Chapter 10
CAL
“With dinner.”
Nearly forty-eight hours later and I’m still replaying those two words in my head. Blake’s expression had been molten with desire and I’d nearly given in.
Almost.
My cheeks heat at the realization of how true that sentiment is. I’ve been with other men since Liam died and have no problem with casual hookups, obviously, considering I basically mauled Blake in Ellison’s bathroom.
But there was nothing casual about Blake the second I realized who he was. How could there be? Not only is he Ellison’s ex, but our connection had been something otherworldly. Hot and desperate and toe curling even though we’d barely undressed.
It was so good.
I swallow the groan that wants to escape as I wipe down the bar top in between customers. I didn’t need this job at Boots on Bar and Grill, but Deacon’s brother, Jude, needed help and I had experience.
And I like helping.
Plus this bar is awesome.
T-shirts pinned neatly to the ceiling provide endless entertainment.
Jude mentioned that it’d been tradition when his and Deacon’s father had been alive and one they’d continued after his death.
Patrons would bring a shirt in and then have to pitch it to whoever was working to see if the story was ceiling worthy.
The ceiling is completely full now, so you have to pitch your shirt contribution to the whole bar and everyone votes. If it’s accepted, you get to choose which shirt yours will replace.
It’s ridiculous for sure but everyone loves it, the well-loved shirts faded and untouched where they’re pinned.
A fistfight actually broke out not long ago over one, but Deacon had broken it up and I’d watched with a mixture of shock and awe.
Deacon had shrugged when things settled down and told me I’d get used to it. I wrangle kids all day at school, so I decided I’d just use my teacher voice and see what happens.
It’s quiet for a Wednesday but that suits me just fine. It allows me to have some much-needed breathing room from my new roommate. Ugh.
It would be easier if he was messy or inconsiderate but he’s not. By all accounts, Blake Reynolds is perfect—kind and thoughtful.
And sexy.
So damn sexy.
I’m half hard at all times when I’m at the house, his proximity alone lighting my body up like a Christmas tree. And he’s breathtakingly gorgeous and smells divine, and I’m just fucked all the way around.
Except in the way that matters.
I could fix that in a heartbeat. I know he’s interested. God, the way he looked at me. But at what cost?
He’s temporary here, and it already feels like the lines are blurring. We’ve taken a handful of pictures for him to post over the next couple of days. One of us holding hands on the couch, one of us laughing. A picture of dinner and drinks after.
And one where after those drinks I’d kissed him on the cheek, lingering for a beat too long. The force necessary to pull away had been nothing short of a miracle, and it had me wondering for the hundredth time if it would be so bad to give in to him.
My stomach drops at the thought, the guilt that always slithers into my subconscious rearing its ugly head.
Liam would probably be happy to know I’m moving on, that I haven’t wasted away in the years since the accident. But I’m not moving on, not really. I’m existing in a space with a handsome man that scares the hell out of me.
Blake is nothing like Liam, and that should probably be comforting, but it makes the guilt worse.
Liam had been full of love and affection, completely carefree and always with a smile. He adored trinkets and had a million little collections all around the apartment. It drove me nuts, but he loved them and I loved him.
And even after all this time, it still hurts to think of the life we never got to enjoy together.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and glancing around to make sure no one needs anything, I pull the device from my pocket.
HANNAH: You’re living with someone??!!
HANNAH: AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME??!!
CAL: It’s fake
CAL: You can’t tell anyone that but I’m doing it to help him out
HANNAH: What’s fake??
Cringing, I’m thankful I’m at work because I can imagine the ear-piercing screech that accompanied that last exclamation.
CAL: Hannah Banana, I need you to calm down
HANNAH: Not unless you start talking faster, Calico
Despite her obvious irritation, using our childhood call signs always brings a smile to my face.
We’d traveled so much with our parents, zigzagging all across the country in the RV with the open road as the only place to lay our heads at night.
We imagined we were like the long-haul truckers on their CB radios.
Hannah Banana.
Calico.
It was just for us and even now, it blankets me with the kind of comfort that’s hard to explain.
Our parents wanted all the traveling to be an adventure, but Hannah and I craved stability.
I still crave it.
Even though I don’t know how to handle it.
I thought I had it with Liam.
And then he was gone.
Hannah had broken the cycle with Case, settling down just over the town line in Clementine Creek.
She married him and told me they wanted to have a family and so I’d moved to Blackstone Falls.
I don’t want to be the uncle her kids barely know.
I want their life to be different than Hannah’s and mine had been.
CAL: I’m fake dating Ellison’s ex-boyfriend. He’s staying with me and I’m helping him do this to get his mother off his back
HANNAH: And you didn’t think your favorite sister should know this?
CAL: You’re my only sister
HANNAH: THAT’S WHY I’M YOUR FAVORITE
Another message pops up but it’s not from my sister; it’s from her husband.
CASE: Why is your sister stomping around the house yelling at her phone?
CAL: First of all, she’s your wife—you took custody of her so that’s on you
CAL: Second, that’s bold of you to assume it has anything to do with me
CASE: Does it?
CAL: Yes
CASE: Dude…
CAL: I know, I know. Hold on
Turning back to my other text thread, I type out a message as one of our locals comes to the bar and orders a draft beer. I pull the tap, the amber liquid flowing perfectly along the curve of the glass before setting it on the bar in front of him.
Ensuring he doesn’t need anything else, I go back to my phone, keeping one eye on the room as I type.
CAL: I’m sorry, it was…a lot.
CAL: I’m still processing
HANNAH: Do you like him?
CAL: I mean, yeah he’s great but it’s fake and I can’t blur that line
HANNAH: Why not?
CAL: You know why
HANNAH: Why does it have to be fake? If you like him, why can’t you real date him?
CAL: Because he lives in Georgia. This is only temporary.
HANNAH: So? Go to Georgia.
CAL: No. I moved here for you
HANNAH: And I would go visit you in Georgia
CAL: It’s been like 3 days. Stop making this into a thing
HANNAH: Fine but I want to meet him
CAL: No
HANNAH: You know you can’t stop me, right? Clementine Creek and Blackstone Falls COMBINED aren’t that big. It’s bound to happen sooner or later.
CAL: Well make it later
CAL: I don’t want to complicate it
HANNAH: You know he would want you to be happy, right?
She doesn’t need to specify who he is but it’s not reassuring. The implication has unease burning in my gut again, my fingers spinning the corded bracelet on my wrist.
CAL: I’m working—I’ll text you later and we’ll figure something out
HANNAH: I love you Calico
CAL: I love you too Hannah Banana
And I do.
She might be the only person on the planet that I love unconditionally.
Because Liam is gone.
And I’m right back to where I started.