Chapter 22 – Kev
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
KEV
They stood together in the empty Bluebird parking lot, the mountain rising to the sky behind them, the birds singing in the trees above them, her tan skin and golden hair glowing in the early morning sunlight.
“Here’s my plan.” She raised her phone, showing him the route she’d marked off on her biking app. While he studied the bright red line that followed along the highway in some sections, breaking off into the trees in others, merging with trails that wove snakelike through the mountains, she said, “It’s forty miles.”
Even though he could see her phone screen well enough, he leaned in closer, breathing in her sweet, herbal shampoo scent. “How long will it take you?”
“I’m hoping I can do it in a little over three hours. But realistically?” She hummed. “Probably closer to four.”
Realizing he was maybe a little too close, so close he could see down the front of her tank top, he straightened, stepped back. They had been very good lately about maintaining their only-friends barriers. Even though he white-knuckled his sheets every night, dreaming about all the ways he’d reduce those barriers to fucking rubble with his bare hands if she’d let him. “How many pitstops do you want?”
“Maybe two,” she said. “I can do the first fifteen miles or so without a break. But then, how about you meet me here?” She pointed at the intersection of two mountain roads. “This spot has a pretty little meadow and lots of trees. Great for shade. And then I’ll do another fifteen, and you can meet me here. This is the last rest before the big climb up the road back to Bluebird. I’ll need, like, a big-ass Gatorade or something at this one.”
“Got it,” he said, drawing a little map of his own on a pad of paper since he didn’t have a cell phone, marking their meeting spots off with two little X’s. After muttering “Big-ass Gatorade” to himself as he wrote the letters B.A.G. next to the second spot, he looked up from his pad and asked, “Do you want any specific kinds of snacks?”
“Just granola bars or an apple. Whatever you can find in the kitchen.”
“Granola bars, apple, what-ever,” he said, writing her request down word for word. But it was all for show. Because he’d made his own plans for her rest breaks the second she’d asked for his help. “Done.”
Sliding her phone into the holder on her bike, she strapped her helmet on, slung a leg over the frame and said, “See you in a little over an hour or so at the first stop?”
He slid his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be there.”
When she smiled at him, his heart gave a kick so solid he thought it might leave a bruise. “Thank you, Kev. Seriously. I’ve been doing all these rides alone, but it’s nice to know you’ll be waiting for me. Especially since this ride is so long.”
Not acknowledging a single one of the countless inappropriate comments about long rides banging around his head—barely even acknowledging her tight little bike shorts, her even tighter tank top, the way both hugged every curve on her body—he smiled and said, “No worries. I’m happy to help. ”
She settled over her bike seat—an inanimate object he was abruptly jealous of—and smiled back at him. “I’ll do my best.”
After he watched her ride off toward one of the trails they’d walked down together just the other night, he hopped into the truck he’d already stocked with a cooler full of water and sports drinks, turned the key, and backed out of his spot so fast his tires skidded across the gravel. Because if he wanted to do this right, there was no time to waste.
The bell above the door chimed, “The Lovecats” by the Cure tinkling through the speakers, the beat keeping uncanny time with Kev’s pounding heart.
Mira stood behind the counter, her long black hair up in a ponytail, her black bangs swept off her forehead as she wiped her hands on her apron. In jeans and a gray Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt, Cole sat on one of the stools across from her, about to take a sip from a tiny cup of coffee, when they both turned toward the door.
Cole’s eyes went wide, his mouth hinging open when he set his tiny cup down on its tiny saucer with a soft clink . While Cole remained silent, Mira said, “Hi, Kev,” looking equally shocked to see him but at least able to speak. “How are you?”
Feeling more awkward than he ever had in his entire life, realizing he probably should have called first, Kev said, “I’m good. How are you?”
“We’re good…too,” Mira stammered. And then they all three stared at each other, not saying a word. Until Mira waved at the empty stool beside Cole and asked, “Do you want to sit?”
“No, thank you,” Kev replied a little too quickly, his blood pressure spiking. “I, um, just need to get some cupcakes.”
Without warning, Cole grunted like he’d been punched in the gut. After Mira gave him an apologetic wince, they both turned, staring at Kev again .
“And, uh, a couple scones,” he said, knowing he was just stalling, delaying. “And maybe one of those meat and cheese trays over there.”
Mira nodded.
Cole blinked.
Robert Smith hissed.
And Kev finally said, “And I also need to apologize.” The words rasped out of him like sandpaper, gritty and coarse. Painful, but necessary to smooth things over. “To both of you. But especially to you, Cole.”
With a dismissive half smile, Cole raised his hand, poised to wave Kev off. Which wasn’t surprising either. Cole was one of the nicest dudes Kev had ever met. And he knew what Cole was about to say. He was about to say that it was fine. That he didn’t need to apologize. That it was all good.
But it wasn’t all good. It was far from all good.
So Kev didn’t give him a chance, asking, “Is this an okay time for you to hear an apology?” before Cole could tell him it wasn’t necessary.
When Cole dropped his hand back to the counter, Mira reached out, taking it in hers. Then they both nodded.
Trying to take a deep breath through the fist-like grip around his chest, Kev readied the words he’d practiced last night, this morning, and again on the drive into town.
“Cole,” he said, “I took advantage of you when you were supervising Little Timber. I knew you wouldn’t be watching me as closely as Madigan always did. I was going through something, and I didn’t know how to talk about it. Because of that, I made a bad decision. I was thoughtless, dishonest, selfish, and I put you in a terrible position.” Taking another moment to drag air into his lungs, he said, “I know that my actions worried you, scared you, and might have even made you feel responsible for something that wasn’t your fault. And I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
Mira raised her other hand to her chest, her palm pressing flat over her heart. But Cole only stared at him, motionless, still silent. Like someone had pushed his pause button.
Fighting to keep his voice steady, Kev looked down at his shoes and said, “I’m happy to talk more about everything that happened if it would help you feel better about what I did. But the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. Either of you. And if there’s anything I can do?—”
“Stop.”
Kev looked up.
Running a knuckle under his eye, Cole said it again. “Stop. You didn’t need to apologize. Because we’d already forgiven you, Kev.” Rising to his feet, he crossed the bakery, grabbed Kev’s hand, and used it to pull him into a tight hug. “We’re just so glad you’re okay.”
“So glad,” Mira repeated, dabbing at her eyes with her apron.
When Cole pulled away, he gripped Kev’s arms gently and said, “But thank you for saying all of that. Thank you for coming here. I can’t imagine it was easy.”
Finally letting the shaky exhale that had been bound up inside his chest loose, Kev said, “Gets a little bit easier each time. But it’s true. I really am sorry.”
After yanking Kev into another hug, Cole returned to his stool while Mira asked again, “Do you want to sit? I can make you a coffee.”
“Thank you for the offer,” Kev said. “But I can’t. I’m actually on a bit of a time crunch.”
“Okay. Then what flavor cupcakes ,” she whispered, bracketing her hand around her mouth, shielding her lips from Cole’s view, “would you like? I’ve got peach pie surprise on special today.”
A sudden, visceral revulsion ripped through him, his fingers tingling, stomach roiling. “No. No peach.” Somehow, he caught himself mid-spiral, remembering his manners. “I mean, no thank you.” Shoving away visions of empty cupboards, the syrupy sweet smell of canned peaches, the knotted-up pain of a belly so empty it had stopped wanting food, he asked, “What about chocolate? ”
Nodding, even though he could tell his reaction had worried her, worried both of them if Cole’s furrowed brow was any indication, Mira said, “Coming right up.”
On his way back to the truck a few minutes later, armed with two bags of food and his own little espresso, Kev unlocked the passenger side door and placed the bags carefully on the seat, then froze when he heard “Kev?”
The voice was thin, jangly, familiar.
Turning around slowly, bracing himself in all the ways he knew how to brace himself, tight jaw, rigid shoulders, wide stance, Kev came face to face with his past. It was Thom, his old friend who probably wasn’t really a friend at all. His drug buddy and previous Little Timber roommate. The escape hatch he thought he’d finally boarded up tight.
Yet here it was, creaking open before him in broad daylight, right in the middle of town, clashing with the everyday soundtrack of shoppers walking by and children laughing in the park across the street.
“Didn’t know you were out,” Thom said while Kev made himself breathe. “When?”
Thom was still too skinny, but he had a clean shave and his hair was brushed, and there was color in his cheeks. Kev wondered if he’d kicked. “About a month ago. How’s things?”
“Oh, you know,” Thom said with his wired, nervy chuckle, flashing his toothy grin. “Same shit different day. How about you? You good?”
It was one of those questions most people didn’t really think about when they asked it and definitely didn’t think about when they answered it. But right then, Kev did. Kev thought. Because good meant something different to him now. Figuring out how to feel good, how to be good without drugs, without living each day in fear that it might all get ripped away from him, meant something.
“I’m getting there,” he eventually said, thinking of all the good things in his life right now. Madigan, Jen, River, Davis . Davis, who he was going to be late to meet up with if he stayed there much longer. Even so, he needed to ask, “How’s Trish?”
Running a hand through his shaggy brown hair that, when Kev looked closer, definitely looked unwashed, Thom said, “Haven’t heard from her.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s not really speaking to me right now, or whatever. But she’s still in rehab.” Before Kev could dig deeper, Thom took a step toward him, and with a sideways grin, he pulled all the boards off the hatch and yanked it open. “I’m holding,” he said. “If you want to come over and take a break from being ‘good.’” He drew air quotes around the word, like it was obviously a cover. Like obviously Kev was just playing along until he could use again. “It’s amazing shit too.”
Even though Kev had felt it coming, the offer to hook him up, the chance to sink back again, fall again, it still shook him, made his breath catch and his skin pull tight. Scanning himself from his fingers to his toes, his head to his heart, he felt for the pull, the tug, recognizing this moment for the test that it was.
He didn’t live in a temptation-free world. Escape hatches would continue to exist all around him. There was no closing them, no boarding them up. There was only seeing them, recognizing them, and stepping to the side. So he readied himself for the fight. He readied himself for the voice in his head that would nudge him, telling him, Only once. Once won’t hurt anyone. One time and then you can be done, go back to your nice little life, go back to Davis and Madigan and the men and nobody would ever know.
But as hard as he listened for it, the voice never came. At least not this time. This time, he saw the open hatch and stepped to the side.
“Nah, I’m good,” he said. Then he put a hand on Thom’s shoulder. “You could be good too, you know. Madigan will help get you into treatment whenever you’re ready. It really is better here on the other side.” Words he never thought he’d say. Words he believed with his whole entire heart.
“First Trish, now you too?” Thom backed away, shaking his head. “ Look, I’m happy for you, Kev. But that life isn’t for me. I tried it once, remember? Hated every fucking second of it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kev said, wanting to help but also recognizing that he wasn’t the man for the job. He couldn’t let himself get wrapped up in that world again. Even with the best of intentions, it would be too easy to lose focus, lose track. He might have succeeded this time in not being tempted, but he thought he’d been on the right track last time too. And temptation found him anyway. So he only said, “It’s good to see you, Thom. Take care of yourself, okay?”
Pushing his hands into his pockets, Thom nodded with his head down and said, “You too, man.” And then he walked away.
Kev didn’t feel proud, necessarily. He didn’t feel triumphant that he’d had some clarity this time. But he did feel hopeful that maybe the next time his old life snuck up behind him, he’d have even more. That he’d keep stepping to the side before he fell. And now he had to haul ass to get the meadow set up in time.
Was it overkill? Possibly. Did he care? Fuck no.
He’d passed Davis twenty minutes ago. She’d been standing out of her saddle, charging up the road toward the little meadow. When he’d rolled down his window to shout, “Hey! Nice ass!” at her, he’d grinned so wide his eyes watered when she shouted back, laughing, “Friends don’t say that to each other!”
But now he was panicking. Now he was sitting on the picnic blanket he’d spread out in a patch of soft grass, arranging the meats and cheeses and scones and apple slices on the charcuterie board Mira had let him borrow when he’d told them what his plan was today.
This is fine, he told himself. Friends did this sort of thing. Friends brought each other treats. Fancy, delicious, spent-every-penny-they-own-on-them treats. There was no need to be nervous. No need to freak out as badly as he was freaking out. No need to be one racing heartbeat away from jumping up and pacing out his nerves.
And then he saw her in the distance.
She must have ditched her tank top because she was only wearing her sports bra and her biking shorts. Her head was down, her perfect ass out of her seat while she pedaled up the hill to the meadow. When she reached him, she stopped, hopped off to straddle her bike, ripped off her helmet, and yanked her water bottle out of its holder.
As she angled her face toward the sky, the spray from the water bottle flowing into her mouth, running over her chin, sluicing down her throat, disappearing between her breasts, Kev groaned internally at the highly detailed fantasy playing out in real time before him. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about a woman drinking water after exerting herself. But the way Davis looked doing it, the way the sunlight glistened off her dewy skin, the way her chest heaved with every breath… It was the single most erotic thing he’d ever witnessed. There wasn’t a scene in any of his romance books that held a candle to it.
His mouth suddenly felt too dry, his chest too hot, his shorts too tight.
Squirting another stream of water directly down the back of her neck, then over her chest, making him come to terms with his actual mortality, she finally noticed him. “Whoa.” A smile crept across her face. “Kev? What’s all this?”
Well, Davis, he thought, this is called a grand gesture.
“It’s just a picnic,” he said, waving his hand over the spread. “I stopped by Glazed. Thought you might like something a little nicer than a granola bar.”
Lowering her bike to the grass, her expression sobering, she asked, “Did you see Cole?” Because she knew he hadn’t seen Cole since he’d gotten back. She knew that encounter would have had a weight to it.
He nodded slowly. “I did. ”
“How did that go?”
“Honestly,” he admitted with a huffed laugh when she sat down beside him, “it kind of sucked. Super awkward. But I needed to apologize. To both of them. I’d probably already waited too long. I think we’re good now. But”—he shrugged, because whether one apology was enough wasn’t really up to him, and he’d make more if he needed to—“I guess we’ll see.”
She looked up at him, smiling like she was proud of him. Which might have closed his throat right up if she hadn’t immediately changed the subject.
“This is amazing,” she said, and with only a moment’s hesitation, her eyes locking on his and her lips curling at the corners, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Because friends did that too. Friends gave each other proud smiles. Friends kissed each other’s cheeks. Friends felt those kisses sear their skin like a brand, leaving an indelible mark behind they’d feel forever.
While he fought the temptation to cover his cheek, holding her friendly kiss in place for as long as he could, she dug in, making a little sandwich out of two slices of salami and a hunk of Gruyère. After her first bite, she moaned in a way that threatened his grip on consciousness.
“Seriously. Amazing,” she repeated while he fished one of the ice-cold bottles of water out of the cooler. Taking the bottle, she spun off the top and downed half the contents in three gulps. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smiled at him again, and said, “ You are amazing.”
So are you, he thought, trying not to stare at her flushed cheeks, the tendrils of damp hair sticking to her neck. Failing spectacularly . “How’s the ride so far?”
“Good,” she said before taking a bite of a second salami sandwich. “Really good. Some days I feel like my legs are made of lead and every road and trail goes uphill. But today I feel strong.”
He felt strong today too, sitting next to her, supporting her. He felt like he had a direct line to the sun .
“Can I do anything for you?” And because, at the moment, he was willing to sell his soul to the devil himself to touch her, he suggested, “Are you sore? Want a neck rub? Back rub?”
“Oh my god,” she groaned, reaching up to squeeze her neck. “If you’d rub my shoulders, I’d love you forever.”
If she noticed what she’d said, the electrical current her words had generated through his bloodstream, she didn’t let on. Either way, she’d just signed up for the single best shoulder rub of her entire fucking life.
Sliding in behind her on the blanket, he balled his hands into fists for a brief, bracing moment. Then he spread his fingers out, rubbed his palms together to warm them up, and slid his hands gently over the tops of her shoulders. When she hummed in pleasure, he made himself pause, breathe, feel. Her skin was so warm, so soft and smooth under his hands. So perfect. But her muscles were tight as hell. When he gave the tops of her shoulders a testing squeeze, she hummed again, low and throaty.
Christ. That hum. He wanted to chase the sound, draw it out, see what it took to transform it into a moan.
“That feels so good,” she said, dropping her chin to her chest, giving him better access. “I’ve been so tight.”
Fuuuck . He screwed his eyes shut, bit his cheek, anything to keep the words Davis and tight from commingling in his mind.
His voice straining just as much as the rest of him, he said, “Tell me if I do something you don’t like.”
Either she truly had no idea how much this massage was taking him apart piece by piece, or she was purposefully trying to torment him. But when she said, “I doubt there’s anything you could do that I wouldn’t like,” he knew he was going to die. Right there in that beautiful meadow on that perfectly warm day with his hands on her perfectly smooth skin, he was about to meet his end.
“Kev?” she said when he stopped moving, stopped breathing. “Are you okay?”
Giving his head a shake, he said, “I’m good. Sorry.” Then he pressed his thumbs into the muscles traveling along her spine, which earned him another hum, almost a moan. A matter of semantics, really. And now he was getting hard.
Despite the precarious situation in his shorts, he spent the next ten minutes kneading and pressing and squeezing until her head hung limply and the tension in her muscles melted away. And with every press of his thumbs, with every moan and sigh he pulled from her, his fingers itched to slide beneath the straps of her sports bra, to pull them down over her shoulders, to brush his lips over the skin he exposed…
“I should probably get back on the road,” she said, hauling him out of his fantasy. “But thank you. That was amazing.”
He almost scoffed. Because that was nothing. If she wanted amazing, he’d show her amazing. He’d knead and squeeze and work every single muscle in her body if she let him. He’d kiss every inch of her skin, worship every sensitive spot she possessed with his fingers and his lips and his tongue until there was no part of her left sore or stiff or wanting.
“Anytime,” he said, getting a hold of himself, wishing things were different. Wishing they weren’t just friends. Wishing she wasn’t leaving.
Standing from the picnic blanket, she turned to him, and he didn’t miss her flushed cheeks, the dazed look in her heavy-lidded eyes.
“Thanks for the food, and for the”—she waved a hand in the air, swaying a little on her feet—“other stuff.”
While a smile tugged at his lips, she scampered off, tripping over the corner of the blanket as she grabbed some ice and another water from the cooler to refill her squirt bottle, not looking at him once.
“Meet you at the next stop?” he asked, a little relieved that he still knew how to fluster a woman.
“Mm-hmm,” she chirped, passing him the empty water bottle from a good four feet away, leaning forward at the waist rather than taking another step closer .
“Davis?” He hid his smile as best he could while he got to his feet. “Is everything okay?”
She made a pfft sound. “Totally. I’m great. Ready to go.” She snorted. “I mean, ready to ride.” Her eyes flared. “I mean my bike. I’m ready to ride my bike. Of course.”
Running a hand through his hair, letting his dimple pop because, fuck, she was cute when she was worked up, he said, “See you soon?”
“You bet.” Backing away a step, she stumbled over her feet.
“Careful out there.”
Waving him off with an airy laugh, she said, “There…was a rock. I tripped.”
Glancing at the grass around her feet, not a rock to be found, he nodded. “Gotcha.”
While color surged up her throat, a flush flooding her cheeks, she snorted again, turned around, and practically ran the rest of the way to her bike.