Chapter 28
28
brYCE
The Mitchells’ annual barbeque has been happening since I was a child. One day every summer, they host the entire town in their backyard and grill from sun-up to sundown. This year, they postponed it until the end of September and got lucky that the ground hasn’t turned white yet.
We all arrive as a group, but Rory ditches us first, sneaking off to where Johnny’s manning the smoking grill, smiling like a lunatic at Eliza Steele. Anna’s next, blushing as Brody swoops in and ushers her away with an arm around her waist. At least the traitor has the thought to offer me a silent sorry over her shoulder whilst abandoning me.
“Giana is supposed to be here today,” Daisy says, brushing her body up against mine.
I feign relaxation and press my palm to the centre of her back, too aware of the curious glances aimed our way not to give them something. “It’s been a while since she’s been at one of these.”
“That’s why the moms waited until now to have the barbecue. Once they heard Gi was coming home for a few days, they decided she had to be here. Mama hasn’t stopped gushing about it for two weeks now. ”
I nod, finding a spot on the back fence to stare at. “They’re all looking at us.”
“Let them. We’re ready.”
“I wouldn’t put it past my mother to show,” I warn her.
Daisy’s laugh sounds almost . . . devious. “You mean I’ll have another chance to tell her how badly she’s failed you? That doesn’t sound so bad.”
She’s too at ease right now. Her effortless teasing and friendliness are out of place, considering her actions this past week. It doesn’t feel fake, and that’s confusing me most of all.
As subtly as possible, I drop my hand from her back. Touching her isn’t helping me keep myself sorted right now. Fuck a performance.
“I’ll go get us something to drink,” I mutter, taking a step forward to leave.
“Bryce.” My name is nothing more than a puff of air on her lips.
It makes it impossible to move any further. “What?”
“We’ll talk after, okay? Let’s just get through the next couple of hours. Can you please stop pulling away from me until then?”
The hurt in her eyes smacks me across the face. But she’s not the only one hurt, and I’m not the person to let my own feelings go unanswered. Never have been and never will be. It’s better she learns that now before I get even more fucking obsessed with her.
“I’m just following your lead, Sunshine. I’ll find you later.”
And with that, I force myself to leave her there, alone and odds are, being the good girl she is, pretending nothing’s wrong. It makes me feel like horse shit to know I’ve hurt her feelings and stolen her sunshine. Still, communication works both ways.
If she wants it from me, she has to be willing to put in the work too.
The four blue and white coolers set up beside the picnic table and between camping chairs are open, each one overflowing with ice and an assortment of drinks. I snatch a cold can of Fanta and frown when I notice the lack of boxed iced tea.
The two women on the chairs closest to me are trying way too hard to look like they’re not staring, but I’ve been around my fair share of busybodies to know better. Pinning them beneath a cold stare, I raise my brows in a silent question.
The one with the platinum-blonde hair and seaweed-coloured eyes pales and laughs awkwardly while her friend ignores me altogether, growing the colour of a tomato.
With a huff, I bypass them and carry my drink into the house. Cherry Peak is a small town, which means everyone knows everyone. To an extent. Those two women were in my graduating class, but we’ve only spoken out of obligation in the past. The same can be said for the majority of those who live here.
If I had to speak to and know every single person who lived here the way someone like Eliza Steele enjoys doing, I’d have left a long fucking time ago.
The interior of Rachel and Jennifer Mitchell’s house is the opposite of my parents’ place. While their yard is a huge corner lot, the house itself isn’t that big. It’s spacious enough to have housed four kids, but they’ve made it appear larger with the way every room has been decorated for ease of use instead of appearances. A small breakfast nook cluttered with random papers and mismatched décor pieces, a dark-stained dining table for six with its fair share of dents and scrapes, and a massive fabric sectional in the living room that could easily fit all of them.
The abundance of childhood photos hung on the walls and placed in funky frames all over the kitchen counters, wooden shelves, and tables has always been hard for me to see at these parties purely out of jealousy. This time, however, it’s a bit easier.
I’m glad that they’re out in the open for me to look at. Daisy deserves to have a family who’s so proud of her that they can’t spare one inch of the wall or tabletop to be without a photo of her .
Having been inside the house more than a dozen times, I know they always keep iced tea boxes in the fridge for Daisy. When I open the door to find a similar stock to the one I’ve started keeping at home, I grab one and then head back outside.
The first person I see when I step onto the patio deck is my mother. Her natural scowl ensures the other partygoers give her a wide berth but in turn makes her look like a total cold-hearted bitch. It’s a shame she shared that gene with me.
Past my mother’s head, I catch a glimpse of deep red hair flying in the wind. When I shift my feet a step to the left, Daisy appears beneath the giant oak tree, rendering me speechless once again.
The laugh that bubbles out of her is wild and free, and the spread of her lips lights up the entire backyard. It hits me like a kick to the ribs that I’m not the one the reason behind either of those things. I want to be. So fucking badly.
My mood takes a nosedive once I look away from her and to the lucky soul who’s gotten to be the recipient of her happiness.
Jealousy taints my mind like poison. It’s an emotion meant for insecure idiots. But if that’s really the case, then I’m both insecure and a giant fucking idiot.
Giana Mitchell stands beside Daisy, her head moving up and down as she nods along with what’s being said. It’s been a while since I’ve last seen her, but she looks the same. Short with flared hips and thighs and a freckled face that doesn’t hide her disinterest, she’s the tightest-strung of the Mitchell daughters, and I’d bet that has to do with her job. Spending every day every day with sweaty, arrogant men is my personal definition of hell. Especially when the majority of them know how attractive they are.
But Giana isn’t why I’m feeling the way I am. It’s the woman beside her that I don’t recognize. The one who’s watching my girl with a sincere interest that chafes.
Daisy holds simple, polite eye contact with her, and my grip on the box in my hand turns brutal. It crumples a beat later, the liquid inside gushing from the popped bottom. It soaks the tops of my boots and the grass surrounding them, making everything as sticky as my fingers.
I lower my eyes to the ruined box and glare at it with the fire of a thousand suns.
“Fuck,” I mutter, stretching out my fingers around the cardboard.
With my attention stuck on the mess I’ve made, I block out all of the surprised, prying glances I can feel pricking my skin like a hundred tiny needles. I’ll scold myself for this later, but right now, I’m too close to exploding. The walls are closing in around me despite the cool fall air I keep gulping into my lungs. It was a bad call to come today when I knew I was all fucked up inside.
“Was that for me?” Daisy asks, having snuck up on me.
I don’t flinch in surprise despite not hearing her approach, and that’s a great example of how close she’s gotten to me emotionally. With a flex of my fingers around the ruined box, I meet her calm stare and say, “It’s for the grass now.”
“I see that.”
“I’ll get you another one.”
She hums, low and soft. Her tongue wets her lips before she digs her teeth into the lower one. I lean forward on my toes, a magnetic force yanking me closer to her. Even my brain says to back up.
“Thank you, but I’m craving the taste now.”
“Wha—”
I gawk at her, the word disappearing into thin air when she uses a soft touch to lift my hand between us. She takes the ruined box from me and then brings my fingers to her lips, holding them there for a long, weighted moment before pushing two into her mouth.
Her tongue flicks out and wraps around the tip of the digit before sliding down the sides and over to the next. Then, with her eyes slashing into mine, she pushes both fingers further into her mouth and sucks .
A dimple appears when she smirks around my fingers and releases them with a pop. “Your mom wants to murder me and bury me in the mountains.”
I think I’m the one buried in the mountains. Twenty feet below the surface where air no longer exists.
“I could have used a napkin,” I croak, speaking without thinking.
She winks, and there’s something so vibrant and alive in the simple act. “I like my way better, but we can always go find you one after.”
“After what?”
A small, sly smile transforms her expression as she glances from me to the space behind me and back again. “This.”
Her hands cup my cheeks, and then she’s bringing her lips to the corner of my mouth, to the same spot she kissed me in my dream.
I slam my eyes shut and immediately allow myself the time to soak in the feeling of her lips on mine once again. It’s different than the full press of her mouth that night, where my mind jolted awake after hours of dozing and my very bone marrow sang with bliss. But it’s still just as right.
Her thumb strokes the curve of my cheek, and I shudder at the care behind the touch. My heart flutters, the ache behind my ribs disappearing. She lingers when her lips part. The kiss should end now, but neither of us moves.
I open my eyes, and suddenly, it’s as if the past week never happened. Somehow, we’ve closed the gap between us, and every molecule in my body screams at me to take it just one step further. After tonight, it could be the last time I’ll ever have the chance to.
Driven by pure instinct, I drop the box to the ground and move. Her hair is so soft between my fingers when I shove both my hands into the thick mane of it and use the hold to guide her head back. She doesn’t pull away from me, even as she trembles in my arms and reaches up to touch my wrist, as if she needs the contact for stability.
A tease of the pupil-blown eyes beneath her fluttering lashes steals my next words. With a steadying breath, I bring my mouth to hers in a full, time-halting kiss.
It’s a silent declaration from me to her that if given the chance, I’d do this every minute of every day for the rest of time. I wouldn’t need anything else. No wealth or success. I’d toss my tattoo guns off the top of a snow-peaked mountain for the chance to kiss her like this even once more, let alone the rest of my life.
There’s too much to say and not enough time to say it. We’re not there yet, and I don’t know if we ever will be. Calling Daisy Mitchell mine is a dream that I never planned on coming true but always hoped would.
She tightens her grip on my wrist and steps forward, the toes of our shoes touching. The firm press of her lips on mine grows more frantic as she takes control and releases a soft sigh.
It’s as close to a moan as I’ve ever heard from her, and it drives me to utter insanity. I have to tear my mouth away before she winds up with her back against that oak tree and my touch between her legs.
“Daisy,” I whisper, pressing my fingertips against her scalp.
Her eyes appear dazed and glossy when she lifts her lashes. I don’t have to look in the mirror to know mine are just as lost.
I’m forced out of my haze when she blinks back to reality and shakes off my touch. Red blotches appear on her neck before drifting up her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her smile is the fakest I’ve ever seen her wear. It’s somehow worse than the one I saw in my bedroom after our first kiss.
Confusion punches me in the chest, and I don’t keep quiet about it this time. “What just happened?”
“Not here, Bryce,” she pleads.
“Yes, here. I’m real fucking done with the disappearing act. You’re not going to do it to me again. ”
She crosses her arms and leans backward in an adorable attempt at an aggressive stance. “If you get to pull away from me every time we kiss, then I get to disappear on you afterward.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, tightening my gaze as my heartbeat stutters.
“I’m so stupid to think that this time would have been any different . . .”
I press a finger to her mouth, and she stops speaking, that spark of anger igniting into an out-of-control wildfire.
“My mom is coming,” I whisper, grazing her temple with my knuckle. For a second time, she subtly shakes my touch away, and my pussy tightens in excitement.
Fuck, I love when she gets angry with me and lets her fiery spirit out to play. Even if it should piss me off.
“You’re not off the hook. We’ll be talking about what you’ve apparently convinced yourself of. Even if I already know you’re so fucking off base,” I add before giving her another inch of space.
My mother tears up the grass on her way to where we stand, and knowing that the reason behind her anger is the best kiss I’ve experienced in my entire goddamn life?
It tastes almost as sweet as my sunshine.