Chapter Nine #2
I used to like this dance, and I could see the pros of it, but there was not a part of me that wanted to dance with some random stranger who knew everything about me because they’d been in this town too long.
Coincidentally, I didn’t land with another stranger.
I landed right into the chest of Laken Augustus.
Of course.
I didn’t need to look up to see he stood there; I knew by his smell.
Honey and mint, sweet yet crisp. Little dark-blond waves flowed with his movements.
Unlike George, his hands gripped me as if they belonged there, as if they were meant to be there all along.
His fingers pressed into my skin like he felt scared to let go.
Raising my chin, I poured my heated gaze into his, fueled by my anger and grudge. I couldn’t clench my jaw any harder if I tried, not without chipping teeth. My body tensed so hard my lip quivered. I hated having such a reaction to him, no matter the type.
His face reflected my fury, but if mine was burning, his was hungry. Ravenous.
“Well, if it isn’t Honey Brooke’s golden child,” his velvety voice cracked through the air between us.
“Well,” I snapped, “if it isn’t the prodigal son.”
His smirk deepened. “Quite the pair, don’t you think?”
I noted the satisfaction on his face, the motive of his grip. “You did this on purpose,” I accused, and basked in his inability to deny it as he spun me around. Little mastermind.
“Now the whole town’s seen us together.” Our bodies separated with a turn, and we linked arms once again.
I knew he played a ridiculous little game, but as much as I fought the burn in my cheeks, my own lips curled. “Whatever are they going to say?”
“Whatever shall we do?” he asked.
The music began to drop and drift, a couple notes hung on the verge of strumming fingertips.
“The only thing left to do,” I said, twirling into his chest as his arms guided me back into a dip. He hovered above me, panting slightly between glances from my eyes to my lips, awaiting my solution. “We fight to the death.”
Laken nearly dropped me. He felt so familiar. His arms, his eyes; I could’ve stood there forever if I didn’t know better. Fuck. Pull yourself together, McCarthen.
So I did—physically pulled myself up from where he’d dipped me. Typically, I hated interruptions and speaking with people I went to school with, but with the way Laken breathed against me and couldn’t remove his eyes, I felt thankful Eliza Hamilton walked up.
“Laken,” she cheered. “Reece…” she mumbled.
Bitch.
Both of us took a step back as though pulled from some magic hex of a bullshit trance.
Turning away from one another, I faced the light-brown-haired, freckle-faced wretch from my childhood.
Eliza stood with her big brown eyes and heart-shaped face, practically gazing at Laken.
At least my searing veins were quickly extinguished.
“I heard you’d returned,” she spoke to him.
There was a reason for my discontent with Eliza. She’d always been like this, disrespectful. She wasn’t a girl’s girl. And I refused to tolerate it.
“As much as I’d love to stay and chat”—I faked a smile—“I’m not going to.” Giving nothing but a quick nod, I walked away and didn’t look back.
I left them behind me, the sun lowering as I halted at the sound of a young child’s cry. In the field, a little girl crouched with a bleeding knee and her concerned mother at her side. It wasn’t that I enjoyed profiting off people’s pain… but I did have healing cream to sell.
Of course, I healed the girl’s scrape first and only made the sale when her parents insisted on buying a jar.
And because talk spreads fast, I sold two more before it was time to get the kids home.
I knew selling three jars of cream, no matter how expensive they were, wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start.
A start of reinserting myself as the sanctuary’s owner as well.
What surprised me was how thankful they were the sanctuary was making healing cream again. Because my father had stopped long ago.
Scouring the festival for Mia and Micah, I forced my eyes elsewhere every time I caught a glimpse of Laken.
Which was more often than I’d like, as if I couldn’t help but only see him.
Micah I easily found throwing the ball around with his friends.
And Mia, I followed the high-pitched sound of young teenagers laughing.
One step after the other, I moved. I kept moving.
I didn’t think about my ex. I definitely didn’t look for him or who he talked to.
Hate him, I reminded myself. I hated him. I hated the way I could feel the ghost of his hands around my waist. I could almost convince myself we fell together so smoothly because we belonged that way; however, I knew Laken talked with ease with everyone. And that made me hate him more.
Walking the kids home might’ve been the only thing that kept me together.
I dropped them off, promised Ruth to be at her bakery when the week resumed, and sighed with relief at the thought of being done with the day, finally on the way home.
Leaving the Stillers’, I hugged tight to the other side of the cobblestone road, hoping to avoid any other human interactions. And I nearly made it.
Until I heard him call my name. Stopping in my tracks, I looked up to the heavens, silently mouthing, “Fuck.” I loosened my fists.
“I should hate you for that,” he said breathlessly as he caught me.
Innocently, I batted my eyes. “What do you mean? She seemed so excited to see you.”
Laken’s own eyes narrowed on mine, but not so innocently, because he knew exactly what I played at.
He fell into step with me as we made for the house.
“I’m surprised you didn’t punch Eliza, you know, given your liking for it.” Laken walked with his hands in his pockets, his eyes set on the horizon without a worry in mind.
“I don’t like punching people,” I clarified. “I like seeing you in pain.”
A soft laugh rumbled in his throat. “Here I was thinking you just liked to see me. You always were violent.”
My jaw dropped. “Me? Violent? I am not…”
He tossed me an Oh, really? expression and pointed to the scar over his eyebrow.
“You know that was an accident! That’s not fair.” I shook my head, reminiscing about the time we were running up the stairs of his house to get out of the rain. I slipped and fell into him, knocking him down and busting his brow on the corner of a wood post.
Laken and I held more memories between us than I would’ve liked. It would’ve been easier to forget him if I could look at the sun without thinking of him. Everything reminded me of Laken, even the sewer—full of shit.
I pursed my lips. “I’d say I’m sorry, but…”
“But you’re not.” He threw his hands up.
Not entirely true; however, it did feel good. My mouth parted. “But,” I corrected, “it was your fault for scaring me in the first place.”
Laken raised his brows. When I didn’t argue further, he continued. “You enjoy the festival?”
“Mm. A lot of people, a lot of talking.” Had two people become my max? “And the same old water benders,” I nagged. The same ones. Every year. It got old.
“You don’t like the water benders?”
I shook my head. How could I? I’d seen the same tricks since I turned seven.
He scoffed. “You used to love it. Maybe you’ve become boring,” he teased.
“Is that what you think?”
Laken tilted his head back a bit. “You want to know what I think? You want to hate it here. You want to hate Honey Brooke, but you don’t.
You find peace in its predictability, its routine, its same old thing, day in and day out, knowing when and where everything will be.
The unknown panics you, which is why you’ve been unnerved lately.
Your chaos doesn’t mix well with other chaos. ”
What? Excuse me? I didn’t like this town, and I didn’t like its people. The people who doubted me, judged me, and to an extent, outcasted me. “You know what I think?” I asked, waiting as he nodded. “I think you should be quiet more often.”
When things felt natural between us, like nothing had changed, I reminded myself just how much had.
I reminded myself that Laken flirted and spoke with everyone; it came instinctively to him.
No matter how much I was drawn in by his grin, by the glimmer in his eyes, it wasn’t real.
And after being left so abruptly, I wasn’t sure any of it had been.
Laken took my advice for maybe a whole two minutes. “Reece.” The concern in his voice forced me to look at him, a soft and low tone. We came to a stop.
Whatever he was about to start, I wasn’t ready for it. I knew what he felt because yes, sure, I felt it, too. But no part of me wished to go back there. Laken left all those years ago for a reason. And for some part of that reason, I’d been left behind.
In this town.
Entirely alone.
I’d tossed around all possible excuses in my mind relentlessly; they haunted me at night and followed me during the day. Clawed at my heart, pierced my lungs. I wasn’t ready for the truth. I wasn’t sure I could handle it. Not with the sanctuary, the debt, and the stress of it all.
“I should go.” I stepped away slowly, feeling the tension between us fall apart and dissipate into nothing but regret.
“I go the same way,” he called behind me. Gods above.
“Well, then, go somewhere else!” I tossed my arms up. “Stay a safe ten paces behind me!”
“Only ten paces?”
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
Laken was wrong about me and this place. I’d messed up years ago, accidentally burning one building. I knew they doubted me then and they doubted me now, giving me the perfect inspiration to keep going.
I’d run the sanctuary successfully.
I’d pay off the debts owed.
And I’d tell Laken Augustus to shove it.