Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
BEAU
“Can I get you guys anything else?” the waitress asks. I pretend like I don’t notice the way her eyes skim over me, just like they have every time she’s come to our table. In another place, and another circumstance, I’d flirt her right out of her panties.
“Just the check,” I say. She sets the billfold on the table and heads off with a wistful glance over her shoulder.
“Okay, so we’re definite on Laax, right?” Lance asks for what feels like the twentieth time during this meal. I’ve already said we’re heading to Switzerland after Aspen, I don’t know why he’s hounding me like an old nag.
“I said yes.” I know I’m being testy, even though I can’t pinpoint why.
“Well, you’ve been so fucking wishy-washy, you can’t blame the guy for wanting to make sure,” Drew says as he takes his napkin from his lap, balls it up, and drops it on the table.
“What?” My voice is ragged; it sounds like I’m looking for a fight. I have no interest in fighting my best friends, but why are they pissing me off so much?
“Hey,” Lance says, and he might as well be saying Chill, dude with that tone.
He’s right, I do need to chill. He looks straight at me.
“For some reason you’re a little high-strung right now”—and then holds both his hands up in a surrendering gesture, then turns to Drew—“and you’re being a dick, so stop. ”
Drew looks at me and smirks. “Now look what you’ve done, you’ve made Mom mad.”
I can’t help but laugh. We all have our roles in our little group.
Lance takes a drink, finishing his beer.
“Okay, I’m going to start making our travel plans,” Lance says, his voice placating like he’s giving me one last out.
And it’s taking everything I have not to take it.
Because all I really want to do after Aspen is head back to Park City and be with Sierra.
But while she mentions me leaving all the time, she never asks me to stay.
And she won’t come to Aspen, either. Why do I continue to cling to some ridiculous hope that she wants me as much as I want her, even when everything points to that not being the case?
“Go for it,” I tell Lance, because there’s no sense in hanging around where I’m not wanted. I slap enough money on the table to cover my part of dinner, and then I’m pulling my jacket on.
“You literally can’t wait to get back to her, can you?” Drew asks.
“What are you talking about?” I ask. I haven’t told my friends about Sierra and me, so this is pure speculation on his part.
He just laughs. “It’s written all over your face, man. You’re so whipped it’s pathetic.”
“I need to get back and walk the dog, idiot. Sierra is at her friend Lauren’s tonight, some female emergency friend session or something. She’s not even home.”
Drew’s chest shakes with laughter even though it doesn’t leave his lips. Asshole.
I turn and stalk out of the restaurant, welcoming the cold wind as it hits me.
I grab my snowboard from the rack outside and head down historic Main Street.
I need to chill the fuck out, so I decide to walk home.
It’s not that far of a walk from here, but I normally take the shuttle because it’s an ass pain to carry my snowboard on a crowded sidewalk.
But it’s a weeknight so there aren’t many people out, and I need the exercise and the time to wind myself down.
Sierra’s not home when I get back, so I grab Winston’s leash and take him out for a walk, hoping that’ll give us more time together when she does get home.
This is my last night here, a fact I’ve refused to think about because I don’t want to consider what it’ll be like to leave her.
How do you walk away from someone who you literally can’t wait to be with?
The brisk walk with Winston helps calm me down, and by the time I’m heading back toward the condo, I feel centered again. I can do this. We had an agreement, and I just need to stick to it and stop thinking about something beyond what we said this would be.
I can enjoy tonight, and then tomorrow I can leave as planned.
Sure it may hurt, but I’ll get over it. I’ve gotten over it before.
Helen was child’s play compared to this, my inner asshole reminds me because apparently he wants me to suffer.
And sure, maybe what I had with Helen felt real at the time, but the way I crave Sierra’s company, her advice, her body, the connection we have in bed and out .
. . that’s new. Is this what it feels like to truly be in love?
I’m about a block from home when my phone rings, and I slip it from my pocket, hoping it’s Sierra. Instead, Nate’s name flashes on my screen. I consider sending the call to voice mail, but he so rarely calls I’m worried that maybe something’s wrong.
“What’s up?” I answer.
“I told you she was off-limits, didn’t I? You seriously couldn’t find anyone else in Park City, it had to be Sierra?” Nate says, his voice is low and hard and pissed.
“What are you talking about?” I ask. How does he know?
“Jackson found the dog’s social media account. She saw the pictures of you and Sierra. She read the comments from all your followers. I know you guys said you’re just roommates, but dude, I also know you.”
Okay, so he doesn’t know anything yet, he’s just speculating. I let out the breath I was holding. “They’re just pictures, Nate. To drum up attention and interest so that someone will adopt Winston.”
What I’m really wondering is, has Jackson talked to Sierra? Did Sierra tell her the truth?
“You are not fooling me, Beau. You have a steady stream of women in and out of your life on a near-daily basis. Which is fine, I’m not judging. But no one wants that for Sierra, and you sure as hell know that Sierra doesn’t want to be that person. She’s a long-term relationship kind of girl.”
Ha! If only he knew that she’s the one who’s kept an end date on this.
“And now,” Nate continues as I let myself into the building and head for the elevator, “Jackson’s on the phone with Sierra and she’s upset, and you know how I feel about my wife being upset.
” I’m sure Nate intends his voice to instill fear, but he’s not fucking intimidating me from across the country.
“For once in her life, can Jackson get it through her head that this isn’t about her?” I spit out. Why does she think that everyone’s decisions hinge on what she wants or how she feels? This isn’t her fucking life, it’s mine.
“She’s concerned about you hurting her best friend.”
“Too bad she’s not concerned about her brother,” I say quickly, then regret it.
“Why?” Nate asks. “Are you the one in danger of getting hurt here?”
I don’t say anything in response. I just step into the elevator and hope the call will get disconnected. But somehow it doesn’t, and by the time I get to our floor he says, “Are you going to answer me?”
“There’s nothing to say, Nate. Even if something were going on between us, I leave tomorrow.” I unlock the door and hold the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I squat down to let Winston off his leash.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he says.
No shit. “Everything’s fine. No one is going to get hurt,” I tell him.
“You better be right,” Nate says.
“I’m always right about stuff like this.”
“I think what you mean is, you always leave.”
“What the fuck, Nate?” I pause and he doesn’t say anything. “I am always one hundred percent transparent about my intentions. I’m not trying to hurt anyone and I don’t need to lie to find girls willing to have sex with someone they know isn’t going to stick around.”
“We both know Sierra isn’t that kind of girl.
” His words are clipped. I suspect he and Sierra have had their share of ups and downs.
She’s a tenacious friend, and I’m sure she didn’t take his leaving Jackson, or his returning five years later, lying down.
She’d have tried to protect her best friend.
And in turn, Nate’s trying to protect her now, because she’s Jackson’s person.
Even though I’m leaving, and even though I’m jealous as hell that any man besides me is looking out for her, I’m glad she’s got people like Nate to support her.
“If you’re worried about me hurting Sierra,” I tell him, “you are literally wasting your time.”
“You’d better be right,” he says.
The or what hangs off the tip of my tongue, but I catch it in my teeth so it doesn’t slip out. “I am. And I’ve got to go. Tell Jackson I say ‘hi.’” The last sentence comes out just as snarky as I intend it to, but before Nate can respond, I disconnect the call.
Well, fuck.
I can tell she’s been crying the minute she walks in the door. Her eyes are puffy and ringed in red. I sweep her into my arms before she even has the chance to take off her jacket. She curls into me and I love that I can make her feel safe, protected.
“Tough conversation with Jackson?” I ask, my head resting against her knit hat.
“How’d you know?” she mumbles into my chest.
“Nate called me.”
“Ah, so we got tag teamed. Did you tell Nate what’s going on?” she asks.
“No.”
“I didn’t tell Jackson either. I hated lying to her.”
“I know,” I say, and squeeze her a little tighter. “You could have told her, if you’d wanted to.”
“I didn’t want to make things between you and her worse,” she says.
While I appreciate that she wants to protect me, the reminder that my sister would be upset about our relationship stings. I’m not the kind of guy the people who love Sierra want to see her with, as Nate made perfectly clear.
I don’t know what to say in response, so I just hold her.
We stay like that, standing in the entryway, until she tells me she’s going to get heat stroke unless she gets her hat and jacket off.
As those come off, I find myself peeling the rest of her clothes off too, until she’s standing there in nothing but her bra and thong, looking at me like I’m the only thing holding her together.
I pull her back to me and when her lips part for me, I kiss her like I’m branding her, making her mine.
Like I want her to think of me every single time any other person kisses her for the rest of her life.
The thought of her with someone else spurs something deep inside me, an ache and a need combined into one. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me, and I manage to get us to her bed without running into anything, even though our lips never leave each other’s body.
It’s frantic, the way we claw at each other with desperate need.
There is no foreplay, my pants come off and so do her bra and underwear.
I’m inside her the minute her back hits the bed.
I move my hips slowly, dragging out and pushing back in, feeling the slick heat of her body and the way it forms to my own.
I try to memorize it all: the way her lips feel, how her skin slides across mine, the way her breasts fill my hands, the sound of those sweet little pants that turn to moans as she gets closer to her release.
I want to remember every moment with her, no matter how much it hurts in the end. In those moments I’m alone, I want to be able to remember this, the sound and feel of our bodies together wrapped in nothing but the darkness.
“More, Beau,” she pleads, and I bring one arm under her leg, lifting it enough to fit my knee under it.
The angle is deeper, the need is stronger, the feel of her squeezing me is exquisite torture.
I increase my speed and she meets me thrust for thrust until she’s chanting “Yes” over and over again.
I can feel my own orgasm coming on as I watch her chase hers, and when she shouts “Yes,” I clamp my mouth over hers, stroking her tongue with mine.
And as I come, the only word running through my head is mine, mine, mine, over and over.
I want to tell her all the things I’m feeling.
That I want her in my life beyond tomorrow morning, that I can’t imagine being without her, that I think I’m in love with her.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I kiss her long after our bodies have come to rest with me still inside her, hoping that she can feel the love I’m trying to pour into her, that even though she doesn’t want more than this, she’ll at least remember how special I made her feel.
When I finally get up to take care of the condom, I return to a sleeping Sierra. I climb into bed next to her and watch her sleep until the darkness overtakes me too.
And when I wake up at the first light of dawn, she’s gone.