11. Marcus
Chapter eleven
Marcus
Lifting my suitcase over the threshold of my front door, I quietly set it on the tile and walk down the entryway of my house to get to the kitchen without waking anyone. I haven’t been this exhausted in a while, but the past week being gone was a lot . And to top it all off, my to-do list today doesn’t include a nap.
Turning the corner, three pairs of eyes shoot to me. Maci stands at the sink filling a water bottle. Dean and Brooke are sitting on the breakfast stools with coffee mugs in their hands. It’s 7 a.m. on a Sunday. What are they all doing awake? From my spot at the side of the kitchen, I scan Brooke’s outfit. Tight black leggings, a basic burnt orange sports bra that reveals more of her cleavage than I’ve seen to date. I blink, hardly awake. Fuck. I run my hands down my face. Her blonde waves are pulled back into two loose French braids that I would kill to tug on from behind.
“Are you just now getting home?” Dean questions, standing from his seat and walking around the counter to put his mug in the sink. His hand falls to Maci’s lower back as he reaches around in front of her .
“Yeah. My flight got delayed.” I was supposed to get home late last night from my work trip to Salt Lake City, but apparently the plane had other plans.
“You don’t have to come with us if you’re too tired,” Maci says with a yawn. I fight my own. Go with them? Oh fuck. I forgot we had plans to go hiking, and Maci didn’t mean her sentiment.
I try anyway. “Raincheck?” I hate bailing on my friends, but I still have a massive amount of work to get done today.
“But it’s Brooke’s first hike,” Maci pouts. “We have to make her fall in love so she comes back after she visits her mom. And we’re doing your favorite one.” Her eyes turn into damn puppies, and Dean chuckles.
“Okay, okay.” Fucking hell. She’s not my girlfriend, and I still can’t seem to tell her no. Also, Brooke is leaving? Already? I thought she didn’t want to go yet, and she just let me hire her. “Give me ten?” I haven’t slept all night, but I did promise. She wants Brooke to feel like she has friends here since apparently she doesn’t have much of a support system. Spending time with her is definitely not the reason I’m bumping everything on my list. I mean, she works for me now. So, I’ll be spending time with her regardless.
“Yeah, we’ll meet you outside.” Maci latches onto Brooke’s hand, pulling her from the stool and dragging her toward the door. I can’t fight the grin that slips out. Oh. Wait.
“Did you happen to–” I catch Maci before she’s out the door.
She reaches for the backpack on the ground that I skipped over seeing in the entryway. “Pack you a lunch? Yes, I did.”
I take a firm grip on Dean’s shoulder as he passes. “What’s yours is mine, right?” I smirk .
“Always, man. Except for my future wife. So go find your own.” His grin is goofy as he runs his fingers through his hair, then pushes past me to follow his girl.
The front door closes behind them, and I make my way down the hall. Knowing Brooke isn’t in my room, I pull open the drawer to my dresser and replace my business suit I haven’t taken off from last night’s dinner meeting with black joggers and a faded forest green Oregon Ducks T-shirt. I yank the elastic from my hair, retying it, then grabbing my Nalgene bottle from the kitchen.
Locking the house behind me, I walk toward my car, only to detour when I hear Dean’s truck already running on the other side of it on our gravel driveway.
Sliding into the back seat next to Brooke, I buckle my belt, stealing another glance at her while I do. We’ve texted back and forth a few times this week with a couple of questions about Emma and Charlotte’s company, but I get the impression she’s mostly been communicating with them directly. I would have rather been here working with them in person, but this trip was crucial. I was meeting with a manufacturing company. I had set it up after my first meeting with them. I’m confident the deal will go through, but I wanted to finalize everything with the production in person. It’s my first time dealing with the logistics of physical products like this. Mastering the learning curve and negotiating a deal was a beast, but it’ll be worth it.
I’m about to share my project with Maci and Dean–knowing how supportive they’ll be about it–but common sense kicks in. If Maci wants Brooke to have friends, talking about business probably isn’t the best way to help that. It’s too early, and I haven’t slept nearly enough for that anyway. Not to mention it’s not exactly a chirping birds and sunshine type of investment.
Maci plugs her phone into Dean’s truck using the auxiliary cord, thumbing through her playlist until she lands on the one I know she will. Constantly being in someone’s personal space is a surefire way to get to know them, and that’s proven true since Maci moved in. I’ve known Dean since we were five. He’s one of the select few I’ve let in. Troy and I have become close too, now that we own a business together. My friendship with Maci happened by force and accident. And while I love that we coexist in the same house so well, I can’t help but wish I could spend the same time getting to know someone meant for me.
An instrumental version of Taylor Swift’s “State of Grace” seeps through the speakers, and Maci sets her phone on the dash as the sunlight peeks through the trees on either side. She’s made a playlist of piano covers of all her favorite songs because I rarely listen to music with words. It’s distracting while I work.
The three of us have created quite a few compromises to make for a peaceful living arrangement–none of which I mind. But finding someone who already shares priorities and preferences? That would be great. Leaning my head back against the seat, I close my eyes, letting the melody soothe me. It’s an hour and a half drive, and I could use the peace and a nap.
“I like this version,” Brooke whispers, like she’s talking to herself. “It’s almost like you can feel it more, like the words are trapped inside, trying to get out.” I get the impression she wasn’t talking to me, so I keep my eyes closed. Though, part of the smile I try to prevent slips out.
The small jolt of the truck coming to a stop and Brooke’s fingers grazing my forearm wake me over an hour later. “We’re here.” Her voice is soft, and I wouldn’t mind being woken up this way every day.
I rub my eyes, allowing myself only a quick glance at her before I scan our surroundings through the window. We’re at one of my favorite places to hike. It’s also a go-to place for my buddies and me to backpack camp.
Jumping down from the truck, I loop my Nalgene bottle through my finger. The full trail is a seven mile loop, so hopefully I don’t need more than that.
“Here.” Dean smirks as a packet of bug spray wipes hits me straight in the chest. I barely catch it before it slides to the dirt.
I take a step, smacking him upside the head with it at his joke.
“Ignore those two,” Maci says with a laugh. “Their bromance is something else. They’ve got more inside jokes than we’ll ever have.”
Brooke laughs, zipping her hoodie over her sports bra. “Do I even want to hear this story?”
“Oh yes, you definitely do.” Maci nods emphatically.
I groan at the stupidity of younger me but don’t fight it, my mind wandering to a curiosity about whether or not Brooke enjoys camping. Would she be a tent girl or insist on an RV? She must have an adventurous side if she lived in Thailand, but there are drastically different ways to live life there.
Maci starts the story without permission. “One time, when they went camping there was an unfortunate marshmallow incident that led to so many mosquito bites that they woke up with welts all over their bodies.”
I didn’t plan to chime in but can’t help it. Chuckling, I say, “You’re a terrible story teller. You’re missing all the key elements.”
“You tell it then,” she says over her shoulder, reaching her hand behind her as she walks toward the trailhead marked with a wooden display box filled with a trail map, emergency numbers, and instruction guide for what to do if you encounter a bear.
Dean shuts his door, slinging the lunch backpack over his shoulder and slipping the keys into the pocket of his basketball shorts, replacing them with Maci’s hand. All of a sudden this feels like a double date. I glance at Brooke, looking at me with anticipation for the story–not at all giving a sign that she wishes it was a date. I’m her boss now–at least temporarily–and she won’t be here long. I definitely don’t wish that’s what was happening here. It’s nice not to be a lone third wheel for once, though. “What happened was this fucker,” I motion to Dean, “wouldn’t help me put out a fire.”
“A three inch fire on your marshmallow,” he cuts in.
“I had no choice but to fling it through the air and let the wind help me put it out.”
“You couldn’t just blow on it?” Brooke asks, scrunching her face at me as we leave the openness of the parking lot to enter a barely wide enough for two people path between the trees.
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!” Maci exclaims, dropping Dean’s hand to turn back toward where Brooke and I walk a few steps behind them.
Shaking my head, I can’t help but grin. I am much more intelligent than that, but a twelve pack of beer between the three of us dissolved common sense. “You’re not allowed to tell her any more stories about the days we were young and dumb.”
“And full of cum,” Brooke chimes in.
A laugh bursts out of Maci, and Dean says, “I like this girl.”
I stop in my tracks and stare at her.
“What?” She shrugs. “That’s how the saying goes.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, forcing my eyes back to the trail instead of trailing her body at the mention of anything regarding sex.
Dean helps Maci over the giant tree that’s fallen across the path as Brooke asks, “What? You’re telling me sex was not part of your young and dumbness?”
Biting back a smile, I hop up on the log, instinctively reaching for Brooke. She eyes me for a moment but slides her hand in mine and lets me pull her onto the fallen tree. I hop down gently, not releasing her until she’s safely on the ground. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
“Not anymore. Not in what I say, anyway.”
I want to dig more into her words, but the idea screams trouble. The last thing I need to do is talk about sex with someone who is an employee. The point is to keep me from going there, from preventing me from letting anything overpower the truth: I don’t have time for a girlfriend, and Brooke isn’t going to be here forever anyway.
Brooke doesn’t add anything else, and refusing to continue on the topic, I watch as Maci steps up on her toes to whisper something in Dean’s ear. His hand falls to her lower back, sliding around her waist to keep her from falling over as she tells him a secret.
“Those two are disgustingly cute.”
I chuckle. “You get used to it.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend, right? ”
I hold back an overgrown bush branch and let Brooke pass me. “Nah. No time really.”
“Oh. What about that girl from the restaurant?”
“I met her for coffee.”
“That’s it?”
“My work schedule doesn’t allow for many detours.”
“Right. I am surprised you’re here. Why’d you even humor her with coffee then?”
Because I’m lonely as fuck, and I want to find something more important to me than work. “I promised Troy I’d make more of an effort to meet someone.”
“Like you promised Maci you’d come hiking today.”
“I’m a man of my word.”
“But why agree to do things you don’t want to do?”
“Who said I didn’t want them?”
She opens her mouth to speak but clamps it shut like she decided against her next question.
Getting to know her feels dangerous, but curiosity gets the best of me. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
She laughs. “I haven’t dated anyone in three years, let alone had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced.” She glances back quickly, doing a terrible job of masking her cringe before she faces forward again. She continues on her way like she’s decided to commit to saying something to a near stranger that girls usually reserve for their closest friends. Thank fuck for that because it means she can’t see the deep breath I inhale at her words. I thought my three month dry spell was bad. Wait, what did she say? “So, you haven’t had sex?” I tiptoe a line that shouldn’t even be within sight, but she started it.
She shrugs, sparing me a quick glance over her shoulder. “Not in a while. Turned myself off, I guess. My first few months in Thailand were . . .” She stops so abruptly that I crash into her–not hard, but enough that I stumble a bit, and instinctively grab her to steady myself. She grins at the contact, like she’s not bothered, but her shoulders slump under my touch. “Well, to be honest, I was a total tourist slut.” She’s only a few inches from my face, the tone of her voice severely contradicting the sadness in her eyes. Shrugging again, she pulls away from my touch to continue on the trail.
“Everyone goes through a phase.”
“Did you?” she asks, holding her hands out for balance as she walks a log on the side of the path like a tightrope.
When I don’t answer, she glances over her shoulder to make sure I’m still here but doesn’t push. “What happened after the first few months?” Fucking hell. I mentally high-five my face. What is it about this girl that makes me want to know more? Getting to know people is rarely on my to-do list. I chalk it up to killing time on the hike even though I usually prefer the silence.
She stops in her tracks, but this time I don’t crash into her. Hopping off the log she was walking, she takes a few steps to where the trail opens up.
My favorite part.
The path loops around a deep valley with a pool of water at the bottom. Following along it will bring us to the backside of the waterfall pouring over the overhang of the massive moss-covered boulder on our left. I walk past her, assuming she’ll follow, but there’s no crunch of leaves or other signs of movement from her.
Turning around, I watch her take in her surroundings. Her eyes are locked on the waterfall, but then she slowly scans. She follows the path with her gaze, where the tree-lined trail turns into the rock wall holding up the waterfall. Past where I can barely see Maci and Dean making out like they are sixteen years old behind the rushing water. She spins ever so slightly, the toes of her Nikes grinding against the dirt as she continues to sweep the view, sunlight reflecting against the water, a group of hikers making their way around the next bend.
Her gaze locks on where the tail end of the waterfall meets its resting point, and stills. I hear the roar of the waterfall crashing into the pool below, but it feels like all I see is her. Her hands are in the pockets of her purple zip-up. Her blonde baby hairs are now wavy wisps framing her face, a little sweaty from the hike, or maybe mist from the waterfall.
A bird chirps nearby, and it breaks her out of her trance. She shakes her head, bringing herself back to reality. “Oh sorry,” she says like she didn't realize I was still standing next to her.
It’s not a problem, but I don’t say anything.
“It was just a glimmer.” Her words are soft like she’s worried they’ll be taken away if they’re said too loud.
“What’s a glimmer?” I step closer in case it’s a secret. Even if it’s not, for some reason, I want in.
She gives me a half smile. “A small, seemingly insignificant moment that sparks joy, peace or gratitude. Something that cues your nervous system to feel safe or calm. Basically, the opposite of a trigger. It’s nothing really.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I know it’s just a waterfall.” She sighs. “But, I don’t know. Nature has so much power, but it doesn’t want to use its power to control you. It wants you to have it, to soak it up, to enjoy it. It trusts you not to take from it. Most people who hold power over you want more than to just surround you with the beauty of life. So, focusing on things–nature mostly–that bring me peace helps me feel safe, I guess. Calm.” She chuckles, moving down the path again. “It’s way cheaper than therapy.”
“You miss Thailand.” The observation isn’t a question. I can tell her sentiment was only partially about that, but I don’t touch the part about people abusing power.
“Yeah.” She tugs her arms through the sleeves of her hoodie, pulling it off and tying it around her waist, her midsection on full display. Goddamn, she’s hot.
Focus, man. “Why didn’t you stay?”
“It just felt like it was time to move on.” She’s not giving me enough, but I drop it, knowing less is better.
We continue the hike without talking. Just the roar of the water. The chirp of the birds. The rustle of the wind through the trees. She slows her pace a few times to take it all in, and I stay with her, completely forgetting Dean and Maci are here until we reach where they are waiting for us at a little side trail on a log by the river.
Maci is pulling sandwiches out of the backpack, lining them up on top of their ziplock baggies along the log she's straddling. She glances up at the two of us. “You both want chips on yours?”
“Yup,” I answer and can’t help my grin as Brooke says, “Duh. It’s the only way.” Maci pulls off one top piece of bread at a time, layering each sandwich with Doritos as I sit on the other end of the log. Brooke joins Dean nearby, immediately stripping off her socks and shoes. She moans dramatically when she slips her feet into the crystal clear river water, and I need a fucking distraction from her.
I pull my phone from my pocket, wanting to check on a few work things anyway. By some miracle, I have a bar of service and open one of the thirteen emails I’ve received since we left the house. Maci holds out my sandwich as I’m punching out a reply to one of them, and I take it from her, setting it on my thigh.
“Thank you,” I hear Brooke say on the edge of my awareness.
“So, are you at least excited to see your dad when you go home?” Maci asks her friend. I’m curious about her answer but don’t engage. I need to finish this email.
“So excited. It’s only been a few months since I’ve seen him. He came to Thailand at the beginning of the year. But he’s the best. Partially makes up for my mom being the way that she is.”
“I get that,” Dean chimes in. I tune him out as the three of them talk about Dean’s dilemma over whether or not to invite his dad to the wedding after what went down regarding his sister, Sophie and her boyfriend, Cooper. I’ve already run through the pros and cons with him until we were more angry and further from a decision.
I press send and open another email.
“–Marcus?” I register my name at the end of a sentence I completely missed from Brooke. Finishing my email and pressing send, it sinks in that she was talking to me. When I glance up, her face shifts from hesitating on mine awaiting a response, back to Maci who has started to reply for me.
Fuck. She probably thinks I’m such an asshole. I need to get this done. I don’t want to drop the ball on Charlotte and Emma’s deal and need to keep up with everything else too. The email I just opened was an issue with our tax payment on the bar property–obviously a priority.
Closing out of the app, I slip my phone into my pocket and pick up my sandwich .
“Marcus won the lotto with his parents. I love them. On summer breaks from school, they used to do mission trips to South Africa. They have such good stories.”
Brooke looks to me as if for confirmation, and thank fuck I’m paying attention now and figured out what she was asking about. “They’re great.” I smile at the thought of my parents. I know I’m lucky to have two incredible ones. I feel bad for my friends who don’t. My gaze shifts to Dean for a moment, noticing the conversation about his dad took a toll. Not sure if I’m helping or hurting, I add, “My dad and Jack coached our soccer team when we were kids.”
“Oh my gosh. I wish I knew you then!” Maci swoons.
Dean chuckles. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
I hold back my own laugh with a bite of my sandwich. Goddamn, the chips really make it.
“Oh yeah?” Brooke instigates. “Why’s that?” She splashes her feet on the top of the shallow water, the sunlight reflecting off the skin where her leggings are pushed up.
“We just fucked around all day,” Dean responds for the both of us. “I’d always forget my uniform. And Marcus would be missing before every game. Dad would find him wandering through the food carts.”
“And yet, somehow, you both ended up with killer bodies, like you actually made an effort in sports.” Those words from Brooke’s mouth definitely get my attention.
With half a mouthful of sandwich, Dean takes a sip of his water and swallows. “Yeah. Well, girls are much better motivation than orange slices and rice crispy treats.” He pinches Maci’s side and she giggles, falling into him. It's disgustingly cute, and I want to detour away from relationship talk.
“So, Brooke.” I shift my attention back to her and where the sun’s golden rays reflect on her braids. Fuck, she’s beautiful. “Did you play sports?”
“Yeah.” She smiles briefly before it falls as she brushes crumbs off her hands. “When I was younger, I did gymnastics. Dad was my biggest cheerleader. But once I got good, it became too time consuming and expensive for my parents to keep up with.”
“That sucks.” I have no clue what the fuck else to say because it does. Money makes the world go round. My dad only coached my team with Jack so we didn’t have to pay for my spot. I refuse for it to be like that for my little sister. I want my parents to be able to experience her life however they want.
“It’s okay.” She forces a smile, lifting her feet from the water and kicking them in the air a bit to shake the water off before putting her socks back on. “My best friend and I made up games to play in the woods behind my mom’s work. I would never have become a pro at ‘capture the five-star dining napkin’ if I had been stuck in the gym for five hours a day.” She laughs at the memory, and I feel the shift inside my chest. I want to know every detail about the life that created this girl in front of me.
Without giving me the chance to start that right now, Brooke stands. Maci and Dean follow suit, zipping up the backpack and getting ready to continue on our way. This time, they don’t skip ahead of us, taking over the conversation with wedding talk, and finding out more about Brooke becomes just barely out of reach.