3. Allie
ALLIE
“Couldn’t miss my favorite day of the year,” he says quietly, voice thick with emotion.
Archer bends to set me down, but I cling harder, uncaring that we’re being watched.
He’s fleeting and always so far from me, I’m afraid the second my skin leaves his, he’ll mist into nothing but a figment of my imagination.
Being held by him like this is my anchor to reality—my confirmation he’s really here.
We don’t talk much when we’re apart. It’s too painful for us both, given our history. We text throughout the week, and we video call after his games during football season, but it’s brief, and we both pretend to be aloof.
I can’t know about his life, and he can’t know about mine—not in too much detail. It hurts to know the other can find happiness in our absence, but it hurts even more when we admit that life never feels quite as fulfilling without the other’s presence.
“I’m not going anywhere, Allie Cat. I promise,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my temple.
“Not yet, but you will. You always do.”
He sighs defeatedly into my hair, but the irritated clearing of a throat nearby has us both pausing before I finally allow Archer to plant my feet back onto the ground. I step back from him, gaze fixed on my shoes as I smooth out my shirt.
“Archer…” I swallow awkwardly. “This is Declan. My boyfriend.” I extend my arm to my side, motioning toward Dec.
When I lift my head, I find Declan puffing his chest out, straightening his spine in a poor attempt to look taller than Archer. Archer is massive—in every way. Due to his athletic status and my own intimate history, I’m well-versed in all of his measurements.
Six-foot-six, two hundred twenty pounds, with biceps the size of my head and thighs harder than boulders, but a lean frame that makes him exceptionally agile and quick on his feet, plus an unmatched work ethic—Archer Ramos is a flawless specimen, and my boyfriend couldn’t hold a candle to him when they’re beside each other.
Dammit.
I swore to myself I’d stop comparing the men I date to Archer.
Declan reaches out his hand, and Archer shakes it, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you.”
Dec responds with nothing more than a dejected huff before tilting his face in my direction. “Mind if we talk?”
The indignation in his tone only serves to irritate me, though I know the attempt is to be menacing—to make me pipe down and cower and apologize for showcasing affection to another man within his presence. I couldn’t give less of a fuck if I tried, honestly.
“I haven’t seen Archer in over six months, Declan.”
Suddenly, music starts blasting from the speakers again, and my friends and family return to their own conversations—I think at one point there were cheers for Archer’s and my reunion, but I was too wrapped up in him to be sure.
“I actually haven’t made my rounds yet.” Archer laughs awkwardly, hitching a thumb over his shoulder toward the rest of the party. “You know how Monny gets when we don’t greet her right away.”
He’s not lying. Monica, their grandmother, is aggressively affectionate and utterly obsessed with her grandchildren—which she considers me as well.
I frown anyway. I don’t like that Archer is placating Declan’s behavior right now.
We didn’t do anything wrong. I’m allowed to hug my lifelong best friend for a brief moment after not seeing him for months—in public, no less.
Tight jaw, curled lip, the betrayal written across Dec’s face is as if he walked in on Archer fucking me, and I’m not in the mood to tolerate his over-possessiveness.
Archer’s lips tilt at the corner—a knowing smile.
Like he’s reading the very thoughts inside my mind, because he walks into me, bending to plant a kiss at the center of my forehead before dropping his chin so his nose brushes mine—our lips nearly aligning.
“I’ll come find you in a bit, okay? Promise. ”
I let my eyes fall closed, inhaling his intoxicating scent before nodding against the sturdy warmth of his chest.
He smiles against my temple before stepping back and walking toward the rest of the party. Once Archer is out of sight, Declan’s audacity kicks in. He grabs my arm far too hard, dragging me around the side of the house.
“What the hell was that?” he seethes through clenched teeth, getting far too close as he pins me against the fencing of the wrap-around porch.
“First of all…” I press against his chest, pushing him back a step. “Do not get in my face. Secondly, if you ever grab my arm like that again, I’ll fucking castrate you.”
Dec’s nostrils flare, rage simmering in his gaze, but he allows the space I demand.
His jaw ticks as his eyes flash to the horizon beyond us as he rakes a hand through his golden hair.
“That was humiliating, Allie. Do you know how incredibly inappropriate it is for you, as a claimed woman, to be hanging off another man like that? Do you have any clue how bad that makes me look?”
“Claimed woman?” My lip curls, and I bark out an incredulous laugh.
“Is the year 1951?” Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms and lean a hip against the porch.
“You know better than to think of me as some submissive trophy for you to hang off your arm, Dec. I’m going to do what the fuck I want, including hugging my friends when I see them.
If that’s an issue for you, call yourself a car and get away from me. ”
He pulls at his hair like he’s about to lose his mind entirely as he paces the grass in front of me. “I don’t want you to be submissive, Allie. I want you to respect our relationship and stop putting me in situations that make me uncomfortable!”
“Hugging my childhood best friend isn’t something that should make you uncomfortable.
I’m sorry for whatever insecurities you have that make you feel that way, and I’d be more than happy to help you work through them, but I will not dim myself, nor will I lessen the interactions I have with other men in my life to fit your narrative of what a relationship looks like.
Your expectations aren’t healthy, and you can either trust me, or you can walk away. ”
“He isn’t just your childhood friend!” Declan snaps. “You fucked him, Allie. Multiple times! So excuse me if I don’t want my girlfriend hanging around the cocky asshole she has a history of whoring herself out to!”
His roar is loud enough that I swear even the birds stop singing overhead. It’s as if the entire world heard his claims and fell silent at the sound of his disgust. His disgust of me.
“All right, and that’s where this conversation is going to end,” I say, pressing off the wall and shoving past him.
Long fingers curl around my upper arm hard enough to bruise, yanking me backward, sending me stumbling over my feet. “No it’s fucking not.”
“Yeah, I think it is,” a voice that doesn’t belong to either of us mutters gruffly.
My head snaps up. Everett stands in front of me—a couple of inches shorter than his son, but far more menacing. Completely clad in faded tattoos, his arms cross at his chest, jaw a hard line beneath his beard.
“Who the fuck are you?” Declan scoffs. “Get out of here. This is a private conversation.”
“I’m the cocky asshole’s dad, and the conversation isn’t that private considering we can all hear you from the fucking deck. I don’t take kindly to my kids being called names, and I particularly don’t like hearing you call Allie a whore. You can leave.”
My head swivels toward Declan just in time to see the color drain from his face. His eyes flash to me, flaring with panic. Immediately loosening his hold on me, he steps back, face washing with regret. “I’m sorry, Allie. That was out of line. I—”
“Nope. Don’t care to hear the excuses. You’ve got thirty seconds to get the hell out of here before I put my hands on you.” That’s my dad now, stepping up beside Everett as he shakes his head.
Everett gently slaps a hand on his shoulder. “I told you I’d take care of it.”
My dad’s nostrils are flaring the way they only do when he’s really fucking mad.
I rub the pain out of my arm, unable to meet Declan’s eyes as I murmur, “I think you should probably go. I’ll call you later, okay?”
I keep my gaze fixed on the ground until his footsteps retreat.
He doesn’t have a ride home, but I imagine he’ll be able to find his way downtown and order a rideshare from there.
Once he’s gone, I find that my feet don’t want to move, and I don’t want to face my father or Archer’s—so I stay frozen.
Until a presence washes over me and two strong hands land on my shoulders. “Hey, baby. You okay?”
My dad’s calm voice shakes me out of it, and I shrug off his hold, making my way back toward the party. “I’m fine. Thanks for making him leave.”
“I don’t think this is a healthy relationship for you, Allie,” he says, following me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter, bounding up the porch steps and ignoring the awkward stares of others as I fish through one of the coolers for a drink.
I find a watermelon seltzer, crack the top, and guzzle down several large sips, allowing the alcohol to coat my hollow stomach in forgetful warmth.
When I turn back around, I find my mother now standing beside my dad, watching me with concerned focus. “What?”
“Do you want to come home with us tonight, Allie Bee?” she asks softly, reaching out to twirl one of my loose curls around her finger. “I’m sure Dahlia would give you a few days off.”
“No.” I sigh. “I don’t.” I grab another drink, closing the lid on the cooler and passing them as I toss open the doors that lead inside the house. “I’m going to finish frosting the pot brownies, and then I just want to enjoy my birthday, okay?”
Neither of my parents look convinced, but thankfully, they don’t push further, offering space as I enter the house on my own.
I down three more seltzers while I finish frosting my brownies before I head back out to the party. Stumbling on my feet, I drink two wine coolers while chatting with Elena, Archer’s aunt, before the sun sinks into the Pacific and everyone begins preparing for the firework show to start.
I haven’t seen Archer since before Declan left, wanting to give him the opportunity to spend time with all the friends and family who’ve waited as long as I have to see him.
Though the later it gets, and the fuzzier my mind becomes, the only thing I can focus on is the rapid beat of my heart inside my chest and the way it seems to drum: Archer, Archer, Archer.
I’m swaying on my feet, brain foggy and tummy warm, vision blinded by the bright golden sun, when a soft touch against my elbow startles me. Jumping backward, it takes a moment for my sight to focus on the pretty blonde in front of me—my mom.
“Mommy.” I smile.
“Your dad and I are going to head home after the fireworks. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“No.” I shake my head, and my entire body moves with it. “I need Archer.”
“Where is he, baby?”
I pout, suddenly feeling the need to cry. “I don’t know. I can’t see him.”
“They’re on the beach setting up the tents for tonight,” Darby says softly from Macie’s other side.
I nod and take a step toward the porch railing so I can go find him, when my mother catches me. I didn’t realize I was falling over.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Bee.”
I think I begin crying. Not sure.
What I do know is that a moment later, I’m being guided through the yard by my mom and practically carried down the stairs built into the cliffside above Celestia Cove.
When I slip off my shoes and my bare feet hit the still-warm sand, my mom says, “I need to make sure that Willow or Archer can take care of you before I leave. You’re fucked up, kiddo. ”
That’s when I see him.
Golden skin, dark hair whisking in the sea breeze as the sun sinks into the Pacific behind him, illuminating him like a halo. My fucking angel. He throws a football to his brother with the kind of precision that makes my panties wet, and I think I might be drooling.
“Jesus, Allie,” my mother mutters.
Did I say that out loud?
My feet begin moving, even though I didn’t ask them to.
Archer grows larger—taller, broader, sturdier—the closer I get to him, until suddenly my face is pressed against his body, and we’re both going down.
A fit of giggles escapes my lips and sinks into his bare chest as we roll over on the sand, and I climb on top of him.
Burrowing my head into his shoulder, I decide I’d like to sleep right here.
He lightly spreads his palm over my lower back, searing my skin where my shirt has ridden up, but he doesn’t make me move.
Hushed murmurs are exchanged between Archer and my mom, and when she tells me she loves me, I say it back, but I don’t open my eyes or lift my head.
Instead, I pull my knees to my chest, curling my body entirely on top of Archer’s, melting into every inch of his familiarity.
I sink into the depths of his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breath—returning home.