Chapter 43 firgun #2
He quirked an eyebrow and then nodded toward the 8 Ball. “What does it say?”
Flustered, I almost dropped it. “I mean—well,” I babbled, “the thing is, this is—” I glanced down, and the die tumbled and tumbled and tumbled. “Signs point to yes,” I said, even though the die hadn’t come back to the surface yet. I lifted my gaze to his, to see if he felt the same.
In reply, he leaned over the table and kissed me. “Is that an answer for you?”
“I think I need you to tell me slower,” I said, and felt his grin more than saw it, as he kissed me again just as I asked.
I never knew what the die said, but I’m sure I knew Harriett’s answer even without it, because she’d led me to this house on the cliffs, after all. There was no reason to start doubting her now.
I curled my hands around the collar of his T-shirt as he pulled away, and kissed him again just because I could.
Because I loved seeing him in the morning light.
I loved the flush of red across his cheeks whenever I caught him by surprise.
I loved the glimmer of sunlight in his coppery hair.
Things I would’ve never seen otherwise, stuck in that garden.
His stormy gaze grew wine dark. “Careful. I might just throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to bed.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I chastised.
He quirked a challenging eyebrow, beginning to do exactly that, when there was a knock on the door. He whipped his head around and glared at it. On the other side, Oliver shouted a good morning. Rus narrowed his eyes.
I patted his chest. “I’ll answer it,” I said, and went to greet Oliver.
He came with two cups of coffee. His gaze flickered from me to Cyrus and back again. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” I replied as Rus came up beside me.
He eyed the coffees. “There’s three of us,” he said.
“I didn’t know you’d be staying over,” Oliver supplied, and to show how acutely unwelcome Rus still was, he started to dump out one of the cups, but then decided against wasting perfectly good coffee and combined it into his half-empty one. “I didn’t even realize you two knew each other this well.”
Rus and I exchanged a look. I said, “It’s complicated.”
Oliver nodded silently. “Right. Well, just wanted to come and say goodbye and all, since today’s your last day.”
“I think I want to stay on for another season, actually,” I replied.
He looked excited, despite Cyrus at the door. “Really? That’s great! Lilymoor likes you a lot. Lala likes you, too. And I like you. Well, you know, not like that, but—anyway. This is awkward and I’m going. Cyrus,” he added distastefully, and started away.
As he did, Rus stepped out onto the porch. “Actually, could you wait a second? I want to apologize. Last night, it was a dick move to spring the changes to the will on you in the Hedges. If you don’t want to inherit the estate—”
Oliver whirled around on his heels. “I do, though. Or I did.”
Rus furrowed his eyebrows. “Um . . .”
“I thought about it, you know?” Oliver went on. “I love Lilymoor, but I don’t want to do this alone. I never did, and you know that. I want to do it like we’d planned. Together. I want that inheritance. Not this one.”
The ghost of an amused grin crossed Rus’s face. He scratched his chin. “Including the roller coaster, or . . . ?”
“We can skip the coaster,” Oliver amended, though it sounded like the decision pained him.
“But that’s what I want. And if—if you refuse, I’ll get a lawyer.
A better one than you.” Rus quirked a challenging eyebrow, and Oliver returned it.
“You’re not the only one who’s great at their very lucrative job,” Oliver added sarcastically.
“And I think since you didn’t give me the chance to take half the blame for the fire, I should be entitled to half the estate—and only half. ”
That was . . . sensible, I guessed. In its own way.
I shifted uncomfortably, because Rus didn’t want this.
He didn’t want anything to do with Lilymoor.
I was preparing for another fight, I hoped without fists, when I felt his arm brush against mine as he pretended to think about it. He glanced over at me and gave a wink.
“Only half, then,” Rus replied, and held out a hand. “Deal.”
Oliver stared at him, mouth agape for a moment, before he pulled himself back together. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I love this place, too, and I’m done punishing myself for a place that doesn’t hold a grudge. So, deal?”
His childhood friend looked at his outstretched hand, and then bypassed it immediately, to pull him into a hug. Rus returned it gratefully. It was tight, crushing, Oliver’s coffee sloshing over the rim of his mug. I offered to take it and returned inside. They had a lot of catching up to do.
When they finally released each other, Rus asked, “Wanna go talk to Eula?” as he grabbed my hoodie from the coatrack. “Yeah, before you chicken out,” Oliver replied, stepping off the porch.
Rus shrugged on the hoodie—it was one of my oversize DUKE UNIVERSITY ones that swamped me and yet fit too tightly on him. He wore it anyway and slipped into his loafers. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come back sooner. It’s just …”
“I know,” replied Oliver. “I know. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. But can we start with that haircut? What are you, some sort of sleazeball lawyer or something?”
Rus laughed. “Speak for yourself. Did you pack anything other than Henleys?”
“Says the man in his girlfriend’s college sweatshirt.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Actually, no. You two are a good fit. She’s going to destroy you.”
Rus laughed. “I know. I can’t wait.”
I leaned against the doorway, sipping on Oliver’s cold coffee, as I watched them leave up the path, as they made their way over the Moon Bridge, straining my ears to listen as far as I could, until Damnit’s morning screams drowned them out, but I could’ve sworn before they turned toward the Hedges that they were laughing.