Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
OUR GIRL.
Sterling
There’s never been any awkwardness between me and Dash. Why would there be? Two grown men aren’t, without reason, unseasonably uncomfortable around one another. That in itself would be strange.
But tonight, the cab of my truck seems to be fucking shrinking. Did he take a bath in fucking cologne? And how in the world do I somehow smell Juniper, too?
I stroke my fist down the length of my sternum, hoping to physically alleviate some of the tightening and discomfort.
I didn’t even feel awkward in front of Dash when I got the call that my pop passed away. I cried, and we embraced, and the next day, he was belching over the grill and I was cursing when I stubbed my big toe on a case of bottled water on the floor.
I gotta stop thinking about last night.
And probably, at some point, jerk off.
“You okay?” Dash questions from his spot in the passenger seat. I hook my finger in the lever, sending the window down, allowing a warm breeze to fill the cab, and the space between us. In through my nose, I take a deep breath, and twist my gaze to meet his as I turn my truck toward Main Street.
Dash crouched at Juniper’s feet, his hands woven tightly with hers, draped over her knees—why that flashes through my mind, I don’t know. Maybe the universe is egging me on. I clear my throat, drumming my thumb along the leather ribbing on my steering wheel as I ask, “Could you see yourself dating Juni?”
There’s silence, but for the clinking of my keys against the dash as we sail over a small bump midtown. A fist smacks the center of my bicep, and I twist slightly in my seat to peer over at him.
He’s twisted, too, with his back pressed against the window, his gray eyes pinched on me, one hand holding the dark hair off his face, atop of his head. “Hey,” he says, the word nudging me, as if he knows I’ve started to build a wall around the question.
I glance at the road in time to see the turnoff to the Ellington property, and flick my blinker on. “Hey,” Dash urges again, and when I glance across the cab, he’s no longer holding his hair but his head is tipped to the side quizzically. “Why are you asking that?”
My throat is clear, but I clear it again, palming my mouth in thought. Dash socks me in the shoulder as I drive. “Say something.”
I meet his eyes again. The gray always morphs into shining silver in the fading sunlight. “I was thinking, you two… you make sense.”
It takes everything I have to keep eye contact with him as the words settle between us. I’ve never seen his face take on such a twisted expression. He looks angry, with a tight set jaw, his eyes narrowed. But when he speaks a moment later, he bears the same gentle tone as before. “Can I ask you a question?”
I want to say no, because I’m afraid of what the question might be. As much, I’m fearful of my answer. But this is the talk I set out to have with him a few nights back. It’s time. I dip my head. “Sure.”
With my eyes on the horizon, Juniper’s house comes into view. The porch lights are on, despite the fact it’s dusk. Her van is stashed away in the back, and I wonder if she got picked up by someone and plans to return home late. She doesn’t leave her porch lights on when it’s light. That’s not like her.
“Could you ?” Dash’s two-word question pulls me from my internal inquisition. I face him again as I put my truck in park out front of the Ellington residence.
“Could I what?”
“See yourself in a relationship with Juniper?” he presses, unclipping the seat belt at his hip.
I shrug, every single moment I’ve ever felt self-conscious in my entire life coming back to me, oozing from my skin, leaving me uncomfortable, red and soon, sweaty. All the times I was told I was cute but too heavy, that I’d be a catch if I didn’t work at a garbage “factory” (that’s not even a real thing), or the countless times I was told I’d be handsome… without the extra weight. I haven’t dated a lot, but I’ve dated enough to have experienced every single one of my insecurities validated by a stranger. Reinforced, too. And for whatever reason, with such a simple question hanging between us and Dash’s handsome focus set on me, I’ve never been so uncomfortable before.
“Juniper doesn’t want a guy like?—”
Dash socks me in the center of my bicep again, same spot, only this time, harder. I don’t make a move to rub the spot, only let the dull pain radiate through me before it fades away. “Don’t tell me what she wants because you’re not her. Just answer my question. Can you see yourself in a relationship with Juniper?”
I don’t need to think about it. I don’t need to close my eyes and try to picture it. I do it daily. Nightly. Have done it for years. What I need to do is answer him, and sit in the cringe until it passes.
“Yes.”
Silence fills in the cab around us. My cheeks burn and I’m happy that the sun has now sloped off, leaving a persimmon sky glittering along the flat horizon of Bluebell. It’s beautiful, even amidst this discomfort. I glance over at Juniper’s house, taking in the small potted plants on the front porch and the hand-painted sign that reads “We’re already disturbed. PLEASE COME IN.” Next to the mat are two racks of empty jars, unlabeled, no doubt delivered to Juni for her jam. Without warning, a laugh erupts from me, short but hearty.
“What’s so funny?” Dash asks.
I unclip my seat belt and twist the key, killing the engine. “Just… saying that out loud. That I can see myself with Juni.” Pushing the door open, I drop one leg out and look at Dash, hoping my cheeks are no longer red. Damn fair skin. I can’t get embarrassed or cringed out without the world knowing.
“What?” Dash questions, a line carved between his eyes as he pushes his door open.
I blink at him. “Nothing—never mind.” I get out, leaving the keys in the killed ignition, and shut the door. Dash behind me, we leave the conversation there as we make our way up the porch, and I knock on the door.
No answer.
Dash pulls his phone out, checking the Find Friends app again. He checked twice on the way over, and both times, it showed Juniper here. At her house.
“I’ll call,” he says, hitting the phone icon next to her name. I catch sight of her profile photo in his phone—and it’s one where she’s sandwiched between us, all three of our faces pressed together in glee. I remember taking the selfie. I’m the biggest, my arm is the longest, therefore, I’m the photo guy. We were riding a slingshot ride at the Bluebell fair. That photo was moments before we were shot into the air, laughing and screaming.
He could have chosen a photo of just her, or the two of them. I try not to search for meaning in that fact.
“No answer,” he says after the phone rings loudly several times, Juniper’s automated voicemail system eventually picking up.
Before he locks his phone, I glance at the Find Friends app, noticing that Juniper’s blue orb is at the Ellington property, but not quite over the house. I reach over and tap his screen. “How accurate is it usually?”
Dash brings the phone closer to his face, using two fingers to zoom into the property. A moment later he looks at me. “Shit. You’re right. She’s here, but not in the house.”
We take the porch steps two by two and round the side of the house, looking off into the darkening pasture. Dash holds his phone up as a beacon of knowledge amidst the confusion and nightfall.
I point toward the horizon, near where the ravine drops off to the creek. “That way. I don’t think she’d get in the creek at this hour, the water’s gotta be cold as hell. But…” I glance at the blue dot, which seems to be somewhere past the creek. “Let’s start that way.”
Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I turn on my built-in flashlight, and kick up the brightness to max. With my focus on the ground, we trudge forward in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. I think right now we’re both wondering what’s going on with our girl.
Our girl. I don’t know why I called her that. I mean, she’s our girl that is a friend. Our girlfriend.
Err.
We’re all close. Best friends, the three of us. That’s the best and only way I’d describe it.
Somehow saying our girl makes my groin tight and my mind spin.
“You okay?” Dash asks, causing me to look his way as we trudge through the pasture, dirt hanging in clouds all around us as we move.
“Fine, why?” I question, feeling self-conscious now of even my thoughts. The way his eyes bore into me, the softness of his tone—I’m starting to wonder if he’s reading my damn mind.
“You look…” he trails off, but his focus remains on me for a second before he faces the horizon again. I take in his profile, something I’ve done plenty before. When you live with someone, you see all sides and forms of them. But with the sun nearly gone, only traces of daylight licking at his features, a funny feeling bounces through me. “Uncomfortable,” he finishes, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist.
We stop as Dash checks the Find Friends app one more time. We’re nearing the edge of the ravine, and after we head down, it’s the creek, then more land. Juniper’s dot lingers in that extra land somewhere.
I tap his screen. “I think we cross the creek at the bridge, and move to the end of her property line. That seems to be where she’s at.”
Dash nods, the screen illuminating his end-of-day scruff and the concern lining his eyes. He faces me. “So why are you uncomfortable?”
I start down the edge of the ravine, moving slowly to keep my phone light aimed on the earth. “I’m traipsing through a field at night. How should I look?” I let out a grunt as I miss my footing, sliding down the last two feet of jagged soil until I’m at the bottom. Dash follows suit, slightly out of breath as he dusts his hands against his thighs.
“ Fine .”
He walks on, toward the small bridge about twenty feet from where we are. I think Hudson built this for his son, but I can’t be certain.
My brain catches on his response, so I quicken my pace to catch back up with him. “What do you mean fine ?”
Dash stops, his eyes set on mine, the cool puff of his air suspended between us. The scent of beer and toothpaste lingers, and my heart beats a little faster, for reasons unknown. “Ha,” he breathes, anger straddling his normally chill tone. “I said fine because I mean fine. Fine as in, you want to hide behind some excuse and not tell me what’s up, then fine. Fine is all you get.” He trudges onto the bridge, the rickety thing wobbling and shaking as I get on behind him.
“I’m not—” Fuck. My boot slips through an open spot, causing me to reach for the rope rail, losing grip on my phone. I use my free hand to keep my shirt from rising as I flounder, and in turn, my phone plummets to the wooden slat beneath my foot, and Dash turns, scooping it up before it falls into the dark water below.
He presses it against my chest. “Here. If you weren’t so worried about your shirt, you could’ve caught it yourself.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, taking it carefully, ignoring his comment about my habit. He’s been fit his whole life, he doesn’t have to worry about the rise of his shirt making him sweat. We continue on the bridge in silence, and once we’re off, I don’t know what gets into me. I grab him by the shoulder and stop him in his tracks.
“What?” he breathes, his nostrils flared, a lot of unearthed things clawing their way invisibly to the surface the longer we stand here.
My throat goes dry. My heart beats so quickly, I get dizzy for a moment. “Ch-check the app again,” I say finally, because that's all I can say. Saying more would be dangerous, and stupid.
He sighs, dragging the phone from his pocket. Whatever weird tangle we were just in all but evaporates when his eyes come to mine again. He points into the near distance, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Right over there. About fifteen feet if I had to guess.”
Silently, we move toward the blue glowing dot. My boots and Dash’s sneakers are filthy, but something tells me, as we approach something moving on the ground in almost complete darkness, dirty feet are the least of our worries.
A few more paces and we come to a stop, both of us standing over a very sweaty Juniper, crouched down, up to her elbows in the earth, wearing nothing but her bra and panties.
She looks surprised to see us, but doesn’t yelp from shock. Using the back of her wrist, she smears dirt along her forehead as she pushes a stray golden strand back. She blinks up at us, silent, her eyes wide.
“Juniper, what are you doing?” I ask calmly, my eyes veering to the hole in the ground she’s currently packing dirt on top of.
She smiles, white teeth still sparkling, even with the lack of light. “Gardening?”
Something in my chest flexes, possession mixed with the desire to protect. Reaching down, I wrap my hands around the tops of her arms and lift her to her feet. Sweat and dirt are smeared over her velvet skin, and her panties are nearly translucent.
Gardening. After the other night, plus canceling tonight, no fucking way am I buying that she’s out here gardening .
I swallow, readying myself for the truth. Because something tells me, it’s gonna be a doozy.
“I was just… gardening,” she tries again, this time, putting a little smile on her lips as she looks between me and Dash.
“Try again,” I say, now holding her by one arm as I take in her bare body, looking for injuries. Her bad hand is no longer fully wrapped, but now only bandaged. I don’t see any new scrapes. That’s good. Relief softens the hard set of my shoulders with that small discovery. I’m glad she isn't hurt. But I know she’s not gardening.
Juniper chews her bottom lip nervously, her eyes flitting between us. Finally, they come to settle on mine, and in the darkness, the truth comes tumbling out.
“I’m burying the man I killed today.”