Chapter 12 #2
“Yeah.”
She gazes up at me, her eyes filling with a stillness that sends a warning buzz over my skin.
“Get some rest,” I say, and back out of the room.
“We don’t have to stay long,” Meg assures me from the passenger side as I accelerate onto Agate Beach Drive.
“Sure,” I reply with a nonchalance I don’t feel. At least I was able to get out for a run earlier so I won’t come unhinged at this party. I get antsy in crowds, and walls aren’t much better. Maybe there’s a bonfire somewhere on the premises. These are firefighters we’re talking about, after all.
The house is past the high school in one of the older neighborhoods. It’s a two story with a wraparound porch, tidy lawn, and a row of tall spruce and cottonwoods that separate it from the neighbor’s. The driveway’s packed but I find a spot on the street a block down.
It’s another clear, moonless night, the stillness punctuated by a dog barking in the distance and the low rumble of a truck out on the main road.
When I come around to Meg’s side, she’s already opened her door and is bracing off the frame and the seat to slide down to the pavement. It’s probably a good thing she’s getting more independent because every time I lift her up, it gets harder to let her go, and it’s starting to piss me off.
She takes the crutches from me and together we make our way down the cracked sidewalk.
Tonight I’m even more conflicted thanks to her cropped t-shirt and the low-slung jean shorts that together reveal a bare stripe of her tanned torso. I have the urge to give her my jacket, but even that’s a loaded gesture. Meg isn’t mine.
What if she’s here to meet someone tonight?
It would kill me, but maybe it’s the slap of reality I need to stop this unrelenting craving to touch her.
Last night, as I stared up at the stars, I employed every tool in my kit, but the more I tried to forget what her body feels like in my arms or those little sighs I overheard from her bedroom that night weeks ago, the harder I got.
The obvious solution would have been fucking my hand in the shower but the only shower is downstairs and I wasn’t about to risk waking Meg.
So I tried to think of something else. Anything not remotely connected to her.
But it’s like every thread took me straight back.
“I could be your fake date for your dad’s retirement party,” I say.
Where the fuck did that come from?
She shoots me a look but it’s too dark out here to read it. “Oh. You’re serious?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“Gosh, Linden.” She looks awe-struck. “If you really want to.”
I ball my fists then force them to relax. “I’ll get your dad to tell me all of your embarrassing moments.”
She laughs. “Hmm, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
It’s a fucking genius idea. “I don’t drink too much, I know the fox trot and country swing, and if you’re a really good girl, I’ll even pretend kiss you in front of your ex.”
What alien has taken over my mouth?
We’ve entered the glow from the house lights, so the hint of mischief in her expression is plain as day. “If I’m good, huh? What will you do if I’m bad?”
A surge of heat cascades all the way down my spine.
“I’ll add tongue,” I say while all the blood in my arteries diverts straight to my cock.
Laughing, Meg levers herself up the stairs.
“Do we have a deal?” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her.
She traps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Deal.”
When we reach the covered porch, two guys I know from C shift give me a nod from the right side, where one is smoking a cigarette.
On the left side of the porch, rocking gently in a porch swing, a couple are alternating between talking and kissing, his low, sultry tone and her giggle just audible above the din of the party going on inside the house.
I pull the front door open for Meg, and she swings past me.
The main room is packed with bodies. It’s loud with conversation and laughter and music pumping from somewhere.
Though it’s not dark, the lights are definitely low.
To the right is an L-shaped forest-green couch, both sides occupied, and a coffee table is covered with a board game no one is playing as well as a collection of red plastic cups.
To the left is the dining room and a table covered with party food: pizza boxes, bean dip, several bowls of potato chips, crackers and a veggie platter.
Stacks of napkins and soda cans are wedged in between everything.
All around the table, partygoers are snacking and talking, laughing, drinking.
I recognize a couple of mechanics from Finn River Ranch with their wives and girlfriends.
One of them, Sawyer Reed, glances up and gives me a welcoming nod.
I try to smile but it feels tight. It’s too loud in here.
A tall woman with auburn hair swept into a loose knot and wearing a silver nose ring weaves toward us from the kitchen. She wraps her arms around Meg and squeezes.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asks when she steps back, concern in her eyes.
“Better,” Meg says over the noise just as the woman turns to me. “Annaleise, this is Linden.”
She narrows her brown eyes and points at my chest. “You never returned my calls.”
Meg’s curious gaze flicks from me to Annaleise.
“Uh, hello!” Annaleise sings at me. “You’re the hero of Meg’s rattlesnake bite story and you couldn’t even throw me one measly quote?” She scoffs.
That’s who’s been blowing up my phone lately?
Like I would ever talk to a reporter. Any time a firefighter ends up quoted or pictured in the paper, we owe our crew ice cream. If that isn’t bad enough, my siblings would have a field day. “Must have slipped my mind.”
Annaleise rolls her eyes. “Beer’s this way!” She leads us toward the back left corner of the house, where there’s a keg against a window, manned by two wildland firefighter lieutenants I’ve worked with countless times.
Thompson could pass for a lumberjack with his burly build and bushy blonde mustache.
He does a double take when he sees me. “Rumsey? No fucking way!” He breaks from pumping the keg like he’s going to hug me, but he must see my flinch because he quickly changes course and offers me a fist bump instead.
Then he sees Meg. The hungry look he gives her sends heat splashing across my chest.
Fuck this was a bad idea.
I lean a little closer to Thompson and his buddy, Owens, so I can introduce Meg without shouting.
“What’s with the crutches?” Owens asks while filling a beer for a girl with giant hoop earrings and a dress so short there’ s no way she hasn’t already flashed half the guys in this room just standing still.
Is this what it’s like to feel old?
“Snake bite,” Meg replies, taking the beer Thompson poured for her.
His eyes go wide. “Rattlesnake?”
“Yep.” Meg leans into her crutches for balance and sips from her beer.
“They’re ornery in the early season,” Owens adds, his gaze lingering on the woman with the short dress for a lengthy beat. She gives him an alluring quirk of her brow before spinning away.
Meg gives the guys and Annaleise the briefest retelling. They hang on her every word with oohs and wide eyes.
When Meg wraps up with the ambulance ride, Thompson shoots me a questioning glance. Bro code translation: is this little cutie yours and if not, Ima gonna pounce.
“There’s beer pong in the game room and a bonfire in the back yard,” Annaleise says.
Thank fuck.
“You promised to play doubles,” Meg says to Annaleise, then glances up at me.
Even in this loud room swirling with shiny things, Meg’s the prettiest thing here. “Is that a challenge?” I arch an eyebrow.
I had planned to make my way outside as soon as I knew Meg was set up with her friends, but now…I’m not letting Meg out of my sight. Especially around these two hound dogs.
Meg finishes off her beer. “Prepare to get your ass kicked.”
Three games later, Thompson and I have lost two out of three to Meg and Annaleise. Had I known that Annaleise played college volleyball, I would have brought my A-game. Secretly though, I liked watching Meg win. After what I’ve put her through, she deserves at least that.
When Thompson challenges Meg to a singles match, Annaleise asks for my help carrying a case of beer from the garage. I’m reluctant to leave the game, but Annaleise grabs me by the elbow. “She’s safe for five minutes, promise.”
On the way to the basement, I spot Trina and Stacy over by the pool table with a group of guys. I do a lightning-fast sweep of the room but the pilots aren’t here. I’m still stumped—this is not Trina’s usual crowd.
Why after not seeing her for years am I seeing her everywhere?
Trina glances in my direction, but before our eyes can connect, I turn away and follow Annaleise. I’m not about to give Trina any encouragement. Fifteen years ago, she tried to blow up my life, and I’ll be damned if I let it happen again.
The garage door closes behind me, drowning out the noise from the party. I follow Annaleise to a workbench and the stack of beer cases.
“What’s going on with you and Meg?” Annaleise asks as I slip two cases from the top of the stack.
I glance at her over my shoulder. “Uh, we’re neighbors?”
She puts a hand on her hip. “I asked around. You don’t have the best reputation.”
Tension knits through my shoulders. “If you mean reputation for a good time, you’re wrong. I’m pretty damn good at it.”
Her eyebrow arches up. “It looks like you might actually care about her, so I’ll say this nicely. Be honest with her. Don’t advertise yourself for a role you don’t plan to satisfy.”
I could throw that word right back because I overdeliver in the satisfaction department. Always.
“I’ve never tried to hide my intentions,” I say instead. This is absolutely true. I don’t lie about what I’m capable of. Though I think offering to kiss Meg in front of her ex at her dad’s retirement party might be getting pretty fucking close to the line.
“Good,” she chirps with a satisfied nod. “Don’t start.”
After following Annaleise out of the garage, I’m cramming the beers into the cooler when Trina squats down next to me.
“Did you get my voicemail? About the support group?”
I shoot her an icy glare. Behind her, propped against the wall talking to a guy I don’t know, is Stacy.
“I found more girls who want to come forward, and I’ve been raising cash for a lawyer,” Trina says, her tone turning urgent. “It’s gonna be a thing. Momentum, you know?”
This again.
She flips her hair. “We can bring them down once and for all. Together.”
I shake my head. “Do what you want. But leave me out of it.”
Her lower lip quivers. “You’re so selfish.”
Letting her down feels shitty, but I will not be bullied into joining her. Not when it will only lead to more suffering, and possibly danger. “I’m sorry.”
But she’s already hurrying off. Stacy and I lock eyes for an instant before she chases after her.