Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
Reid
“This is…absolutely perfect. Everything about it.”
I smile tightly at the blonde but keep my attention focused on the dining table I’m currently helping her husband hoist into their trailer. Once we’ve gotten it into place, I rotate my right shoulder, the sensation of strained fatigue a lot stronger than it was before. Hopefully just an overworked muscle and not something worse.
“I’m glad you love it,” I finally say, hopping down off the trailer and watching as her husband covers it with a tarp.
Normally, I’d offer to help, but I’m feeling wiped, the exhaustion I’ve been experiencing recently surely not helped by the poor way I’ve been sleeping and the long hours I’ve been working.
“Well, Hannah, I hope you love the table, and if you need anything else or you’re interested in custom work for your home, just give me a call,” I say, digging a business card out of my wallet.
I pass it over and she takes a look. “Do you deliver? We’re just here on vacation. We live in the LA area.”
Nodding, I tuck my wallet into my back pocket. “I do. I work with a shipping company that can do door-to-door service, white glove and everything. They’ll unload whatever it is and set it up for you and take all the packing supplies.”
“That’s what I told her we should have done this time,” her husband says as he rounds the back of the trailer, tightening the cinches that will keep the table held in place.
Hannah rolls her eyes and looks at me, an amused smile on her face. “Anyway, thanks so much for your help. I can think of one or two things I might want for the house, so I’ll definitely reach out once we’re ready.”
I nod then accept a handshake from each of them before they load up in their fancy truck and drive off. Sighing, I wipe the sweat from my brow and head through the back door, into the blissfully airconditioned space.
The heat this summer is unreal, and the reprieve we had a few weeks ago didn’t last nearly long enough before temps started rising again. I’ve been running the fan on high, but it’s been basically no help, the moving air doing almost nothing to relieve the sweltering warmth.
I’ve considered coming into the store and laying out blankets over one of the couches, just to get a good night of sleep, or asking Marie if I can borrow her RV for a few days. I heard a customer yesterday mention the exceptional a/c at the resort, and even shelling out a few hundred bucks for a night in a hotel room sounds preferable to how rough things have been.
But for whatever reason, I haven’t pulled the trigger on any of those options.
I roll my eyes at myself as I head into the bathroom at the back of the store to wash my hands. Like I don’t know the reason I continue in my misery, choosing to return home night after night.
It’s because of Busy, and Junie. Knowing the two of them are next door, likely also struggling with the heat, makes escaping it less desirable, like suffering alongside them somehow makes a difference. I know that’s stupid, but I can’t imagine booking a hotel room and sleeping in cool air knowing they’re still wilting away.
So I stay.
Though it would feel a lot better if Busy would actually talk to me without that weird fake smile on her face. One that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Something that’s entirely my fault.
I grab a broom from the back closet and head to the front then begin sweeping the area where the table I just loaded up used to be. Time to do some rearranging then look at the pieces I have waiting in the shop to fill the empty space.
Out of my peripheral vision, I catch sight of a blonde head of hair walking past my window, and I jerk my head to the side, though my shoulders dip slightly when I realize it’s the other super blonde Mitchell, Bellamy, walking down the street holding hands with Rusty Fuller. Sighing, I sweep up the collected dust and take it to the trash in the back then return the broom to its spot.
“Hey, Heather, I’m gonna head back to the shop,” I say, looking to my store manager. “Gimme a call if you need anything before close, okay?”
She beams at me. “Sounds good. Thanks, Reid.”
I spin and step through the back door, back into the alley that stretches behind all the Main-facing stores, heading back toward my warehouse. I spot Busy at the end of the path, walking away from me over to the trash bins at the end of the lane, carrying a stack of cardboard.
I’ve been thinking of nothing else but our kiss since it happened. The taste of her tongue, the plump heaven of her lips, the way it felt to hold her in my arms and press her against me. Kissing her was one of the most gratifying moments of my life.
And the greatest mistake I could ever make.
It’s one thing to imagine how it would feel to hold a woman you have developed feelings for in your arms. It’s quite another to hold her and then have to let her go.
Busy chucks the cardboard into a large green bin then dusts off her hands before she spins around to head back, her movements easy and relaxed, until her eyes lock with mine. She freezes for a second, like a scared cat, before she waves and gives me that fake smile.
“Hi, Reid. You surviving the heat?” she asks as we come to a stop right outside the back door of the bookstore.
I nod. “Barely.”
Busy laughs. “Same. The forecast says it should dip again in a few days.”
“I’m hoping for a summer storm to break the humidity some.”
She clasps her hands together. “That sounds amazing. I hope you’re right.”
We stand there silently for a beat or two before she speaks again.
“Well, good to see you.”
I nod. “You, too.”
She walks past me and tugs open the door, heading back inside.
It’s been two weeks since our kiss, and it’s also been two weeks since things between us have felt the way they used to. Casual. Comfortable. Busy is friendly, sure—I think it’s just in her nature—but the ease isn’t there anymore.
Our interactions always feel a little forced, a little awkward, a little too much like friends who have caught feelings tiptoeing around each other for the sake of…something, though who the hell knows what. I want to say for the sake of the friendship, but I can feel that slowly sliding away from me. Like so many other things, it feels like it’s slipping through my fingers, and I’m not sure there’s much I can do to stop it.
When Nick invites me out for a beer with the guys at The Mitch on Friday night, I reluctantly say yes, knowing I need to get out of the house. When I sit down at a table with him, Jeremiah, Teddy, and Carlos, my hope is that I’ll have a drink or two, laugh a bit, and break out of this weird funk I’ve been in for the past few weeks.
But two drinks becomes three, then four, and before I know it, my inhibitions are much, much lower.
And then Busy Mitchell walks through the door.
My eyes dip down to where she’s wearing those cowboy boots and then slowly rise, taking in her frayed jean skirt and tight top that dips just enough in the front to hint at the tits I’ve been hyperaware of since that night on the dock. She doesn’t see me as she strolls across the bar with both of her sisters, and for that I’m actually grateful. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle seeing that fake smile aimed my way again. Not today.
It feels like my brain is split in two as I try to keep my attention at the table while simultaneously staying constantly aware of her as she moves about the room.
“Reid.”
My eyes zip over to Nick, who is watching me intently.
“Yeah.”
“You look like you’re a million miles away,” he says, chuckling, but I see the layer of concern there, too.
“Sorry, man. Just a lot on my mind,” I say. And it’s true. There’s always a lot on my mind.
I try to shake it off and lean forward, pushing myself to focus more on the baseball game everyone’s talking about. I mostly succeed, even if my eyes do flick Busy’s way more than I normally would allow. Eventually, the other guys get up and head to the bar to order another round, leaving Nick and me at the table alone.
“So…what’s going on with you and the Mitchell girl,” he asks, leaning toward me on the table and—thankfully—keeping his voice low.
My brow furrows. “Nothing.”
He pins me with a look.
“Seriously, nothing,” I insist.
Because it’s true. There is nothing going on between us, no matter how much I might wish that wasn’t the case.
His eyes narrow and he takes a sip of his beer, then his eyes glance to the right, where I know Busy is posted up at the bar with Briar and Bellamy.
“It’s interesting that nothing’s going on when she keeps glancing over here.”
Licking my lips, I debate with myself about looking over my shoulder to where she is. Eventually I lose the war and I turn, finding her glancing in my direction at the exact same time. Her eyes widen slightly and she gives me a tight smile then turns back around, facing the bartender who’s chatting with Bellamy.
Nick scoffs, and when I look over at him, he’s leaning back in his chair, his hands folded casually against his stomach.
“Sure. There’s nothing going on. Not like she looked at you like she’s seen you naked or anything.”
“She hasn’t seen me naked.”
Nick watches me for a long beat. “But?”
Sighing, I lean forward. “We kissed on the Fourth of July.”
One eyebrow rises high on Nick’s forehead before a wide smile splits his face. “Holy shit. Nobody talks about a kiss like that unless the earth has fucking moved. You’re falling for her.”
I am. Which is what makes all of this feel…impossible.
“Just go for it, man. After that bullshit with Sarah, you deserve someone who will make you happy.”
“Nick, I told you before. I’m not interested in starting anything up, with anyone. I wasn’t kidding.”
At that, he rolls his eyes. “And like I told you , there are plenty more fish in the sea. Hot ones. Frisky ones. Ones you take to bed and ones you take home to your mom.” He shrugs. “But you can’t just…be alone forever.”
I take a long sip of my beer, wishing Nick knew the truth, wishing he understood the reason why I say I never plan to date or fall in love ever again. Nothing lasts forever.
“And once you hook a good one like her?” he continues, hitching his thumb in the direction of the Mitchell sisters at the bar. “You don’t cut the line and let someone else go after her.”
I look back at Busy at the bar. If only it were that simple.
Honestly, the best thing I can do for Busy is hope someone else does go after her, someone far better than me who can give her the kind of life she’s dreamed of.
Not one…filled with complications and responsibility she can’t even begin to imagine.
When Nick drops me off at home later, I’m what I consider to be just the right amount of buzzed. Just enough that I feel good, but not so much that I think I’ll feel like trash tomorrow.
Perfect.
We’ll see if I still feel the same way as I nurse my headache and achy body in the morning.
When I key in through my front door, I glance around, knowing instinctively that Sydney isn’t in the house. I sigh then push out onto my deck and look over to Busy’s, finding Sydney lying on the edge with her head resting on her paws, looking out at the water. Her head rises when she hears me, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.
“Am I ever going to be able to leave you at home without worrying you’re going to escape?” I ask, dropping down into my seat and patting my lap. “Or are you just going to keep doing this for the rest of your life?”
Sydney pushes up—reluctantly, it seems—and slowly heads my direction. Once she’s finally stopped between my legs, I reach out with both hands to scratch her head.
“Try to at least act like you’re my dog, okay?”
My eyes flick up when a light comes on outside the green cabin, illuminating the red decking and spilling down the steps, fading as it gets closer to the dock. A few beats later, I hear Busy singing and Junie laughing, and I smile, imagining them dancing around in their living room.
Sydney’s head perks up at the sound of Junie’s voice, and she looks at me, silently asking for permission. I should take her inside. I should also do a better job of trying to find out how she’s still getting out on the days I leave her at home, but I have remained almost gleefully ignorant.
“Go ahead,” I mumble, watching as she leaps off my deck and heads excitedly over to Busy’s, where she stands at their screen door waiting, her tail wagging.
I remain in my seat, trying to pretend I’m not itching for an excuse to go over there and bring her back home.
“Sinny!” Junie’s sweet voice cries out, and then I hear the screen door open.
Busy steps outside, letting Sydney into the house, a smile on her face when she glances my way.
“She heard Junie and ran right over,” I call out, chuckling. “I’m not even sure she’s my dog anymore, to be honest.”
“She’s definitely Junie’s dog now,” Busy replies, letting the screen door close and crossing a few feet toward me. “Can’t say I hate it, especially when Junie needs to run off some of her energy. Grandma decided to give her a sugar cookie about an hour ago.” She holds up her hands, her fingers crossed. “Hoping it’ll wear off any minute.”
She turns and looks out at the water, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her skirt, and goddamn she’s beautiful. I try not to notice. Really, I do. But it’s nearly impossible not to see it on a regular night. With several more beers than normal warming my blood, I don’t have a chance at keeping my eyes to myself.
God, I wish things were different, wish I could hold her and love her and protect her the way she deserves. I hate that I broke something between us, something I didn’t realize I wanted or needed from someone until I had it and then it was gone.
I hate that I’m broken, too.
“I’m sorry,” I say, just loud enough for her to hear it.
And I know she does, because her body grows rigid.
“You don’t have to apologize, Reid,” she replies, turning to give me that same tight smile.
“But I do. Because…things aren’t the same, and that’s my fault.”
I feel like a whiny shit saying that, but it’s the fucking truth. I want my friend back. I want those soft smiles and easy conversations and the laughter. God, I want the laughter back.
“It’s nobody’s fault, Reid.” She shakes her head and crosses her arms, looking back out to the water. “It’s just life. We’re still friends.”
Friends.
God, I fucking hate that word, hate it with depths I didn’t know I had, but I can’t be upset at her for it. She’s doing what any woman in her position would do: protecting herself, walling off her heart from me because I made her believe she had to. In reality, as her friend , I should be proud of her for what she’s doing.
Instead, I’m stewing in my own agony, my own desire, my own…fear.
That’s really what it is: fear. It’s fear of losing her as a friend because I can’t provide her with more, and the worst part is there’s nothing I can do to change it.
After a little while, when the giggles stop, Busy pokes her head back inside then disappears, only to reappear a few minutes later with Sydney trotting along at her side…and a bottle of wine in her hand.
“They were snuggled up in Junie’s bed together,” she says, crossing over to my deck then dropping down in the chair next to mine. “It was super cute.”
Busy takes a sip from her wine bottle then extends it in my direction. I blink twice, wondering if maybe I had more to drink than I first thought. Is she really here right now, shooting the shit like nothing’s wrong?
I reach out and take the bottle from her hand then tilt it back for my own sip.
“I’m thinking it might be time to get a couch,” she says, settling into her seat and lifting her bare feet up to rest on the small coffee table, crossing her legs at the ankle. “I’m kind of done sitting on the ground, you know?”
Because I’ve had a few drinks, it takes a minute to understand what she’s doing, what she’s giving me. And when I realize, my heart breaks a little bit.
Busy is giving me her friendship. Opening up her heart to me again, even though I don’t deserve it.
“I think that’s a great choice. Especially because I’m starting to have a hard time getting up off your floor. These knees aren’t what they used to be.”
At that, her head falls back and she giggles, the sound one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.
“You’re not that old.”
I shrug, take another sip from the bottle, and pass it back her way.
It’s hard to rein in my smile for the rest of the night.