” She nods her head and continues down the sidewalk.

I know it’s the last time I’ll hear from her, and I’m glad for it.

The engine roars to life as I look back at Greer’s last text. There are some things I think we should talk about. No other phrase in the world could be as anxiety-inducing as this one. I know we have a lot to talk about.

But I’ll face it all because I love her.

I’ve known it since the Fourth, laying with her while fireworks exploded above us. I know she doesn’t realize it and, hell, may not even be ready to hear it, but Greer has completely captured my heart, and I have no plans on taking it back.

Call it lust, call it hormones, but we got ahead of ourselves the other night. I should've known better than to keep going. In that moment, I couldn’t hear or see anything other than the woman I love begging for me. For us.

The fear in her eyes when she’d jolted away from me, breaking the spell we were under, the tears falling from her eyes? That nearly broke me. She can say what she likes, but I know Greer has a few things locked away in that heart of hers still. It’s time for a little nature therapy. It’s time to lay it all out on the line.

Pulling into my driveway, I notice Navy and Sutton pulling away from Greer's house.

Sutton rolls down the window. “Hey, big bro.”

“Hey, sis. Hi, Navy.” I walk to where they’re waiting in the middle of the street.

“Luke,” Navy begins, “that woman in there is a whole storm of emotions currently, so be gentle. But make her talk to you. “

“Exactly.” Sutton grabs Navy’s shoulder. “Luke, I don’t think she’s realized it yet, but she loves you. She’s also scared and confused. Help her make sense of the mess in her mind, okay?”

“I plan on it.” I wave as they drive away.

I turn back to my house and hustle inside for a quick shower and change of clothes. Dipping into the garage, I grab my hiking pack and shove food and supplies inside. I make one last stop to grab my fishing gear from the back of my truck before going to get my girl.

As if sensing I’m home, she meets me halfway between our houses, right at our usual spot.

“Hi,” she says with downcast eyes.

“None of that.” I tilt her chin, so I can see her eyes and kiss those lips. “Whatever is going through that mind of yours, it’ll be okay. It’s just us.” My shoulders relax when she smiles. “Let’s grab your bag and get Duke. We’ve got a little bit of a hike ahead of us.”

“Say what now? Did you just say hike?” Her smile wanes.

“Sure did,” I say, heading toward her patio.

“And where are we hiking to?”

Stopping, I turn and point to the preserve behind our house. At this, she bites her lip, attempting to hide her excitement.

“For real life?”

“I’ve been saying all summer I’d take you fishing, and today seems like a perfect day for it.” Her back door is open, so I grab her backpack and attach Duke’s leash. She’s still standing in the middle of the yard. With a quick assessment, I see she’s dressed appropriately for our outing. I’ll have to thank Sutton for that.

“Here, let’s get this backpack on and make sure it’s snug.” Making a spinning gesture with my open hand, Greer turns and puts her arms back like a child. “You good?”

She nods her head, but then follows up with, “I’m good. I thought maybe you’d still be mad at me.”

I spin her to face me and grasp her hands. “No reason to be mad. I’ll say it again: whatever is running through that mind of yours, it’s going to be okay.”

She leans up and presses her lips to mine. They’re soft, and I distinctly taste a bit of frosting.

“Did you pack any of that frosting?” I ask even though I know she’s got some baked good squirreled away from all the stress baking she’s done.

Her deep belly laugh soothes my frazzled heart. “What gave me away?”

“You taste like frosting. So, did you?”

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, how is it that you know me so well?”

“Because you’re the other half of my soul.” The words fly out before I can stop them. We pause, eyes and hearts locked. I smile softly before saying, “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, we walk into the preserve using the hidden trail just beyond her favorite spot. Her steps are tentative, eyes never leaving the ground in front of her. She gives little grunts of frustration every now and then as we gain elevation. It’s clear she’s not much of an outdoors woman. All around us the preserve is coming alive with the rustling of animals and morning twittering of birds. Wildflowers are in full bloom all around. Duke tugs on the leash, so I kneel down and unhook him. He immediately runs down the path before coming back toward us to take up the lead position.

“So,” she says casually, “about the other night.” She picks up a large branch, inspecting it carefully before deciding to use it as a walking stick.

“What about it?”

“Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

I’ve thought of nothing else the last two days. Even going so far as to get advice from Hunter, which was surprisingly helpful. If you love her, talk to her about it. Don’t let this shit fester.

“I do,” I finally answer.

She slows her pace to walk by my side. Peeking from under her ball cap, she says, “I haven’t been truthful with you.”

My stomach plummets to my feet. “What do you mean?”

“I have a storage unit.”

“Okay? Like for dead bodies or something?”

“Not real ones.” She laughs.

“You’ve lost me, G.”

She reaches out with her open hand and places it into mine. I squeeze, hoping to give her a boost of confidence. We continue forward along the path.

“After Brian died, I moved in with my parents. What most people don’t know is they also moved all our stuff into a storage unit. I couldn’t”—she pauses, swallowing hard—“I couldn’t be around our things. And . . . well, they’ve been locked away in that unit ever since.”

Understanding trickles in. She’s done a great job looking the part of a woman who’s moving forward, but it sounds like maybe she might finally be ready to face a crucial part of her journey, parting ways with the physical objects from her old life.

“What does this have to do with the other night?”

She pauses and faces me fully. Tugging my hand, she leads us over to sit on some nearby boulders.

“I think in order for me to give you my heart completely, I have to take care of the physical elements of my life with Brian. I’m almost me again, and I think this is the last piece.”

My heart aches for how hard this must be for her. She reaches for me and links her fingers with mine. There’s a sudden stillness in the air as sunlight filters through the branches.

“I was wondering, if maybe you could help me?”

At first, I’m stunned. She wants me to be part of this intimate moment with her? Doesn’t she want to do this with her parents or even her friends? Why me?

“Because”—she starts to reply but stops herself—“aren’t you supposed to be taking me fishing?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” I pull her up. It’s important to me that she finally feels ready to discuss this with me, but I’m okay giving her a few more minutes to gather her thoughts.

Almost forty-five minutes later, we come to an opening in the trees. Glittering before us is a small lake. The sun is just nearing its pinnacle, and the water’s surface has taken on a glassy sheen. Greer stops to my left and wipes sweat from her brow. Buffeted by forest, this lake is tucked far enough away into the preserve that most anglers don’t venture here.

We continue in silence toward a shady spot on the western bank. It’s my usual spot for when I stay overnight because it has a flat area above the shore for laying out sleeping bags, a small fire pit, and easy water access. Duke runs ahead through the water before taking refuge in the shade. Greer sets her bag against a stump and sits to pull off her shoes and socks. She wiggles and stretches her toes. I smile.

Greer isn't like the other women I’ve spent time with. With them, everything felt forced, each of us intent to fill every moment with meaningless chatter, saying plenty but never truly connecting. Greer is different. Even when we’re surrounded by silence, we speak volumes—reading each other like our favorite books, every glance and breath filled with understanding.

As I’m setting up our fishing poles, Greer walks cautiously toward the shore. She dips her toes in, but sucks in a quick breath at the cold water. It may be summertime, but our lakes and rivers never get all that warm. She studies the water, her feet swinging back and forth, and then takes a few more steps.

“Jesus, this water is cold,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me, her signature grin lighting up her face.

“High altitude tends to do that.”

She rolls her eyes and steps in a little farther, the hem of her cutoff shorts dips into the water. Giggling, she dips her hands into the water and swishes them from side to side. I can't take my eyes off of her, captivated by watching her experience something for the first time. She’s in her own world, and I’m the lucky bastard that gets to watch.

“You going swimming, sweetheart?” I ask, not taking my eyes off her even as I continue preparing our fishing poles.

“Could I?”

I set down the poles, remove my boots and socks, and stand to unbutton my jeans.

“What are you doing, mister?”

“Well, I didn’t bring any swim trunks, and I’d rather not wear wet jeans all day.” I wink at her and shimmy out of my jeans.

A slight breeze cools my heated skin, and pinpricks move from my feet up my legs, making my skin break out in chill bumps. The water passes my knees as I ease in farther, until I’m mid-thigh. Reaching over my head, I pull my shirt off, leaving me in nothing but my briefs.

“You coming?” I toss my shirt toward the shore, then dive under the water.

At first, my lungs seize, and I think they might explode, but as I surface, the sun’s heat makes the water more refreshing. Greer’s got her eyebrows scrunched together, and I know she’s debating diving in. She grumbles something, nods, and slips her shorts down her legs, tossing them toward our stuff. She takes off her tank next, leaving her standing in only a bra and underwear.

“Are those strawberries on your undies?”

Her cheeks blush cherry-red as she glances down at her undergarments—a matching yellow set covered in tiny, red strawberries. When she looks up, her smile sends my heart spinning.

“Yes, yes they are.” She straightens her shoulders and braces herself before swan diving into the water. A few seconds later, she surfaces, sputtering water. “Holy shit, that’s cold.”

“You’ll get used to it.” I float backward farther into the lake.

“Oh yes, I am sure my nipples will thaw out in twenty to thirty years or so.”

“I could help them thaw out faster if you’d like me to,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

She rolls her eyes, then dips back under the water before coming to float on her back near me.

“How did you find this place?”

“Hunter and I found it not long after I moved in. There are a few hidden lakes back here, but this one is my favorite.”

“Hunter’s a good guy,” she says almost to herself.

Approaching slowly, I swim next to her as she continues floating on her back.

“He really is. If only my sister could see that. Our lives would be much easier.”

“Mmmm,” she says, turning her head toward me. Water drops glisten on her eyelashes. “I think she knows it. She’s just scared to do something about it.”

“Could be.” My hands caress her back under the water.

“You scare me,” she whispers.

“Why do I scare you?” Confusion leeches from each word. In my whole life, I’ve never had anyone say I scare them. Intense, yes, but I’m usually easy-going.

“Because of how much you make me feel.” She rolls over in the water and swims a few feet away. I follow, drawn to her like a fish to a lure.

Greer turns swiftly, startling when she finds me so close. My hands skim her waist as I pull her to me. She wraps her legs around me and interlaces her hands over my shoulders.

“Is what you feel a bad thing?”

She shakes her head no, but then says, “No, it’s not bad. I used to feel guilty for it. In the beginning. But now I think it scares me because I never thought I’d feel this way again.”

"And how do you feel?" Her lips hover centimeters from mine, and I can't help but pray she closes the distance.

“Like I’m falling for you.” She presses her cold lips against mine. “Now, didn’t you say something about fishing?”

Pulling her to me, I kiss her on the tip of her nose and walk us to shore. I take our poles and place some power bait on each.

“Alright, ask any angler and they’ll tell you fishing is all about the cast.” I laugh at her befuddled face. “Don’t worry, it’s easy.”

I am, in fact, wrong. Minutes later, I find out casting is not as easy as I thought. Especially not for Greer.

“It’s all in the wrist,” I say. “Keep a bit of tension, and as you come forward, release your finger. Got it?”

Greer nods and watches me model a few more times. She takes her pole, prepares to cast, and then proceeds to release the whole damn thing into the lake. “Oh, shit!” she yells, splashing through the water to retrieve her pole. “That is not what I was supposed to do, was it?”

“I mean, beating the fish over the head by tossing your pole at them is one way to do it.” My body rumbles with laughter when she smacks me in the chest. I reach to take the pole from her to show her the proper technique again, but she swats my hands away.

“I got it.”

I hold my hands up in mock surrender. She prepares to cast again, so I step back. This time the hook gets stuck on a nearby tree branch.

“Goddamn it,” she says, stomping over to untangle her line. Her strawberry-covered ass sways back and forth. My mouth waters watching her sexy, muscular thighs jiggle.

This goes on for several more attempts. So many, in fact, that I take a seat on a nearby boulder to watch the show. After the tree, it gets stuck between rocks, on her discarded shirt, on my boot, and even me.

“Oh my god!” she says, rushing over to see where her hook embedded itself in my arm. “It looks so easy when others do it. I didn’t think I would suck this bad.”

“Would you like some help?” I ask as I remove the hook from where it’s barely stuck in my arm.

She shakes her head no and returns to her pole. It’s been a learning curve, allowing Greer to figure things out on her own, realizing all she needs from me is me. My hands feel empty with nothing to do, so I move a few steps away, take up my own reel, and cast out.

“Show off,” she says. I shrug.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her talk to herself, working through each point I gave her. Then, she walks to the edge of the water. Her feet are submerged in mud. She settles, brings her arm back, places the reel in perfect position, and brings the line forward smoothly. It zips through the air before making a plop as it breaks the surface of the water.

In true Greer form, there aren’t any squeals of delight. She just gives me a cute smile and a thumbs-up. I swallow past the lump in my throat. This woman.

“Wow,” she says hours later. “Who would have thought I’d be a better fisherman than you?”

“Beginner’s luck,” I mumble. Only I could take a woman who’s never done anything remotely outdoorsy fishing, and she’d out fish the hell out of me. “Now, it's time for the real work to begin—time to learn to gut ’em.”

“Um, no. Nope, I am not doing that.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts together. Her skin glows pink from the afternoon sun. It’s only now I realize neither of us bothered to put clothes back on.

“What are you laughing at?” she asks.

Gesturing to her body and mine, I say, “I’ve never actually been fishing in my skivvies before. It’s no wonder they liked you more than me.”

Greer looks down at her body before planting her hands on her hips, grinning ear to ear. Her gaze is hot on my back as I squat down near the water’s edge. We’re both quiet as I prepare the fish for dinner. I’m so focused I don’t notice she’s approached until her warm hands smooth over my shoulders. She squats down behind me, her legs bracket mine, and the smooth skin of her inner thighs brush against my waist.

“Be good,” I say as her hands continue to caress my shoulders and arms. This wasn’t why I brought her out here.

“I really like you, Luke,” she whispers against my skin. She slides her hands around my chest and hugs me to her. “Thank you for today and for teaching me to fish.”

“You’re welcome.” I bend my head enough to kiss her arm. “Now, get dressed, and I’ll teach you how to start a fire.”

“Great!”

Night settles quickly around us. Dinner was a success. Greer’s prattled on and on most of the evening. I remember when I first met Greer, how shy she was, often getting caught up in her mind so much that her words would get stuck or they’d come tumbling out. It’s hard to believe how much she’s changed, hell, how much I’ve changed, over the course of a summer.

I pull her legs into my lap and knead her feet and calves. The ridges of her scars are soft beneath my fingers.

“How did you do it?” I ask.

“Do what?” she asks.

“Come out the other side?”

“I’m not sure exactly. In the beginning, there were times I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” She looks up, gauging my reaction at her confession. My eyes lock on hers, heart aching as I imagine the pain she felt. “But then,” she says, “I found Muriel and that helped. To be honest, I spent most of the last year in automatic mode, doing what I needed to do to get from one minute to the next. There’s no way to prepare for the grief Death leaves behind, no way to know how much it fucking sucks, no way to prepare for all things you have to do alone now. Hell, I barely made it through the holidays. Brian was a Christmas fanatic. It was brutal trying to pretend to have Christmas cheer. All I wanted to do was talk about Brian while simultaneously trying to forget him. It was hard, talking about him, but I was afraid if I didn’t, I’d forget him.” She pulls her feet from my lap, crosses them over the other, and scoots closer to me.

“Love, I’m too big to be sitting criss-cross applesauce.”

“The fact you know that phrase.” She giggles, pulling my hands into her lap. “Earlier, you asked why me? ”

“I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud.”

“Never, over the course of the last year, did I ever think I would feel this again.” She presses our hands over her heart. “You’ve helped me realize I’m not as lost or hopeless as I once thought. You’ve never shied away from my grief or made me hide it.”

“Never,” I say firmly. “Losing my dad shook my entire family. Watching my mom grieve was, and is, very difficult. I can’t know what it was like for her, or you, to lose the man you love. There are days I wonder why my mom hasn’t found someone else, but now being with you? I can’t imagine losing this, losing you.”

“It’s not something I ever imagined being, a widow. But that’s Life, beautiful and unpredictable. My life didn’t end that night, and I know”—she looks into my soul—“I still have so much life left to live.”

“Are you sure you really want my help with your storage unit? I don't want to overstep again.”

Settling one hand over mine, she brings her other to cup the side of my face. “I know I can do this part on my own, but I don’t want to. Luke, you make me feel strong. You make me incandescently happy. I’m ready to start fully living my life again. With you.”

Later, we snuggle into our sleeping bags. The night sky comes to life above us, stars peeking out from behind paper-thin clouds. We lie there, hand in hand, both of us lost in thought.

“Greer?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’d be honored to help you.”