Twenty. Heaven in Hiding
TWENTY
Heaven in Hiding
Maren
November 18, 2024
Maren Laughlin,
I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to inform you of an opening at Grand Canyon National Park (South Rim) for the position of EDUCATIONAL PROGRAM DEVELOPMENT. We came across your résumé and thought your experience and educational background would be a good fit.
Below is a description of the position and general overview of salary and benefits for the position. The position will remain open until January 1, 2025, and applications will be accepted until that time. Thank you for your consideration. We look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Madeline McEwan
Human Resources and Recruitment
National Parks
*** Attachment***
I skim the attachment, barely taking it in outside of recognizing that I am qualified and that a month ago I would have been interested. Okay, maybe two months ago. Who am I kidding? Three months ago. In that short space of time between puking on Shane’s shoes and seeing Joe on the shore in front of Fost’s place.
So basically the car ride from Michigan up, over, and across to Wisconsin.
I close out, but don’t delete the email. Despite my lack of interest and promising Joe I’ll stay for the rest of the year, my brother’s warning still echoes. I mean, what even am I to Joe? Really? Because right now, I know deep down that if I left, I’d be breaking my own heart. And I might be breaking his kids’ hearts, but kids are resilient. They have short memories.
But what I can’t figure out is how it would affect Joe. Would it break his heart? Is his heart even on the table? When he asked me to stay, I didn’t press him for answers. I could tell, instinctively, he wasn’t ready to give them, and anyway, I was too much of a coward to hear them.
But it’s been nearly a month and I’m not sure I should settle for anything less than that.
Well. Okay, I might be tempted to settle for sex if it was on the table. The man is driving me wild with his forearms dusted in golden-blond hair, his wide, warm, calloused palms, the flash of his dimple when he’s laughing at something I’ve said.
(I am so aware of how that sounds. I’m not saying I would settle for it. Just that I’d be very tempted. If I can’t have it all, couldn’t I just maybe have some?)
My phone buzzes on the glossy bartop beside me with a text, so I close my laptop and put it away to think about another day.
Liam: HEARD YOU’RE STAYING UP THERE FOR THANKSGIVING.
I snort at the all-caps message. My brother isn’t that old. After all, he’s the same age as Joe, but in texting years, he’s basically a baby boomer. I’m convinced it’s because his kids are tweens. Something about having middle-schoolers ages you extra.
Maren: Yep. I thought I told you?
Liam: I DON’T REMEMBER.
Liam: DONNA AND SIMON INVITED US ALL UP FOR THANKSGIVING. MOM AND DAD TOOK THEM UP ON IT.
I blink at the message, my stomach sinking. Oh god. My parents are coming here. In less than a week. Gray dots appear on my screen.
Liam: JESS AND I ARE brINGING THE KIDS UP TOO.
I swallow back my growing dread, my fingers hovering over the keys to say… what? It’s not like I can just not respond now that he knows I have my phone with me.
Maren: You are?
There. That was neutral. My parents and my oldest brother and his wife and his kids. All of them. Here. In less than a week.
Liam: WELL YEAH. MIGHT AS WELL. TWO OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE IN THE SAME PLACE.
I can feel my heartbeat in my throat and immediately feel guilty for my reaction. This is my family. I love them. I can’t wait to see my nieces and nephews. And my mom and dad. And sure, Liam. At least Jess is coming. I love my sister-in-law. She makes me feel less insane in a house full of big brothers.
But I was looking forward to a quiet holiday with Joe and the kids. And I’ll have to explain about my brother’s warning to Joe. Which will either irritate him or turn him off. We’re never going to have sex at this rate.
Maren: Awesome! Can’t wait to see you!
I flip my phone over and ignore the buzzing of my brother’s response, dropping my head into my hands with a groan.
“Bad news?”
Speak of the devil.
I whimper, thudding my head on the bar.
“It can’t be that bad.”
I straighten, huffing my bangs off my forehead. “My parents and Liam and his entire family are coming up next week for Thanksgiving. Your parents invited them.”
Joe blinks, frozen. Eventually, he thaws enough to say, “I see.”
“And I should probably tell you now, Liam warned me away from you last month and actually like two months before that, when he was up here. So, well before you asked me to stay. Obviously, I ignored his advice.”
Joe’s expression darkens and his blond brows crush together. “He did what ?”
I continue. “I don’t know, Joe. Was this”—I gesture between us—“a bad idea? Is it even worth it? I’ve been trying to be patient and let you work out whatever you need to work out. Like, I realize you’re divorced and a veteran and Lucy is autistic and Anders has mom issues and your ex is…” I trail off, coming up empty, before deciding on, “Whatever. That’s a lot, but I don’t feel like it’s too much. I swear. I can handle it. If you want me to, that is.”
“I do want—”
I cut him off, because I don’t want to lose my courage to see this through. “I want to sleep with you.” He closes his mouth with an audible snap, his jaw muscle ticking, and I press on, unsure of what is transpiring behind his determined blue eyes. “I mean, not just sleep with you. I don’t only want that, though if that’s all you can offer, I’d probably consider it, but I do want more than that.” I exhale, exasperated. “What I mean is, I’m not just here to help with your kids. Though I love your kids and want to help with them. But I also like you. Granted, we still need to get to know each other, but I am very interested in you. And also very attracted to you. Are you interested in me? In that way?” By the end, my voice has climbed to near-squeaking proportions. Very uncool, not-at-all-confident-sounding squeaking. My beauty pageant vocal coach would die at this shameful display.
I hold my breath, feeling my heart thud in my ears and my stomach clench. He doesn’t respond right away, and I’m just about to take it all back when he reaches across the bar and grips my chin between his thumb and fingers and tugs me closer, immediately sealing his soft, pliable mouth over mine. Holding my breath for so long has me parting my lips in a gasp and he takes that opportunity to thrust his tongue in my mouth, kissing me long and luscious and deep. His fingers move from my chin to the back of my neck and twist in my hair and I’m practically standing from my stool to get closer to him. After a while—a long while—he releases me, pressing his forehead to mine, slightly out of breath.
His voice is rusty with emotion. “I am very interested in that way. In all the ways, Maren.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my eyes searching for the truth between his.
“I’m so interested,” he presses meaning into the word, “I can barely sleep. I can barely eat. I put my shirt on backward yesterday and wore it that way until my mom noticed. I…” He swallows, hesitating. “I jack off more than a teenager, thinking of your mouth. Your body. The way you smile at me across a room. The way your hair smells.” He releases me and steps back but is still close enough for me to hear his low words. “Yeah, I love how you treat my kids and, make no mistake, you’ve been a lifesaver these past few months. But that’s not why I asked you to stay. I asked you to stay for me . It feels selfish and I know you could be anywhere doing anything, but I want you here, with me.”
I sink back in my stool and grip the edge of the bar to keep from slipping to the floor and quirk a smile. “Soooooo, you’re telling me you’re interested.”
He chuckles deep and the sound skitters across my skin like a live wire, setting my hormones into overdrive. “I’m telling you I’m interested.”
“Well, in that case, I’m gonna let you tell my brother.”
“Or, counteroffer, we don’t tell your brother until after Thanksgiving and he’s back in Michigan. We’ll play it cool around our families, just as we’ve been doing.”
I frown. “Does this mean we have to wait until then to have sex, too?”
He looks up at the clock on the wall and shakes his head. “Fuck no. We’re closed. Give me ten and I’ll walk you home.”
A giddy little zing darts between my legs. “In that case, I accept your conditions.”