15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Carrington
T he guilt that washed over me after leaving RED last night slams back into me as soon as I open my eyes Sunday morning. I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, just trying to figure out how I let it go so far yesterday.
I know the feelings between Thea and me were never resolved—hell, I’ve spent the last eight years discussing her in therapy almost on a bi-weekly basis. I just didn’t realize how inevitable everything between us is until her lips touched mine last night. It took me a second to realize what was going on, but then it was as if no time had passed between us. She tasted the same, smelled the same, felt the same—maybe even better than I remember.
I can’t help but worry about how Thea freaked out after her orgasm high ebbed. She was beautifully blissed out one second then panicking and locking herself away in the office the next. Did her thoughts stray to Ripley? Does she regret it? I wish I could say I do, but the wide array of emotions I feel about what happened does not include an ounce of regret.
And fuck Ripley.
After cleaning up the glass we knocked over in our haste to get at each other, I waited at the bar for another half hour, but she didn’t come out. Knowing she needs space to deal with moments when she feels out of control, I reluctantly left. I locked the door to the restaurant behind me, and hesitated, thinking about her going back to her car alone so late. Even with the crime rate as low as it is in Indigo Hill, I couldn’t help but think of the horror stories I’ve read about women going home late alone in Seattle.
I sat in my car and waited for her to leave about twenty minutes later. Even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, I could tell she had been crying, and it gutted me. I hate being the one to cause her any pain. She got in her car, and I followed her home at a distance to make sure she got there okay. Once I was sure she was inside her house, safe, I drove back to my hotel.
Everything about what happened felt right, until I remembered I have someone waiting for me in Seattle. Someone who has been patient, understanding, and invaluable in keeping my life going there while I’m here picking up the pieces after my parents’ death.
“Fuck,” I say to my empty hotel room and run a hand down my face before standing up and going into the bathroom to piss and brush my teeth. I splash my face with some cold water and take a long look at my reflection in the mirror. Who even are you? Avoidance is second nature to me, but it’s usually out of self-preservation. I feel pathetic.
“Goddamn coward,” I say to my reflection.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I grab my phone off the nightstand and check the time. It’s eleven in the morning, eight in Seattle. I know what I have to do. I’ve been putting this off for almost a week. Though, if I’m being honest, I’ve been dragging my feet for years.
On paper, she’s a great match for me: brutally honest, fiercely kind, funny as all hell, so smart, and independent enough to tolerate me when I retreat into my head. The only problem is that she’s just not… Thea.
Knowing she’s been up for hours already, I hit dial on That Girl From That Bar and sit on the edge of the bed.
“Care Bear. How did it go last night? I was hoping you’d call and tell me all about it when you got back,” she says, her voice holding just a tinge of hurt. I’ve noticed she’s been gradually getting more and more annoyed with me and my lack of communication. We’ve exchanged calls here and there as well as a few texts, but I know my silence must be killing her. She’s a fixer by nature, and I know she’s just itching to patch my life back together.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. We finished up a lot later than I thought, and I just crashed when I got back.” There’s a long pause; she’s waiting for me to continue, but words escape me.
“What’s going on? I’ve been trying really hard to be supportive, but you have to give me a little more. I’m getting the feeling you’re not telling me something. Did something happen with your brother?” she asks, her tone taking on an edge.
“Brooks is just… Brooks,” I say with a scoff. “Listen, Arizona… there’s just been some stuff going on here and… I–I don’t think I’m making the right choices. Or maybe I’m finally making the right choice?” The last bit comes out as a question, and I’m not entirely sure what I’m talking about anymore. I stand and start pacing from one end of the room to the other, feeling restless
“I’m sorry, Care. I’m not following. Are you talking about your parents’ restaurant? Are you planning on selling it to the manager you mentioned? What was her name? Thelma?”
“Thea,” I rasp out and stop in my tracks. Her name feels like poison on my lips. How do I fucking unravel this mess? I have somehow managed to avoid all talk of Thea in the six years we’ve been together. I managed to skip over her when we recounted our dating histories to each other. And after I gave Seth a black eye for his comments, he hasn’t dared speak of her. This is going to blindside her. We’re committed—we’re supposed to be happy. I can’t do this to her over the phone. “I’m still not sure what I’m going to do. I don’t think I’m ready to let everything here go,” I say while rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“Okaaayy… so what do you need to make a decision? Do you want to get the business appraised? Have an accountant look at the books?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I say, running my fingers over my forehead and through my hair, tugging just to feel the burn in my scalp.
“When are you coming back?” It’s the first time she’s asked me this point blank, and by her cool tone, I know her patience is at an end. She’s been letting me lead in terms of the time I need, but I know she wants me back on the west coast. Back to our life.
“I have my flight booked for the day after Thanksgiving. A few people at RED want to have a memorial for my parents on Thanksgiving, so I have to stay for that,” I say.
“Of course. That sounds important,” she agrees, her tone softer than before. And then after another silence, “I hope the answers come to you soon.”
With a sigh and quick goodbye, I hang up. I don’t stick around for the now obligatory I love yous . My skin itches from the lies of omission, but she deserves more than to have our relationship end over the phone.
Feeling on-edge and as though I might crawl out of my skin, I throw on some sneakers, gray joggers, and a t-shirt and head out the door. I don’t have a destination in mind when I exit the hotel, all I know is I have to work some of this restlessness off. I take a right and head toward the center of town at a fast walk. Waving and nodding to some of the familiar faces, but I don’t stop to chat.
Even after over a week here, everything still seems just shy of being recognizable. Some of the same businesses are still operational, but they’ve had facelifts. Alongside them stand several new spots, like the café I met Thea at a few days ago and a home goods store specializing in lakefront-themed decor.
From what I’ve heard around town, most of the town’s revitalization has happened over the last few years. With RED quickly becoming one of the most sought-after small-batch bourbons on the market, it has drawn a lot of new tourists—spirits aficionados, collectors, and influencers who just come to take photos for the likes. The influx of tourists outside of the traditional summer lake season has brought much-needed new income. Indigo Hill is becoming a destination spot all year round, and the town is growing and updating to keep up with demand.
As I leave the town square, the asphalt road slowly transitions to gravel the closer I get to the water. I decide to head out to the walking trails that span much of the lake’s coastline. As kids, Thea and I would spend hours every day exploring and playing along the trails, sometimes veering off and finding spots that lead down to the water that haven’t been touched by tourists.
At the trailhead, I catch sight of a familiar silhouette bending over to stretch. It seems I’ve caught Thea at the start of her run. My eyes can’t help but linger on the curve of her ass covered in fitted, blue running shorts. She’s wearing only a black sports bra on top, and my mouth waters as I picture her last night, splayed out for me on the table. I can almost hear the small sounds she let escape when I sucked on her nipple through her dress. My cock twitches in my pants, and I remember I didn’t get a chance to take care of myself with the stress from the last twelve hours.
“Hey,” I say, walking up to her. She jumps at my words and spins around with a hand to her chest.
“Holy fuck, Grant! You can’t sneak up on a woman like that,” she says, chest heaving from the scare.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me coming. Going for a run?” Her brown eyes quickly look me up and down, and she nods. “Can I join you?”
When her eyes meet mine she blushes, and I imagine she’s thinking about what we did last night. Suddenly her face shifts, and a smirk tilts the corner of her mouth. “Are you stalking me now?” My mood lightens seeing as she hasn’t slammed her walls up again. Flirty Thea has come out to play.
“Can it really be called stalking if the town is so small there is literally nothing else to do on a Sunday afternoon?”
She rolls her eyes but smiles warmly. “Stretch. Last thing you need is a pulled muscle.”
We stretch in silence, our eyes meeting every once in a while and quickly glancing away. My stomach flutters, and I feel like a teenager with a massive crush again. I catch her gaze raking over me out of the corner of my eye as I fold over to stretch my hamstrings, and it lights every nerve ending in my body.
We start running at a quick speed, keeping stride with one another. We don’t speak, and the only sounds I hear are our breaths, our feet hitting the ground rhythmically, and birds in the trees. The day is unseasonably warm, and I’m thankful for the shade.
After a while, I find my mind wandering again to last night. Seeing Thea’s breasts bounce as she runs does not help keep the memories at bay. Fuck . Running with a hard on is not a good look, and I can’t exactly hide it in these pants.
Suddenly, I recognize this part of the trail and gently grab Thea’s forearm to slow her down.
“What’s going on?” She looks around to see what made me stop.
“I have an idea, follow me,” I say with a smile as I veer off the trail to the left, toward where I know the water is. The footpath is overgrown and clearly hasn’t been used in a long time, but it’s just as I remember when we first discovered it as kids. We walk single file, Thea following close behind me.
“Do you remember where this leads?” I ask, turning back to look at her. She looks around confused for just a second, and then her face lights up when it clicks.
“This leads down to our cove, right?” she asks. I smile at the word “our” while continuing to walk the path, not answering her question. After a few minutes, the path opens up to a small clearing that goes straight to the water. It’s just as I remember.
“Carina Cove,” I say quietly.
She rolls her eyes at me again. “I still think that’s a corny name.” The nostalgic smile on her face tells me she’s remembering all of our times here. We discovered this little private cove the summer before senior year, and it quickly turned into the place we’d come to do what all teens do when they get a bit of privacy: push boundaries and explore each other’s bodies.
“Remember when you made me try smoking a cigarette with you here?” I say with a laugh, nodding at the tree stump we had sat on.
“Made you?! You stole the pack from Brooks and practically begged me to do it with you. Then we spent the rest of the night coughing our lungs up,” she says, exasperated.
“That’s not how I remember it. Between the two of us, you were definitely the bad influence,” I say and shoot her a wink. She scoffs but laughs all the same.
We fall into a comfortable silence just watching the water lap at the bank. The trees surrounding the lake are an array of oranges and reds with the changing season. The image of them reflects back in the lake making the moment feel just as serene as I remember.
Being here brings back so many memories of the time right before we left South Carolina. Both good and bad.
13 Years Ago
(18 years old)
“Oh my God,” I whisper as my eyes scan the paper. “Holy shit.”
“Hey, language,” Mom says, not looking up from where she’s washing the dishes.
I read through the letter again. And once more for good measure to make sure I read it correctly.
“I got it,” I say incredulously, a big smile spreading over my face. “I got the scholarship.”
My mom pauses scrubbing and looks over at me. Dad also looks up from the paper he’s reading at the kitchen table. It’s a rare night in our house that all of us are home.
The diner is closed while a repair guy fixes the griddle that stopped working suddenly last night. We use it to cook pretty much everything, so it didn’t make sense to stay open to only serve coffee. Thankfully, he said it wouldn’t take longer than a day, and we can be operational again tomorrow. I know closing for even one day is stressful for my parents.
No one says anything for a long while when Brooks shuffles in and rifles through the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He drains it and only then notices the tension in the room.
He pulls the bottle from his lips, looking around the three of us and says, “What’s going on?”
“I got the scholarship,” I repeat.
There’s a pause and then a wide smile overtakes his usually sullen features. He pulls me in for a hug. “Fuck yeah. Congrats!”
I’ve been waiting for this letter for two months now. This was the last thing standing in my way of setting off for Seattle. Thea and I had been planning on leaving Indigo Hill for years, but when we actually sat down to plan how we’re going to do this, we quickly realized we didn’t have enough money. Seattle is expensive, as is tuition for culinary school.
Thea, with her straight A’s and ridiculous exam scores, had no trouble getting financial aid at the University of Washington. She received her early acceptance letter back in December.
I was planning on following her to Seattle whether or not my scholarship came through. I was going to find a job and work to pay for school, even if it meant taking only one or two courses at a time. But now that’s not an issue. I have enough to cover tuition and housing.
My mind is spinning with all the possibilities. I have to call Thea. I turn to run up to my room when my dad slams the newspaper down on the table.
“Well that’s just fucking great,” he says with none of the same excitement Brooks’ words held.
“Owen—” my mom starts.
“No,” he cuts her off. “We’ve sat back and entertained this idiotic idea long enough. I think it’s time he joins us in the real world.”
“Let’s not do this again, Dad,” I say. “I’ve told you already, Thea and I have this planned out. We’re going to Seattle regardless of how you feel about it. I’m going to be a chef. She’s going to head up some big marketing firm. We’re getting out of here.”
“Oh, be serious for a minute. This is all just going to be a waste of money. That girl is going nowhere, just like her mother. Don’t think we haven’t seen her sneaking out of your room at all hours of the night. We’re lucky she hasn’t gotten knocked up y—”
“What the fuck?” says Brooks. He and I may not see eye to eye on many things, but he’s always been there for Thea. This isn’t the first time he’s stood up to Dad for the things he says about Thea and her mom.
Dad’s looked down on Lydia Ashford my entire life for choosing to be an unmarried single mother at such a young age, for not finishing high school, for taking whatever jobs pay the bills at the seasonal resorts in the area. He’s even bought into the baseless rumors around town that she got pregnant on purpose to lock down some older rich tourist.
My father’s words make my blood boil. How dare he talk about Thea or her mom that way?
“Are you kidding me?” My voice is rising with each word. “That’s your big hang up? Not that I’m leaving and moving to the other side of the country, but that I’m doing it with Thea?”
“You wouldn’t be leaving if it weren’t for that girl. If she had gotten into school anywhere else, you wouldn’t be set on Washington. You could stay in Indigo Hill, be a chef here. We won’t be working at the diner forever. You should be making plans to take over.”
“I don’t want your fucking diner!” I’m screaming at him now. “I’ve tried—I’ve tried so fucking hard to get you to make changes to that shithole, but you don’t want to hear it. You’re running it into the ground, and you want me to take over? Fuck that.”
My words reverberate around the tiny kitchen, sucking all the air out of the room. Mom—the dishes abandoned—stands with her back to the sink, arms wrapped around her middle, tears trailing down her cheeks. My dad’s face is bright red with anger as he stews, still seated. Brooks is leaning against the fridge, shoulders tense.
“She’s going to ruin your life. She’s trash, just like her mom. At least her dad had the sense to get away from that slut when he had a chance.” Before I know what I’m doing, I lunge across the kitchen. Brooks grabs me just before my hands reach my dad. He shoots up from his seat, fists balled. The chair tips back and clamors on the floor behind him.
“Owen! Cary! Please!” my mom screams.
With Brooks’ arms locked around me and holding me back, I spit out, “Fuck you! I’m done with this shit. Done with you.” Throwing my hands up to signal I’m no longer a threat, I say, “Let go of me.”
As soon as Brooks relaxes his hold, I storm out, slamming the door behind me.
I end up staying at Thea’s every night after that, only coming back when I know my parents are at the diner to pack up my room. A few days later, Thea and I take off with no intention of coming back.
Present
I shake off the memory of the fight—the details of which I never told Thea about. She thinks we had a falling out because I wanted to move so far away. It would break her heart to know the things my dad said about her, especially now knowing what their relationship grew into.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” Thea asks, almost as if she’s talking to herself. “It was right after graduation. We were so fucking excited. We had all of our big plans of driving cross-country. We were talking about all the places we wanted to stop—do you remember Carhenge?”
The look on her face is wistful as she reminisces on our cross-country trip, and she looks so pretty with her golden hair up in a ponytail, cheeks still slightly flushed from our short run.
I can’t keep my hands off her anymore.
I step closer to her, crowding her against a nearby tree, making her angle her face up toward me. “Can’t say I remember much about what we talked about that night, no. I do, however…” I push a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, letting my hand trail down and then gently close my fingers around the front of her neck. My eyes track the movement before shifting back to hers, “Remember what we did.” The flutter of her pulse picks up under my fingers, and her throat moves as she swallows under my palm.
“Wh–what did we do?” she asks breathily. Her pupils dilate as she takes in my face, the black almost overtaking the warm brown.
“This,” I say a moment before I plaster my whole body to hers and slam my mouth to hers heatedly. She meets me with force, and our tongues clash, battling it out. It’s messy and wild and exactly like that night, the only difference being I’m not shitting my pants about what I’m going to do next.
I crowd her further into the tree, and she moans when my hard length presses against her stomach, our skin separated by only a few thin layers of fabric. She spreads her legs, and I press my thigh into her center. She rewards me with another moan that I greedily swallow down as we continue to kiss. Her hands trail up and down my back as if she’s mapping my body with her fingers.
With my hand still on her neck, I pull my face away and look at her. Her cheeks are rosy, and her lips are swollen and a little raw from my scruff. Her eyes flutter open, and there’s a question in them, like she’s wondering why I stopped. I don’t think she notices she’s still rubbing herself on my thigh.
I gently kiss her lips again then angle her face away with the hand on her neck exposing the full length of it. I kiss, suck, and lick my way to the spot behind her ear, and she whines beautifully, all want and neediness. The satisfaction I feel from still knowing all the spots to touch that make her sound like that is primal.
“I want to taste you again. Can I taste that pretty cunt of yours?” I rasp into her ear.
“Yes. Fuck, yes.” I smirk even though she can’t see it and slowly kiss and suck my way down her body, hand still on her neck. I nuzzle against her breasts, feeling her drawn nipples behind the sports bra and then continue down, dragging my tongue down her belly, lower and lower until my knees hit the soft earth, and I’m kneeling in front of her, her hands on my shoulders. With my free hand I reach to peel her running shorts off her hips and meet her eyes, checking for any reservation. Her eyes are filled with need and desperation as she removes one of her hands from my shoulder and pushes her shorts and underwear down with me, allowing my other hand to stay securely around her throat.
I take a moment to admire her bare pussy. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it, and she’s a fucking work of art. She keeps the hair trimmed, just a small triangle at the top of her pubic bone that serves as an arrow pointing straight to paradise. I rub my face against it, and her scent hits my nose. It’s intoxicating, making my cock impossibly harder. Running on instinct alone, I kiss and suck her milky thigh, leaving a small mark.
I part her legs some more and lick the length of her pussy, from her opening to her clit. She lets out a cry that has my cock weeping in my pants. With my free hand, I throw her left leg over my shoulder, opening her up more and keeping her in place. At the same time, her hands leave my shoulders—one coming up to grip the wrist of the hand at her throat and the other grabbing my hair.
I lick, suck, and circle my tongue around her clit until her thighs tremble and tense. Then I back off and swirl my tongue at her entrance, drinking in her sweet, tart taste. Sweat trickles down my back.
“You want me to make this little pussy come?” I say as I pull back and look at her. She doesn’t say anything, just wrenches my hair to guide my face back to her dripping core. She’s soaking my face, her hips thrusting against me when I return to her clit and flatten my tongue against it with even pressure.
She’s close. Her breathing has picked up, her hand in my hair is gripping almost to the point of pain, and her thighs are locked around my head. I maintain the pressure and tempo of my movements until her body shudders and a loud moan—reverberating in my palm as it travels all the way up her throat—escapes her mouth.
I ease my efforts as her orgasm fades and pepper a few gentle kisses on her pussy and inner thighs. Releasing her neck, I remove her thigh from my shoulder and help her back into her underwear and shorts. I then slowly stand and take in her flushed chest and cheeks. Her heavy breaths.
When our eyes meet, she stretches up and kisses me deeply, no doubt tasting herself on my lips. That was always a big turn on for her, confirmed by the groan she lets out when her tongue sweeps my mouth.
My cock still aches, and I reach down to adjust myself. She looks at me and then down at the bulge I can’t hide, apprehension crossing her face. I don’t expect anything from her and to accentuate the point, I intertwine our fingers and slowly lead her back up the path we came down after another quick kiss. We walk in silence until we reach the trail.
“I, umm… I need a favor,” she finally says, breaking the silence.
“That wasn’t enough?” I return with a smirk, and she shoves my shoulder with a shy smile.
“Oh my God, stop,” she says through a laugh. “I need help at the restaurant.” My eyebrows shoot up because I was sure it would be a cold day in hell before Thea Carina Ashford would ever ask for my help at RED.
“What do you need?”
“Travis can’t come in before the dinner shift tomorrow. He’s still dealing with his daughter. I was wondering if you could help cover breakfast and lunch?” Her eyes are uneasy as if she’s expecting me to say no.
“Of course. I’ll be there.” We share a smile and continue back to the trailhead in silence.
Once there, the air between us is awkward; we’re both unsure of how to leave things. She’s fidgeting with her rings, eyes darting around. I can’t get a read of what’s going through her head. To put an end to this before it can venture into uncomfortable territory I take her face in one hand and pull her in for a long, deep kiss then pull away.
“See you tomorrow, Lemon.” I turn and walk toward my hotel, the sweet, dazed look on her face after I pulled away front and center in my mind the whole way back.