Chapter 6
Chapter Six
This was a massive mistake.
There are at least forty cars in the patchy grass and dirt clearing with more filing in by the minute, each one packed to the brim with people.
I tug my sleeves down to my knuckles and fold my arms over my stomach, which currently feels like I ate a pound of Pop Rocks and washed it down with a gallon of soda. Adjusting my position in the tiny passenger seat of the Bug, I turn toward Isabel. “How long did you say you can stay before you have to leave for work?”
“A few hours. I’ll probably end up missing most of the eclipse, but I don’t want to risk being late during my first week on the job.” Her tone is easy and patient, but the way she’s bouncing her leg and longingly glancing toward the path leading down to the water tells me she’s eager to get out there.
“Why don’t you go on ahead, then?” I offer, plastering on my softest smile. “I’ll catch up with you in a second. I need to wait for Noah so I can put a few things in his car.”
It’s a blatant lie, but there’s no need to cut her day any shorter than I already have by making her wait for me to find my courage.
She reaches for the handle and hesitates. “You’re sure? I just can’t stay very long and?—”
“ Go ,” I insist, pantomiming a little git goin’ motion with my hands. Her face immediately lights up, the joy radiating from her brilliant smile making my throat clog with sticky shame.
After an excited little shimmy-dance, Isabel grabs her bag from the back seat and jogs over to catch up with some of her and Noah’s friends meandering down the path. Not a single one of the girls is wearing a shirt over their bathing suits, which means I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb .
Noah’s beat-up Blazer pulls into the clearing a few minutes later, kicking up a plume of dust as he parks under a large oak tree. The engine idles for a second before shutting off, and then he spills out of the driver’s side door in a fit of laughter.
I slump down in my seat, low enough that he won’t see me or the burn of jealousy creeping up my neck. There’s something different about my brother when he’s around Ryker—a playful radiance and a lightness to his step that I rarely see anymore. He looks happy…and so much less burdened than when I’m around.
Noah’s head whips toward the low rumble of an approaching diesel engine. His shoulders stiffen, and the smile drops from his mouth the second a bright-red Dodge Ram turns the corner and cuts through the tall grass next to the clearing, completely disregarding the established path the rest of us used.
What an asshat.
I swear Cooper Blackthorne thinks the Deadwood Fire Department sticker on his back windshield means he can drive like a maniac and park wherever he wants. In reality, it only makes me question how safe this town is with idiots like him on staff. I shake my head. No matter how hard I try, I can’t imagine the guy who locked me in an incinerator running into a burning building to save anyone.
Ryker balls his fists like he’s gearing up for a fight, and I roll my eyes. Perfect. As if breaking up brawls between Noah and Cooper wasn’t bad enough, now I’ll have to account for my brother’s hotheaded best friend as well.
With a sigh, I push the door open, my foot barely touching the ground before Noah elbows Ryker and leans over to say something I can’t hear. Ryker shakes his head, stopping me dead in my tracks when instead of charging across the lot to fight Cooper like he used to when we were kids, he and Noah head in the opposite direction—toward the water. A second goes by and then he says something to my brother, who once again doubles over, chortling and grasping his stomach like he can’t breathe.
With Noah fully distracted, Ryker pauses just long enough to slowly peer over his shoulder, giving Cooper a look filled with so much violence I feel the heat of it from thirty feet away.
I shiver. Jesus. If looks could kill, I’d be calling in the coroner. Considering how Cooper is technically Ryker’s step-cousin, there must be some history there I’m not aware of.
Sighing, I grab the cooler from Isabel’s car and lock up. I wait for Cooper and his friends to disappear down the path before heading out myself, where I’m immediately accosted by the obnoxious trill of cicadas and the oppressive early July humidity, both of which only seem to intensify as I travel farther away from the clearing.
The cooler, although small, is significantly heavier than I’d anticipated and requires two hands to carry. Trekking down the rocky, uneven path is a feat in and of itself, but carrying the icebox with my bruised shoulder makes the journey twice as challenging. Before I’m even halfway down, so much of the icy water has sloshed out the sides that my hands are numb and my shins and feet are soaked.
The shoreline is about a quarter mile from here, but already the booming bass of several competing stereos and the low hum of drunken conversations thud inside my chest. Shade canopies in various colors are just visible through the brush—most of them some variation of the Texas flag or the bright-red and white emblem of H-E-B, our state’s favorite grocery store.
I slow my steps as I near the edge of the tree line, mentally preparing myself for the onslaught of aromas awaiting me, and the moment everyone stops talking and turns to stare at me— like they always do —but when I emerge from the path, that’s not what happens.
Sure, the pungent odor of smoky charcoal and various charred meats is nauseating, as is the musty, damp scent of the spring itself, but what nearly knocks me off my feet is that, for the first time in my life, not a single head turns my way.
I set the cooler down and wipe off the sweat beading on my brow with my sleeve.
So this is what anonymity feels like…
Jutting my hip to the side, I glance around, taking in the blue-green water cutting a path through a mix of muddy shoreline and yellowing Texas limestone. To the left, a natural spring bubbles up from the depths of the earth before spilling over a waterfall to join up with the only other water source for at least a hundred miles, a trickling creek that’s dry so often no one ever bothered naming it.
Towering live oaks and loblolly pines create shady patches along the shore, which is why Widowmaker Springs draws quite the local crowd during the summer. Thankfully, it’s too far out in the middle of nowhere to attract many tourists. I’ve only been here once, and there were way fewer people that time, but it’s just as beautiful as I remember.
I’m bringing my hand up to shield my eyes and search for Isabel when I spot Ryker in the middle of a forming crowd. His posture is rigid and his smile forced, but there he is, looking like a rock star cowboy in boots and tight jeans while everyone around him wears swim gear.
How they miss his subtle flinch every time one of them claps him on the back or how they ignore the way he pinches his eyes closed each time a girl pulls him in for a hug is beyond me. But judging by the increasing chatter rippling through the Springs as more people spot him, I guess everyone is too excited about his return to Deadwood to notice his discomfort .
My ribs squeeze uncomfortably.
“Hey, Ryker,” I call out, loud enough for him to hear over the nearby speakers.
His sharp, moss-green eyes snap to mine before I finish saying his name. Several other curious partygoers in the immediate vicinity follow suit, and it only takes a second after spotting me for their heads to lean together and the whispers to start.
I clench my teeth and bear it. So much for anonymity.
With one hand on my hip, I gesture to the cooler with the other. “Do you mind helping me with this?”
Without bothering to excuse himself, Ryker pushes through the crowd and strides straight for me. The tension in his shoulders and spine melts away so quickly that if I hadn’t seen his unease only a moment ago, I’d never have known anything was amiss.
“Was the icebox too heavy for you, Princess?” he mocks, bending down and effortlessly lifting the cooler with a cocky smirk.
“Not at all.” I bat my eyelashes and pointedly glance in the direction of the dissipating group of his old classmates. “You said actions speak louder than words.”
Technically , he said words are cheap, but same difference, right?
Ryker looks over his shoulder and then back at me, eyes widening. I expect him to stomp off toward where Noah and his friends are hanging out upstream, but he just continues glaring at me—his thick brow kinked at odd angles, like he’s both curious and confused.
Feeling exposed under his heavy scrutiny, I fight the urge to cross my arms by reaching for the cooler. “I can take that back now.”
“I’ve got it.” He rotates away from me, the movement highlighting his muscular biceps and a flash of a moth tattoo on his inner forearm that I didn’t notice earlier. “Just tell me where it needs to go.”
Tearing my eyes away from his way-too-buff arms, I glance toward the water. “Looks like Isabel and Noah are at the very last canopy. Anywhere in the shade should be fine. Thanks,” I tack on as an afterthought.
Being civil to each other is weird. I kind of hate it .
After another few seconds of awkward staring, we set off on the short walk upstream in total silence. I keep my eyes on the rocky ground as we pass whispering partygoers, sighing in relief when we reach the last canopy. Ryker sets the cooler down next to the ones belonging to Noah’s friends. And without another word, we go our separate ways—him stripping down to a borrowed pair of gym shorts while leaving his shirt on to grab a beer, and me collapsing into an unoccupied chair away from prying eyes with all my clothes on.
Ignoring the warm greetings Ryker receives and the musical peal of Isabel’s laughter as she jokes with friends, I squint and peer at my surroundings. At the farthest point upstream where you can swim without having to climb down a slight drop to get to the water, I couldn’t have picked a better spot myself. Especially since the only people who can really see me over here are Noah’s friends.
The actual spring is still about three hundred feet north of here, near the top of an outcropping of weathered limestone. There’s a crystal-clear pool where the aquifer surfaces before plunging over the cliff to form a thirty-foot waterfall, but the basin itself is small and no one swims up there. According to Noah, the current is strong, and if you’ve been drinking all day, the slippery rocks make it all too easy to accidentally plummet to the shallow, rocky water below.
It happened once, about ten years ago. A guy from out of town went over the edge and broke his neck. He drowned before his friends could rush down to save him.
I shudder.
What a horrible way to go, fully aware but unable to move or save yourself with only your friends’ panicked screams and the sound of rushing water for company.
“Earth to Willa!” Isabel’s melodic voice sounds over the babbling water and music. “We’ve still got thirty minutes before the eclipse starts. I’m going to float around for a bit, you comin’?”
She’s trying to sound casual, but several girls within earshot stop what they’re doing to look our way. Pretending I don’t feel their eyes on me, I remove my shoes and then my shorts .
This is it, Willa. Moment of truth.
Pop Rocks making a resurgence in my gut, I grab the hem of my shirt?—
Only to immediately release it, the fabric ten times heavier than it was a moment before. “I think I’m going to hang out here for a bit. You go on ahead.”
Isabel’s smile slips, but she nods and heads into the water with Noah and a few others while I sag into one of the chairs and watch them like a stalker. Sweat pools between my breasts as the sun beats down on the surrounding rocks, and it takes less than a minute before I’m already considering going home.
An hour slips by, and while I’m still seated under the shade of the canopy, everyone else has moved their chairs and coolers into the shallow water to avoid the sweltering heat. The eclipse technically started thirty minutes ago, but I didn’t realize it would take a full two hours for the sun to be completely covered…
Noah and Isabel have checked on me twice, but now they’re both back in the water. I could go sit with them and just keep my shirt on, the way Ryker did, but somehow that feels like more of a defeat than sitting here alone. Besides, aided by the copious amount of beer Ryker keeps handing out left and right, everyone is already good and drunk. The last thing I need is to subject myself to a careless comment.
I’m pretending to take a nap when a sharp scream rips through the air.
My eyes shoot open just in time to see Cooper toss Mandy Cromwell over his shoulder, her perfect butt on proud display in her Texas flag thong bikini bottoms. Her smooth sun-bronzed skin glistens with whatever sparkly suntan lotion she and all the other girls seem to be wearing, and once again, I find myself with the strong urge to pack up my shit and leave .
Ice-cold water drips onto my legs, and I startle, jumping in my seat as Ryker’s brooding form steps in front of me, the bottom of his shirt and the entirety of his gym shorts soaked through.
“Take your shirt off,” he growls.
“Excuse me?” I rise to my feet and draw myself up to full height, making sure to keep my focus on his face and not the way the wet fabric clings to the ridges of his stomach.
Ryker’s mouth pulls into a thin, tight line as he works his jaw and narrows his eyes. “It’s over a hundred fucking degrees,” he spits. “Moping around like a self-absorbed little brat is stressing your brother out. And watching how you’ve stared at these girls all afternoon is really starting to piss me off. What’s the point of hiding when you don’t give a shit about these people? Just take it off and get in the damn water.”
“If Noah’s so stressed out, why don’t you get him another beer?” I cross my arms. “And you have no idea what you’re talking about. I give a shit.”
He quirks a brow. “Really?”
“Yes, really .” Hands flying to my hips, I stare defiantly right back at his stupid face.
The corner of his mouth ticks up, the movement so quick and subtle I almost think I imagined it. “No one out here is looking at you, Princess .” He gestures around to the different groups of people peering up at the slowly darkening sky, all of them with their eclipse glasses on. “You’re drawing more attention to yourself by being the last one fully clothed and not in the water with us.”
“ Ha, ” I snort. “That’s rich coming from the only other person with his shirt still on.”
Ryker’s gaze drops briefly to his chest before he grits his teeth. “You’re right.” In one easy move, he grabs the hem and tugs it up over his head.
My jaw drops.
Holy… Wow .
He has abs. Like, eight of them .
Hungrily, my eyes rake over every inch of his exposed skin, pausing on a cluster of little scars. And then another…and another. My insides twist and sour. Ryker is covered in marks of every shape and size imaginable—too many to count. The majority of the circular scars seem to be clustered around his shoulders and collarbone, but there’s a grouping of them on his lower abdomen. Some even dipping beneath the low-slung waistband of his borrowed shorts.
I close my eyes, trying not to think too hard about what that might mean.
“Are those?—”
“Cigarette burns,” he says with forced nonchalance. “Kane started off as Beau’s favorite ashtray. Then me. You might hate that I’m back in town,” he turns sideways, pointing to a raised burn mark in the shape of the letter B on his rib cage, “but I won’t let this shit happen to Charlie. Not ever.”
Beau fucking Blackthorne. My stomach roils.
The worst thing I could possibly do right now is reach out and touch him, and yet my hand lifts to do just that. Curling my fingers, I push aside my urge to offer comfort.
“I didn’t know. I mean, I knew Beau was awful, but I didn’t realize?—”
“You’re not the only one with scars, Princess.” He shakes his head. “Do you honestly care what any of these assholes think?”
“No.” The admission feels like a giant weight off my shoulders. “I don’t.”
“Then why are you still letting them dictate the way you live your life?” His lips curve into a snarl…like my weakness disgusts him.
“I’m not.” My voice quivers slightly with my answer, and even though part of me wants to run and hide, I can’t seem to look away from Ryker’s piercing gaze.
“Then take off your damn shirt. Don’t make me say it again.”
His heady, authoritative tone sends a shiver dancing up my spine. Even though I don’t mean to listen, the next thing I know, my hands are on my shirt and I’m pulling it up over my head. A rush of cedar-and-barbecue-scented air fills my lungs as I inhale a deep breath.
Now that I’m free of the stifling long sleeves, wind whips across my sweat-dampened back and relief floods my system in tiny, trembling waves of pleasure. I let go of a drawn-out sigh and close my eyes.
This is the first time I’ve ever felt the sun directly on my back and it’s…magical.
“ Fucking hell,” Ryker says hoarsely.
My eyes shoot open to find him staring at my chest and stomach.
He diverts his gaze skyward with a disbelieving shake of his head. “You’re ten times hotter than any of these fucking girls,” he growls, eyes still on the clouds. “Why the hell would you hide any of that?”
Grateful he can’t see my flushed face, I force a half-scoffing, half-embarrassed laugh. “You have to say that because you’re my brother’s best friend.”
Biting his inner cheek, he shakes his head and slowly drops his eyes to mine. “You don’t get it, do you?” he says lowly.
Unable to stop myself, I lean forward. “Get what?”
“First off, I don’t have to say shit .” He glances over his shoulder toward the water before returning his gaze to me. “Second, I shouldn’t have said anything because I’m your brother’s best friend.”
My stomach flutters.
Before I can come up with a response, he’s shoving his hands into his pockets and softly cursing to himself. “Don’t let me catch you moping again.”
“Yeah, okay.” Cheeks ablaze and needing anywhere else to look, I crouch down, rifling through Isabel’s bag to hide the blush I know must be visible on my face. While I absolutely loathe that it’s Ryker’s words giving me such a confidence boost, the fact that he probably hated saying them almost makes it mean more.
“What are you doing?” He takes a step closer, the scent of rain-soaked pine dancing around my head as he peers into the bag .
“I need sunscreen.” I stand, placing the bottle and my hands on either side of my mouth to call out for Isabel. “Hey, Isa?—”
“I’ll do it.” He grabs the bottle. “Turn around.”
I hesitate, floundering for a second in the hollow pit opening up in my stomach.
He won’t want to touch me, not when he sees ? —
“I said. Turn. Around.” Ryker’s tone is gruff and firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
Reluctantly, I obey, fortifying myself for the moment he sucks in a harsh breath and calls Isabel over because he’s repulsed by the sight of my mangled flesh. But he does neither. Instead, the slightly chemical scent of coconut sunblock blossoms in the air around us a moment before he uses his calloused hand to apply the cool lotion to my mid-back.
I shiver, goose bumps pebbling over every surface of my skin.
Ryker doesn’t hesitate when covering each inch of my burn scars with sunscreen, and he doesn’t trace the raised, cross-shaped scar that was carved into my back all those years ago. In fact, his application is so straightforward I’d almost think there was nothing wrong with my back at all. Which is crazy because even medical staff and my dad have never seen the damage without shuddering or murmuring something about how sorry they were for me.
“Hold your hair up,” he orders, adding a second hand to spread the lotion across my shoulders before gently kneading my neck to work it in.
Fighting the urge to melt into him, I close my eyes. No one has ever touched me like this, and I can’t help but sigh contentedly when his hand slides under the strap of my bikini top.
Ryker’s breath hitches. “You did a shitty job of covering that bruise.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”
“If your shoulder hurts, I can do your lower back, too.” His voice is a full two octaves lower than it was a second ago, like he’s speaking through clenched teeth .
“You don’t have to,” I murmur. “It’s sore, but I can still reach.”
My response comes out so breathy it almost sounds like I’m begging him to do it for me. Which is probably why he spreads the sunscreen lower and lower, until he eventually grips my waist with one hand and dips the other ever so slightly beneath the waistband of my swimsuit bottoms.
I shiver and sigh again, ignoring the pounding pulse at the apex of my thighs. Jesus. What’s wrong with me? This is my brother’s best friend—my childhood nemesis.
“Don’t fucking do that,” he growls.
“Do what?” I bite my lower lip to keep from sighing again, but that just makes it come out as a whimper instead. Ryker’s grip on my waist tightens, and then he turns me so quickly I have to brace myself against his biceps to keep from falling over.
Chest heaving against mine, he works his jaw and stares down at me. “Don’t make that fucking sound unless you want me to?—”
“Hey, asshole,” Noah shouts from the shoreline, slapping the water with an open palm to get our attention. His words are slightly slurred, but at least he’s not stumbling over the slippery rocks. Yet .
“Yeah?” Ryker calls back, never taking his eyes off mine.
My pulse races as a swarm of conflicting emotions pound through my bloodstream, but he doesn’t let me go. In fact, I’d almost swear he tugs me closer. Rain-soaked pine and a hint of tobacco wrap around me like an embrace, along with a bone-deep desire to throw something at my brother’s face.
The idea catches me off guard. Why am I mad at Noah? For interrupting Ryker? That’s ridiculous… I don’t even like the guy, and I definitely don’t care what he has to say.
Noah slaps the water again, clearly pissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Ryker grumbles under his breath, but my heart is hammering too violently for me to hear what he says.
“Dude, seriously,” Noah calls out again. “Get your hands off my sister.”
With a sigh and one final squeeze of my waist, Ryker lets go. I stumble forward, realizing too late how much I was leaning into him.
“If you’re not in the water in the next sixty seconds,” he warns, handing me the bottle of sunscreen, “I’m coming right back up here and throwing you in myself.”
He takes five steps toward the water before I finally find my voice.
“Hey, Ryker?”
“Yeah?” He stops, but doesn’t turn around.
“Thank you,” I say, quiet enough that Noah can’t hear, and then add, “This doesn’t mean I like you.”
Ryker’s head tilts to the side, giving me just a glimpse of a tiny grin as the sun gleams off his golden skin. “I know, Princess.”