Chapter 24
“Shut up. He did not say that to you.”
Curled up in one corner of my couch, I nod miserably and take a big gulp of my coffee. Vi, who is sitting cross legged in the opposite corner, just stares at me, her jaw hanging slack.
“And this is after he kissed the daylights out of you?” she asks, raising her glass of wine to her lips. I groan and let my head fall back against the back cushion of the couch. “What a douche.”
I snort out a laugh, closing my eyes. My sentiments exactly . “Yes. And I’m just the huge dumb idiot that let it happen. I was practically begging for it, Vi.” I let my face fall into my free hand, rubbing my temples with my thumb and middle finger, too embarrassed to look her in the face while I confess all my dirty secrets. “I mean, I know I had just basically freaked out and said I wasn’t ready for anything, but dammit, he’s just so nice … I let myself think that just maybe I could try…”
“You’re not an idiot, he is the idiot. And that is not what a nice guy does,” she mutters darkly, shifting in her seat on the couch. She shakes her head and grumbles into her wine about idiot men and their stupid penises . I snort into my coffee .
Hollie and Penny are in Penny’s room playing with Barbie’s, Dalton is in his room playing a video game, and Bea is lounging happily in her bouncy seat on the floor next to us. We’d had to forgo our usual mid-morning playdate for the girls this morning due to heavy rains—good lord did we need it badly—and we’d decided to stay in and drink instead—wine for her, coffee for me, so I can nurse Bea tonight. Scottie is working, but we have plans to have coffee tomorrow morning.
All the guys have been gone since Sunday, called out on another fire. According to Vi, this one is located in Montana and was caused by a lightning strike. The news coverage is sparse and generalized, but it sounds like it’s well contained by the crews on the ground.
Not that I’ve been watching for any particular reason. Other than to check in on my brother, of course.
No, I haven’t been side-eyeing the TV anytime it pops up on the screen for any glimpse of a dark head of hair and bright blue eyes.
“You said you freaked out,” Vi says, turning so she’s sitting facing me fully on the couch.
I shift, angling toward her, too, and nod, my cheeks heating. I’m not proud of what happened. I panicked. And cheated myself out of what felt like could have been a really good orgasm. I’m still mad at myself for that.
Staring down at my hand where it’s resting on my thigh, I spread my fingers wide. I meant what I’d said. “I know I need to take it off,” I whisper. “But it feels so final, Vi. Like taking it off makes it more real. That he’s not coming home and then I have to do the really scary part of moving on.”
“Whether you take it off or leave it on doesn’t change that, though,” she says quietly, gently. I nod again. “That’s the worst part about grieving someone that died. Learning to accept that hard truth. It doesn’t matter how much we want it to be different, it’s not. ”
“I know.” My words are barely a whisper. I’m reminded of what Xander had said that night. “Xander talked about working with your brother.”
Violette nods, a small smile pulling at her mouth. “Yeah, he did. Rowan and Jacob were like this—” she says, twisting her middle finger around her index, “—and they did everything together. He was my twin, but they were like soulmates or something. My dad was a hotshot for years, and Jacob and Rowan always talked about joining together. That’s how I know Xander, actually. His dad was the superintendent, and my dad was a squaddie for years. Our dads, Xander, my brother, Rowan, your brother. They were all on the crew at one point.” I nod, and she twists the wine goblet in her hands. “Rowan doesn’t like to talk about it, and for a long time I didn’t either. They got called out to a fire in Mt. Adams. Jacob went up a ridge to check on their line and fell into an ash pit. He died later due to complications with the burns he’d sustained.”
Tears line my eyelids and blur my vision. I reach out a hand and cover her knee, squeezing tight. “I’m so sorry, Vi.”
She nods, swiping at the tears that are tracking down her own cheeks. “I kept thinking he’d come back, if I waited long enough. If I wished for it hard enough. He’d come home and get to meet Hols, or go out hellraising with Rowan. Show up just to give me shit and one of his squeeze-just-a-little-too-tight hugs.”
I laugh at that, and she grins.
“You’re the only one that will be able to know when it’s the right time to take it off,” she continues gently. “It’s a big step. Don’t rush into it… but don’t be too afraid to let go and possibly miss out on something great.”
I snort a laugh. “I hope you’re not talking about Xander.”
“No, fuck Xander,” she mutters. Then she laughs out loud and winks. “Or, fuck him , if that’s what you want, too. Get some O’s out of it. I’m not here to judge.”
“ Oh my god ,” I laugh, shaking my head. Wrinkling my nose, I mutter, “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. He made it very clear that I’m not the kind of woman he wants. He doesn’t get involved with single moms .”
“Well, he’s an idiot, and I plan to tell him that,” Vi grumbles, reaching over to grab the bottle of wine off the coffee table and topping off her glass. I feel a little better after our talk.
Even if it still stings like a motherfucker.
At first, I was hurt. Then angry. Then really angry. I’d bounced through so many emotions in the last week I’m not really sure where I’ve landed now. Betrayal. Hurt. Raging fury. Disappointment. Shame. Guilt. I’ve been stewing over it in my head since it happened, letting it fester until it feels like a hot coal has been dropped into my chest. So, I needed this. I needed to have someone tell me that my feelings are valid.
I think the one that really stings, though, is the humiliation that just randomly boils up out of nowhere. The way I had so shamelessly thrown myself at the man, practically riding him, grinding my greedy ass onto his erection like a sex-starved hussy… I’d literally begged for it. And look where it had gotten me.
Edged like no ones fucking business and then reminded why dating is such a colossally bad idea for me. Because I’m a widowed, single mom.
And no one wants a widowed mom of three.
Especially not Xander fucking Macomb .
He made that brutally, painfully clear. I sigh, taking another big gulp of my coffee as the humiliation of that night tightens my chest all over again.