Tin

CHAPTER TWELVE

RIKER

“Are you still mad at me?” Sid’s standing next to Nox’s stall door. I’ve barely been here three minutes. I actually expected her to show up sooner.

“No.” I scoop the soggy strands of hay out of his waterer and snort at him in disgust. He’s sloppy as all get out.

“Are you sure? You kinda look like you might still be mad.” She’s rubbing the crease between her brows with her fingers. I hate when she stresses over stuff she doesn’t need to.

“I’m pissed because it’s seven a.m. and I’m in here cleaning slimy crud out of a water bowl and picking up his nighttime shit like I’m his little bitch. Because I am. Every day. For the rest of my life. Or at least his.” And because Nox is smarter than most humans, he whips his tail just right to catch me straight across my face.

“You know, you really shouldn’t insult him when he can hear you,” Sid says, pointing out the obvious.

“And you should keep some of your dialogue internal,” I shoot back.

“I’m guessing you’re referring more to last night and less to just now?” She’s still holding onto the stall door, but she’s leaning back as if she’s attempting to achieve a safer distance between us.

“You had no business saying half the shit you said.” I finish up with Nox and walk past Sid into the aisle.

“I know that. And I said I’m sorry like a hundred times.” She has a flare for exaggerating. And she knows it. “Okay, maybe like five. Whatever. I’ve said I was sorry. What else do you want?”

I turn to face her full on. “I want you to be okay with this. I want you to stop worrying. And I want you to be nice to her. She’s not who you think she is. ”

She bites her lip, presumably fighting the urge to argue. “Fine. I’ll do all of those. Just tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Are you sure she’s who you think she is?”

I can’t answer that. Sid knows I can’t. It’s why she asked it.

“She makes me happy, Sid. Whoever else she is, she’s someone who makes me happy. And that’s all I need to know right now.”

QUINN

“You look guilty. What did you do?” Kirsten hands me a cup of hot tea alongside her morning accusations.

“Nothing you want me to tell you about with your five-year-old sitting three feet away.” It’s an open-ended question and I’m well within my rights to give an equally unresolved answer. Even if I am misleading her slightly by sort of insinuating that I feel somehow guilty for my various sexual escapades, which is clearly not the case. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t want me talking about Levi in front of Sophie either, so I’m not exactly being dishonest. Merely crafty in the interest of self-preservation. Which telling her what I told Sid and Riker last night would not be. Because she’d kill me if she knew.

Regardless, she’s right. I do feel guilty. And not just because of all the personal stuff I shared on her behalf last night. It’s all the personal stuff I chose to omit when the time came for one-on-one sharing with Riker.

Kirsten’s still giving me a dirty look, and I’m pretty sure she’s racking her brain of every heinous sexual act she’s ever seen or heard about and wondering if I enacted it. I’m quite sure I haven’t. I’m horny, and I have a lot of sex these days, but it’s pretty basic stuff. Fun stuff. But nothing that would get me invited to a BDSM party anytime soon .

“Would you stop staring at me? Sophie’s going to start thinking there’s something wrong with me the way you keep glaring at me like I have a rainbow bursting out of my forehead.”

She brings her own tea mug to her lips and pauses. “There is something wrong with you.” Then she takes a drink, and I know damn well she timed it that way so I wouldn’t see her smile.

“Ha ha.” I decide to pass on returning the insult and instead count the previous secret-spilling as my silent retaliation. “Anyway, what do you two lovelies have planned for today?”

Kirsten tilts her head like I should already know the answer. And she’s probably right, but I don’t even know what day it is, so I can hardly keep track of what she’s doing with it. “Well, it’s Tuesday.” Tuesday. That sounds right . “So, Sophie has school today.”

I nod, putting it all together again. “That’s a Tuesday and Thursday thing, right?”

“Yes. It’s been a Tuesday and Thursday thing since you got here. Almost four months ago.” She walks around the counter to clear Sophie’s dishes. Sophie’s been watching us over her empty cereal bowl for the last few minutes. Sometimes I wonder what goes on inside her head. She’s super quiet. A lot like me. And that makes me both sad and worried for her. It shouldn’t. She’s not me. But it does. Because she has all kinds of potential to turn out like me. And none of us want that.

“Hey, Soph. What sort of stuff are the kids doing in school these days?” I prop myself onto my elbows right beside her at the breakfast bar.

“I learned to say the whole alphabet. And I know a song about all the colors of the rainbow. Want to hear it?” Her big blue eyes are gleaming with excitement, and a sharp pain ricochets straight through my heart. I’m the shittiest aunt ever. I can’t even recall the last time I had a real conversation with her.

“I would love to hear it. ”

Kirsten cuts in between us to usher her out of her seat. “It will have to wait until this afternoon. Come on, kiddo. Time to get your shoes on.”

“Yes, Mama.” Disappointed, Sophie walks off with a noticeable slump to her shoulders.

“I’m a crapshoot for an aunt. You should trade me in and get your kid a better one.” I plop into her now vacant seat at the counter, the same bummer slump in my posture.

“I would, but the market’s bad right now. No way I can get out of keeping you without taking a major hit.” Kirsten smirks. “Besides. Even if I got her another aunt, you’d still be her godmother. And there’s no trading out on that gig.”

“What? You didn’t change that? Appoint someone new?”

She looks at me like I’m the crazy one. The irony here is priceless, but, apparently, I’m the only one aware of it. “Why would I appoint someone new? You’re my sister. You were there when Sophie was born. You were the second person to ever hold her. The only one who could get her to stop crying when she was teething, and the last person to leave when she was admitted to the hospital with an allergic reaction so bad I thought she might die.”

“All of that was a long time ago. Think of everything I missed in the meantime. I’m like a stranger to her now.” Three years is a long time when you’ve only been around for five.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Quinn. She loves you. You love her. Time hasn’t changed that. Even if it’s changed you.” She pulls me in for a hug, and we’re not huggers, so this is a big deal. “Now more than ever, I know without a doubt that you, and only you, are the person I would trust with my daughter’s life. If ever there was a day that I wasn’t here to be her mother anymore, I would find peace in knowing she still had you. ”

“Kirsten.” I have to take a deep breath and swallow several times to push back down the emotions she so skillfully wrung to the surface. “I would fuck up your kid faster than they could give you entry to heaven. So just do whatever you have to, to stick around and finish the job yourself.”

She pinches my side and laughs, but she’s wiping her eyes with the palm of her free hand. “Deal.”

Sophie comes back, shoes on and backpack in hand. And just in the nick of time. Who knows what other depressing sort of conversations Kirsten and I would have started without her presence to remind us that they were running late for school.

After a round of goodbye waves, they’re both out the door and I’m left sitting alone in the kitchen.

I’m about to get up when my phone rings and my heart drops. My phone hardly ever rings. When it does, it’s usually Devyn. And I’m not ready for more bad news just yet.

I bring it out of my pocket to send the call to voicemail when I see the name.

It’s not Devyn.

It’s Riker.

Again.

“Am I going to need to assign you your own ringtone? Like, will you be calling me often enough that it would be handy?” There’s a reason barely anyone calls me. I have zero phone etiquette. Just never saw the point in starting the conversation with “hello.” I mean, you’re calling me. As far as I’m concerned, the conversation opens when my phone rings.

“Yes. And I want a good one. And don’t think I won’t test that shit out and call you when I’m sitting next to you just to hear what plays.” He’s completely serious. And my belly does a weird flip-flop thing. He does that to me. He’s not supposed to...but he does .

“Fine. But I’ll have to put some thought into it now. Jeez. Talk about pressure.” I even roll my eyes. Just because I believe in following through.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to just pick the first song that comes along.” He chuckles, and the sound sends a sea of goosebumps down my body. “Anyway, since everyone pretty much knows about us... what there is to know, at least, how do you feel about doing something not inside my apartment tonight?”

I pick at a crusty, dried piece of frosted flake that has glued itself to Kirsten’s kitchen counter. “You mean like on the rooftop terrace? I don’t know, it’s kind of overcast. I’m not sure I’d be into that in the rain.”

“No. I mean, like, out. Away from my place. With clothes.”

I stop what I’m doing. Things just got serious. So it’s clearly time to deflect. “With clothes? That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He would.

“I’m going to take that as a refusal to accept no,” I mumble. I don’t know why. I’m actually pretty excited. In spite of myself.

“Take it however you like. I’m coming over at seven. Be ready. And dressed.” He hangs up before I can say anything else. Like, “don’t come to my sister’s house.” Or...no, that first one would have pretty much covered it.

Since Nate left for work sometime before I even woke up this morning, I abandon the greater part of the house and head downstairs to my own little sanctuary, where I spend the day with Harley curled up at my feet and laptop propped up over my knees while I work out of bed. I love what I do. Maybe love is a strong word. I find it satisfying. Redeeming, even. And I need that. I need things that grant me some sort of redemption for the things I’ve done. I can’t say that out loud. Not in front of Kirsten. Or Devyn. Or even my parents; although, I think there are days they wonder about the girl they raised and how it happened that she vanished right before their eyes. But not saying it to any of them doesn’t keep me from feeling it. And it doesn’t keep me from hoping against all hope that someday, just maybe, I’ll be able to give back what I took.

The day takes turns flying by and moving slow as molasses. Somewhere along the way, Kirsten comes down and insists I come out of my cave for a meal, and I wind up sharing some celery and peanut butter with Sophie while she sings me her rainbow song. Then I creep back downstairs for the simple solitude my soul craves so much of the time.

I get so involved in working, I don’t notice when time switches back into flying mode, and before I know it, six thirty has rolled around and I’m still sitting on my bed in the same clothes I wore last night. My computer nearly meets an untimely end as it almost falls from the bed after I jump up in a panic. I catch it just in time and then hurry over to put it back in the safe zone (aka, my desk), before I run for the shower.

Even in record time, I’m not getting ready in under thirty minutes, and my level of anxiety gradually climbs. When I hear the doorbell at seven, I’m still rushing around my room in my underwear.

Ten minutes later and I’m finally taking the steps two at a time to reach the main level, where I find Kirsten and Riker sitting casually in the formal living room having what appears to be a fairly pleasant conversation.

My sister sees me first. “You didn’t tell me you had a date tonight.”

I shrug. “Is it a date? I don’t know. Are we calling it that?” I glance over at Riker, expecting him to follow my lead and downplay the whole thing.

“Yes. We’re calling it that.” So much for downplaying. Then he makes matters worse by getting up from the couch and walking straight across the room to where I’m standing. “You look beautiful, by the way.” He pauses a second, then mumbles “Screw it” and kisses me. Right there. In front of my sister. And I melt, completely forgetting where we are.

Until I hear Nate’s voice. “Shep?”

Riker breaks away instantly. As soon as he sees Nate, his hand extends to him. “Hey, man. It’s been a long time.”

Nate shakes his hand longer than necessary, but he’s smiling, so I’m assuming everything is okay. “It has been a while.” He laughs. “So, you’re Quinn’s mystery man. Makes sense now. You guys meeting out at the ranch.” He finally lets go of Riker, who seems oddly interested in the floor.

“Yeah. I guess it would.”

Meanwhile, Kirsten and I have both been flipping our heads back and forth as if we’ve been watching a Ping-Pong match. And while I could continue watching to see how this plays out, Kirsten isn’t nearly that patient. “You two know each other?”

Nate nods. “Oh, yeah. We go way back. What? Third grade?”

“Sounds about right.” Riker’s keeping things more at eye level now, although he’s still not looking at me.

“How crazy.” Kirsten’s tone shifts gears. “Well, you two should get going. Don’t want to keep you from your date any longer.” She’s practically pushing us out the door, and I know it’s just so she can pump Nate for more backstory the second we leave. I’m sure she’s assuming I’m eager to do the same thing. Only I’m not. Because I got more backstory than I bargained for the second Nate saw Riker and called him “Shep.”

We’re not even touching while we walk out to his truck. It’s ridiculous, because he looks amazing in his worn and slightly ripped jeans and fitted button-up shirt. He’s got the top buttons undone, revealing his usual white t-shirt, and the sleeves are rolled up to just below his elbows, showing off his tattoos. Normally, I’d be all over him .

“He called you Shep.”

Riker nods. “He did. Most people I went to school with do.”

We reach his truck and stop.

“You’re James Shepherdson.” I’m not asking. I already know he is. Frankly, I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t realize it sooner. Of course, I wouldn’t have. I didn’t want to know.

“Riker’s my middle name. I’ve always used it. I wasn’t hiding this from you.” He sounds worried, and I get now why he was so busy studying the tile work in my sister’s living room. He’s wondering how I’ll react.

“You can’t hide something I deliberately ask you not to show.” After all, I’m the one who refused to listen last night when he wanted to talk. Clearly, this was on the list of things he wanted to share.

He turns toward me, drawing me to him until I have no choice but to look him square in the eyes. “When I first told you this thing between us couldn’t be more, I meant it. I never had any intention of telling you about my past. I was happy going with the fact that you didn’t need anything from me in the present, and I was depending on you never expecting anything from me in the future. Because when you showed up, I didn’t have one. All I had was a fucked-up past. And a dead-end present.” He brushes his thumb softly over my cheek. “And now? Fuck. I don’t know what now. All I know is I don’t feel like I did before that day I first saw you. My past is still fucked up. But my present is changing. And maybe that means the future is something I can dare to think about again.”

I shake my head. I don’t mean to. The second I do, a darkness rolls over his eyes and I know I’ve hurt him. It’s the last thing I’m trying to do. The opposite of what I want. I take his face in both my hands and kiss him. Deeply. And so long that I’m out of breath when I finally speak. “I’m not saying no to you, Riker. I’m saying I can’t say yes.” The quiver in my own voice shocks me .

“So say maybe.” His deep voice is husky and slightly strained. This is getting to him as well.

“I can’t. I want to. I just can’t.” I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. “I’m not staying, Riker. I have to go back home in August.”

“For good?”

I nuzzle my face into his shirt and nod. “I have some things to take care of there. Things I knew I would have to do long before I met you. I just didn’t know when.”

His chin comes down to rest beside my ear. “Is this some of the stuff you didn’t want to dig up last night?”

“I still don’t. Can’t we just take the next two months and spend as much or as little of it together as we want? Can’t that be enough?”

He sighs and his breath moves through my hair until it touches my skin with its warmth. “No. It’s not enough.” He moves back, taking me from the safe spot I’d carved out for myself on his chest. “But I’ll take it.” He kisses my forehead. Then the tip of my nose. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me for however long you give it.” He doesn’t have to move in for my mouth because I’m already reaching for his, my lips open and starving for him as if it’s been weeks since I’ve kissed him, not minutes.

When we finally separate, I’m not sure how long we’ve been standing in my sister’s driveway anymore, and I’m fairly certain she’s spying on us from the kitchen window.

“We should probably get out of here,” I say. “Provided you still want to take me on this date thing.”

“Are you kidding? For the next two months, this date thing is going to be the norm. I’m going to cram everything I can possibly think of into every second between now and August.” He takes my hand and leads me to the passenger side of his truck.

“Why? What was wrong with how we’ve done things up until now? ”

He opens the door for me and even helps me up. I’d almost forgotten guys in pick-up trucks did that. Then he hurries around to the driver’s side and gets in as well.

“Nothing. Nothing was wrong with it. And we’ll still be keeping that stuff the same. We’re just adding to it. Because when you leave here, I don’t want to just be the guy you were screwing in North Carolina.”

My face snaps to his, and I quirk up an eyebrow. “Who do you want to be?”

He just starts up the truck and grins like he’s about to get me good. “I’m not telling you. But you’ll figure it out when I’m no longer just the guy you’re screwing in North Carolina.”

“What, are you planning on taking me over state lines and screwing me there too?” I’m doing it again. Using stupid jokes to avoid the stuff that scares me. The feelings. Well, it’s not the feelings that scare me, really. It’s finding out whether or not I actually have any. And finding out I have them is not what terrifies me. It’s finding out I don’t. Because if I can’t feel something for him, I’ll never feel anything for anyone. It’s an ugly truth I live with day in and day out, but it seems magnified now, and harder to bear with every day Riker continues to be in my life.

He doesn’t say much of anything the entire drive, just holds my hand, rubbing the top of it with the inside of his thumb. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it’s a gesture he’s making for no other reason than that he wants to, which sort of takes it from simple to significant.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

I’m not particularly fond of surprises. They rarely seem to work out for me. “Can you at least tell me if I’m dressed appropriately?” I went with jeans this time. And the boots he was so eager to show his disdain for the first time we met.

“Nope.”

“You’re not giving up anything, are you? Not one itty bitty clue, even?”

He briefly takes his eyes off the road to flash me a satisfied smirk. “Nope.”

“Fine.” My inner two-year-old is tempted to yank my hand from his out of spite, but then I’d have to come cowering back a second later, my fingers creeping past his palm to lock in with his. Pouting wouldn’t be worth the humiliation.

Thankfully, it isn’t much longer before he turns down a small dirt road leading away from the main drag. Shortly after, a house becomes visible at the end of it.

“What is this place?”

“It’s the Butterfly Inn. Don’t worry, we’re not staying the night.” He parks the truck and kills the engine. “We’re just here for their chocolate fondue. They have other food, too, obviously, but why ruin a perfectly good appetite with real food when we can go straight for dessert?”

I slant my eyes at him. “Who are you? And what woman has been telling you all of our secrets?”

“I grew up with a sister, remember?” He winks and tugs my hand to slide me across the seats to follow him out of the driver’s side door, before either of us can dwell on the part where his sister is no longer here.

Still holding hands, we walk up to the most charming cottage-style house I’ve ever seen. “You know, it’s kind of funny they call you Shep.”

He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that? ”

“Because Quinn is short for my last name as well.” Then, before he can ask me what it is, I reach for the door handle and hurry inside where I’m welcomed with a wealth of new conversation topics, from the adorable décor to the heavenly scents wafting toward us from the dining room.