Chapter 8
8
Laird
A million thoughts usually tick through my brain when it comes to Poppy. She has managed to leave me speechless regularly. She did before back in Austin, but it’s different now. She’s different. Her words continue to rattle through my brain. I swear to God, I must have heard her wrong. The reality of what that might mean hits deep, and I can’t will myself to ask her to repeat it.
If she doesn’t know my name, what does that mean for all the time I’ve spent thinking about her, wondering if she ever cared or even if she was alive or dead? Did Austin really mean nothing to her? Did I mean nothing?
My gut tells me lies, reassuring me that I did. Not showing up that day still feels out of character for her. Or at least that was how I’d tried to justify it.
I guess it shouldn’t since she’s happily living, breathing, and sitting next to me in the cab of my truck. While driving back to the cabin, I keep my eyes forward. There’s still too much to process for me to respond to her .
If she knows my name, why is she messing with my head?
Coming up here is the worst idea I’ve ever had. Oh wait, it’s my sister’s fault, who conveniently hasn’t called me back. Was this a setup all along? Some fucked-up scheme she and Shane thought was a good idea?
Nikki’s usually not devious. Tulsa brought out a wilder side in her when they were dating, but that was years ago. She seems pretty settled into the band’s upward momentum and her family life. When would she have time to plot?
“Did I cross a line with you?” Poppy’s voice is as steady as her eyes are on me. My chest gets twisted just looking at her, so I don’t, trying to save myself from feeling anything for her. It’s been difficult, so I’m not sure if I’m up for the task.
Though I’m already learning she doesn’t let stuff go, I play her little game. “About ten lines, but who’s counting?”
“You are, apparently,” she says, laughing to herself, “but that’s okay. I can count too. I have you down for four.”
I tweak my neck, turning to face her so fast. “Four?” I shake my head, refusing that shit. “No fucking way.”
“Way. You’ve crossed a line with me four times.” She glances at the road and then back at me, grinning. “That I’ve counted.”
She’s so sure of herself that I need to hear this bullshit. “Name ’em.”
“You scared the crap out of me and made me fall in the kitchen.” Whipping a finger into the air between us, which just happens to be her middle, she says, “That’s one. When you told me to get out of the cabin. That’s two.” Another finger added. “You spied on me when I was leaving, knowing I was upset and still made me go. That’s three.” When her bare ring finger pops up, breathing comes easier, that pressure I had in my chest releasing like a leaky balloon— slowly .
Her pinky joins the party as she continues. “You were so moody when I was doing you a favor back at the restaurant. And then there’s the side of the road when—”
“When what?”
“You were going to let the bears get me.” She sits so smugly on the other side of the bench with her arms crossed over her chest, not even bothering to give me the pleasure of her beautiful eyes. “There’s five for you, sport.”
Sport?
I don’t remember our conversations being so peculiar back in Austin, but I’m starting to believe this is hell, and I’m damned to it.
Reveling in her ingenuity that she thinks she has me all figured out, I just drive. She’s outplayed me on this one, so what more is there to say. She gets mad every time I open my mouth anyway. Considering what she did to ruin me, it’s an interesting take on our relationship.
I round the bend and look for her car, preferring to put my mind on things more tangible. I slow when my headlights cover the vehicle in light. “I didn’t take you for a Honda girl.”
“They’re reliable, and I need dependable transportation.” The defensiveness over a simple observation is a fascinating take. Yep, I can’t say a damn thing without her getting angry.
Trying to calm the mutiny beside me, I accept her words on the basis instead of delivery. “Fair enough.”
“I didn’t take you for someone who knew what a fuel pump was.”
I scratch my side to block the knife she tried to impale me with. Nice try. “I took shop in high school. ”
“Private schools have car shops?”
She’s fiery, I’ll give her that, the name thing pushing a button she doesn’t want to activate. Her contentedness to throw it out and then walk away without a follow-up has me thinking she even knows she’s taken this too far.
No matter what, I’m not letting her get to me anymore. At least not on an empty stomach when I’m losing the mental energy to snap back. “I’m sure some do, but my public high school did.” I shift into park and pop the door open.
I circle the vehicle once before dipping into the driver’s seat. With one leg on the dirt, I ask, “Where’s the key fob?”
When she climbs out of the truck, her size gives me flashbacks of her in the kitchen. She’s smaller than expected, given the confidence that her mouth backs. Coming around, she hands the fob to me. Her nails barely scrape against my palm, causing me to look up into her eyes. Standing so close that her foot touches mine, she stares at me as if . . . as if . . . I matter to her. As if there’s a way for us that doesn’t lead in separate directions. Our eyes stay fixed as if the fire between us is stronger than her temper, which seems almost impossible.
She licks her lips and then tugs her sweater closed. Since she’s still in the dress from earlier, it’s safe to assume she’s cold. She looks away as if the connection is too much and then shivers. Would it be so wrong to want the cause to be the thrill of my presence?
“Are you going to try to start it?” she asks, her gaze aimed off into the distant darkness.
I clear my throat and turn back to the dashboard. “Try. The car will be fine here overnight, but just in case the weather turns, it’s good to close the window.” Glancing at the seat beside me, I find crumbs on the upholstery. “It will also keep the animals out.”
“Why do I feel like you’re judging me? It was a long drive to end up isolated from the rest of the world.”
“Funny. That’s why I came here. For the solitude.” I glance up at her. “You see how that’s working out for me.”
She laughs. “Swimmingly. At least the company is pretty great.”
Not moving when I stand, I come face-to-face with her or, more accurately, her face comes to my chest. “If you say so.” Peculiar but growing on me. I stand there another few seconds before she catches on and takes a few steps back.
“Please lock it.”
I press the lock and shut the door. “Do you always have to control everything?”
The question causes her head to jerk back. “I was just reminding you is all. Do you always have to be so, so . . .” She clamps her mouth closed and rolls her eyes when she passes me to walk around to the other side of the truck.
I’d ask what she wanted to call me, but I’m not upset with silence for the rest of this trip.
She must be as well because I don’t hear another peep out of her until I park the truck. When I cut the engine, neither of us moves to get out. I stare at the cabin, and she stares out toward the lake. After a sigh I know I’m meant to hear, she opens the door. “Well . . .” She pauses to hop out. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I was thinking I could have someone come get me tomorrow.”
I look at her—her pretty face with lips I kissed until the pink turned deeper, those eyes that are more vibrantly green at night, and her hair trailing over her shoulders. There’s so much more blond than I remember, only serving to highlight her beautiful face even more by how the strands frame it.
She had it up when we stopped at her car, so I’m curious why she took it down. A heaviness stretches between us when our eyes stay hooked too long. I’m at a loss for words when it comes to where we stand.
Do I drag our past into the present or ignore it like she’s so brilliantly doing?
“Good night.” The door closes, almost clipping her word in half.
“Fuck.” I get out, grab the bag, and rush to meet her at the back of the truck. Not knowing what to say to her, I go where I said I wouldn’t. “Why don’t you know my name?”
The question makes her smile despite my chest constricting in pain. Maybe that’s what she gets off on. “Fuck.” I drag my hand through my hair and point at the single cabin tucked in the woods behind us. “It’s still open.” I hand her the bag, and add, “I’ll drop the rest of your stuff off outside the door.”
“I can—”
“I’ve got it!” I grip the top of the tailgate, squeezing it so hard my knuckles whiten. I don’t look at her again. I don’t give her another second of my life. I can’t. I didn’t survive her the first time, so there’s no surviving her again.
The crunch of leaves under her feet is the only thing left between us. That, and the land between the two cabins.
It’s good she’s leaving tomorrow. I don’t know how she’s planning on getting out of here, but it’s not my problem. She’s not my problem anymore.
Though I find some of the items she brought to hack me into little pieces intriguing, I leave her stuff where I said I would and walk away. It’s best for me to protect myself from her—not only the knives but from stealing my soul twice .
Shoving my hands in my jean pockets, I cross the divide between us and dust off the bottom of an old pair of hiking boots I left up here a few years back. They’re working for me since the property needs some cleaning of the grounds.
I stop on the porch and take the time to view the lake. For as much friction as there’s been tonight, the lake is calm, the sky clear, and the moon reflecting its twin across the top of the water. It’s turned colder than expected when I checked the forecast before arriving, so when I go inside, I secure the main cabin, close a window that I left open when I was heated from our argument, and make sure the doors are locked.
Switching off lights would normally feel like a chore, but with each one, I get a better sense of privacy until I’m seated in the dark and left alone with my thoughts.
Reception can be spotty based on the time of year, but I keep checking my phone for any missed calls or a text from Nikki. I have neither, and it’s getting late, so I probably won’t hear from her until tomorrow. Sucks to have to wait to figure out how she pulled off this scheme and, more importantly, why?
None of this makes sense.
I have more to deal with than when I arrived, and I’m still not sure what Poppy’s intentions were when she showed up. It’s like she doesn’t know me at all, like Austin was so forgettable that even seeing me doesn’t jog her memory.
Resting forward, I drop my head into my hands and rub my face. It won’t change anything other than scrubbing away some of the frustration she’s caused. Then and now. I should go to bed, get some sleep, and come morning, I’ll know if I only imagined the whole thing.
A soft rap on the door redirects me. Knowing who it is, I want to swing it open, kiss her to show her how much I’ve missed her, and make love to her again. But that’s not the Poppy who’s knocking. I don’t know who she is, not like I thought I did.
With my hands pressed to the wood, I debate whether to answer it. The lights are out, so she wouldn’t know whether I’d gone to bed or that I’m standing here dying to hold her in my arms again.
As much as she infuriates me by the lack of answers, confuses me with what she’s even doing here, and worries me with her knife obsession, I already know the answer. I open the door.
She’s changed clothes but still looks fucking amazing in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a sweater that hangs down to her thighs. She can’t even make the ugly pink beanie look bad despite it being embroidered with FARIS WHEEL – THE DeTOUR on it.
That’s it.
“Is this a joke?”
Holding the bag of food out, she shakes her head. “I know you haven’t eaten.”
“I’m done. You fucking win.” The words taste as bitter as they sound. I throw my arm up in the air, over all of it—her, this “vacation,” and every other fucking thing. I turn and storm toward the bedroom.
“ Soooo , you want me to leave it on the island?” she calls, her voice tracking me down the hallway.
“I’d rather starve.” I slam the bedroom door behind me and pace in front of the windows. I don’t bother turning on the lights. I lie down instead, needing this nightmare to end.