ElsieSilverisaCanadianauthorofsassy,sexy,smalltownromancewholovesagoodbookboyfriendandthestrongheroineswhobringthemtotheirknees.ShelivesjustoutsideofVancouver,BritishColumbiawithherhusband,son,andthreedogsandhasbeenvoraciouslyreadingromancebookssincebeforeshewasprobablysupposedto.
Shelovescookingandtryingnewfoods,traveling,andspendingtimewithherboys—especiallyoutdoors.Elsiehasalsobecomeabigfanofherquietfiveo’clockmornings,whichiswhenmostofherwritinghappens.It’sduringthistimethatshecansipacupofhotcoffeeanddreamupafictionalworldfullofromanticstoriestosharewithherreaders.
www.elsiesilver.com
AlsobyElsieSilver
Flawless
Heartless
Powerless
Reckless
HopelessCopyright
PublishedbyPiatkus
ISBN:978-0-349-43775-0
Allcharactersandeventsinthispublication,otherthanthoseclearlyinthepublicdomain,arefictitiousandanyresemblancetorealpersons,livingordead,ispurelycoincidental.
Copyright?2023byElsieSilver
Themoralrightoftheauthorhasbeenasserted.
Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,storedinaretrievalsystem,ortransmitted,inanyformorbyanymeans,withoutthepriorpermissioninwritingofthepublisher.
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www.hachette.co.ukContents
AbouttheAuthor
AlsobyElsieSilver
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
ReaderNote
1:Beau
2:Bailey
3:Beau
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Epilogue:Bailey
AcknowledgementsForeverysinglereader(andtherearealotofyou)whohasmessaged,emailed,orcommentedbeggingforBeau’sbook.
Thisone’sforyou.ReaderNote
Thisbookcontainsdiscussionsofalcoholism,PTSD,andskingrafting/burns.ItismyhopethatI’vehandledthesetopicswiththecaretheydeserve.1Beau
Ithoughtpissingmybrotheroffandstormingawaywouldmakemefeelsomething.
Iwaswrong.
EvenactinglikearagingdickwhenI’msupposedtohelpafamilyfriendmoveintotheirnewhousefeels…bland.
AsIwalkdownthemaindraginChestnutSprings,myfingerscurlintomypalms,nailsdiggingagainstskin.
Idon’tfeelthateither.
Ionlyfeeltired.
Butnottiredenoughtosleep.
Atrainhornblares,andIfreezeinplace.Foryears,I’vecoveredthewayloudnoisesstartleme,butit’sdifferentthistime.
You’dexpectmetochooseeitherfightorflight,butthesedaysIbrace.
Pause.
Waitforanyemotiontohit.Fear,anxiety,disappointment.
Butthesedays,Ifeelnothing.
IpivotonthecornerofRosewoodandElmtowatchthetrainpuffpast.Chuggingalong.Backandforth.PointAtopointB.Load.Unload.Waitovernight.Startoveragain.
“Iamatrain,”ImurmurasIstareatthewheelscrushingagainstthetracks.
IworkalldayontheranchbecauseI’msupposedto.Igothroughthemotions.AndIhateeverysecondofit.
Awomanpushesababyinastrollerpastmeandshootsmeaconfusedlook.Herexpressionchangestosurprisewhensherecognizesme.Wemighthaveattendedhighschooltogether,butthesameistrueforanyoneinthistownbornwithinafewyearsofeachother.
“Oh,Beau!Sorry,didn’trecognizeyouforasecondthere.”
ProbablybecauseIhaven’tcutmyhairinmonths.
Idon’trememberhername,soIplasteronasmile.“Nottoworry.I’mblockingthecrosswalk,aren’tI?Here…”Myarmstretchesouttopressthecrossingbuttonforher.
ThewomanIcan’tremembershootsmeagratefulgrin,heftingabaguponhershoulderwhiletryingtokeepholdofthestrolleroverflowingwithanunnecessaryamountofstuff.“Thanks!Nicetoseeyououtandabout.YouhadallofChestnutSpringsworriedforacoupleofweeks.”
Mycheektwitchesunderthestrainofkeepingmymouthupturned.Yes,IwasJTF2,Canada’selitespecialopsforce.Yes,Iknowinglymissedourtransportouttosaveaprisonerofwar.Yes,Iwasmissinginactionforweeksandwasinroughshapewhentheyfoundme.
I’mstillinroughshape.
Peoplelovetotalkaboutit.
Yougaveusquiteascare.
Trytocatchyourrideoutnexttime,eh?
Ibetyou’relovingallthisattention.
It’swhentheythinkI’mnotlisteningthatthecommentsbecomelesstongue-in-cheekandmoredagger-in-back.
Helookslikehe’sgonnaflipoutanysecond.
Eventhetherapistcouldn’tfixhim.
WhatIcallstupid,hecallsheroic.
Iknowtheyallmeanwell,butthewaytheyexpresstheirinterestbugsme.Likemygettingstuckinenemyterritoryondeploymenthasasinglefuckingthingtodowiththem.LikeIscaredpeopleonpurposeorjustcasuallydecidednottopickupaphone.Civilianscan’tfathomtheshitI’veseen,thedecisionsI’vebeenforcedtomake.
SoIignorethem.
“Gottalovethesmall-townsupport,”iswhatIsay,becauseIcan’tsaywhatIreallythink.Beingtherealme—thenewme—wouldjustmakepeopleuncomfortable.
“Well,you’vegotitinspades.”Withakindnod,sheturnsandcrossesthestreet.
Iblinkaway,notwantingtofollowherbutnotknowingwhereI’mgoingeither.Theoppositedirection,Ithink.
WhichiswhenmyeyeslandonTheRailspur,thebestbarinChestnutSprings.
Itdoesn’tmatterthattheskyisblue,andthesunisoutonabeautifulsummerafternoon.Itdoesn’tmatterthatIpissedmybrotherRhettoff.Itdoesn’tmatterthatafriendneedsmyhelpunloadingfurnitureacoupleofblocksaway.
Atthismoment,thetownbarlookslikeadamngoodholetohidein.
Andadrinkdoesn’tsoundtoobadeither.
“Gary,ifyoudon’tslowdown,I’mgoingtotakeyourkeysaway.”
Theruddy-facedoldermanscoffsatBailey’swarningasIpullupastoolafewdownfromhim.IturnitsooneelbowrestsonthebarandI’mfacingthedoor.Itmaybejustanothersmall-townbar,buttheextensiveupdatesgiveitanelevatedsortofvibethatIlike.Westerndecorfillsthespace,awagonwheelchandelierhangsoverpolishedwoodfloors,andmasonjarglasswarelendsarusticfeel.
“Don’tknowwhenyougotsolippy,”hegrumbles,droppinghispintglassawayfromhismouth.“Youbarelyusedtotalktoanyone.Nowyou’rebossingmearoundlikealittletyrantallthetime.”
Shiny,almost-blackhairswishesoverBaileyJansen’stannedshoulders.Herbackistousasshebendsdowntopullglassesoutofthesmallwashingmachinebehindthebar.
“Gotcomfortable,Iguess.Andyoucouldusesomebossing,oldman.Sittinghere,harassingmeeveryday.”
“Idonosuchthing.I’mperfectlynicetoyou.Oneofthefewwhois,Ireckon.”
Shespinsnow,whitetowelinhand,topointatheronlycustomerinthequietbar.“Youare.AndIconsideryouafriend,whichiswhyItellyoueverydayyoudrinktoodamnmuch.”
Hergazesnapstomine,darkeyeswideninginsurprise,likeshedidn’thearmearriveoverthecountrymusicandhumofthedishwasher.
“IfIstop,you’llbeoutofwork.Andmaybeevenafriend.”
Garyistalkingtoherlikehehasn’tnoticedmypresence,butsherespondstohimwithoutlookingawayfromme.“Icanlivewiththat,Gar.”Shepauses,tonguedartingoutoverpartedlips.
Full,glossylips.
“BeauEaton.Nicetoseeyou.”
Themanturns,nowalertedtomypresence.“Wellshit,thatisBeauEaton,isn’tit?Bigfella,aren’tyou?”Garyslurs,andBailey’sfreehanddartsforwardtoswipehiskeysoffthebar.
Gary’seyescloseandhegroans.“Everyfuckin’day.”
“Yep.Everyfuckin’day.”Sheshovesthemintoherbackpocketandthenturnsbacktothewashingmachine,whereglasswarehasbackedup.“Beau,whatcanIgetyou?Gotanyonejoiningyou?Probablywantyourfavoritecouch,yeah?”
Iswallowandglanceatthecouchwheremybrothers,friends,andIenjoyedmanyanightout.Itfeelslikeadifferentversionofmyselfsatthere.ThenewBeausitsatthebarwiththeshyneighborgirl,whowearsapairofacid-washLevi’sbetterthananyonehe’severseen.
Andthesadtowndrunk.
“Nah,justmetoday.I’llhavewhateverGaryhereishaving.”
“ABuddyzBestforthetownhero!”Garyslapshispalmonthebar,andIflinchatthesuddennoise.Atthelabel.IcouldcrumpleundertheweightofeveryoneregardingatmelikeIbelongonsomesortofpedestal.Everyoneisalwayswatchingme.
Istareathisweatheredhand,flushagainstthepolishedwoodofthebartop.MyeyescloseforabeatandIrunmytonguealongthebacksofmyteethtokeepfromgrindingmymolars.WhenIliftmygaze,forcingmyselftoactcasual,Bailey’sgotherbrowsdrawntight,darkirisesboringintomyfaceasthoughshehasmeallfiguredout.TheflatsmileIforceontomylipsdoesn’tseemtoimpressher.Infact,beforesheturnsawaytopourmeafrothypint,herheadshakessubtly,likeshe’sdisappointed.
Mygazetrailsoverherbodyagain,andIrackmybraintorememberthelasttimeIsawher.She’salwaysbeensweet,shylittleBaileyJansen.Sadly,bornintotheleastrespectedfamilyintown.Herdadandbrothershavedabbledinitall—drugs,prison,theft—andhermomtookoffyearsago.
Worstofall,theirlandbordersours.Icanseeitfrommyhouseontheranch,justontheothersideoftheriver,whereI’veputupabarbed-wirefence,sothoseassholesknowwheretoturnbackaround.
ButBaileyhasalwaysbeendifferentinmyeyes.
I’vealwaysfeltbadforher,alwaysfeltprotectiveofherfromafar.Thestares,thewhispers.Iimaginelivinginasmalltownwherealmosteveryresidenthasastoryaboutyourfamilymustbefuckingbrutal.So,I’vealwaysbeennicetoher.Ilikeher—havenoreasonnotto—eventhoughIbarelyknowher.
She’sworkedatTheRailspurforyearsnow,Ijust…can’trememberhowmany.Can’tdecideifenoughyearshavepassedformetonoticethewayhertanktopliftstoday,showingapeekofskinonherflatstomach.Orformetothinkaboutthewayherperfectlyroundbreastswouldfitsowellinmyhands.
“Howlongyoubeenworkinghere,Bailey?”Iask,watchinghershouldersgoalittletensewhenIdo.
Sheclearsherthroat.“Justoverfouryears.Startedateighteen.”
Twenty-two.
Fuck.I’mthirty-five,whichmeansIwasateenagerwhen—Ibrushthethoughtawayanddropmyeyesasshetossesacoasterdowninfrontofme,followedbyapintofgoldenlager,whitefoamspillingovertheedge.
“Thanks,”IgrumbleasIswipeahandthroughmyhair.
“Mm-hmm,”isallshesays.
Baileyistheonlypersonintownwhohasn’tfallenalloverherselftotellmewhataheroIamsinceIgothome.Shedoesn’tgawkatmelikeI’marareanimalinazoo.
SheworksquietlyandItrytokeepmyeyesfromstrayingtoher,wonderingwhyshewentfromchattinghappilytoshuttingdownthemomentIsatatherbar.
“MIAfortwoweeks,huh?”Garystartsin,andIseeBaileyrollhereyesasshepolishesapintglasstoaclearshine.
“Yup.”
“Howwasthat?”
Oh,good.Theonlythinganyonetalkstomeaboutanymore.
“Gary!”Bailey’shandsfalltohersidesandalookofpureshockpaintsherface.
“What?”
“Youcan’tjustaskthingslikethat.”
“Whynot?”
Ican’thelpit.IchuckleanddecidetorescueBaileyfromfeelinglikesheneedstosaveme.“Realwarm.Gotanicetan.”
Themannarrowshiseyes,movementsalittlesloppy.Iwonderhowlonghe’sbeenheresinceit’sbarelyafterlunchandhe’sclearlywrecked.“Heardyougotburned.NotthetanI’dbehopingfor.”
“Ga-ry.”BasedonthewayBaileyenunciateshisname,thislineofquestioningtrulyhorrifiesher.
Mypalmslidesacrossthebar,drawingherattention.“It’sokay.Everyoneknowsabouttheburns.”
Sheblinks,eyessuddenlyalittleglassy.
“Really,I’dratherpeopleshootstraightthankissmyassortiptoearoundme.WhydoyouthinkI’mhidingouthereinthemiddleoftheday?”
“BecauseBaileyisthebestbartenderintown!”
Shesnorts,lipstippingupasshegoesbacktopolishingaglass.ItrytorememberifI’veeverreallyseenhersmile.I’mnotsureIhave.She’salwaysbusytryingtoblendintothebackground,andI’monlyeverherewhenit’sbusy.Idon’tevenknowifI’veeverheardhervoiceproperlyuntilnow.There’samelodictonetoit—agentleness—that’salmostsoothing.
I’msickofpeopletalkingtome,butitstrikesmethatlisteningtoBaileytalkmightnotbesobad.
Thefirstsipofmybeergoesdowncoldandrefreshing.AndIsighasitdoes,feelingaweightcomeoffmyshouldersinthepresenceofthetowndrunkandthetownpariah.
Irecognizethemaskindredspiritsnow,amisfitinmyownhome.
“Third-degreeburnsonmyfeet,”Iannounce,sincebluntnessseemstobethethemeheretoday.“Skingrafts.”
“S’okay.Youcanfindsomegirlwithaweirdfootfetishwhowilllovethatshit.”
Baileypropsherhandsontheedgeofthebaranddropsherheadwithagroan.“JesusChrist,Gary.Nomorebooze.”
“Solongasyourdickisokay.”Hewaveshishandupanddownmybody.“Faceseemsfine,wouldn’tyousay,Bails?You’llbealright,kid.You’llfindsomeonetoloveya.”
Evendrunk,Garystumbledintoasorespot.I’veneverconsideredmyselftobevainorobsessedwithmyappearance.Ihaven’tneededtobe.Goodgenesandhavingtostayfitformyjobhaveservedmewell.
Who’dhavethoughtscarredfeetwouldbethethingtoskewermyconfidence?Fuckingfeet.Liketheyevenmatter.Itcouldhavebeensomuchworse.Ishouldfeelgrateful.Andyet…
Bailey’sgazewandersovermyfeatures.Andminedoesthesamewithhers.Wherethelighttouchesit,herdarkhairhasamahogany-likeshine.It’ssilkyandsmooth,fallinginlayersfromherlongbangsatherchintohershoulderandthenfurtherdownherback.Itdoesn’tlooklikeBaileycutsherhairofteneither.I’mdrawnbacktolashessothickandblacktheyremindmeofoneofthosevintagedolls.She’snotwearingastitchofmakeup,revealingalightsmatteringoffrecklesonhernose.
Awarmblushpaintshercheekswhenshesoftlyreplies,“Yeah,”andthenblinksaway.
Hereyes,thatonelittleword—it…makesmybloodpumpfaster.
Itmakesmefeelsomethinginaseaofnumbness.
MythroatbobsasIswallowthedrynessinmymouth,tryingtopushthemomentaway.MaybeI’mnotreadytofeelanythingafterall.
ItakeanothersipandwonderifmaybeI’llbeabletosleepformorethanafewhourstonightifItossbackacoupleofpints.
ThenItakeanothersipandswipeahandovermystubbledchinbeforeIturntoGary.“LoveisthelastthingIneed.Butthisbeerishittingthespot.Thanks,Gary.”
Talkingtohimseemssafeenough.SaferthantalkingtoBaileyJansen,whowatchesmejustalittletoocloselywiththosebigfuckingdoeeyes.2Bailey
It’sbeentwoweekssinceBeauEatonsnuckintomybarinthemiddleoftheday.TwoweekssinceItookonelookathimandalmostdroppedtheglassinmyhand.He’shardtomisswithhisbroadshouldersandtall,well-builtframe,andlonglegsthathavehimaheadabovemostmenwhowalkthroughthatdoor.Lightbrownhair,alittletoolong,flopsoverhisforehead,theperfectframeforsilver-grayeyes.Evenslightlyunkemptthewayheisrightnow,BeauEatonisfuckinghot.Totallyintimidating.
Andhotisonething,butBeauisnicetoo.Andfunny.
Atruetriplethreat—oratleasthewas.
He’snevertreatedmelikeI’mwearingascarletletteronmychest,evenwhenothershave.Ionlyknowhimfromthebar,buthe’sneverheldmyfamily’sreputationagainstme.He’salwaysofferedkindwords,apolitetouchonmyelbow,andageneroustipattheendofthenight.
Buthe’sstillthetownprince,andI’mstillthetowntrash.
He’sthehero,andI’mthebartender.
He’sanEaton,andI’maJansen.
Andyet,he’shereeverydamndaysincetheafternoonhewalkedinlookinglikeacagedanimalwhobrokefree.
HereeverydamndaydrinkingwithfuckingGary.
Thefirstdaystartedoutsweetenough.Hewasendearing,ifI’mbeinghonest.Butforthepasttwoweeks,hispresencehasslowlymorphedfromlighttodark,gatheringitselfintoanominousstormcloud.
It’sgettingtowherehe’smakingeveryonearoundhimuncomfortable.Youcansensetheelectricityintheair,likelightningreadytostrike.
I’mfeelingfedupwithhimtoo.He’sremindingmeofmydadormybrothers,andIhavesparsepatienceforthatkindoftoxicity.
Hecomesinmid-afternoonandnurseshispints,quietlysimmering.IswearIwatchhisfrustrationbubbletoaboilrightbeforemyeyes.Hishandstaysclampedaroundtheglass,andhetakestightsipsfromitwithwhiteknuckles.
I’malmostpositivehe’sgoingtoshatteritoneofthesedays.Heseemstoobig,toostrong,tooangrytobesqueezingsomethingthatfragilesohard.
Whenpeopletalktohim,herunshistonguealongthebacksofhisteethlikehe’stryingtokeepfrombitingthemorsomething.
“So,what’dyoudowhenyouspentthosetwoweeksstuckinthedesert?”
MyjawclampsatGary’swords.Iknowhemeanswell,buthe’snotreadingtheroomrightnow.NotreadingBeau.Musthavemissedthewayhewenttautandneverrelaxedagainwhenaboomingthunderstormrolledthroughnotthirtyminutesago.
Yeah,Beaulooksreadytobursttonight,butGaryhasn’tnoticed.
“Triedtostayalive,”Beaubitesout.There’satremorinhisvoice—aqualitythatremindsmeofadogwhentheygrowlatyou.It’sawarningtobackaway
ButGaryistoodamndrunktonotice.
“Theysayyoumissedyourflightonpurposetostaybehindandsavethatjournalist.That’ssomerealherocomplexshit.”Thewordsoverruneachother,emerginginasloppyjumble.
Beaujuststaresathispint,gazingintothegoldenliquid.They’vealreadytalkedaboutthissubject,butalcoholmakesapersonrepetitive.IknowbecauseI’vespentyearsstudyingdrunkpeople.I’manexpert.
“Imaginewhereyourlifewouldbeifyouhadn’t.”
Mylashesfluttershutbecausemyguttellsmealineexists,andGaryjuststeppedrightoverit.
Orrightintoit.
Beau’sthicklycordedarmswipesout,knockingboththeirglassesontothebarfloor.Beerspraysacrossthesmatteringofpatronsseatednearby,andifnotforthemusicblaringatthispointinthenight,I’mcertainTheRailspurwouldbedeadsilentastheywatchthealtercationunfold.
Beaustandssofasthisstooltopplesbehindhimwithacrash.Garylooksinstantlyterrified.“Imaginewhereyourlifewouldbeifyoudidn’tsitheredrinkingandembarrassingyourselfeveryfuckingday,Gary.Everthinkaboutthat?”
Hischestheaves,thesplatterofliquidmakingthecottonofhisT-shirtsticktohisclearlydefinedpecs.OnlysomeonewhogrewupinthehouseholdIdidcouldbesmackdabinthemiddleofamomentlikethisandbecheckingaguyout.
Beauisn’tmydad,though,andI’mnotworriedthewayIwouldbeifIwereinthehouseIgrewupin.
“Beau,”myvoicecomesoutclear,notasinglewavertoit.
“Allaloneeverydamnday,ayounggirlasyourbestfriend.Seemsalittlepervert—”
“BeauEaton,shutyourmouthandgetyourassoutside.”
Hisheadswivels,grayeyeslatchingontominelikehejustnoticedmypresence.Likehedidn’texpectlittleBaileyJansentobetheonebarkingathim.
Hestraightens,butIdon’tcarehowtallheis.
Hedoesn’tscareme.
Notevenwhenhe’slikethis.
Ipointtotheemergencyexitthatleadstothepatio,andmyhanddoesn’tshakeatall.I’mnotnervous.I’mpissedoff.
Beauturnsstiffly,stridingaroundtheendofthebar,pasttheserverstation,andstraightoutintothefadinglight.IfIdidn’tknowhowmanydrinkshe’shad,Iwouldn’tnoticetheslightstaggerinhisstepsorthewayheleansonthedoorjustalittleheavierthannecessary.
BeforeIcutthroughthesmallwoodenpushgatetofollowBeau,IglancebackatGary.
“Toofar?”heasks,avertinghisgaze.
Mylipsflattenagainsteachother.“Yeah,Gary.Toofar.”
Heswipesahandthroughhisthinninghairanddropshishead,handtappingoverthekeyshelaidonthebartheminutehesatdown.“I’llcatchacab.”
Irespondwithafirmnodbeforeshovingoutthedoorontothedarkenedpatio.Thesummerstormcausedeveryonesittingheretoflee,theirforgottenglassesnowpartiallyfilledwithrainwater.
Icanstillsmellthestorm.AndBeau.Pineandlemonminglewithsomethingdeeper,moresensual.Tobaccomaybe,likeacigar.
He’sslumpedagainsttheouterbrickfacadeofthetrainstation-turned-bar.AsIapproach,heshoveshisfistsintothepocketsofhisjeans,chindroppedalmosttohischest,eyesfixedonthesneakershe’salwayssporting.
Theyfeeloutofplaceforhim—toowhiteandshiny,toopristine.
“Youcan’tpullthatshitinmybar,”Isay.
Hescoffs,stillrefusingtomeetmygaze.“Yourbar,huh?”
“Yes,Beau.Mybar.Myplace.Theonlyplaceinthistownwherepeopledon’ttreatmelikeshit.Ibustmyassworkinghere.Ibustmyasstryingtomakecustomerslikeme.Andbehindthatwoodismybubble.Garyisn’tperverted,he’sfuckinglonely.Andhe’soneofthefewpeoplewhoisconsistentlykindtome.So,ifyouthinkyoucanwaltzintomybaractinglikeanuntouchableassholeandscaringallmyregularsawaywithyourantics,you’vegotanotherthingcoming.”
Nowhiseyesareonme,alittleunsteadybutnarrowed.“Untouchableasshole?”
“Yes.”Icrossmyarms,liketheymightgivemesomeprotectionfromhim.Helooksalittlewildtonight,alittledangerous—notlikethehappy-go-luckyguyweallthoughtweknewbeforehislastdeployment.
Silverylightplaysoffhisfeatures,histanskinandluminouseyesalmostglowingashestaresmedown.Theonlythingthatmovesbetweenusishischest,risingandfallingintimewithmine.
ButIdon’tdrophisgaze.I’msoovermentryingtointimidateme.Anditfeelswrongonhim,soIdon’tlethimhaveit.
Afterourstaredownmovesfromaheatedmomentintoawkwardterritory,heblinksaway,jawflexing.
“DidIembarrassmyself?”Hisvoiceisallgravelandrumblesovermyskin.
“Youdid.ButthegoodnewsisyourlastnameisEaton,soeveryonewillforgiveyouandgobacktokissingyourfeettheminuteyouwalkinthereandflashthemasmile.”
“Bailey,whatthefuck?Didyoureallyjustsaythattome?”
“Yes.”Myheadtilts.“Becauseit’strue.AllIhadtodowasbebornintomyfamilyandeveryonelooksatmelikethey’rewaitingforthatpartofmygeneticstorearitsuglyhead.LikeI’llgofromhardworkingandpolitetoahillbillycriminalmastermindintheblinkofaneyejustbecausemylastnameisJansen.”HisbrowfurrowsdeeperthelongerItalk.“So,yeah.Ithinkyou’regonnabefine,eventhoughyouembarrassedyourself.”
“That’snottrue.”
“Whatpart?”
“Peoplethinkingthataboutyou.”
“Ha!”Thelaughlurchesfrommythroat,sharpandlackinganyhumor.“Thatisadorablynaive,”Isay,shakingmyheadindisbelief.
“Well,Idon’tseeyouthatway.”
Iswallownow,eyesflittingaway.It’struethatBeauhasalwaysbeenkindtome—toeveryone.Maybethat’swhythisnewversionofhimpissesmeoffsomuch.“Iknow.”Ishoothimagratefulsmile.“You’reoneofthegoodones,Beau.That’swhyyoucan’tkeepdoingthis.”
“Doingwhat?”
“Sittingatmybaranddrinkingyourselfintoasullenstuporeverynight.”
Aquietkeeningnoiseescapeshimashisheadrollsbackandforthagainstthewall,handscomingoutofhispocketstoscrubathisface.“Ithelpsmesleepatnight.”
“What?”Icanhearmyheartpoundinginmyears.Somehow,that’snottheresponseIexpected.
It’spainfullyhonest.
“Thealcohol.Ithelpsmefallasleep.Igohometotheranchandcrash.Ihaven’tbeensleepingwellthesedays.”
Mystomachdropsathisadmission.
“Youtellingmeyoudrivelikethis?”Myfingerwavesupanddownhim,catchingonthebulgeofkeysinhisfrontpocket.
Hiswideeyespleadwithme,desperateandforlorn.IfeelmonumentallystupidforassuminghewasdifferentfromGary.Thathe’dbeincontrolenoughtogethimselfacabratherthangetbehindawheelinthisstate.
Iwasfoolishtofallforthechuckleheadgood-guyactwhenhe’sclearlydrowning.Icanseehimsinkingrightbeforemyeyes.AndIwantnopartinthat.Ican’taffordtobetakendownwithhim.
“Beau.”Istepforward,rightuptohim.Hetenses,butI’mtoopissedofftohavemanyboundariesrightnow.AndI’vealwaysfeltmoreateasearoundhimthanmostpeople.He’salwayshadawayofmakingmefeellikethat,whichiswhyIdon’tthinktwiceaboutshovingmyhandintohispocketandwrappingmyfingersaroundhiskeys.
Hisbodyisrigid.Hismusclescoil,buthemakesnomovetostopme.ThejangleofmetalbetweenushasmelookingupintohiseyesforasignI’vetakenthingstoofar.
Ianglemyfaceuptohisandgetcaughtinhisthrallforamoment.
IonlyseethosemoonliteyesandthewayhisAdam’sapplebobsasheswallows.
“I’llmakeyouachamomiletea,”Isay,breakingthetensesilencebetweenus.“Helpswithsleep.Butyouneedtopromiseyouwon’tmakeascenelikethatagain.”
Henodsanddropshishead.“Ipromise.”
Thetensionbetweenusevaporatesashefollowsmebackintothebar.Pryingeyesstareathimashestands,swayingonthespot,likehe’sgoingtobetheonetocleanuptheshatteredglass.
“Sityourassdown,Eaton,”IgrumbleasIdoitinstead.ThelastthingIwanttocleanupishisblood.
Icantellhe’sashamed.Andheshouldbe,butIwillnotpileonhispunishment.He’sbeatinghimselfupjustfinealready.Instead,Ipreparehimasteamingmugoftea,wipeupthebeerhespilled,sweeptheevidenceofhisoutburstintoadustpan,andcarryonwithmynightlikeheisn’there.
Irefillthetea.
Hedrinksthetea.
Wedon’ttalk,buthewatchesme,spinningthemugbetweenhisbroadpalms.Ifeeltheoutlineofhiskeysinthebackpocketofmyjeans.
Pete,ourcook,walksoutofthebackat10p.m.“Youallgoodouthere,Bails?Kitchen’sclosed.”
Iscanthebar.It’sbusyforaMondaynight,butmanageable.We’reonlyopenfortwomorehoursanyway.“Yup.Allgoodhere,”Ireply,givinghimabriefthumbsup.
Petereturnsthemotionwithasmileandheadsoutthefrontdoors.Hegothiredfromthecity,whichmeanshedoesn’tautomaticallyhateme.Whichmakesworkingwithhimabreeze.
WhenIcheckBeau’steaagain,hestopsme.“So,heleaves,andyou’reherealonefortherestofthenight?”
IshrugasItakehismugtoaddwater.“Yeah.I’mashiftmanagernow,soifitwasbusier,I’dhavekeptaserveron,butIcutherearly.”
Herestshisforearmsonthebar,padsofhislongfingerspressedtogetherlikeheneedssomethingtodowiththem.“Butyou’realone?Youshutdownalone?”
Steamrisesashotwaterpoursfromthedispenser.
“Correct.”
AsIslidethemugacrossthebartopuntilitbumpsintothetipsofhisfingers,ItrytorememberhowmanyrefillsI’vedonesincetheteaislookingawfullywatery.
Icrouchdownandrummagethroughtheboxofteaonthebottomshelf.TheRailspurisn’tabigteaplace,butIfindanotherbagofchamomileanddropitintothemug,makingamentalnotetohaveourgeneralmanager,Jake,ordermore.
WhenItiethestringaroundthehandle,Beaudoesn’tmovehispalmsfromaroundthecup,likehe’sdesperatetosoakuptheheat.
“Doesthemanagerknowthis?”
“Jake?Presumably.Hemakestheschedule.Nevermetthenewowner,totallyhands-offinvestor.Soaslongastheplaceismakingmoney,Idoubttheycareeither.”
Hisbrowfurrows.“That’snotsafeforyou.Whatifsomethinghappens?”
MyfingertipsbrushagainsthishandasIcompletetheknot.
Ipeekupnow,liftingoneeyebrow.“Likesomeguypitchingafitandknockingbeerallovertheplace?”
Heglaresatme,andItrytokeepfromsmirkingathim.
Withanonchalantshrug,Ianswerthequestion.“Idealwithit.”LikeIalwayshave.I’vebeenlookingoutformyselfforaslongasIcanremember.Itdoesn’tfeellikesuchahardshipanymore.Justreality.
TheonlythingBeaugivesmeinresponseisahardstareandagrunt.
Buthedoesn’tleave.Hedrinksteaatmybarfortherestofthenight.Fortwohours,hesitsthere,keepingwatch.AndwhenIkickeveryoneoutatmidnightandshutthingsdown,hestaysbehind,silentlyguardingme.
“Areyousober?”Iaskashewalksmethroughthedarkenedparkinglottomycar.
“I’vebeendrinkingfuckingchamomileteafortwohours.I’veneverbeenmoresoberorhydratedinmylife.”
Isuckinadeepbreathandpullhiskeysfrommybackpocket,holdingthemouttohimonaflatpalm.“Don’tpullthatshitonmeagain,Beau.”
Histhroatworksashereachesforwardandswipesthekeysfromme.“You’renothowIrememberyou,Bailey.”
Iletmyselfsmirknowbecause,ofcourse,weallchange.Icouldn’tstaythatfrozen,terrifiedlittlegirlforever.
Iwantedtochange.
“You’renothowIrememberyoueither,Beau.”
Hiseyesshiftbackandforthbetweenmine,likehe’ssearchingforsomethinginthem.“Whatdaysdoyouwork?”
Isnort,glancingdowntopullmyownkeysfrommypurse.“Whatdaysdon’tIwork?”
“Okay,whatnightsdoyouworkalone?”
“SundaythroughTuesday,”Ireply,zippingmybag.
Beaunodsandsaysaterse,“Okay,”beforespinningonhisheelandgivingmehisback,lookingeverybitthemilitarymanheis.Headheldhigh,shouldersperfectlystraight.
Likehe’ssomesortofknightinshiningarmor.
OnewhostartspullingupastooleverySundaythroughTuesdaytodrinkchamomileteauntilmidnight,soIdon’thavetoclosebymyself.3Beau
Cade:You’recomingtothewedding,right?
Beau:It’smylittlebrother’swedding.OfcourseI’mcoming.
Cade:You’renotexactlyreliablethesedays.Youno-show.Andwhenyoudoshow,you’reamiserableasshole.
Beau:I’monlydoingmybestimitationofyou.
Cade:I’mnotmiserableanymorethough.Justanasshole.That’swhyeveryonevotedanddecidedIhadtobetheonewhosentthismessage.
Beau:Everyonevoted?Verydemocratic.
Cade:WillasaysyouneedtoapologizetoWinter.She’sintheweddingparty.
Beau:Willadoesn’trunmyshow.
Cade:Youmustbenewhere.Willarunseveryone’sshow.
AsongIdon’trecognizeplaysfromthespeakers,butItwo-stepanyway.I’mwearingasuitthatfeelsfuckingawful,andthesedressshoesarerubbingmygraftsuncomfortably.WinterHamiltonhasonehandonmyshoulderandhernoseistippedhighasshestaresjustbeyondme.Orpossiblyatthetopofmyear.I’mnotentirelysurewhich.
DancingwithWinterismoreuncomfortablethananythinggoingoninmyshoes.Andthat’ssayingsomething.
Foranentiresong,wedancelikestiffpiecesofwood,ignoringeachother.IcanseeRhettandSummerdancingtoo.Theylooksofuckinghappyit’shardtowatch,butIdon’tknowwheretolandmygaze.Itseemslikeeveryoneiswatchingme.I’vegotmyhandslockedinplacebecauseIdon’twanttoslidetoolowortoohighonWinter’sribcage.Thoseareno-flyzones,andbasedonthewayherbabydaddy,Theo,isglaringatus,everyinchofhermightbeano-flyzone.
ThemusicswitchesovertoaslowersongandWintermumbles,“Thanks.ThatwasthejuniorhighdanceblastfromthepastI’vealwaysdreamedof.”
“Goodgod,Winter.”Myfingerstighten.“Onemoredance.”
“Why?”Herheadtiltsandherblueeyeshomeinonmyface.IfeellikeI’mintherapyagain.Somethingbrokenthatneedsfixing.Aspecimenformedicalprofessionalstopokeandprodandanalyze.Betweenmyburnsandmybrainandmyinsomnia,I’mlikeashrink’swetfuckingdream.
Ihatethatfeeling.Thatexpression.LikeI’mabigdumbgoldfishinabowl.
“BecauseIneedtoapologizetoyou.”
Shejustshrugs.“No,youdon’t.”
“Iblewupatyouatafamilydinner.”
I’dquitseeingallmydoctorsandwasn’tsleeping.Iwassoreandtiredandjustwantedtorestforabit.WintersawrightthroughitwhenIdraggedherdownthehallwaytotalk.Rightthroughmyrequestforprescriptionsleepingpills—becauseover-the-counteronesweren’tdoingthetrick.Herknowingsmirkandcrossedarms,followedbyacalm“no”pushedmeovertheedge.
Iexploded.Shedidn’tdeserveit.Everyoneheard.
Winter’slipsformaslightcurve.“Didyou?Idon’tremember.”
“Winter,”Ibiteout,annoyedthatshe’smakingthissohardforme.
“Beau,”isallsherespondswithaswecontinueswayingonthewoodendancefloor.Overhershoulder,IcatchsightofBailey.Herglossyhairshineslikethetopoftheriver,reflectingeverylight.She’snotaguest,butshe’stendingbarforthereception,andthat’sgoodenoughforme.
“Ishouldn’thavedonethat.”MyeyesstayonBaileyasIspeaktoWinter.Focusingonhermakesthiseasier.She’sbecomeacalmspotinamindthatisaturbulentstorm.
“No,probablynot.Butyouknowwhat,Beau?”
IfinallyglancedownatWinter.“What?”
“We’reallhuman,andweallmakemistakes.Especiallywhenwe’restruggling.”
“I’mnotstruggling.”
Shesnortsandthengivesmeanexaggeratedwink.“Cool.Meneither.”
MymolarsclampdownandIglancebackatBailey.“Okay.MaybeIam.”
ButIrelaxwhenI’mlookingather.
“Yousleepingnow?”
Irollmylipstogetherandconsiderlyingtoher.ButWinterissono-nonsense—sonotfloweryandoverlydoting—it’seasiertoberealwithherthanwiththerestofmyfamily.“No.Well,I’vegottenonaschedule,andthatseemstohelpabit.”Idon’ttellherthatbyscheduleImeanplanningmyweekaroundsittingatBailey’sbardrinkingchamomiletea.Butthetruthis,sittingtherehasgivenmeapurpose,anditfeelsgood.
“Seeinganyone?”
“Likeadoctor?”
Shenods.
“Nah.”
“Whyseeaprofessionalwhenwecandiagnoseourselves,right?”
Ismirkbutsaynothing.
“AchildhoodfilledwithneglectmeansIlearnedtosurvivebynotrelyingonanyone,”shesays.“Boom.Diagnosed.Savedmyselfhundredsofdollars.Yougo.”
IcurveabrowasIconsiderwhattosaynext.“PTSD.”
“Yeah.”Hernosewrinklesasthesongnearsitsend.“Sogeneric.Icanseewhyyouwouldn’twanttotalktoaprofessionalaboutthat.”
“Winter,areyoumakingfunofme?Ican’tfuckingtell.”
Shepatsmeontheshoulder.“You’rebigandhandsome,Beau.Somepeoplemightthinkthatmeansyou’restupid.Ithinkyouletpeoplethinkyouarebecauseit’seasierthatway.”
“Wow.Thankyou.I’mendlesslyflattered,Dr.Hamilton.”
“ButIknowbetter.Youknowbetter.Webothknowtherapyisgoodbutwebothdon’tgo.Sowe’rejustdoingthebestwecan.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”Mybrowfurrows,andshestepsawayattheendofthesong.
“FuckifIknow.I’vehadalotofchampagnetomedicatemyselfthroughthisfamilyevent.Haveyoutriedit?It’sdelicious.Atanyrate,nohardfeelings.Waterunderthebridge,astheysay.Butifyouneedanything,you’vegotmynumber.”
Weshakehands.ThensheturnsandwalksovertoTheo,whoiseyeingherupherlikeshemightbedessert.That’shardtowatchtoo.SoIwalktowardsomeonewhoisn’t.
I’mdrawntoBaileythroughthecrowdlikeamagnet.OrmaybeI’vejustbecomethenewmiserableregularwhositsonastoolwaitingforhertofinishwork.Likeasadpuppydog.
Butshetalkstomelikenooneelsedoes.Aboutinanethings.Andsometimeswe’rejustquiettogether.
Andthatquietiscomfortable.
WhenIleanagainstthebar,shebarelyacknowledgesmypresence.Shedoesn’tneedto.SheknowsI’mhere.
“Nochamomiletea.Butyoulooklikeyoucoulduseapick-me-up.”SheslidesaglassofCoca-Colainfrontofme,notrealizingthatshe’sthepick-me-up.
“Thanks,”Ireply,hunkeringdownagainstthebar,preparingmyselftoemulatewhatwedoatTheRailspur.ItoldmyfamilyI’dbeatthewedding,andIam.Butthetruthis,it’soverwhelming.It’shot,andloud,andbusyinthisbarnturnedeventspace,andIdon’tlikeit.
“Howyadoin’,soldier?”Baileyasks,proppingahipagainsttheicewelltofaceme.Shecrossesherarmsandinspectsmealittletooclosely,asifshecansensethatsomethingisisn’tright.
Istarebackather,absentlywonderinghowmanyfrecklesdothernose.Wonderingiftheyonlycropupinthesummeroriftheylingerthroughthewinter.I’veneverlookedathercloseenoughtonotice.There’sonejustaboveherlipthatI’mprettysureisalwaysthere.
Itearmygazeawayandglanceatthedancefloor,seeingallmyfamilymemberstogether.It’snicetoseethemhappy.Iputthemallthroughsomuch.Andyet,Itakeadeepswigofsoda,peekbackatBailey,andsay,“I’mstruggling.”
Shenods.“Trustyourstruggle,Beau.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Ifwe’restruggling,we’restillinmotion,yeah?Headingsomewherebetter.That’swhatIkeeptellingmyselfanyway.”
Mychesttightens.Idon’twantBaileytostruggle.
I’mwhereIambychoice.She’swheresheisbybirth.Itseemsprofoundlyunfair.
ButIliftmyglasstoherallthesame.“I’llcheerstothat.Tostrugglingtogether.”
Shelaughslightlyandliftsherdrinkfrombehindthebar,clinkingherglassagainstmine.“Lesslonelythatway,forsure.”
It’sasimpleexchange.Probablynothingnoteworthytotheaveragepersonbeyondtwofucked-uppeoplecommiserating.
Andyet,knowingIhavesomethingincommonwithBaileymakesmefeelinstantlylighter.
IwishitwasherI’dbeenouttheredancingwith.
Somepeoplemightfindtheblueskyandthechirpingofbirdscharming.Thesmelloffreshmountainairandallthat.AndmaybeI’mbeingungrateful—that’sadistinctpossibility—butthecharmisalllostonme.
“Beau?”
Myolderbrother’svoicecutsintomythoughtsasIsituponthebackofahorse,staringovertheridgeatavalleyofcowswhoalllookthefuckingsame.Theylookthesame,theyeatthesamethingeveryday,theyfolloweachotheraroundalmostblindly.
Everythingabouttheirexistenceseemsverysimple.Boringeven.
Andyettheyallseemhappy.
IwishIwereacow.WishIcouldfindsomejoyinthemonotonyofranchlife.Instead,I’mrestlessandwrithing.Trappedbeneaththesurfaceoftheperfectlymanicuredfa?adeIsliponforthebenefitofeveryonearoundme.
Theywantmetobeokay.AndI’mnot.Notreally.IwantthemtothinkIam.Butthesedays?Thesedays,Isuckatmaintainingmycover.
“Beau!”Cade’svoiceisrealmadnow,andIcanhearthedangerinit.IfIwerehisson,Luke,I’dbetremblinginmyboots.
ButI’mnot.
SoIturnmyheadslowlytoglanceatmybrother.“You’redressedlikesomesortofemocowboy.Whyareyouwearingallblackonsuchahotday?”
Heshakeshisheadindisbelief.“Didyounothearmetalkingtoyou?”
Iheardmyname,butnotmuchelse.
“Sorry,justkindagotlostinenjoyingtheview.Blueskies,thebirdschirping.”Iwaveahandoverthehorizon.“It’snice.”
Mybrotherblinksatme,clearlyunsureofwhattosaynext.Hiseyelashesaresodark,healmostremindsmeofacowwiththeslow,lazywayheblinksatme.
“Hey,whydocowshavesuchlongeyelashes?”Iask,abruptlyswitchingthesubject.
Hisbrowfurrowsinmydirectionbeneaththebrimofhiscap.“What?”
“Theireyelashes.They’rejustsodamnlong.What’sthepoint?”
What’sthepointofanything?
Thewordscropupinmyhead.Butthey’reimmediatelyfollowedbyBailey’swisdomfromthispastweekend.Andthathasmylipstippingupeversoslightly.
Trustyourstruggle.
SoIdo.Itrustthatthere’saperfectlygoodreasonmybrainneedstoknowaboutcoweyelashes.
Cadeclearshisthroat.I’mclearlyconfusingthehelloutofhim.Andhe’sdoingthethingmyfamilydoeswheretheycatertome,nomatterhowridiculousIact.Tiptoearoundmelikeithelpsmewhentheyaccommodatemyeverywhimsomehow.
NotlikeBailey,whogivesmeshitateveryturn.
“It’sjusttoprotecttheireyeballs.Dust,rain,insects.Thatkindofthing.”
“Huh.”Irestmyglovedhandsonthehornofmysaddleandgazedownatthewholedumbherdofthem.“Ishouldhavefiguredthatoneout.Seemsobviousnowthatyousayit.”
Hehitsmewithaforcedsmile,andIstiflealaugh.Cadepretendingtobeallsoftandsensitiveistoofuckingawkwardtotake.Iwishhe’dmakeameanjokeandthreatentokickmyass.
Thatwouldmakemefeelnormalagain.
“Readythen?”
Ready.
Istaredownatthefield.HisquestionisoneI’veheardbefore.Andyet,it’smonumentallydifferentrightnow.
There’snoadrenaline,nothrill,nolife-or-deathrepercussions.
“Ohshit,hangon.”Ishiftinmysaddleandreachintomybackpocket,pullingmyphoneoutandstaringatitlikethere’sacallcomingthrough.AllIseeisthebackgroundpicture,whichfeaturesLukegrinningeartoearafterwethrewwatermelonsoutthewindowofmymovingtruck.Thememoryofspeedingdownabackroad,watchingthemexplodeontheasphalt,andhearinghimsquealwithgleeneverfailstomakemesmile.
EspeciallysinceCadetoldusnotto.
“Jasper’scalling.Onesec.”
Caderollshiseyesandmumbles,“Catchup,”beforeurginghismareforwardtowardthepaththatleadsdownintothevalley.
“Heyman!”
I’mmetwithsilence.Obviously.BecauseI’mfakingthiscall.
“Uh-huh.”IgiveCadeafirmthumbsupwhenheturnsbacktolookatme.
“Right.Ohshit.Thatdoessoundimportant.”
Cadehasstartedhisdescent.He’sbeguntodisappearbehindthecrestofthehill,butIcarryonanyway.
“YousureSloanecan’thelpyouwiththat?”
Pause.
“Oh.She’sinthecity,huh?Okay,I’llseewhatIcando.”
Iwaitseveralmoresecondsbeforeadding,“Alright,talksoon.”Then,withalightcluck,Iurgemyhorseclosertotheedgeoftheridge.IcanseewhereCadehashitflatgroundbelowandtheotherguyswhoworkforhimalreadywaitingdownthere.I’mhitwithapangofguilt.GuiltthatIcan’tjustsuckitupandgodothejob.
IknowIneedtostopbailingoneveryone.IknowIpromisedtoworkthefamilyranchwithCade.
ButIcan’t.Ijust…can’t
Thatknowledgedoesn’tstopmefromfeelinglikeshitwhenIcalldown,though.“HeyCade!”Hepullsupandturnsinthesaddletoglareatme.It’slikeheknowswhat’scoming.“JustgotacallfromJasper!Heneedsmyhelp.I’mgonnapeeloutandthentrytomakeitbacktowrapupthedaywithyouandthecrew.”
Allhegivesmeisanod.HeknowsIwon’tbeback.
InodinreturnbeforeIturnmymounttowalkaway.Tryingtokeepmyshameatbay.
OnceI’moutofearshot,IliftmyphoneandcallJasperforreal.Hepicksuponthefourthring.“Workin’hardorhardlyworkin’?”
IcanalwaystrustJaspertocrackmeup,razzmeabit.Hehasn’ttakentosmotheringmesinceIgotback.Infact,hemostlyletsmecometohimwhenI’mready.Jasperknowstrauma.Heknowswhentopushandwhentositback.Andheknowshowitistohaveeveryonestaringatyou,waitingforsomethingtohappen,likeyou’reanexperimentinaPetridish.
Thesedays,IfeellikeIunderstandhimbetterthanever.
“How’dyouguess?”Thethumpofhoovesonthedrygroundbeneathmerattlesmybones,andIcanalreadysensemybodystartingtorelaxasIheadawayfromthecrew.
“Well,Beau,theonlythingreliableaboutyouthesedaysishowunreliableyouare.”
“Harsh.”
Hesnorts.“Buttrue.You’reabigboy.Youcantakeit.”
“That’swhatshesaid.”
Hehuffsoutalaugh,andIcanclearlyenvisiontheexpressiononhisface—amusedbutsharp.We’veknowneachothersincewewerefifteen,practicallygluedtogethersincehecametolivewithourfamily.Idon’tgetmuchpasthimanymore.
“SoIneedyoutodomeasolid.”
Hedoesn’tevenhesitate.“Alright.”
“IfCadeasks,Ineedyoutocorroboratemystorythatyoucalledmeawayfromworkbecauseyouneededhelp.”
“Withwhat?”
“Ididn’tsay.Youpick.”
“Okay,I’lltellhimIwasmissingSloaneandthatyouofferedtocomedancelikeaballerinaformetomakemefeelbetter.”
“Iwouldifyouwantedmeto,”Ideadpan.
Helaughsatthat.“Iknowyouwould.”
“Let’ssayyourcarbatterydiedandyouneededajump.”
“Iwouldneverletmybatterygetoldenoughtodie.”
Soliteral.
“Cadewouldn’tknowthat,though.”
Hegruntshisassent.“It’slikewe’reteenagersalloveragain.TrickingCadeintothinkingwe’retotallyaboveboard.”
Ichuckle.“Thegoodolddays.”
Thatone-linerstrikesmyfriendsilentforabeattoolong.“Therearestillgooddaystocome,Beau.”
“Ofcourse,Iknow.”Isigh,wantingtoendthiscallbeforeitveersintoterritoryI’mnotreadyfor.
“Isthereareasonwe’repullingoneoveronCade?Planningontellingmewhereyou’llbeifyouaren’tdancingformeorgivingmycarajump?”
“Thanks,man.Talklater.”Iforgeaheadquicklybeforehangingup.
AndthenIheadstraightforwherethebestpartofmydayalwaysis.
TheplacethatI’vecometoassociatewithbothpeaceandpurpose.
ThestoolattheendofBaileyJansen’sbar.4Beau
Rhett:Thankyouforcomingtothewedding.
Beau:Ofcourse.WhereelsewouldIhavebeen?
Rhett:Greatquestion.Nooneknowswhereyouhangoutanymore.Onlythatyoudisappearandtalktonoone.
Beau:Italktopeople.
Rhett:Youcantalktometoo.Youknowthat,right?
Beau:Ofcourse.Iknowthat.Congratulations,theweddingwasbeautiful.I’mveryhappyforyouandSummer.
Rhett:Thanks.Loveyou,Beau-Beau.Youdoingokay?Likereally?
Beau:Yeah,I’mgreat.
“Haveyoueverhadanalsex?”
AsBailey’ssugaryvoicecutsthroughtheloudmusicatTheRailspur,Isprayhotteafrommymouth.Myattempttocoveritwithmypalmonlyresultsinmegettingsoaked.Hotwaterdripsdownmyforearmandlandsonmylap.Prettysuremyeyeshavepoppedrightoutoftheirsocketsontothewoodenbartopthatseparatesmefromsweet,quietlittleBaileyJansen.
Sweet,quietlittleBaileyJansen,whoInowspendagoodthreetofournightsaweekaround.
Sweet,quietlittleBaileyJansen,whojustaskedmeaboutanalsexlikeshewasaskingaboutwhetherItakecreaminmycoffee.
Shetossesaragontothebar.“Cleanthatup.”
OnlyBaileywouldtellmetocleanitupratherthandoitherself.That’swhatI’vecometorealizeaboutheronthesenightsI’vespentsittingatherbar.
That’swhatIlikeabouther.
She’snotakissass,she’snotapushover,andshedoesn’ttiptoearoundme.
ShealsomightnotbeassweetandquietasIthought.
Inaworldthatfeelshorriblyboringandmundane,BaileyJansenhasproventobeincrediblyinteresting.
That’swhyIkeepcomingback.It’smorethanjustworryingaboutherbeingalone.
“Whyareyouaskingmeaboutanalsex?”ImumbleasIwipethebartopanddaboffmyarm.“Andsoloudly.Peoplearegoingtogetthewrongidea.”Iturn,lookingaroundtoseeifanyoneelseheard.
Herlipstwitchwhereshestandsatthetappouringapint,thosedarkchocolateirisesslicingmywayfrombeneaththefringeofherlashes.“Peoplealreadyhavethewrongideaaboutme,Beau.”
Sheturnsaway,walkingdownthenarrowspacebehindthebartothered-hairedguywhositsattheoppositeend,phoneinhishands,eyesdown.“Hereyago,Earl,”Baileyannounces,tossingdownacoasterandthenthebeerontop.
Heglancesatherbutdoesn’tsaythankyou.Anditirksme.
Whensheturnsbacktofaceme,hereyesarewide,lipsdrawnbackinacringe.Shewalksstraightatme,holdingmygaze,herhipsswaying.
SheandIhavefallenintoacomfortablerhythminthelastcoupleofweeks.OnewherewetalkwhileIpretendIdon’tnoticehowfuckingbeautifulsheisforfearofbecomingtheweirdoldcreeperwhositshereallnight.
Shepropsherforearmsagainstthebarrightinfrontofme,aconspiratorialgrinonherface.Itrynottostareatherbreastspressedagainstthethincottonofthefrillyoff-the-shoulderpeasanttopshe’swearing.Buttheshimmerinhereyesortheglossonherlipsaren’tanylessdistracting.
“Earlonlycomesinnowandthen,”shesays,flashingwhiteteethasshepeeksbackoverhershoulder.“Butwhenhedoes,healwayswatchespornonhisphone.Andit’salwaysanal.Ijustwasn’tsurehowcommonitwas.Youknow?”
“Hedoeswhat?”Alarmbellssoundinmymind.Idonotknowhowshecanjokeaboutthisasshole.
“Youheardme.”Herlipsrolltogetherlikeshe’stryingtobitebackalaugh,andmyeyesfollowthemotion.
“That’snotfunny,Bailey.He’swatchingpornandlookingatyou.Inpublic.”
Sherollshereyes.“Asopposedtoinprivate?”
“He’slookingatyou.”Themusclesinmybacktighten.“Thinkingaboutyou.”
Sheshrugs.“Probably.”
“Howcanyoupossiblybeokaywiththat?”
“Idon’tusuallyaskaperson’spermissionbeforethinkingaboutthemwhileImasturbate.”
Tocovermyshock,Ijustglareather.
Baileysighsandpullsawayjustabit.“Listen,Ididn’tsayIwasokaywithit.Butit’skindoffunny,oratleastIhavetorollwithitbeingfunny.BecauseIdon’tgettopitchafiteverytimesomethingmakesmeuncomfortable.”Herfingerstapthebartop.“WelcometobeingaJansen.NoonecaresifI’mcomfortableornot.AndifI’manythingshortofpleasant,I’mjustlikemybrothers.”
Thesmileshegivesmenowisfullofyou’re-adorably-naivevibesandIhatethisforher.Ihatethatatownthat’sbeensogoodtomeandmyfamilyhasbeensohardonagirlwhodidn’taskforthehandshe’sbeendealt.
Beyondher,IseeEarl’seyesliftandrakeoverBailey’sass.
Iguessthat’swhyIfindmyselfupoffmystool.Walkingdownthelengthofthebar.
RighttowardEarl.
He’ssoengrossedhedoesn’tevennoticemestandingbehindhim.Idon’tbotherlookingupatBailey,becauseIknowshe’llbesilentlybeggingmenottodothis,andIdon’twanttoseethatexpressiononherface.
Idon’tgiveafuckwhatherlastnameis.
IclampahanddownonEarl’sscrawnyshoulderasIpeerdownathisphone.Sureenough,there’ssomeblondedownonallfourstakingitintheasswithalotofbrightlightsandperfectangles.
Hestartlesandclickshisscreenoff.“Shit!Jesus.”
“Earl,I’mBeau.”
Helickshislipsnervouslyashelooksbackupatme.“Yeah,Iknow.BeauEaton.”
Baileysnortsalaughfrombehindthebar,andfrommyperiphery,Iwatchherwalkaway.
“Cool.Great.So,nomoreporninpublic.Yeah?”
“Iwasn’t—”Icuthimoffbysqueezingmyfingerstighteronhisshoulder.HardenoughthatIhopeithurts.
Itfeelsgood.
“Youwere.Isaw.Yourlovelybartendersaw.We’renotgoingtodothatanymore,yougotme?Youcomeinforabeer,that’sfine.Butyou’regonnakeepyoureyesoffofher”—IpointtowardBailey,whoispretendingshe’soblivioustowhatI’mdoing—“andyourhandswhereeveryonecanseethem.”
“Listen,man,I—”
Idropmyvoicedangerouslylowtosilencehim.“Andwhenyougethomeandrushtoyourbedroomtofuckasock,you’regonnakeepherbodyoutofyourheadandhernameoutofyourmouth.Yougotme?”Itakemyhandofftheguyandpropmyhipagainstthebar,staringathimtomakemypoint.
“Dude,she’saJansen.NobodywankstoaJansen.”
Iwanttohithim.Ivibratewiththeitchtoshuthimup.Butthatitch…isafeeling.AndIhaven’tfeltshitinmonths,whichmeansthisfeelsgood
“PayandleavebeforeIdosomethingI’llregret.”
Hefumbleswithhiswallet,tossesatwentydown,andstaresatitalmostregretfully.
“Nochange.That’shertipforeventoleratingyou.”
Hispalecheeksturnbrightredashestumblesawayfromthebar.Ikeepmyglareonhimashehustlestowardthedoorwithhisheaddown,fingersclaspedtightlyaroundhisphone.
Fuckingpig
He’sgoneandI’mstillstaring.IturnonlywhenIsenseBaileycomingupfrombehindme.
“Ahh,”shesays,armscrossedunderherbreasts,thewhitecottonofhershirtmakinghertanskinglow.“TheEatoneffect.”Shegivesmeasmugsmile.“IfIhadthatlastname,peoplewouldaskmehowhighwhenIsaidjumptoo.”
“No,theywouldn’t.”
Shewhipsthehalf-emptypintglassoffthetopofthebarandturnsaway.Withashypeekoverhershoulder,sheadds,“Thanksforwhatyoudidbackthere.Itmeansalot.”
Idon’tknowwhysuchasimplesentencehitsmesohard.Herbluntness,hergratitude.Ifeellikeakid.Ialmostwanttoblush.
“Itwasnothing.”
Shelaughs,softandmelodic,allfeminineandamused.“Okay,soldier.Whateveryousay.”
I’mnotasoldier,butIdon’tcorrecther.Thatsenseofpurpose—evenjustforafewseconds—felttoofuckinggood.
SoIjustdropmyheadandsmile.
“Stopstewing.”Baileydoesn’tevenglanceatmeasshetipsoveraspoutedbottleofbourbontofillashotglass.
“I’mnotstewing.”
“Youare.”
Idon’tfeellikearguingwithher.Tomakemattersworse,she’sright.Iamstewing.StewingoverwhatshesaidaboutTheEatonEffect.Idon’twanthertoberight.I’vealwayslikedBailey,butoverthepastseveralweeks,she’sbecomesomethingofacomfortblanket.Afriendeven.
Shedoesn’tpesterme.Shedoesn’tfawnoverme.Shemakesmeteaandletsmebe,whichisahellofalotmorethanIcansayfortherestofthepeopleinmylife.Namely,myfamily,who’vemadeittheirjobtooverstepandinquireaboutwhatI’mdoing,howI’mdoing,andwhatI’mplanningondoingwithmind-numbingregularity.
SoitirritatesmethatBaileycanbethisfuckinggreatandpeoplecanstillbesofuckingshittytoher.
ItevenirritatesmethatpartofthereasonIsitherefournightsaweekisbecauseI’vedevelopedatotallyinappropriatecrushonmybartender,likeI’mafuckingtwenty-year-oldbrowaitingtomakehismove.
“ThinkEarlisrubbingoneoutrightnow?”Herlipscurveupassheusesthesodaguntofilltherocksglass.
Sheknowsshe’spesteringme,anditworks.
“Bailey.”
Nowherheadinclinesinmydirection,oneeyebrowquirkingup.“Beau.”
“Don’t.”
“Justtryingtogiveyousomethingtostewaboutifyou’regonnasitthereallquietandbroody.”
Iscoffandcovermysmirkbehindtherimofmymug.
Thisgirl
It’swiththatmugupovermyfacethatIheararaucousgroupofpeoplejustoutside.Aquickglanceatmywatchtellsmeit’s12:01—oneminutepastlastcall.Aglanceovermyshouldertellsmetheonlypatronsleftareatablewaitingontheirlastdrinks.
She’swalkingthosedrinksoverwhenthreemenenter,andIcanfeelBaileyfreezeonthespotbeforeIeventurntolookather.Alltracesofplayfulnessonhermeltaway,theangleofherjawchangingasshesetsit.
“Littlesis!”AaronJansencallsoutashepullsaseatupatoneoftheroundhightopsjustbeyondthebar.“Getusaroundonthehouse.”
Baileykeepsherdistancebutgivesherheadalittleshake,asthoughthatcouldclearthetensionfromherbody.“Sorryguys,I’vealreadydonelastcall.It’spastmidnight.That’stherule.”
“Comeon.What’sthepointinhavingasisterwhoworkshereifwecan’tgetsomespecialtreatment?”
Idropmyheadlow,tryingtoblendinasanunsuspectingregular.Idon’twanttostartmoreshitforBailey,andherbrothersandIarenotongoodterms.Notfromwhenwewereyounger,andnotfromthetimeIrecentlytookpartintoiletpaperingtheirtractorwithCadeandRhett.
Itrainedthatnight,andIimaginepickingwettoiletpaperoffoftheirtractorwasn’tagoodtime.Still,theydeservedit.Andthatwasfun.
Ismileatthememory.
“Sorry,guys.”Baileyapproachesherbrothers’tablewithcaution,likeshedoesn’twanttogetclosetothembutalsodoesn’twantascenewiththeotherpatronsinthebar.“Nottonight.ManagementhassetlaterhoursforThursdaythroughSaturday,sotrybackthen.”
TheoldestJansenbrother,Lance,tipshisheadbackwithagroan.“Bailey,comeon.Weevenbroughtafriendfromoutoftown.Toldhimyou’dtakecareofustonight.Seth,thisisourlittlesister,Bailey.Alwaysabitofastickinthemud,ifyouaskme.”
Myspinestraightens,andIglanceovermyshoulder.ThethirdguyisleeringatBaileyinablatantandunsettlingway.
AtleastIleerathersubtlyandbeatmyselfupaboutitafterward.Thisguyhasnosuchboundaries.
“Comeon,honey.Youtakecareofme,andI’lltakecareofyou.”
MyheartrateratchetsupafewnotchesasIcontinueappraisingthesituationoutofthecornerofmyeye.Theothertableoffourispretendingnottowatch,butit’squietinthebartonight,soit’sahardconfrontationtomiss.WhentheJansensrollpast,everyonestaresbecausethere’susuallysomesortofspectaclenotfarbehind.
Ishiftonmystoolandusethemugascovertotakeanotherlonglookatwhat’sunfoldingatmyfouro’clock.
ButIfreezeatthetopofthatmotionbecausewhoeverthefuckSethishastakenthelibertyofslidinghispalmoverthecurveofBailey’sass,fingerscurvinginwardbelowhercheek.
IpromisedherIwouldn’tmakeanymorescenesatherbar.
ButI’mabouttobreakthatpromise.
Becausegawkingatherwhilewatchingpornisbadenough.Butlayingasinglefuckingfingeronherwithoutherconsent?
That’sadeathwish.5Bailey
Idon’tknowwhatstartlesmefirst.Thefeelingofanunwantedhandtakingafirmgrabofmyassorthecrashofglassagainstthefloor.
“Removeyourfuckinghand.OrI’lldoitforyou.”Beau’svoiceislowerthanusual,quieter.Moremenacing.
Ilurchawayfromthetable,shaken,cheekshot,andrealizingshitcouldbeabouttogobad.Idon’tknowwhoSethis,butifmybrothersareheretowineanddinehim,chancesarehe’snotagooddude.
AllittakesisafewlongstridesforBeautobetoweringoverSeth.HisleanwristtwistsinBeau’simpossiblybighand,andahigh-pitchedsquealspillsfromhislips.
“Letgo!”oneofmybrothersshouts.I’mnotsurewhichone,becauseI’mtoobusystaringdownattheheavilycordedarmthat’sextendedacrossmybodylikeabarrier.Protectingme.Andhistouchisnothinglikethehandthatwasonmebefore.
Histouchsoothes.
Ascreechingsounddrawsmyattentionacrossthebaraschairsdragacrossthefloor.It’smylastpatrons.Theyabandontheirfinalroundofdrinks,droppingtheircashandscurryingout.Notwantingtogetcaughtinthecrossfireofwhateverisclearlyabouttogodown.
IthitsmeasIwatchthesituationunfoldinslowmotionthatitdoesn’tmatterifit’soneagainstthree.Beauwasspecialforces.
“Letgo?”Histoneissmoothandeerilyunaffected.Thisclashshouldfeelchaotic,butBeauistheeyeofthestorm.“Icoulddropyouwithonetouch.”
Thisman,who’sbeencalmlysittingatmybarnightafternight,isinhiselement.Hisgrayeyes,allpolishedsilver,areheatedand…excited.
“MakeasinglemoveandI’llsnapthisfucker’swristlikeatwig.”
Beauhasspentyearsportrayinghimselfasahappy-go-luckygoofballandit’satthisexactmomentIrealizethatwaspartofhiscover.Partofhowheprotectseveryonehelovesfromthefactthisiswhoheis.
Beauislethal.
“Hey,hey,hey.Relax,relax.”Aaron’shandsgouplikesomeoneispointingagunathim.Isuppose,giventhenumberoftimeshe’sbeenarrested,it’sanaturalpositionforhim.“It’sallingoodfun.”
Beau’sheadtilts.Hiseyesnarrow.Helookseverybitthepredatorheis.AndwhenSethtriestowinduptohithim,Beautwistshishandincrementally,droppinghimtohiskneeswithawailofpain.
Aaronshiftsinhisseat,lickinghislips,eyesvolleyingbetweenBeauandSeth.Lanceistoofucked-uptoreacttothesituation.Icantellbythesizeofhispupils,bythewayhe’sslumpedagainstthetablelikeit’stheonlythingkeepinghimupright.
Igrewuplearningtorecognizethatpostureandthenhidingfromit.
“Myideaoffunisbreakingthisasshole’swrist.Howaboutyours?”
“Youalreadybrokeit!”Sethwails,losinghismenacingdemeanorfrommeresecondsago.
Beaudoesn’tevengiveSeththegiftofhisgaze;instead,hekeepshiseyeslockedonmybrothers.“Nah,you’refine.IfIbrokeit,Iwouldhavefeltitsnap.You’llhearitwhenitdoes.”
“Okay.”AaronshootsmeascowlbeforegettingupandbackingawayfromBeau.HetapsLanceontheshoulder,urginghimtomove.“We’regonnaheadout.Findanotherbar.”
Beaunods,dippinghischintoanimpossiblybroadchest,onethatbarelymovesasthoughhe’sstoppedbreathingaltogether.“Perfect.I’llwalkyoufellasout.”
Andhedoes.Literally.WithSeth’sbrutalizedwristinhisgrip,hewalkshimoutlikeadogonaleash.Mybrothersstayaheadofthem,checkingbackovertheirshoulderswithbothfearandragepaintingtheirfeatures.
Noonehaseverwalkedinactingliketheyrulethefuckingworldandthenleftlookingsodisgraced.
Lookingsoweak.
Beautossesthemoutthebig,heavydoors,thenyanksthemshutandflipsthedeadbolt.
Heturnsbackaround,chintippedup,shoulderspressedback.“Youokay?”
Inod,notsurethatIam.“That’sgoingtocomebacktohauntus,”Isay,knowingmybrothersandhowtheywork.FlyingundertheirradarhasbeenmygeneraltacticuntilIsaveenoughmoneytogosomewherebeyondtheirreach.ThenIplantojust—poof—disappearandneverspeaktothemagain.
Outofsight,outofmind.
Beaugrinsashewalksbacktowardme.“Iknow,butitwasreallyfun.”
He’salwaysbeenhandsome,buttheswaggerrightnow,theglintinhiseye…thewayheleapttomyprotection.He’smouth-wateringinawaythathasheatpoolinglowinmybelly.Andforabeat,Iletmyselfstare.Iletmyselfbaskintheknowledgehejustblewupforme
Toprotectme
ThenIglanceawayandgettocleaningup.BecausefantasizingaboutBeauEatonisn’taproductiveuseofmytime.Especiallywhenhe’ssomucholder,hotenoughtoturneveryheadinthistown—tosetmyskinonfire—andahellofalotmoreexperiencedthanIam.
Which,tobefair,isn’thardtobe.
Toabsolutelynoone’ssurprise,I’mtooampeduptosleep.
Maybeitwastherun-inatthebar.Maybeit’sthefactthateverytimeIclosemyeyes,IseeBeau’sbulgingbicepheldoutacrossme,andtherippleofhisbackmusclesthroughthestrainofhisT-shirt.Ifeeltheheatandstrengthofhisbody,thrownuplikeaguardrailacrossmine.
Ormaybeit’stheloudmusicblaringallthewayfromthemainhouse.
Whichmeansmybrothershavebroughttheirpartyhome.
Istayawayfromthemainhouseatthebestoftimes,especiallysincemydadskippedbailandlefttown.Nowmybrothersruletheroost.Mydadisapieceofshit,butatleasthescaredthemenoughtostayalittleinline.
Withouthim?It’sliketrailerparkmayhemoverthere.
SoIstayfaraway,livinginaseventeen-footBolertrailerIboughtoffthesideoftheroad.It’smoreorlessanoldshoebox,butI’veputsomeworkintoit.WhatIhaven’tputinisanytypeofcoolingsystem.Whichmeansit’sasaunarightnow,eventhoughit’spasttwointhemorning.
ThedoorclangsshutbehindmeasIstepoutofthetrailerintothehot,muggynight.ThelightbreezeofftherivercaressesmyskinandIsigh,revelinginthefeel.TwosuspendedironstepsbowundermyweightasImakemywaydownthem.Myflip-flopsmakethatobnoxiousslappingnoiseasItrudgeacrossthegrasstowardtheriver.
Theriverthat’sjustbeyondthebarbwirefence.OnEatonland.
Notthatthefencehaseverstoppedme.Inthedeadofnight,it’salwayspeacefulandprivate.
Ipressdownonthetopwire,avoidingthebarbs,andswingalegover,clearingthelinethatseparatesmyfamilylandfromBeau’s.IknowI’mtechnicallytrespassing,butIalsoknowthateverysingleEatonhasbeennothingbutnicetome,evenwhenthey’vehadnoreasontobe.
Withinafewmoments,I’matthetopoftheembankment,whereIkickmyshoesoffandgingerlyheaddownthesteeppathsideways.It’seasierbarefoot.Ilearnedthehardwaythatflip-flopsjusttwistandturnandtripmeup,andthebiteoftheoccasionalpebbleonthebottomsofmyfeetdoesn’tbothermeallthatmuch.
Ihobbleacrossthewobblyriverrocks,shedmyclothes,andslipintothedarkenedwater,desperatetocooldown.IsitthesmartestthingthatIdo?Probablynot.Butitthrillsmeandsoothesmeallatonce.KnowingI’monadifferentpieceoflandthanmybrothersbringsmeanoddsortofpeace.
“Hooo.”Themountainwateriscoldenoughtosucktheairrightoutofmylungs,andIblowoutabreathasmyfeetscrapeacrosstherockybottomoftheriverbed,carryingmefurtherintothegentleflow.
Thechillywaterwhipsaroundeverycurveofmybody.Inthespring,thecurrentcanbecomemuchstronger,butbythispointinthesummer,itmeanderslazilythroughthetownbeforejoiningupwiththeElbowRiver.
Myarmscutthroughthewater,thesmellofsiltandpinewaftinguparoundme.Thatfresh,wetrockscentalmostoverpowersitall.
Immediately,mybodytemperaturedrops,andtheinternalalarmthatcanmakeyoupanickywhenyou’reoverheatedstopsbeepingatme.
Afterabusynight,itdoesn’tmatterifI’mcheckedoutandlyinginmyquiettrailer.Idreamaboutbartending.LikeI’mstuckonsomesortoffuckinginfiniteloop.
Bar,drink,till.
Bar,drink,till.
Bar,drink,till.
MybodyknowsthemotionsandthefeelingsandthepatternsodamnwellthatIcan’tescapeit.
Theriverismyreset.
Mypalmwrapsaroundanoffshootattachedtothelargelogthatlieshalfwayacrosstheriver.Igripitandletmybodyflowbackwiththeicywater.
WhenIhearthecrunchingofshoesonpebblescomingfromtheoppositesideoftheriver,Ifreeze.I’mfairlyhidden,butmyheartthundersinmychestattheprospectofbeingcaught.Alone,andinthedark.
I’veneverencounteredasinglepersondownhere,so,ofcourse,ithappensonanightwhenI’malreadyjumpythankstomyshittybrothers.
TheworldissilentforafewbeatsasItrytoholdmybreath.It’sjustthesoftrushofcoolwaterandtheechoofcricketsrubbingtheirlegstogether.
“Whothefuckisinmyriver?”
Reliefcoursesthroughme,andIsmile.
Sure,theraspytoneispissedoff,allgravelandsteel.
Butit’sthevoiceI’vecometoassociatewithsafety.
AndifIhadtogetcaughttrespassingnakedinariver,I’mgladBeauEatonistheonetocatchme.6Beau
Harvey:Checkinginonyou.Youmissedanotherfamilydinner.Justwannaknowyou’reokay.
Cade:WhatDadistryingtosayisthathewantsyoutostopbeingatotaldickheadandcomearoundnowandthen.
Willa:WhatCadeistryingtosayisthathemissesyouandworriesaboutyou.
Rhett:WhatWillaistryingtosayisthatshethinksyou’rethesexiestEatonbrotherandmissesseeingyouaroundbecauseshe’sstucklivingwithanogre.
Cade:Getfucked,Rhett.
Summer:Cade,whatRhettistryingtosayisthatyou’dbesexierwithlonghair.
Winter:Wrong.
Beau:Ohgood,thefamilychat.Also,IagreewithWinter.
Summer:We’rejustworriedaboutyou,Beau.Welikehavingyouaround.
Beau:Don’tworry.I’mfine.I’llmakethenextone.
Thegigglethatfiltersbackcatchesmeoffguard.
“Firstofall,it’snotyourriver.”
IexpectedittobeoneofthoseJansenassholes.Butno.It’stheirlittlesisterwiththewideeyesthatstareatmefromtheothersideofthebar.Theonewhodoesn’ttakemyshitbuttoleratesmypresence.Evenwhenit’sstormy.
OnereasonIcan’tsleeptonight.
Oneofmany.
“Bailey?”
Hereyeswidenasshetakesinmybarechest.“HowdidyouknowIwashere?”
Inkyblackhairshinesunderthebrightmoonasshepushesawayfromthelogshewashidingbehind.Thewaterconcealsherbody,butabovethatline,myeyeshitchonhershoulders.Thewaythesilverylighthitsthem—andthefacttherearenostrapsinsight.
Iscoffandblinkaway,notwantingtoleer.“I’vebeenatieroneoperatorforyears.IfIcouldn’tpickoutacivilianhidinginariver,I’dbedeadalready.”
Shebobsinthewater,andIdriftclosertotheedge.Thecreekmustbeundertwentyfeetacrosshereandshe’sprettymuchsmackdabinthemiddle.
Ijutmychinoutbeyondherandshovemyhandsinthefrontpocketofmysweats.“There’sapileofclothesontheshore.”Herheadwhipsaroundtoconfirm,wettendrilssplayingoverherslendershoulders.“Yourbodyisdisruptingtheflowofwater.”Sheglancesdownatherselfnow,atthewayitfoldsaroundherinadifferentpatternthaneveryotherstreamthatpasses.“AndIcouldhearyoubreathing.”
Herheadtiltstotheside,allsass.“Youcouldnothearmebreathing.”Disbelieflacesherwords.
Ilikethissassysideofher.Before,whenI’dcomeintothebarwithmybrothers,shealwaysseemedsobeatendown,sostartledallthetime.Shemademewanttosaveher.Ijustdidn’tknowhow.
She’sstrongerthanIrememberher,butIwonderifit’sallforshow.Iwonderifwe’rethesamethatway.
ButIjustshrug.“MaybeIcouldfeelyoubreathing.Idon’tknowhowelsetoexplainit.Icouldjustsenseit.Youhonethatsixthsensewhenyourlifeisontheline.”
Shestaresatme,skinshimmering,reflectingthemoonlight.Iwatchdropletsofwaterrolldownthefrontofherchesttothevalleybetweenherbreasts.
Sheseemsoblivioustohowtemptingshelooks—tothewaysheaffectsme.
“Beingabletotwistaguy’shandrightoffhisbodycomesinhandytoo,Ibet.”
Ishiftmygazefromtheexposedtopswellsofherbreaststotheriver.“Ifyou’relookingforanapologyforthat,youwon’tgetone.”
“I’mnot.”
Thathasmeturningmygazebacktoher,tryingtofigureherout.“Howlonghaveyoubeencominghere?”
Asofthumvibratesfromherasshetapsafingeragainstherpoutylips.“Trespassingtoswiminyourriver?Yearsnow,Iguess.”
“Youknowmyhouseisjustbeyondthatembankment?”
“Huh.No.Ididn’t.”Icantellshe’slying.“Mytrailerisjustbeyondthatcopseoftrees.”
“Oh,yeah?”IbendtopickuparockandpretendIdon’tknowthateither.
Iguesswe’rebothliarstonight.
“Whydon’tyouliveathome?”
Shechuckles.“Beau,you’vemetmyfamily.Ifyouwereatieroneoperator,I’msureyoucanfigureitout.”
Mylipstwitch.Smartass
“Iliketokeepasmuchdistancebetweenmyselfandthemaspossible.It’swhyIworksomuch.I’msavingupasolidnesteggtogetthefuckoutofhere.”
“Yeah?”
Shemustbeabletotouchthebottombecauseshetipsherheadback,droppinglowerintothewatertowetherhairagain.
“Yeah.Iwanttotravel.Gotoschool.PickaspotwhereIcansettledownandnotjustbetheyoungestJansen.AplacewherenooneknowswhoIam,orwhereIcamefrom.Afreshstart.”
IturntherockoverinmyhandasIturnherwordsoverinmymind.
Afreshstart
Thatshouldn’tsoundasgoodasitdoestome.Ishouldn’twanttoleavethisplacetoo.Myintenseboredomfeelslikeanaffronttoeveryonewholovesme,tothisbeautifultownIcallhome.
I’veseenfirsthandwhatitistohavenothing.AndhereIam,fortunatebeyondcompare—unhappytomyverycore.
Iguessthat’swhyItellher,“Youdon’tneedtostartfresh.Nothingwrongwiththistown.Youcanmakeitworkhere.”
Withhereyesstilltraineduponthestarrysky,shescoffsatme.It’sgood-naturedenough,butitstillhasmestraightening.
“Ididn’taskforyouropinion.”
Idon’tknowwhattosaytothat,soIturnandtosstherockdownstreamtoclearsometensionfrommybody.ThenIpickupanotherone.
Iwasn’ttryingtoconvinceher.
Iwastryingtoconvincemyself.
“Youstillworkingatthehospitalasaporter?”Iask,graspingatstrawsthatwillkeepmeherewiththegentlerushofwaterandthesoundofBailey’sbreathingunderablanketofpristinestars.“IrememberseeingyoutherewhenIstillhadtogoinforappointments.”
Shehumsthoughtfully,drawingmygaze.Asadsmirktouchesherlips.“Igotfired.”
Myheadjerksback.“Why?”
Shechucklesnow,lowandlacedwithsarcasm.Likesomethingisfunnybutnotthatfunny.“Oneofmybrothersgotcaughtbreakingin.”
“Tothehospital?”
“Yeah.OneofthepharmaceuticalcabinetsintheICU.”
Jesus.Herbrothersreallyarestupid.
“So…whydidyougetfired?”
Shespins,limbsslidingthroughthedarkenedwater.“Theyaccusedmeoflettinghimin.Givinghiminsideinformation.”
Furybubblesinmygut.
“Didyoutellthemyoudidn’t?”
Shehumsagain.“IkindoflovethatyouimmediatelyassumeIdidn’tdoit.Refreshing.”
Iscoff,chuckanotherstone,andduckdownlikeI’msearchingforaspecificrock,eventhoughinthedarktheyalllookthesame.“Iknowyouwouldn’tdothat.”
“Beau,myfriend,youareintheminority.Becauseevenwithnoproofandmedenyingit,theyfiredme.I’mnotsurprised,really.Mymaindisappointmentwaslosingasourceofincome.I’vestartedcleaningthebaronthemorningsthatIdon’tworkatnight.That’sbridgingthegap.Barely.ButI’vebeenblacklistedprettymucheverywhereelseintown.NomatterhowniceIdress,howperfectmyresumeis,howgreatmyreferencesare,noonewantstohireme.”
Theinjusticeofitrilesme.Sheseemssoresignedtothisbeingnormal.Beingokay.Nothingaboutthisisokay.It’sallwrong.
“Theycan’tjustdothat.Youneedtogobacktothehospitalanddemand—”
“EvenifIcouldgetthejobback,Idon’twanttoworkinaplacewherepeopleseemethatway.Don’tyougetit?That’showI’mperceivedhere.TheRailspuristheonlyplacethatdoesn’tfeelthatway,thankstothefactthatnoneoftheworkersarelocal.That’swhyI’llleaveassoonasI’vesavedupenoughtopayayear’srent.”
“Whyayear’srent?Whynotleavenow?”
Shecan’tmakeeyecontactwithmewhenshesays,“Mycreditisshot.Noonewillapproveme.”Herheadshakesbeforeshecontinues,“Anyway,foralongtime,Ididn’trealizeIdeservebetter.ButIdonow,andI’mresignedtothefactmylastnamewillalwayshauntmehere.”
ShekeepssayingthatandItrynottotakeitpersonally.IrefusetoacceptthatthiscommunityI’vealwayslovedcouldbesodeeplyprejudicedagainstayounggirl.
She’swrong.
“Ithasnothingtodowithyourlastname.Everythingtodowithyounotstandingupforyourself.”
Shebarksoutalaugh.Irecognizeimmediatelythatmywordswereharsh—judgmental—butsheparriestheblowtheymighthavedelivered.ThisgirlisKevlar.
“Forsomeonewhohasseensomedarkshit,you’resurenaive.Livinginsomesortofmagicalfairylandoverthere,Eaton?Whydon’tyouwaveyourwand,givemeadifferentlastname,andwe’llputthistheorytothetest.”
Theheavythudofmyheartinmychestaccelerates,pumpingfasterasthethrillofanewideacoursesthroughmyveins.Anewmission.
“Isthatabet?”
“What?”Sheglidesherhandsthroughthewater,givingmeaconfusedlook.
“Thatthingswouldbedifferentifyouhadadifferentlastname?”
“It’snotabet.It’safact.”
“I’lltakethatbet.”Mybodythrumsasthisnewideatakesshapeinmymind.I’dalsobewillingtobetatherapistwouldn’tapproveofmyplan.ButIstoppedseeingoneacoupleofmonthsago,sonothingisholdingmeback.
“Whatbet?Foraguywhodrinkschamomileteaallnight,youseemawfullyconfused.”
“I’llgiveyoumylastnameandwe’llseeifpeopletreatyoudifferently.”
Shegoesdeathlystill.“How?”
“Wegetmarried.”
There’sapregnantpause.Itseemslikeeventhecreekstopsbabbling.Andthen,“I’mnotmarryingyou.That’sinsane.”
Iwaveoffherwords.I’mnotaccustomedtobeingrejected.Rejectiondoesn’tfactorintomymindset.IusuallygetwhatIwant,atanycost.
“We’llgetengaged.ThatwillgiveyouthepromiseofbecominganEaton.Wecanplanaweddingthatneverhappens.”
“Fakeengaged?”Shesoundsincredulous,andIcan’tblameher.Thisisacrackedplan.I’mdefinitelynotthinkingstraight,butIalsofeelmoreexcitedthanIhaveinliteralmonths.
“Yes.Wetestourtheoriesinpublicandbreakupbeforeaweddingeverhappens.Obviously.”
“Didyouspikeyourteawithsomething?”
Adeeplaughbubblesupoutofme.“No.”
“Areyouhigh?”
Irollmyeyesnow.“Bailey.”
“Don’tBaileyme!”Sheslapsthewaterwithbothhandsasshelaughs—ahigh,unhingedsortofsqueal.“You’reactinginsane.Whywouldyouwanttopretendtobeengagedtome?Whywouldyoudothis?”
“BecauseitwouldgetmyfamilyoffmyassabouthowI’mdoing,andwhereIspendallmytime,andallthatotheroverbearingshittheyconstantlyaskmeabout.AndIloveacompetition.WhatdoIgetifIwin?”
“Ihaven’tagreedtothisyet.”
Yet.I’lltakethat.
Herwhiteteethdragacrossherbottomlipassheturnstheideaoverinherhead.
Igivehermoretoconsider.“Ifyou’reright,you’llgeteveryoneintownoffyourbackforhoweverlongittakesyoutogetoutofhere.Maybeyoucanevengetanotherjobthatpaysbetter.”
“Peoplewon’tbelievethis.”
“Whynot?”
“Becauseyou’reliketownroyalty.Andyou’re…howoldareyou?You’dnevergoforme.”
Wrong
Assoonasthethoughtspringsupinmyhead,Ishoveitaway.Isidestepeverypartofmyselfthatknowsthere’saself-servingaspecttothisarrangement.
EverypartofmyselfthatknowsIdon’tcareaboutthebetatall.IkeeptellingmyselfIamincontrolwhenitcomestoBailey.
Iwanttohavecontrol.
ButIdon’t.
“I’mthirty-five.AndI’ddefinitelygoforyou.”
Fuck.Ishouldn’thavesaidthat.I’mlosingittonight,runningonthefamiliarsensationofadrenalinecoursingthroughmyveins.Flushwiththeconfidencethattheoldmepossessed.
Shetearshergazeaway,staringdowntheriver,andashiverrunsthroughher.
“Shit,youmustbecold.”Isensehergazebackonme,tracingmyoutlineinthedark.“Whydon’tyougetout?”
“BecauseI’mnotwearinganything.”
Myheartcrashesagainstmyribsbeforecomingtoascreechinghalt.
“Iwon’tlook.”
Herheadtilts.“Whydon’tyougetin?”
“Why?”
Herlipstwitch.“SoIcanseewhatI’msigningupfor.Areyouhusbandmaterial,BeauEaton?”
“Probablynot.”Ismirk.“Butifyouwanttoshowmeyours,I’llshowyoumine.”
Shedoesn’trespond.Shejuststares.Itfeelslikeanentireconversationpassesbetweenusinthedarkriveralley.
KnowingIwon’tfollowthroughwiththatchallenge,Idrophergazeandturnmybacktothewater.Cuttingthethreadpulledtautbetweenus.Notwantingtobethatguy.She’svulnerablerightnow,andmycontrolishorriblyfrayed.
ButIfindmyselfdesperatelyhopingshe’llhumormeandgoforthisarrangement.Onpaper,itseemslikeshe’dgetmoreoutofthearrangement.
Butoffpaper…I’dbethewinner.
Waterswishesagainstherlegsasshegingerlymakesherwaytoshore.Iwaitwithbatedbreathforhertorespond.
“Ouch!”
Myinstinctsspinmeonthespottomakesureshe’sokay,andIcatchaquickglanceofherbareass.Atanlinefromwhereherbikinibottomsmustsit.Atrimwaistandtonedthighs.Mypulseskyrockets,mydickgrowshard,andIturnawayquickly,hopingshedoesn’trealizeIsawanything.Hercurvesarealreadybrandingthemselvesintomybrain,andIfailatstoppingmyselffromimagininghowitwouldfeeltoholdher,gripherassasIgotlostinher.Onecheekineach—
“Youokay?”MyvoicecomesoutthickandstrangledasIshutthatlineofthoughtdown.
“Yeah.Justasharprock.”
There’sarustleofclothesandthensilence.
“Youevergoingtoturnaround?”shecallsfromtheothersideofthecreek.
“Iwastryingtobepolite,”Isay,proppingmyhandsonmyhipsasIturntofaceher.
She’sdressednow,andtoofarawayformetodecipherherfacialexpression.
“Isthatwhyyoualreadylookedatme?”
“Ididn’t—”
“Isawyou.Don’thavetobespecialopstonoticesomeonewhippingaroundthatquickly.You’rerusty,BeauEaton.”
“Ididn’tmeanto.”Idropmyhead.“Yousaidouch,andI—”
“Thoughtyou’dcomesaveme?”Herstatementcomesoutlighthearted,butithangsheavybetweenus.Likewebothknowwhatthisis.
Iofferedmylastnamebecauseshelookslikesheneedssomeoneinherliferightnow.And,shit,itmightbetimeformetoadmitthatIneedsomeonetoo.
Idon’taddressthat,though.Instead,Iask,“Areyougoingtotakethebet?”
Hereyeslandlikeheavyweightsagainstmyskin.Ican’tseethemclearly,butIswearIcansenseherinternalstruggle.
“I’mgoingtosleeponit.Meetmeheretomorrownight.”
“Okay.”Inod,fingerssqueezingagainstmyhipbonesasifthatmightquelltheitchinthem.
Sheturnstowalkaway,loosecottonshortscreasingundereachbuttcheek.TheonesI’mgoingtotrynottothinkaboutwhileI…
“I’llbringabathingsuitnexttime.Mighthelpwithyourself-control.”
Ichuckletomyself.
“Hey,Beau,youneveransweredmyquestionearlier.”
“Whatquestion?”
“Haveyouhadanalsex?”
Ibarkoutalaugh.ThatwasnotwhatIwasexpecting.Atall.AndIfigure,what’sthepointoflying?“Yeah.Once.”
“Didyoulikeit?”
Iblink.Wow,okay,justoutwithitthen.BaileyJansenyellingaboutanalsexoverthecreekbedhasmyboxersfeelingoutrageouslyuncomfortable,mydickreadytostandatattention.
“Itwasn’tthebestsexI’vehad.”
Icanseetheoutlineofherheadnodding.“Yeah.Iguessyoucan’tknockituntilyoutryit.”
Astrangledlaughbubblesupinme.WhatelseamIsupposedtodo?She’sthemostconfusingcombinationofinnocent,curious,andforthright.
“Goodnight,Bailey.”
Sheturnsawaywithagentlesalute.“Yes,sir.”
Ialmostlaughagain.Couldn’tsleepbefore.Probablywon’tbesleepingaftertonight’sexchange,either.7Bailey
Heavyfeetcarrymeacrossthelawn,backtowardthebarbwirefencethatdividesEatonpropertyfromJansenproperty.Itseemsmetaphorical,separatingmefromwhatcouldbeaterriblystupiddecision.Thosesharplittlepeakssomehowrepresentativeofallthewaysthisbetcouldcomebacktohurtme.
ItoldBeauIneededtosleeponit,butIlayawakeinmyhot-as-fuckBolertrailer,turninghisinsaneofferoverinmymind.Ialternatedbetweenstressingovergoingthroughwiththebetandstressingovertheprospectofpassingitup.
ThenIstressedaboutthefactwedidn’tsetatimetomeetup.
Ispentmostofmydayoffobsessivelycleaningaseventeen-foottrailerthatIbarelymakeamessin.Whenthesmellofbleachnearlyoverpoweredme,Ichasedmyselfoutofthere.Bookinhand,IexpectedtositbytheriverandwaitforBeau.
ButwhenIhittheriverbankandpeerdowntowardthewater…he’sthere.Waiting.
Hisheadsnapsupatmyapproachandoureyesmeetfromacrossthewater.Unlikelastnight,Icanseehimclearlyinthesun’sfadinglight.Everyhardline.Thewayhisthighsstrainagainstthesimpleswimtrunkshe’swearing,thecutlineofhisquadsblendingdownintohisknees.
Hiswhitesocksanddorkywhitesneakers.
Henodsatmeinacknowledgementandmystomachflips.
Sittingthereontheshore,thickarmsproppedonthepeaksofhisknees,helookscasual,yetcoiledandreadytospringintoactionatanymoment.Helookshauntedyetatpeace.
Helooksbeautiful.
Toogood.GoodenoughthatIcouldendupstandingheregawkingathimwhilemylackofexperienceflapsinthewind.
SoIofferanodbackandforgeahead,clearingmythroatanddroppingmygazeasIdo.
Onthepathdowntotheriver,myfeetlosepurchase,butIgowithit.Yearsoftakingthispathinthedarkmakedoingitinthelightfeellikechild’splay.Islidedown,stilllandingonmyfeet,eventhoughmynailsnowhavedirtstuckunderthem.
It’swhenIrightmyselfthatIrealizeBeauhasshotuptostanding,thetipsofhissneakerstouchingthewater.
“Youokay?”Hisvoiceechoesaroundusasheprojectsoverthesoundofrushingwater.
Maybehe’soverbearing,butafteralifetimeofbeingignoredorlavishedwithnegativeattention,hisconcernwrapsaroundmelikeawarmblanket.
Ifeignedindifference,butIsecretlygotoffonhimtossingmybrothersandtheirsketchyfriendoutofthebar.
Hisviolencedoesn’tscareme.Itshould.Inmostcases,itdoes.ButwithBeau,itfeelsdifferent.Somehow,hisviciousstreaksoothesme.
Andstandinghere,caughtinthesnareofhisconcernedgaze,seeinghischestrisingandfalling,likehe’sreadytoblastacrosstheriverjusttocheckifI’mokay…IalreadyknowwhatI’mgoingtotellhim.
“Weshoulddoit,”Icallback.
Hegoesdeathlystill.“Yeah?”
Inod,takingtentativestepstowardthewater,tryingtoactmorecasualthanIfeel.“Yeah.Butweneedtotalkaboutit.”
Thecolumnofhisthroatworksasheswallows,eyesnarrowedinonme,likehecanseerightthroughthecalmandcollectedfacadeI’mtryingtoputup.Istrugglenottoletmyeyesskatedownoverhisbroadchest.Instead,Ifixateontheday’sfinalraysofsunandhowtheyhitthethickstubbleoverhisjaw.
“Yourplaceormine?”Ijoke,tryingtocutthetension.
Hisgazedropstothewater.“Idon’tknowifIcangointhewater.IthoughtIwantedto,but…”
Myheadtilts,urginghimtoexplain.
“Theburns.Theywereinfectedsobadlybefore.Idon’tknowifIwanttochanceit.”
I’vehaditinmyheadhebackeddownyesterdaybecauseI’mme.Tothinkthereasonhedidn’tjoinmeinthewaterwashealth-relatedlessensthestingofhimturningaway.
“Aretheyhealed?”
Allhegivesmeisashrug.Idon’tknowBeauwellenoughtopushtheconversation,soIremovemyflip-flops,hookingthemthroughmyfingersasImakemywaytothelogthatspansmostoftheriver.
IcanfeelBeau’sgazelatchedontomeinanalmostunnervingway,butIkeepmyeyescastdownasIwalktheloglikeabalancebeam.
“Careful,”hegrumbleswhenIgetabouthalfwayacross.
Irollmyeyes,butIdon’tthinkheseesit.“Beendoingthisforawhilenow.I’mfine.”
“Youcrossedtothissideoftheriver?”heasks,catchingmeinamomentofloose-tonguedfocus.
Fuck
Iopttoignorethequestion,gaspingwhenIstepdownintothecoldwatertomakeittherestoftheway.Aftertreadingcarefullyoversharprocks,Icometostandbesidehim,stillnotmakingeyecontact.Itossmyfoamsandalsdownandliftafoottoslideonein,buttherocksshiftbeneathme,andIfindmyselftipping.
Andthennot.
Beau’swarmpalmcapturesmyupperarm,andherightsmewithadeepchuckle.“Youcanwalkthatlog,butloseyourbalanceputtingonsandals?”
WhenIpeekupathim,he’sgrinning.Rightnow,heseemsmorelikethecarefreemanIrememberbeforethatfinaldeployment.Forafewbeats,wegetlostineachother’seyes.Inthewarmlightofthegoldenhour,histakeonlessofasilvertone,trendingmoretowardthesoftgrayoftheriverrockssurroundinghim.
He’sbeautifulalmostalways.Buthe’sblindingwhenhesmiles.
“Yeah,yeah.”MylipstwitchandmycheeksheatasIdropmyheadtoslidemyfeetintothesandals.Itrytoignorethefacthestillhasn’tletgoofmyarm.Hisgentleholdbrandsmyskin,andtheminuteIgetthoseplasticthongswedgedbetweenmytoes,Istepaway,offeringhimabrightsmileinreturn.
“Wannacometomyplace?”heasks.“Wecanchatthere?”
Myheartbeatspeedsup.“Yourplace?”
“Yes.”HepointstowhereIalreadyknowhishomesits.
“Whatifsomeoneseesus?”
Hesnortsalaugh,scrubbingamassivehandoverthestubbleonhischeeks.“Well,ifyou’reabouttobethefutureMrs.Eaton,itwouldmakesensethatyou’dbeatmyhouse,no?”
MytonguedartsoutovermylipsasIshiftmyfocustotheembankment.Heseems…happyaboutthis.
Ican’twrapmyheadaroundthat.Itallfeelssofuckingweird.
“Okay.Yeah.”
Thistime,hishandlandsatthebaseofmyneckasheguidesmeawayfromtheriver,fingerssolongtheycurveovermyshoulderanddustoverthepulsepointinmythroat.
Ican’thelpbutwonderifhecanfeelmyheartrateaccelerating,ifthatwashiscasualwayofchecking,orifitwasamistake.Ihaveasinkingsuspicionthisarrangementisgoingtoleavemeoverthinkingeverylittletouch,everylittlelook.
“MaybeIcanmakeyouteathistime.”
Mylaughcomesoutalittleshrill,hisfingersabsorbingthevibrationinmyneck.“Icouldusesomethingstrongerthanteaforthisconversation.”
Hishanddropsaswewalkthepathuptheembankment.I’msostarvedfortouch;Iwishhe’dputitback.
“Well,that’sperfect.I’vegotacouplebeersinthefridgethathavebeenignored.They’vegotyournameonthem.”
HeleadsmeupthehillandItrynottostareathisass.Buthisbroadshouldersaren’tanylessdistracting.Theyflexagainsttheblackpolyesterofwhateverworkoutshirthe’swearing,andtheytaperdownintoaperfectlynarrowwaist.Mythoughtsdrifttowhatitwouldbeliketopropmylegsoverthemwhileheburiedhisheadbetweenmythighs.Howwouldthatfeel?
Irememberthewaythemoonlighthithisbaretorsotheothernight.It’simpossibletoforget.Iwonderhowheavyhisbodywouldfeelovermyown.Howanotherperson’sskinwouldfeelslidingagainstmine.
IclearmythroatandgivemyheadashakebeforeIask,“Youhaven’tbeendrinkingatall?Notevenathome?”
“No.I’maddictedtochamomileteanow.”
Itseemslikeanintrusiontoaskifhe’ssleeping,soIdon’t.Plus,seeingashowwemetdownattheriverinthemiddleofthenight,itseemslikeIcanmakeaneducatedguess.
“Huh,”Ireplystupidly,beforeadding,“Goodforyou.”
“Yeah,well,someoneIrespecttoldmeIcouldn’tkeepdrinkingthewayIwas.”
Theskinonmychestvibrateswiththeheavythudofmyheart.
Doeshemeanme?Itcouldonlybeme.
“ShealsotoldmeI’dembarrassedmyselfandcalledmeanasshole.”
Ican’tstoptheshysmilethatcurvesacrossmylips.“Wow.Shesoundsreallysmart.”
It’srightaswehitthetopoftheembankmentthatheturnsandglancesoverhisshoulder.“She’sprettytoo,”hemurmurs,thegoldenskyglowingaroundhissilhouette.
Healmostfreezesmeinplacewiththatlittleaddition,butIcoveritandrollmyeyeswithalightlaugh.“Cute.Reallycute.”Igentlyslaphimacrosstheshouldertocutthetension,notwantingtobaskinhimandhissmoothwordsfortoolong.
IremindmyselfthatBeauisolderandcharmingandabouttobemyfakefiancé.
He’salwaysbeenaflirt—ashowboat—andit’snicetogetapeekatthatsideofhim.Itfeelsgoodtobetheonewhocanbringitoutinhim,butifI’mgoingtogothroughwiththisbet,I’llneedtokeepremindingmyselfthatwe’repretending.
AndthatEatonsdon’tmixwithJansens.
“Yourhouseisnice.”Ispinthecoldbottleofbeerbetweenmypalms.Truthfully,I’mnotabeergal,butthisfeelslikeasituationwherebeggarscan’tbechoosers.“Supermodern.”Ikeepmyheadturned,peeringaroundtheopenspace.
Doesn’tsuithimifI’mbeinghonest.It’sallsharpcornersandcoldmaterials.Polishedconcretefloors.Theoddwoodbeampairedwithgraywalls.Bigfloor-to-ceilingwindowsthatfaceoutovertheopenexpanseoflandononesideandthecreekbedontheother.
“Yeah.Aftergrowingupinwhatfeltlikeamountainlodge,Ibuiltsomethingalittledifferent.LessOldWestandmore…”Heshrugsfromacrossthetable,dippinghisteabagintothesteamingmugofwater…overandoveragain.
It’salmostsexual.In,out.In,out.
ThisfakerelationshipisgoingtobepainfullylongifIcan’tevendealwiththewaythismanhandlesateabag.
Ilickmylips,crossmylegs,andtakeadeepswigofmybeer,internallyberatingmyselftogetmyshittogether.
“Fresh.Sleek,”heconcludesthoughtfully.
“Yes,well.It’sverymasculine.Justlikeyou.”Myeyessnaptohis.Smughumorgraceshiseveryfeature.“Fuck.Just…”Ilookaway,spinningthebottleagain,tryingnottobeoverwhelmedbysittingacrossfromhimatasmalldiningtable.“I’mnervous.Youmakemenervous.”
“Why?”Hedoesn’tbudge,keepinghisfocusentirelyonme
BecauseI’mendlesslyhorny,andhaveyoumetyourself?
“Thissituationmakesmenervous,”Iclarifyinsteadofblurtingoutthefirstthoughtthatrunsthroughmymind.
Foronce.
“Okay,”heleansbackinhischair,appearingsorelaxed.Ienvyhislevelofconfidence.“Let’stalkitout.Planit.Layitallontheline.”
Inod,nibblingatmylip,tryingnottoletmyeyestaketheslidebackdownhisbodyagain.“Yes.Weneedsomegroundrules.”
Heleansforwardnow,elbowsproppedonthetable,mugbetweenhisbigpalms.Istare.
IwishIwasthatmug
“Noanalsex,Bailey,”hedeadpans.“Iknowyou’rereallyinterested,butI’mjustnotthatintoit.”
Ijolt,eyesabouttobugoutofmyhead.Myhandshootsupovermylips,andIforcemyselftoswallowthebeerinmymouthsoIdon’tsprayitalloverhim.“Ohmygod!”Isayfrombehindmyfingers.“Itwasjustaquestion!”
“Yup.Aquestionthatnootherpersonhasjustcasuallylobbedouttome.”
“Well,whoelseamIsupposedtoask?”
“Google?”
Ileanbackinthechair,groaningasIstareupattheceiling.“Itdidn’tseemlikeaweirdquestioninthemoment.”
Truthfully,Ienjoywatchinghimreact.He’sso…unaffectedbymeallthetime.ButwhenIaskquestionslikethat,Igetareaction.It’slikeproofoflife.
“Really?”He’slaughingatmenow.Andwhocouldblamehim?HemustthinkI’mnuts.
“No,Ijustsawthevideo,anditgotmethinking.Itwasfunny.Andyouseemexperienced,soIwantedtoknow.Youcouldhavetoldmeitwaspersonalifyoudidn’twanttoanswer.”
Onachuckle,hesays,“Haveyouhadanalsex,Bailey?”
Isnortandtipmychinbackdowntomeethisgaze.“Ihaven’thadanysex,Beau.”
Allthehumorthatlacedhisbodymomentsagodrainsaway.IswearIwatchitjust—poof—evaporate.
“Anysex?”Helooksincredulous.
“None.Bigfatzero.FeltlikeIshouldlaythatoutonthetableifwe’rebeinghonestwitheachothertonight.”
“How?”Hiseyessparkwithinterest.Notdisgustorpity,just…disbelief.“Aren’tyoutwenty-two?”
“Yes,butIdon’tknow.Ijustdon’tgoanywhere.Theopportunityhasn’tpresenteditselfandIdon’twanttotickitofflikeanitemonagrocerylist.And…whoisthere?Inthistown,it’speoplewhowouldn’ttouchmewithaten-footpoleorpeoplewhowanttotouchmejusttosaytheydid.”
IholdupafingerlikeI’mhavinganaha!moment.“Infact,thatwasthelastbetIwasunknowinglyinvolvedin.So,yeah,Ineedtheretobeaveryclearplansonothinggetsconfused.”
Somyfeelingsdon’tgethurt.
Hestaresatmeforseveralbeats,aglintofsteelinhissilvereyes.Hisjawpopsashisteethgrind,andIcan’thelpbutnoticethewayhislongfingersflexaroundhismug,likehe’senvisioningstranglingsomeone.“We’renotgoingtohavesex,Bailey.That’snotthepointofthisarrangement.”
I’mslightlydisappointedbytheconvictionwithwhichheconveyedthatmessage.Butitalsoputsmeatease.Honestly,partofwhatkeptmeuplastnightwasworryingabouthowfarwe’dhavetotaketheact.
AndhowI’dkeepfromgettingattachedifwetookittoofar.
“Let’sjustkeepanythingphysicalpublic.Doesthatwork?Hasanyonekissedyou?”
Igivehimadrolllook,offenseflaringinmychest.“JustbecauseIhaven’thadsexdoesn’tmeanI’vebeenlivinginabubble,”Ibiteback.“Ijusthaven’tfoundsomeoneIwanttogoallthewaywith.ButIwantto.”
“Bailey.”Hescrubsahandoverhisface.“God.It’slikeyouhavenofilteraroundmeatall.”
Ichuckleandglancetowardtheplushsectionalinthelivingroom,envisioninguscuddlingthere.Theweightofhisbodyagainstmine.Thewayhemightrollmeunderhimand—
Thesoundofhimswallowingiswhathitsmefirst.Thenhimtakingasipoftea.WhenIfinallyglancebackathim,Icanseetheamusementswirlinginhiseyes
“Shutup.”
Hislipspresstogether,barelycontainingthelaughterthatthreatenstospillfromhim.“Ididn’tsayanything.”
Iwaveahandoverhim,mycheekstuggingupasIdo.“Youmightaswellhave.Yousaymynamelikeit’sabadword.OrlikeIexhaustyou.”
“You’reentertaining,Bailey.Possiblyevenfunny.Youdon’texhaustme.Youinvigorateme.”
“Gee,thanks.NowIfeelreallyfuckingyoung.”
Heignoresmyjabandforgesahead.“Okay,soifyoumeetthispersonwhoyoureallywanttohavesexwith,you’regoingtotellme.Andwe’llbreakitoff.”
Myeyesclose.“Ihatethisconversationpassionately.”
Helaughsnow.It’sdeepandwarmandmakesmewonderhowI’lleverfindsomeoneelseIwanttohavesexwithwhenI’mspendingallmytimewithBeauEaton.
Whenmylashesflutteropen,Ipinhimwithmyglare.“Sameforyou.Ifyoumeetsomeonewhoyouactuallylike,you’lltellme.”
“Thatwon’thappen.Butfine.”
Hesoundssosure.
“Whynot?”
“Anactualrelationship?”Heflicksahandoverthetableasthoughswattingaflyaway.“Youdon’tseetheshitI’veseenandstillbelieveasinglethingispermanent.IsawthewayitcrushedmyfamilywhenIwentmissing.Idon’twanttoputanyoneelsethroughthat.Onceyou’vebeensentonyourwaywithashinynewreputation,it’lljustbemeandmytea.I’llneverfallinlove,won’tletmyself.”
Heholdsthemugupinacheers,butit’snotahappyone.
There’saprofoundsadness—aprofoundloneliness—aboutthesentiment,andIdon’tcheersback.
“Whenwebreakup,youhavetodosomethingawful,”Isay.
Hisbrowquirksinquestion.
“Well,ifyoudumpme,you’llbePoorBeau,whogotswindledbythetrashyJansengirl.IfIbreakupwithyou,I’llbetheshe-devilwhohurtPoorBeau.Butifyoudosomethingshitty,everyonewillforgiveyouandI’llstillgettowalkawaywithmyheadheldhigh.”
“Whydoyoucare?Ifyou’releavingandnevercomingback?”
Ibreatheoutaheavysighthatleavesmylungsfeelingalmostpainfullyempty.“I’mjustsotiredofbeingthebadguy.”
“I’llbethebadguy,”hesayswithafirmnod,notneedingtothinkaboutit
Mychestflutters,butIpresson.“Howwillweconvincepeopleit’sreal?”
Aslygringraceshishandsomefaceashistonguetraceshisbottomlip.“Actlikewecan’tkeepourhandsoffeachother.Justfollowmylead.”
“Right.”IforcemybreathingtoremaincalmatthethoughtoftouchingBeau.KissingBeau.I’maccustomedtohardwork,butthisdoesn’tseemlikeit’llbearealhardship.
Whatarethefuckingchances?
Ibrushacrumbthatdoesn’texistoffthetable.Thisplaceisimmaculate.“Sure.Cool.Icouldusethepractice.”
Aroughhuffofairsoundsfromhissideofthetable,andIglanceuptoseehimshiftinguncomfortably.
“Whataboutyourfamily?”
HisbrowdropsloweratthementionoftheEatonclan.“Whataboutthem?”
“Shouldwetellthem?Youallseemsoclose.Willthatbotheryou?”
Beaudropshisgazeandstaresthoughtfullyattheliquidinhismug.“That’sthething,Bailey.I’vebeenlyingtothemforyears.Andthey’rejustnowfiguringitout,Ithink.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?Ohmygod.”Igasp.“You’regay,aren’tyou?Everythingmakessomuchsense.I’mtotallycoolwithit,bytheway.”
Hechuckles,movingthatsly,playfullookovermyface.“Bailey,Iamverystraight.”
Iswallow.“Well,Icanseehowsomeonewouldthinkyouweren’t.”
Hisheadquirks,hisstareunnerving.“Ohyeah?Howso?”
Ishrug,havingtoblinkawaytoescapethepressureof…him.“Neverseenyouwithanyone.”
“Beenwatchingme?”
Iblowaraspberryandrollmyeyes.“Please,everyoneinthistownwatchesyou.”
Strongfingersrapagainstthetableashefiresback,“I’veneverseenyouwithanyone,either.”
Ilaugh,becauseofcoursehe’sneverseenmewithanyone.“Isupposemyextensivevibratorcollectiondoesn’tprovemucheither,huh?”
Hegroansandshiftsagain.“Jesus,Bailey.Youalwaysjustblurtshitlikethatout?”
Ishakemyhead,tryingtopushmyembarrassmentbackdown.“Nope.IonlyseemtoblurtstuffouttopeopleI’mcomfortablearound.So,you.AndmaybeGary.”
Beaudropshisheadintohishands,heelsofhispalmspressingintohiseyesockets.“Pleasetellmeyouhaven’ttoldGaryaboutyourvibratorcollection.”
Itakeaswigofmybeer.“Don’tworry.Hewashammered.Idoubthe’drememberit.”
Beau’sheadshootsup,anexpressionofshockpaintinghisface.“Areyoujokingrightnow?”
Ibitehardontheinsideofmycheek.“No.Itoldhimabouttheonethathasallthesedifferentvibrationsettingsandtheonethathasthislittlesuctioncupthatattachestothewall.Oh,andtheonethatstraightuplookslikearealdickbutway,waybigger—”Heleansacrossthetableandcoversmymouthtosilenceme.
Inresponse,Iholdmyhandsout,gesturingagoodtwelveinchesasIwidenmyeyes.I’llneveradmitit,buthispalmagainstmylipshasmefightingtheurgetoletmytonguetrailoverhisskin.Thepressure.Thesmellofhim.Mylipsmoveeversoslightlyagainsthim,andhishandfliesaway.Thenbothcomeuptocoverhiseyesagain.
Beau’sexpressionhasmorphedfromshocktointerest,to…whateverhe’sdoinghidingbehindhispalms.
Ifinallyclosemyslackjawandletmysmilepeekout,takinganotherdrink.
Thebeerdoesn’teventastethatbadanymore.
“Youcan’tjustrunaroundtellingcreepyoldmenaboutthisstuff,”hesaysinastrangledvoice.
“Giveyourselfsomecredit,Beau.You’reonlythirty-five.”Hisshouldersjumponachuckle,andIletalaughslipnow.“Andforatieroneoperator,yousurearegullible.”
Hisheadsnapsuptome,tipsofhisearsjustalittlepink.“Garydoesn’tknowaboutyourvibratorcollection?”
“No,sir.”Isalutehim.“You’retheonlyone.”
Hescrubsathisfaceasthoughhe’sconsideringwhattosaynext.“Iguessit’sfinethatIknowaboutyourcollection.Seeingashowwe’reengagednow.AndI’mnoteventhreatenedbythetwelve-inchone.”
IswallowandparrythejokeawaylikeIdidn’thearitasIdropmytone.“Yousureyou’reokaywithlyingtoyourfamilyjusttohelpmegetajob?”
“There’slotsIcouldnevertellthem.LotsIneverwill.Thisisjustanotheroneofthosethings.AndIreallyneed…”Hetrailsoff,glancingaroundthepristinekitchen.It’strulysocleanIcouldeatmymealoffofalmostanysurface.Italmostlookslikeithasn’tbeenlivedin.It’ssterile.
“…Ireallyneedtofeelsomething.”
Istartinmyseat,eyessnappinguptohis.
“Andhonestly?”Hescrubsatthebackofhisneck,lipstwistinginawrygrin.“ThisalreadyfeelslikethemostfunI’vehadinalongtime.”
Idecideinthismomentthatifhe’snotgoingtobugmeaboutmyvirginity,I’mnotgoingtobughimaboutwhateverhauntshim.
We’rebothgettingsomethingoutofthisarrangement,andIseethepracticalityinthat.Andthepracticalitysoothesme.
Itmakessense.
“Okay.Howdidwemeet?”
Hisjawworks,andIcanhearhisteethtappingtogether.“Atthebar.That’sthesimplestexplanation,andalsotrue.”
Inodmyagreement.“Andwhat’stheenddateonthisdeal?”
“Untilyou’rereadytoleave.Freeandclear.Newtown,newjob.Whateveryouwant.”
“Oruntilyoumeetsomeonereal,”Iaddsolemnly.
MyhearttwistsbecauseIalreadyknowthisisgoingtohurtwhenitends.ButIalsowantthatforhim.
Someonereal.
Histhroatworks.“Sameforyou.”
Islidemyhandacrossthetable,andheenvelopsitinhislargepalm.
Weshake.Weexchangenumbers.
Andjustlikethat…
I’mengaged.8Beau
Beau:Shouldwemakeourdebuttonight?
Bailey:WhileI’matwork?
Beau:Yeah.Ihaven’tseenyouinafewdays.Westillon?Don’tyouneedtostartapplyingforjobs?Thebarwouldbeasimpleplacetostart.Thenwecandodinnerattheranchonenight.
Bailey:Yeah.
Beau:So,tonight?
Bailey:Sure.Yeah.That’sfine.
Beau:Don’tbenervous.Garywon’tevenknowwhat’sgoingon.Justgetmyteaready,babe.
Bailey:Canwenotdothebabething?
Beau:Whynot?
Bailey:It’sjustsounoriginal.
Beau:So,notonlydoIhavetobeyourfakefiancé,butIalsohavetocomeupwithanoriginalnickname?
Bailey:Correct.It’sanewrequirementforourdeal.
Beau:Youdriveahardbargain,Jansen.Howmanycaratsonthediamond,fancy-pants?
Bailey:Lol.Four?Five?SobigIcanbarelyliftmyhand.
Beau:Wow.Mygirlishigh-maintenance.Gotit.Seeyoutonight,snookums.
Bailey:Yeah,no.That’snotiteither.
Baileyhasherbacktothebar,typingsomethingonthetouchscreencomputer.Whichiswhyshedoesn’tnoticemeslidingontomyregularstool.Theoneattheendofthebarthatputsmybacktothewallandgivesmeaviewoftheroom—andthedoor.
Awayout.
“Howgoesit,SweetCheeks?”MightaswellriptheBand-Aidrightoff.
ShefreezesinplaceandGary’sheadwhipsmyway.
“Thefuckdidyoujustsaytoher?”Gary’sjawispracticallyonthefloor.
Igrin.Yep.Thisalreadyfeelsgood.Icandothis.Ashow.Amission.
“We’retryingoutnewnicknames.”
Sheturnsslowly,andthemenacingexpressiononherfaceindicatesshe’sgoingtokillme.
“Whyonearth?”Theoldermansoundsgenuinelyflabbergasted.
“DidBaileynottellyoutheexcitingnews?”
Outofthecornerofmyeye,IseeGary’sbrowswrinkletogether,butmygazestaysfixedonBailey.Theimaginarynukesshe’sfiringatmedonothingbutmakemegrinbackather.ItstrikesmethatwhileBaileyissharp-wittedandfunnierthanIexpected,shedoesn’tknowhowtohavefun.Sheworkstoohard.It’slikebeingplayfulisaprivilegeneverextendedtoher.
IplantochangethatwhileIhaveher.
Mysmilewidenstothemega-wattversionthathasgottenmeoutoftroublemanyatime.“Wegotengagedovertheweekend.”
“Youwhat?”
BlessGary.He’stotallygivingoffprotectivedadvibesnow.MakesmefeellikeanevenbiggerassholeforthethingsIsaidtohimthatnight—eventhoughI’vemadeamends.
“Yeah.We’vebeenkindof…”Baileytrailsoff,eyeswideassaucers.Likeshe’sjustrealizedshehastospeakaboutthisarrangementaloud.Infrontofpeople.“Seeingeachother.”
Gary’sheadpivotsbackandforthbetweenthetwoofus.Baileystaringatme.Me,smirkingbackather,feelingmorelikemyselfthanIhaveinaverylongtime.
It’sthethrumofadrenalineinmyveins,thecamaraderieofbeinginonsomething.Havingapurpose—apurposethatgoesbeyondworkingcowsonthefamilyranchdayinanddayout.
“That’sfast,boy.Whatareyourintentions?She’salotyoungerthanyou.Nicer.Ahellofalotprettier.Whatareyouupto?”
IturntoGarynow,appreciatingthathehasBailey’sback.It’sabouttimesomeonedid.
“You’renotwrong.She’sallofthosethings.Butshe’salso…”Myeyesslipbacktoher.Shelooksfuckingterrified.“Broughtmebacktolife.Can’timaginemydayswithouther.”
It’snotalie.Infact,everywordistrue.Idon’tonlyspendfournightsaweeksittingherelikealoyalguarddogbecauseIhatetheideaofherworkingalone.
I’mnotquitethatnoble.
ButIcan’tbringmyselftoholdhergazeafterI’vesaidit.
“Shit.”Hescrubsathiswirygraystubble.“GuessIshouldhaveknownbythewayyou’realwayswatchingherlikeyou’reimaginingherwithherclothesoff.Wasgonnatellyoutotonedownthegawkingthisweek,tobehonest.”
Well,fuck.
Ifallbackonmytrainingtokeepmyfaceblank,butBaileycoughslikeshe’sgotsomethingstuckinherthroat.Iblinkinherdirectiontoseeherprettyheart-shapedfacepaintedwithbothhumorandshock.
Onceshe’scomposedherself,shesayssoftly,“Gary,please.Beauisatieroneoperator.Hewouldneverbesoobvious.”
Shesendsmeaslywinkattheendofhersentence.Adrylaughlurchesfromme.SarcasticBaileyneverfailstoknockmeoffmyfeet.AnditwouldappearI’mneverlivingthatonedown.
“Yeah.Myyearsspentinthespecialforcesimpressmostpeople.Baileythough?Baileyjustmakesfunofmeforit.”
“Youcouldusesomeonewhoisalittlelessimpressedwithyou,”Garygrumbleswithalightslurashetakesanotherdrink.
Myfingersrapagainstthetopofthebar.“Wow.You’reonarolltoday.”
ThemanshootshiseyestotheceilingbeforetheylandonmyhandandshifttoBailey’s.“Hangon.Pleasetellmeyoudidn’tproposetoherwithoutaring.Doubtyouneedherdaddy’spermission,butI’llkickyourassifyoudidn’tbuyaringforher.”
Bailey’slipstwitch,andshepropsherhandsonherhips,lookingallsmug.She’senjoyingwatchingGarygivemethegears.
Joke’sonher,though.
Imaynothaveproposedwitharing,butonequicktripintothecityfixedthat
“Iproposedwithone,butBaileytoldmethediamondwasn’tbigenoughandtotakeitback.”
Herfootstomps.“Ididnot!”
“Gary,youshouldhaveheardher.Saidsomethingabouthowshewantedadiamondsobigthatshecouldbarelyliftherarm.”
Henods.“That’sexactlywhatshedeserves.”
“YouguysreallythinkIcareaboutthat?”She’sdownrightindignant,whichiswhypullingoutthesmallgreenvelvetboxissodamnsatisfying.
“Iagreewithyou,Gary.”Islidetheboxacrossthebartop.“SoIwentbackandgotadifferentone.”
Bailey’slipsrolltogetherassheregardsit,handsstillproppedonherhips.Thetightsqueezeofherfingerssuggestsshe’sholdingherselfbackfromgrabbingthering.
“Well,girl?Yougonnashowusthegoods?”
Withadramaticsigh,Baileystepsforwardandswipestheboxfromthebar.Sheseemsindifferent.Truthfully,sheisn’tagreatactress.
Whichiswhythewayhermouthpopsopenwhensheseestheringforthefirsttimeissodamnsatisfying.Hercheeksturnpinkandherhandquakes,buthereyesstaylockedontheplatinumringwithamassiveteardrop-shapeddiamond.Smallerdiamondsframethecenterstone.Smallerdiamondslinetheband.It’stotallyoverthetop,andIlovethatforher.
“Whatisthis?”
“Adiamondsobigyourarmwillhurteverytimeyoupourapint.”
“It’snotreal.”
HerheadshakesandIlaugh.“It’sveryreal.”
“Howmuchdidyouspend?”Shesoundspanickednow.Ishouldhaveguessedthiswouldfreakherout.
“Iknowaguy.Igotagooddeal.”
“What’sagooddeal?”Heronyxeyessnaptomine,glistening.“It’stoomuch.It’sway,waytoomuch.”
Sheleansacrossthebarandpressestheboxbackintomyhand,soItakeit.
Butinonequickmove,Igrabherleftwristandpulltheringfromthebox.Islideitontohershakingfinger,alarminglysatisfiedbyhowhugeitisonherslenderdigit.
Shelooksveryengagedwearingthatrock,andithasthecavemaninsideofmebeatinghisproverbialchest.
Someoneshouldtellhimthisisfake.
“No,Bailey.It’sperfect.”Igentlystrokemythumboverthedelicateboneinherwrist.Wehaven’treallytouchedyet,andI’mnotentirelysurehoworwheretostart.Especiallyafterthevirginconfession.It’sbeenalongtimesinceIwasone,andI’vedamnnearforgottenwhatitwaslike.
Whenshemeetsmygaze,she’sbacktolookingalarmed.Worried.She’stheshy,awkwardgirlIremember,notthefocused,funnywomanshe’sslowlyblossominginto.
“Youdeservethis.”
“Andshit,ifitdoesn’tworkout,youcouldpawnthatsuckerforaprettypenny,”Garyaddsdrunkenly,whichmakesherlaugh.
Thensheturnsherpalmtomywristandgivesmeagentlesqueezetogowithhersweetsmile.ShesucksinastartledbreathwhenIliftherhandandkissthetopofit.Soft,butlongerthanisnecessary.Ikeepmyeyesonhers,givingheralookIshouldn’t.
Alookthatstillstheairbetweenus.
WhenIwinkather,sheturnstheprettiestshadeofpinkandyanksherhandbacklikeshe’stouchedsomethingscorchinghot.Thenshegetsbacktowork.AndIspendtheentirenightdrinkingchamomileteaandwatchingpatronsgawkatthemassiverockonBailey’sfinger.They’retoostunnedtoaskquestionsbuttooimpolitetolookaway.
Everytimeshecatchessomeonestaring,Iseethecornersofhermouthtwitchbeforeshepressesherlipstogetherandavertshergaze.
Andthatrighttheremakestheringworththeridiculouspricetag.I’vesavedmymoneyforyearsandwasneversurewhatIwantedtospenditon.
Thisseemedlikeaworthyinvestment.
Ishootupinbed,readytofight,butthesheetstangledaroundmywaiststopme.Foramoment,panicengulfsme.Ineedtorun,needmylegstomove,buttheybetrayme,leavingmehelpless.I’vemussedmybeddinginawaythatmakesnosenseunlessIwasflat-outwrestlingwithit.Mypillowisdampwithsweat,andmyskinisslickwithit.
MyfeetburnlikeI’vejustwalkedovertheflames.
Everyfuckingtime,it’s2:11a.m.
“Fuck.”Iflopdown,pressingtheheelsofmypalmsintomysocketsasIfocusonstabilizingmybreathing.
Thedreamisalwaysthesame.
Ihavethesameurgetofight,torun,tospringintoaction,butmybodyfailsme,andIendupcrawlingordraggingmyself.I’malwaysinthedesert.Micahisalwaysthere,onthebrinkofdeath.
AndIalwaysfeellikeIneedtosavehim.
It’sirrelevantthatIdidsavehim.Mybraintakesmebacktothatfeelingofpurehelplessness,theeternalhighalarmwithnoreprieve.Whilewewerecampedoutinthatcavefortwoweeks,Isuppressedthoseemotions,buttheyhauntmenow.
Ikickthesheetsoff.Evenwithairconditioning,I’msweltering.SinceIfoundBaileyintheriverthatnight,Ifantasizeaboutdippingintothecoldwaterandcoolingthisphantomburningsensationthatfeelsalltooreal.Ifantasizeaboutrelaxingenoughtofeelsafewhiledoingit.
I’mdrawntotherivernow.Ikeepfindingmyselfdownthere,notexactlyrememberingthepathItookorwhenIarrived.
Maybeit’sthewater.Maybeit’sthedark.
Maybeit’sBailey.
Regardlessofwhatitis,Iheadthereagaintonight.Idon’tevenbotherwithsocks.AsImakemywaydownthepathtotheshore,myfeetfeelliketheyareonfire,thefreshlygraftedskinrubbingagainstthefabricinsidemyshoes.
WhenIgetalmosttothebottom,I’mnotalone.
Acrossthecreek,againsttheriverbank,sitsBailey,inthesamefrillywhitecottondresssheworeatworktonight.Hercheekrestsonaballed-upsweaterthatcoversthecrestofherbentknees.Herarmsarewrappedtightlyaroundhershins.Likeshe’stryingtobeassmallaspossible.
Inthemoonlight,Icanseeherringgleaming.
“Bailey?”Icallhername,eventhoughIalreadyknowit’sher.
Herheadsnapsup,bodygoingrigid.Thenherhandfliesup,onefingertoherlips,givingmetheinternationalsymbolforshutthefuckup
I’minstantlyonhighalert,myheartrateskyrocketingbacktothelevelitwasaftermyrecurringnightmare.Iprowldowntherestofthehill,makingaslittlenoiseaspossibleontherockyshore.WhenIgettothewaterandlookoverather,hereyesarewide.Bodystill.
I’mabouttosaysomething,butshetapsherfingeragainstherlipsagain.
Hersignaldrawsmyeyesdowntothewater.Mywhitesneakerstoethewaterline
Logically,Iknowmyfeethavehealed.I’vebeengiventhego-aheadtoswim—tolivemylife—butIjusthaven’tbeenabletoletgooftheanxiety.
Allatonce,I’mfacedwiththequestionofwhatIwantmore.TogettoBailey?Orhangontighttomyanxiety?
It’snotaquestionIneedtothinkaboutforlong.I’mnotsureIthinkatallbeforeI’mwadingintothecoldwaterwaytogettoher,notcaringaboutmyselfatallintheprocess.
Veryonbrandforme.It’swhyIamwhereIam.
UnlikeBailey,evenatthedeepestpoint,Icantouch.SoIwalk,trudgingthroughthewateruntilIcomeoutdrippingontheotherside.Bailey’sgazelatchesontomyfeetasIstridetowardher.
Itrytoignorethechafingfromtheterry-likematerialinsidetheAdidasshoes.ButassoonasIdropdownontothesiltygroundnexttoherandleanmybackagainsttheembankment,Iripthemoff.
Inthedark,theburnsappearlessangry.They’remottled,alittletwistedattheseamswherethenewlygraftedskinmeetstheoldskin,butlessred,shiniernow.
It’sthefirsttimeI’vebeenbarefootaroundsomeonenew.
“Ithoughtyousaidtheyweren’thealedyet,”Baileywhispers,eyestracingmyfeetproppedonthesandyground.
“Ilied.I’vejustbeentooshit-scaredtotakethefreshfeetforaspinindirtywater.”
Herfaceturns,liftinguptomine.“Whytonight?”
Ishrugandwigglemytoesonthelooseground.Itfeelsgoodtogetthemoutofthosefuckingcompressionsocksandhotshoes.“Ihadagoodreasontogetacrosstheriver.”
Sheswallowsloudenoughformetohear.
“What’sgoingon,Bailey?”
Sheturnsawaynow,likeshe’stooembarrassedtofaceme.“Mybrothers.”
Myspinegoesrigid.
Sheholdsherlefthandup,diamondglinting,andwigglesherfingersinfrontofus.Hervoicecomesoutinaresignedhush.“Theyheardabouttheringthroughthegrapevine,I’massumingfromsomeoneatthebar.IheardthemtalkingaboutpawningitasIwasheadingdownhereforaswim.Theycametoknockonmydoor,soIhidbehindatreeuntiltheywentinside,thenIboltedtotheriver.”
“I’mgoingtokillthem.”
Bailey’srespondingsmileissad.“Theyaren’tworthit.Andthatwouldfuckwithyourherostatusintown.”
Iwaveheroff.“It’dbefine.Noonewouldcare.”Isayitwithoutthinking,withnoregardtohowitmightfeeltoher.Isayitbecauseit’strue—andthat’stheworstpart.
ThewordslandandIhearhergruntwhentheydo.Asoftthud,likealimbhittingthedirtinfrontofme.
“I’msorry.”Myshoulderpressesagainsthers,butshedoesn’tnudgemeback
“Don’tbe.It’strue.”
“Idon’tknowifI’dsay—”
“Beau,stop.Thewholecheery,rose-coloredpersonayoufakedoesnothingbutannoyme.I’vealwaysseenpastit.Thewayyouswitchfromallhappy-go-luckyandgoofytosternanduneasy.Thewayyourfacedropswhenyoustareoffintospaceforabeattoolong.Idoittoo,andmaybethat’swhyIseeit.Buthonestly,don’tbotheraroundme.It’salmostoffensive.It’sokaytonotbeokay.”
Mychestaches.Ifeelthecracksinit,thefaultlinesofallthehurtsI’vesuffered,allthebadshitI’veseen,allthethingsImostlyrationalizeortuckaway.Theycomeroaringbacktotheforefrontinthepresenceofsomeonewhodoesn’tcareifIgetlostinthemforaminute.
“You’renotgoingbacktosleepatyourtrailer,”Isay,notwantingtoacknowledgewhatshe’sjustsaidtome.Instead,IfallbackonwhatIdobest:takingcareofpeople.
“Wasn’tplanningonit.”
“Whatwereyougoingtodo?”
Baileyshrugs.“Probablyjustsleephere.”
“Bytheriver?”
“Yeah.”Herresponseisnonchalantasshetugsthesweaterdownoverherheadandsettlesin.
MybrowfurrowsasItakeinoursurroundings.Thewarmaircarriesthescentofwetrocks.Icanhearthecricketschirpingaboveus.Seethemoonreflectingonthewater.FeelthesupplepressofBailey’sbodybesidemine.
Icouldinsistthatshecomebacktomyhouse.IcouldinsistIgobacktohers.
Butthisdoesn’tseemlikeabadplacetospendthenight.
“Okay.”Ishiftcloser,decidingthat—fuckit—I’mgoingtoslinganarmoverherandtuckheragainstme.Ican’trememberthelasttimeIheldsomeonewhowasn’tonthebrinkofdeath.SomeonewhoIjustwantedtohold.
Thistime,shedoesn’tflinchwhenItouchher.WithoutGaryandeveryoneelseinthebarwatchingus,shedoesn’tactunnaturalatall.
“Whatareyoudoing?”sheasks,butherbodydoesn’tresist.Hersmallframemeltsrightintominewithoutasinglecomplaint.
“Holdingmyfiancée,duh,”Isay,thumbingthediamondonherfinger.
Shesnortsalaughtocoverforthewayshe’scuddlingintotheshelterofmyarm.Shecan’tbecold,butthere’ssomethingdesperateinthewayshepressesherselfagainstme.“Okay.Fine.Isthispractice?”
Practice
Onesimplewordshouldn’tmakemehard.Butsomehowpracticedoesit.ItfillsmyheadwithmanythingsthatBaileyandIcouldpractice.ThethingsIcouldshowher.
“Yeah,BabyDoll.It’spractice.”
Silencedescendsbetweenus.Tensionbuilds.
Andthen,“Hey,Beau?”
“Yeah?”
“Notthatone,either.”
Ilaugh.Andthenwedon’ttalk.Wedon’tneedto.
Wesitontheriverbank,sidebyside.Bothofuspracticingbeingokaywithnotbeingokay—together.9Bailey
Lance:Whereyouat?Comehaveadrink.
Aaron:Yeah,wecamelookingforyou,butyouweren’thome.
Iwakeupheldtightagainstsomethinghotandhard.Irubmycheekagainstcotton,wantingtonuzzlebackintooneofthebestsleepsofmylife.Asoftbreezefansovermycheek,andbeforelong,Irealizemypillowhas…aheartbeat.
Ifreezeasmyeyessnapopen.Theearlymorningskyhastakenonapalebluehue,andIrealizethatmineandBeau’s“practice”lastedallnightlong.
We’reclingingtoeachother.Mycheekagainsthisheartashecurlshimselfaroundme.Toparmcagingmeinlikeashield.
Imightaswellbeateddybeargettingsnuggledbythehottestsupersoldierofalltime.
Correction:myfiancé.
Mychindipsdown,andIturncarefullyinhisarms,revelingintheheatofhimagainstmybackasIstaredownatthediamondadorningmyringfinger.It’stoomuch.It’swaytoofuckingmuch.Notonlydoesitnotbelongonagirllikeme,butit’sfurtherproofthatBeaudoesn’tunderstandthewaymyworldoperates.
Niceshitgetsstolen.Endofstory.
Idon’tgetniceshit.Iwasn’tmadeforit.Anditwasn’tmadeforme.
AssoonasI’mdonebaskinginthefeelingofbeingheld,I’lltellhim.I’llforcehimtotaketheringback.I’llsithimdownandmakehimunderstandthatalthoughwehaveanagreement,thereisstillalineinthesandbetweenus.
Onewhere—
Heshifts,smackinghislipsinanalmostchild-likewayashistopleghooksovermeandpullsmecloserwhilehe…
Grindshismassivemorningwoodintome.
NowIreallyfreezeonthespot.
Arealmanispushingarealbonerintome
I’vethoughtaboutthisnonstop.WhatI’ddo.Howitwouldfeel.
I’vedreamedaboutthis.
Beingatwenty-two-year-oldvirginmakesmesound…wholesomesomehow.Livinginmyheadisawholedifferentstory.Because,yeah,I’mavirgin,butI’mnotdesperatetohangontomyV-card.Infact,I’dsayI’meagertogetridofit
Imean,haveyouseenmydildocollection?MyYouPornsearchhistory?AsiliconvibratorIpretendisJensenAcklessnaggedmyhymenyearsago.
Nah,I’mnotsavingshit.I’mhornyashellwithnooneIlikeenoughtoworkthatenergyouton.Iamdesperateto—
“Sugartits,areyoupressingyourassagainstme?”
Myhipsshootforward,andIsqueakasIscrambletocreatespacebetweenus.“Youcan’tcallmesugartits,”iswhatIcomebackwithasIturntofacehim,palmsonmyhotcheekslikeitmightcoolthemdown.OrmaybelikeIhavearewindbuttonthere.Thatwouldbeideal.
Beaupropshisarmbehindhisheadandgrinsatme.“That’sthepartyoudrawissuewith?”
Isniff,tippingmynoseup,refusingtoletmymortificationmakemefeelsmall.IhaveyearsofpracticeholdingmyheaduphighwhenIshouldbeembarrassed.Ireachdowntostraightenmyskirt.
“Iwasjustlyinghere,keepingyousafe.Sleeping.Quietlymindingmybusiness.Andyouweregrindingagainstmy—”
“Stop!”Myhandshootsup,aphysicalbarriertocuthimoff.“Juststop.Iwasasleep,”Ilie.
Beaugrinsbigger,likeheknowsI’mfullofshit.Andfuck,helooksbeautiful.There’ssandinhishair,stubbleonhisface.HistanT-shirthasriddenupjustenoughtoshowapeekofbronzedabs.
“Ididn’tevenknowIwasdoingit,”Isay,attemptingtoweavethetruthintowhatI’mthinkingmustbeaverytransparentlie.
Hewaggleshiseyebrowsatme.
“Ugh!Stop!Youpressedyourgiganticbonerintomefirst!”
Helaughsasherollsontohisback,handsscrubbingoverhisface,whichdoesnothingbutmakehisforearmsripple.
Butit’sthesoundofhislaughterthatgetsme.It’swarmandfull.Itvibratesthroughmybody.Itmakesmystomachflip.Ithitsmewithajoltoflustrightbetweenmylegs.
“Whyareyoulaughing?Thisisn’tfunny.It’sawkwardashell.”
“It’sfunnybecauseifyouknowthat,youweren’tsleeping.”
Shit
Ibrushthesandoffmyself,makingashowofittoavoidhavingtolookatBeauandhisstupid,knowingsmirk.“Well,ifyouknowit,youwereawaketoo,”Iargueback.
“Yeah,butIwasgroggy.Ihaven’tsleptthatwellinmonths.Mybodywascelebrating.”
WhenIpeekathim,hewinks,andI’mapileofnervousmushalloveragain.
“What’syourexcuse?”heteases,stilllaidoutflatonhisback.Itstrikesmeasanespeciallyvulnerablepositionforamanlikehim.
Ikneelathisside,takinginwhathastobeclosetosixfeet,fourinchesofsolidmuscle.
Hisbodyisawell-honedmachine.
Iimagineitproppedovermine.Thrusting.
“I’mhorny,”Iblurt,decidingI’drathernotlie.What’sthepoint?Heseesthroughitanyway.
Hisgrayiriseslatchontomineforafewbeats.Iexpectedhimtolaugh,buthejuststaresatme.
“What?Isthatsoalarmingtoyou?IsitbecauseI’mawoman?I’mtwenty-two,andIswearI’malmostatthepointwhereI’dfuckanyonejusttotryitout.”
Hegroansnow,handsbackonhisface.“Bailey.”
Whenmyeyestracelower,Icanseehislengthstrainingagainsthisshorts.Withhiseyescovered,Icasuallyholdmyhandouttocomparesizes.
Forscience.
“Youcan’tfuckingsaythingslikethattome.”
“Whynot?”Isnort,athrillracingthroughmybodywhenIrealizehisdickislongerthanmyhand.“We’reengaged.I’mpracticing,remember?”
“Whatarewepracticingrightnow,exactly?Otherthanmakingmydicksoharditmightburst?”
Inod,staringathispenisandfeelingverymatureandmatter-of-factaboutit.No,thisisgood.Normal.“We’repracticingtalkingaboutsex.I’llneedtobeopenaboutitonedaywhenIdoit,right?SoImightaswellgetcomfortabletalkingtoamanabout…”IflailmyhandaroundasIsearchfortherightwords.“Bodies.Ishouldgetcomfortabletalkingaboutbodies.Seeingbodies.”
“Yeah?”Herepliesfrombehindhishands.“Thentellmeabouthowwetyouarerightnow.”
Thatbringsmytrainofthoughttoascreechinghalt.
Hedropshishandsfromhisface,nowwearinganexpressionIdon’trecognize.Hiseyeshavegonedark,almosttitanium,growingmoreturbulentthelowertheytravel.“Losethesweaterandlet’sseeifyournipplesarehard.”
Mymouthdropsopen,butIdon’trespond.
“Youwanttopracticetalkingaboutsex?Let’spractice.”Hisraspyvoicevibratesacrossmyskinlikeatouch.Somehow,hiscockfillsevenmoreofhisshorts.
IhesitateforonlyasecondbeforeIreachdownandpeelthesweateroff,keepingitclutchedinmylap.Myfingersdigintoit,usingitasashieldforhisquestionabout…lower.
WhenIglancedown,myhardnipplesarepointingstraightathimthroughthethincottonbodiceofmydress,likemybodyisscreaming,Thisone!Dothisone!
Heseemsmomentarilysurprisedbymyboldnessbeforetheexpressionslipsaway.
Thenhegrowls,“Fuckingknewit.”Histonguedartsoutoverhislips,buthemakesnomovetochangehispositionorreachforme.
Ichanceanotherlookathiscrotchandwatchhimreachdowntoadjusthimself,aquietgroanescapingmeasIdo.Mybrainspirals.Howmustthatfeel?Taste?Hedoesitsocasually,withsuchsurety.
Ibethefuckslikethattoo.Likehejustknowshe’sgoodatit.Nobumbling.Nostuttering.
IbetBeauEatonknowshowtohandleawoman’sbodylikeapro.
“Areyouwet,Bailey?”
Boom,there’stheproof.
Ashiverracesdownmyspine,andmyeyesfluttershut.Isqueezemythighstogetherandpressmysweaterdownharderovermylap,feelingthewaymypussyslidesasmyhipstwisteversoslightly.
“Youare,aren’tyou?”
IkeepmyeyesclosedbecauseIdon’tknowifIcanhandleseeinghimrightnow
“Tellme.”
Ipant,mybodygoinghot.It’stoomuch.Talkingaboutsexisonething,butIfeellikeImightcombust.Andthefactofthematteris,thisseemslikeseriouslyblurringwhateverlinesBeauandIhavelaidout.IknowI’mgoingtohavetotouchhim—kisshim—butthat’sinpublic.That’sforshow.
Whateverthisisrightnow?It’snoneofthosethings.
It’sprivate.It’sintimate.Andconsideringthefactthatnooneelseishere…it’snotforshow.
Ipushtostandingandfinallymeethisgaze,onethat’snowlacedwithconfusion.“TheonlythingI’mtellingyouisthatI’mgoingtogobacktomytrailerandgetcleanedupsoIcanapplyforjobs.”
Hischestrisesandfalls,andhecatchesuptowhateverwhiplashIjustputhimthrough.Buthedoesn’tfightit.Heblinksandhiseyesclear,likewebothjustexperiencedapossessionandarecomingbacktoreality.
Hepropshishandsagainstthegroundandrightshimself,unfoldinglonglimbsashecomestostandbeforeme—toweringoverme.
Hestaresdownathisfeet,toeswigglingonthesandyground.Inthemorninglight,thedamagetothemisclearlyvisible.Theskinstretchedjustalittletootight.Smoothspots.Bumpyspots.Spotsthatareredder,spotsthatarewhiter.Justpastthebridgeofhisfeet,itswapsbacktosmooth,regularskin.
Aborder.Onesideholdsallthepain,butifyoucoveritup?It’slikenothingeverhappened.
Iwanttoaskquestions,butIdon’t.Nothingworsethanpeoplerummagingthroughyourtraumajustsotheycanrubberneck.
Iknowthesensation,andIwon’tsubjectBeautoit.Ifhewantstotellmehisstories,hewill.
Henoticesmestaring,andhewinces.IrecognizethelookonhisfacebecauseI’veexperiencedit.
Embarrassment.
Ifeelinclinedtosnaphimoutofit.
Mygazefallstothedogtagsaroundhisneck.Ireachforthem,thebumpsinthechainslidingthroughmyfingers,buthiseyesstaytrainedonhisfeet.
Igivethechainatug,startlinghimoutofhismoment.“Don’tdothat.”
“Dowhat?”Hisbrowfurrows.
Itugagain,pullinghimcloser.“Don’tplaystupid.Anddon’tbeashamed.”
Itrytostepback,togivemyselfspace,becausethewayhe’sstaringatmerightnowisdisarming.Buthisbighandsmovefast,shapingmywaistandgrippingme.
Immobilizingme.
Thelowmorningsunisblindingwhiteoverthetopsofthetrees,andIswearitgiveshimanotherworldlyeffectasheglaresdownatme.
Hedropshisheadandbrusheshisnoseagainstmycheek.Myheadtilts,andmyfingersgripthetagstighter,tonguedartingoutovermylips.
Ishegoingtokissme?
Ourlipsarealmosttouching,butI’mtoostunnedtomove.
“Shame?”Hehumsthewordbutdoesn’tpresscloser.Ifeelthewarmthofhisbreathagainstmydamplips,therumbleofhisdeepbaritoneovermythroat.“Richcomingfromthegirlwhojustrefusedtoanswermyquestionabouther—”
Ipushawayfromhim,chestheavinglikeI’vejustbeenonarun.MynostrilsflareasItrytopullmyselftogether.Again.
Composingmyself,Ibrushatmydressandsteertheconversationinadifferentdirection.“Okay,well,I’mgoinghome.I’llseeyouaround.”Igivehimadrive-bysmile,onethatfeelsforcedandisonlyturnedonhimforabeatasIlookaroundmyself,settlingonthegroundlikeit’ssuperinteresting.
“Whataboutyourbrothers?”
HesnapsmyattentionbackuptohimwiththequestionandIwavehimoff.“Nah.They’llbesleepingofflastnight.WithoutDadaround,theydon’tevenpretendtostayinline.”
Heassessesmealittletooclosely.Hisjawpops,whichsuggestshedoesn’tbelievemeordoesn’tliketheanswer.Theedgeofangeremanatingfromhimmakesmenervous.
“Okay,well—”
“Weneedtotellmyfamilysoon.Wouldbeweirdforthemtofindoutfromsomeoneelse.”
“I’mofftonight.Wecould…”
“Okay.I’llseewhatIcanpulltogetherandletyouknow.”
He’sallbusinessnow.Exceptfortheleafstuckinhishair.Mycheekstugupatthesight.
IexpectedtofeeluncomfortablearoundBeau,uncomfortablewiththisdeal.ButIdon’t.Ipracticallyshowedhimmynipples,andnowwe’restandingherechattinglikenormalgrown-upswhocaneasilytalkaboutsexandbodies.
“Great.Well…”Irockonmyfeet,searchingforawaytoendthisconversation,notsurewherewegofromhere.“Thanksforthe…practice.”Thewordcomesoutonanawkwardlaugh,andIshakemyheadatmyself,droppingmygazeagain.
Onlytoseethattheswellinginhisshortsisstillthere.
Thisisfake,fake,fake
Suddenly,Ifeelalotlessgrown-up.Ifeelgiddyanduncertain,andlikeIneedtogetawaysoIcansquealintoapillowandoveranalyzeeverysinglethingthathashappenedinmylifeforthepastfewdays.
So,IdarttothebarelytherepathI’vecreatedupthissideofthebankbecauseIneedtoputalittlespacebetweenBeauandhisbigdickandme.
Alowchucklecaressesthebackofmyneck.
“Bailey,we’regoingtoneedalotmorepracticeifwe’regoingtopullthisoff.”
“Why’sthat?”Icallovermyshoulder,refusingtoturnbacktohim.
“Becauseifyouactalljitteryaroundme,nooneisgoingtobelievewe’remadlyinlove.AndIneedthemoffmyass.”
Ibarkoutalaugh.Thisentirethingisridiculous.“Well,justdon’taskmeifmypussyiswetinfrontofthem.”IhitthetopoftheembankmentandfeelmoreincontrolnowthatI’vegotroomtobreathe.Handsonmyhips,Istaredownathim,huffinglightly,suckinginthefreshmorningair.“Thenweshouldbefine.”
Thatmischievoussmilepopsuponhisfaceagain,butit’snotallplay—there’sanedgeofdangertoittoo.“Butitwillbe,right?”
“No.Becausethisisfake,remember?”
Hestretchesnow,handsbehindhishead,grinningliketheCheshireCat.“Youfakedthosehardnipplesrealwell,sugartits.”
IhavemostcertainlybittenoffwaymorethanIcanchew.
AndallIcanthinkasIstaredownatthisbeautiful,broken,confusingmanis…
WhatthefuckhaveIdone?10Beau
Beau:Dinnertonightatsix.Allsetwiththefam.
Bailey:Okay.I’llhavetowalkover.
Beau:Why?
Bailey:Ihaveaflattire.
Bailey:Actually,fourflattires.
Beau:I’mcomingover.Rightnow.
Bailey:Why?
Beau:Becausefourflattiresaren’tanaccident.Noonejustrandomlygetsfourflattires.
Bailey:NotsuremybrotherswilllikeanEatondrivingontotheproperty.Don’tcomehere.It’snotsafeforyou.
Beau:Bailey,Idon’tgiveafuckwhattheylike.
IdriveontotheJansenpropertylikeIownthefuckingplace.I’mgoingtoplayitcoolenoughnottofreakBaileyout,butIwanttosmashsomething.Theragethat’salwaysinmesimmerstooclosetothesurfaceforcomfort.
MypalmstwistonthesteeringwheelofmytruckasIrunthroughwhatIplantosaytoherinmyhead,soIdon’tcomeofflikeanoverbearingasshole.
Idrivepastthemainhouse,abitshockedbytheneglect.Everysidedisplayschippedpaint,whilecardboardslabssecuredbyducttapecoversomewindows.
Tatteredclothesarehangingonaline,andIwonderhowlongthey’vebeenthere.Beercanslittertheyard,concentratedaroundalargeburnbarreljuststepsfromthebackdoor.
Toofuckingclosetothehousetobesafe.Idiots.
Iknewthispropertywasadump,butseeingitfirsthand—knowingBaileygrewupinthissqualor—makessomethinginmychesttwist.
Shedeservessomuchbetterthanthis.Sheshouldn’thavetohideinthefuckingriverbankfromherownfleshandbloodorworryaboutthepeoplesheshouldtrustmostintheworldstealingshitfromher.
Ikeepdrivingpasttheshitholeherbrotherscallhome,headingtowardtheriverinthegeneraldirectionofwhereIknowshemustlive.
Iweavethroughthetreedlot,overthedrybramblethatcollectsinthewheelrutsthatleadmefurtherbackintotheirproperty.There’sclearlybeenzeromaintenance.
Ragebubblesup,hotsplattersofitlashingme.
WhenIturnthecorner,it’sreplacedbycoldfocus.ThefocusIpulleduponoverseas.ThekindthatletmekillpeopleandcarryonrelativelyunscathedbecauseIknewIdidwhathadtobedonetosurvive.
Baileysitsonthemetalstepofhertrailer,wipingathertear-swolleneyes.
Istepoutofmytruckandturnonthespot,takinginwhatappearstobeasprinklingofherbelongingsalloverthedirtground.
Clothes,makeup,jewelry,papers.
WhenIfinallycometofaceheragain,she’sholdingastuffedhorsethatlookssowelllovedit’scomingapartattheseams.
Exceptitdoesn’tneedtoanymore.There’saslashdownthesideofit.Bailey’seyeslockwithminewhileherhandscontinuetryingtoshovethestuffingbackintoit.
Idon’tevenneedtoaskherwhatitmeanstoher.Thesmallbrownhorseshowsallthewearandtearofbeingacomforttoalittlegirlwho,nodoubt,hashadlittlecomfortinherlife.
“Who.Did.This?”Ibiteout,myvoicealowgrowl.
Baileyblinksfrantically.“It’sfine.I’llcleanitup.IleftmytrailerunlockedwhenIfledlastnight.Theygotin.”Shehiccupsandhitsmewiththesaddestsmile,thentossesthestuffedhorseintotheplasticgarbagebagatherfeet.Shecan’tevenwatchherselfdoit.Herchinturnsup,andsheshiftshergazeinanotherdirection.
Iflinch.Thesightofherthrowingitawayhitsmelowinthegut.Itwindsme.
“It’sjuststuff.Icanreplaceit.”Hereyesfillagainasshestaresoverathersmalltruck.Despiteitswornappearance,IimaginetheoldFordRangerhandlesthewildroadthatleadstohertrailerwellenough.Oritdid.Rightnow,itsitsonitsrims,blackrubberdrapedoverthecircularshape,spillingontotheground,beyonddeflated.
“It’sjustthat—”Shepressesthebackofherhandagainstherlipsashervoicebreaks.“Ican’taffordthisrightnow.”
Iitchtograbherandsqueezeher,butI’mworriedImightbreakherrightnow.She’stoofragile,andI’mtooheated.
Thesightofhercryingmakesmewanttohurtsomeone.
Probablyherbrothers.
“Bailey,Idon’tmeantooverstep,butwiththeamountyou’reworking,whycan’tyouaffordthis?Youshouldn’thavetopayforit,obviously,but…”
Shestandsandstartsswipingthingsofftheground,lookingmoreangrythandefeatednow.“BecauseI’manidiot.That’swhy.Mybrotherschargemeastronomicalrent,soI—”
Iholdahandup.“Sorry,what?Theychargeyourenttolivehere?”
Herfaceflames.“Basically,Ipaythemortgageontheproperty.Orthere-mortgage.”
“Whyareyoutheonlyonepayingforanything?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Bailey…”
“What,Beau?”shescreams,turningtome.“YouthinkIdon’tknowhowfucked-upitis?Ican’trentanythingintownbecausenoonewillapproveme.I’mtryingsohardtoflyundertheradar.I’mtryingsohardtostartfresh.Andthenthere’sthispartofmethatfeelsguiltyforit—likeIowethemsomething.LikeIdon’tdeservetostartover.LikehowcouldIpossiblythinkI’mbetterthantherestofmyfamilyandIdeservemorethanthis?”Shegesturesaroundherself.“Thisisfirst-classlivingcomparedtowhatIgrewupin.”
Theexplosiveoutburststealsherbreath.Stealsmine.
HerhandscoverherfaceandthenpushupthroughthesilkyhairIspentthenightwithmynosepressedinto.Thesmellofthecoolrocksandsomethingmintyinherhairwrappedaroundmeallnightlong.
“I’mjustsotired,”shesays,hervoicesmallandwrungout.Hershouldersdroop,andatearracesdownhergoldencheek.“Iworkhardtoriseaboveitall,butIamso,sotiredofstruggling.”
Again,myhanditches.Thistime,towipethetearaway.
Idon’tbotherresistinganymore.Withthreelongstrides,I’mstandinginfrontofher.Itugherin,onearmaroundhershoulders,onehandpalmingthebackofherhead,andpressheragainstmychest.
BecauseIcan’thandlestaringintohersadfuckingeyes.
Iexpecthertocry,butshedoesn’t.Sherelaxesinmyarms,meltingagainstmytorso,justlikeshedidallnightlong.
Likeshefeelssafeenoughtobetiredaroundme.Toletherguarddown.
Iwanthertohavethatallthetime,whichiswhyIsaywhatIcameheretosayinthefirstplace,evenmoresureofmyselfthanIwasbefore.“You’renotfuckinglivinghereanymore.”
“Ican’tjust—”
“I’mnothavingmyfiancéelivehere.”
“Beau.”Hervoicechidesme,butherbodysoftensfurther.
“What,Bailey?NoonewillbelieveI’dbeokaywithyoustayinghere.Justrationalizeitthatway.”
Myarmstightenaroundher,alittlefirmernow.She’snotbreakable.
“Whataboutmytires?”
ShesniffsandIrubacomfortingpalmoverherhead,smoothingherhair.“I’lltakecareofit.I’lltakecareofitall.”
“Ihaven’tmoveditanywhereinyears.Areyousureit’sokay?”
Baileyisbuckledinsafelybesidemebutwon’tstopstaringoutthebackofmytruck.
AtwhereIhavehertrailerhookedup.
Becauseshe’snotfuckinglivingthereanymore.
Sherefusedtomoveintomyhousewithme,soImadehermyneighbor.
ShestoodtherewithherhandsonherhipsandherjawhangingdowntoherfeetwhileItookituponmyselftohookhertrailertothehitchofmytruckandtakeitoutofthathellhole.
Thosedumbassesslashedthetiresonhertruck,butnotonthetrailer.AndIusedthattomyadvantage.
“Bailey,it’sfine.I’mgoingslowandit’snotfar.”Ihavemywindowdown,thesoundoftheplasticgarbagebagsflutteringinthewindaswedrive.
“I’msorry.”Shefacesthefrontagainandslouchesdownintoherseat.
“Forwhat?”
“Beingthemosthigh-maintenancefiancéeintheworld.”
Isnortatthat.“Youaresofarfromhigh-maintenance,it’snotevenfunny.Yousleptonthegroundwithmelastnight.”
Asoftsmiletouchesherlipsasshelooksoutthewindow.“Yeah,Ilikedthat,actually.”
Inodfirmly.“Same.Iwasn’tlyingwhenIsaidit’sthebestI’vesleptinmonths.Nopills.Noalcohol.Justhardground,freshair.”
Andher.Theonlythingthat’scomeclosetoworking.
SilencecloaksusaswepullintoWishingWellRanch.IwassupposedtobehelpingCadetoday.OnceIgotoutofthearmy,Iplannedtobehisright-handman.That’swhatItoldeveryoneI’ddo.
AlthoughIgrewuphere,Ifailedtorealizesomething…I’mnotarancher.Idon’tcareaboutthecows.Idon’tfindjoyinworkingtheland.
Mybrotherwakesupeverymorningdedicatedtorunningthefamilyranch.
Iwakeupeverymorningdreadingit.
ButIhatetheideaoflettingthemalldown.SoIgetupanddoit.BaileyandIarealikethatway,doingthingswedon’tliketosupportourfamiliestheonlywayweknowhow.
Myfamilyisjustahellofalotnicerthanhers.Ahellofalothardertoletdown.
“Alright,sugartits.”Ibreakthesilencebycrackingajoke.“WhereshouldIbuildyourcastle?Facingtheriver?”Igestureoutthesamewaymyhousefaces.“Eastforsunrise?Westforsunset?Theworldisyouroyster.”
“Butyourhouseisrightthere.”Shepointsatthemodernhouse,probablyamerethirtyfeetaway.
“Yep.”
“ItoldyouIwasn’tgoingtolivewithyou.”
“Thisisn’tlivingwithme.It’slivingadjacenttome.”
“It’sreallyclose.Tooclose.”Herarmscrossandhereyesnarrow.
“Ithinkit’stheperfectdistance.”
Herjawflexesasshebitesdownonherteeth.“It’smyhouse,andIsayit’stooclose.Howaboutthere?”Shepointsatacopseofthinbirchesinthedistance.
“Fuckno.”
“Whynot?”
“It’stoofaraway.”
“It’sjustfarenough.”
“Whywouldtwopeopleinloveliveinseparatehousesthatfarapartfromeachotheronthesameproperty?”
It’snotsafeiswhat’sreallyrunningthroughmyhead.Inlightoftoday?Inlightoflastnight?Itwouldtaketoomuchtimeformetoreachherifsomethingwentwrongoverthere.Iwouldn’thearthenoise.Seethelights.
ImightaswellsleepatherfrontdoorliketheguarddogIamatthispoint.
Shestaresatme,andit’snotinanger.It’smorelikeIcanseeherbrainwhirringamileaminute.Thenshelooksaway.“Fine.Facingtheriver.”
Igrinatherbeforeturningbacktothewheeltolineupthesmalltrailerjustright.Itdoesn’tmatter,though,becauseIdon’tthinkshe’llbelivingthereforlong.She’llgiveinandmoveovertomyplace.
AndthenIwon’thavetobealone.
“Andstopcallingmesugartits,”sheaddswithastubbornlilttohervoice.
Idon’tmindatall,becauseit’sahellofalotbetterthanhearinghercry.
“Sugaritis.”11Bailey
“Shouldwepracticebeforewegointhere?”
Myhandsfreezeontheseatbuckle,andIturntostareatBeau.
Themanwhomovedmytrailerandhelpedmereorganizeeverythinginside.
ThemanwhostayedwithmeallnightwhenIwasscared,whowalkedthroughdirtywaterwhenIneededhim.Whoiswayolder,waymoreexperienced.AndwhoaskedmeifIwaswetlikewewerejusthavingacasualconversation.
Themanwhoismynewfiancéandisabouttointroducemetohisfamily.Hisnicefamilywholoveshimandwantsthebestforhim.
“Practicewhat?”
“Well,Idon’tknow.You’relookingatmelikeIterrifyyou.”
Iscoff.“Youdon’tterrifyme.”
“Whydoyouhavethatdeer-in-the-headlightsexpressionallthetime,then?YoucouldbarelygetthroughtellingGary.YougonnaflinchwhenItouchyou?Kissyou?”
“Whywouldyoutouchandkissmeatafamilydinner?”
“Becausewe’reengaged?”
Ishakemyheadrapidly.“No.Justtellthemwe’renotintoPDA.”
Beauglaresatme.“We’regoingtohavetoconvincethemalittlebit.Thisisgoingtoblindsidethem.”
I’mabouttoreachforthedoorhandletogetthehelloutofhere,awayfromthesupersoldierwhoisturningthisintosomesortoftop-secretmissionshit,butIstopinmytracks.
“Hangonasecond.”Iturnbacktofacehischiseledjawandstupidface.“Haveyounottoldthematall?”
Hisexpressionisimpassive.“No.IdecideditwouldbebesttojustriptheBand-Aidoff.They’relesslikelytogivemethethirddegreeifyou’rethere.Whichiswhyweneedtosellit.”
“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?Thisisyourplan?Howmanyyearsinthespecialforces…andthisisyourplan?”
Heblowsoutabreathandleanshisheadagainsttherestbehindhim.“Listen,whatIwantoutofthisdealisforthemtoleavemealone.Youcanusemetogetajob,andIcanuseyoutogetthemoffmyback.Maybewe’rebothwrongandthiswholethingdoesn’tmakeadifferenceatall.Justactnatural.”
“Thismakesmenervous.HowamIsupposedtoactnatural?”BecausewhileI’vecometofeelcomfortablearoundBeau,thatfeelingdoesn’textendtobigfamilyget-togethers.
Themanbesidemegoesfromagitatedtolightheartedashereachesoutandpullsmyhanduptohismouth.HekissesmypalmsonaturallythatIalmostforgetwe’refakingthisrelationship.
“Don’tbenervous,sugar,”hemurmursagainstmyskin,withacoyglanceoutofthecornerofhiseye.Becausewebothknowabbreviatingthatnicknamedoesn’tmakeitanybetter.“We’vealreadyslepttogether.Thisshouldbeabreeze.”Hechuckles,anditvibratesthroughthebonesinmyhand.Lipsandstubblebrushagainstmyskin,andIbitedownontheshiverthatracksmybody,tuggingmyhandbackandrubbingatitlikeI’vebeenburned.
“Okay!Fine.Let’sgo,”Ireplybrightly,hoppingfromthetruckwithabounceinmystepthat’snotamatchforthedreadgrowinginsideme.
IbarelyspareBeauaglance.Heoverwhelmsme.Lookingathimwilldonothingtoquellthewaymyheartisracinginmychest.
Icanfeelhimbesideme,strongandtall,hoveringjustatmyshoulderlikeabodyguard.
Helinkshisfingersthroughmineandcasuallyopensthefrontdoor.
Theshowbegins.
Whenwewalkontothebackporch,everyonefreezes.Conversationcomestoascreechinghalt.EyesvolleybetweenmeandBeau,thendropandstallonourlinkedhands.
TosayIknoweveryoneherewouldbeastretch.I’veserveddrinkstomostofthem,orI’veheardaboutthemintheroundaboutwayyoudoasabartenderinasmalltown.
Thatistosay,I’veoverheardgossiphereandthere.
HarveyEaton,thefamilypatriarch,breaksthesilenceasherelaxesinanAdirondackchaironthewoodendeck,beerinhand.“BaileyJansen,howlovelytoseeyou.”Hestandsuptogreetme.“Beaudidn’tmentionyouweregoingtobejoiningus.Buttherearesofewtruesurprisesleftinlife,youknow?Thisisaniceone.”Hewinksatme,eyestwinklingwithmirth.
MycheeksflameandIdropmyeyestomysandals.Thepale-yellowsundressseemsridiculousonmenow,asthoughI’mtryingtofooleveryoneintothinkingI’mthetypeofgirlBeauwouldbringhome.
Atleasttheflowyskirtisusefulforhidingmylefthand,sinceconcealingadiamondthesizeoftheoneBeauputonmyfingerisnoeasyfeat.
“Thankyou,”Imurmur,feelinglikeIcouldcollapseinonmyselfundertheweightoftheirstares.
Everyoneishere.RhettandSummer,CadeandWilla,JasperandSloane,TheoandWinter—evenSloane’smom,whomI’veheardsomewhisperingabout.Therearebabiesinarmsandalittleboykickingasoccerballinthefieldoutback.
I’mgoingtokillBeaufordoingthistomelater.
Heleansinclosetomyear,lipsbrushingagainsttheshell,andwhispers,“Youlookfuckingbeautiful.”
Thenhestraightens,allcasualandcarefree,likehedidn’tincineratemewithonesimplesentence.“Well,I’mgladyou’reinthemoodforsurprises,”heannounces.“BecauseIhaveanotheroneforyou.”
Beauglancesaround,gazesnaggingonthesinglefreeseattheymusthavesavedforhim.Intheblinkofaneye,he’sfoldinghismassiveframeintothesturdywoodenchair…andtakingmewithhim.
IamsittingonBeauEaton’slapatafamilygathering,witheveryonewatching.Ifeelmadeofstone.
I’msupposedtobesellingthis,butI’mhavingamentalfreakout.Sure,Ispentthenightcurledupagainsthim,butthatdidn’tfeellikepretending.
Thisdoes.
Mybackstaysramrodstraight,andfirelicksupmychestasImakeashowofarrangingmyskirttoavoidmakingeyecontactwithanyone.
Beauhasn’tletgoofmyhand,andthenhisleftlandsonmylowerback.RightonthewaistbandoftheboyshortsI’mwearingunderthisdress.Hispalmdragsupmyspine,thepressurejustenoughtodistractme.Justenoughtorelaxmyposture.
Hiseyesfixateonme,theweightofhisgazelikeaheavyfootonmychest.Hehasnobusinessgivingmeallthispanty-meltingfocuswitheveryonewatching.
HisgazeissoheavythatIbarelysensealltheothers.
WhenIsquirminhislap,hisbroadpalmsqueezesatmyneck,moreofawarningthanacomfort.Itforcesmetostareathim.Itforcesmybreathingtocomeoutshortandlabored.
“Isthesurprisethatyoutwoaregoingtoeyefuckeachotherwhileweallwatch?”Willaaskscasuallyasherfiancé,Cade,scrubsahandoverhisfaceandgroansbesideher.
Afewotherpeoplechuckle,butitsoundstomyearsmorelikenervoustittering
Andme?Iofficiallywanttodie.
Beauchuckles,deepandraspy,buthedoesn’tlookaway.“No.ThesurpriseisthatBaileyandIaregettingmarried.”
Youcouldhearapindrop.Iswearthebirdsstopchirping.
Beau’smagicfingersmassagethebackofmyheadashereleasesmyhand,wrappinghisthickarmaroundmywaistandtuggingmetighteragainsthischest.
Ifeellikeanawkwardragdoll.
BeingheldbyaKendoll.
“Well,noonecansayyoudon’tlovetokeepusonourtoes,”Harveyventures,soundingshocked,notangry,likeIexpected.
TheonlypersonImanagetopeekupatisSummer.She’smarriedtoBeau’slittlebrother,Rhett.Shehasalwaysmadeanefforttobekindtome,evengoingasfarashiringmetobartendatherrecentwedding.
“Well,”sheslapsherthighsandpushestostand,takingafewstepsacrossthedecktowardus.“Letmebethefirsttosaycongratulationstoyouboth.”Sheholdsherarmsoutfor…ahug?“Welcometothefamily,Bailey.”SheshiftstopeeraroundmeatBeau.“Lethergo.You’vealreadypeedonher.Nooneisgonnatakeherfromyou.”
Herbrowneyesgleam,andherlipsareupturnedinaknowingsmile.Ican’tfigureoutwhyshe’dbesmilinglikethatatme.Can’tshetellthisisfake?12Beau
BaileygoesrigidwhenSummercracksherjokeandstandsforahug.
Shewasright.Ishouldhavepreppedthem.Ishouldhavepreppedher.
Whenwe’realonetogether,thingsfeeleasy.Natural
Ididn’tfeeltheneedtoprepare.ButI’vespentalifetimegoingundercover,playingapart,divingheadfirstintodanger.
Baileyhasspentalifetimeflyingundertheradarandhopingnoonenoticesher.SowhenshemakesthemovetowardSummer,Iknowit’stimetolethergo.Ifshe’dstayedfrozentothespot,I’dhavekeptherrightwheresheis.Summerhasthateffectonpeople,though.Sweetandwarmandwelcoming.
ShewrapsBaileyinherarmsandgrinsatmeoverhershoulder.ThenBaileygetslostinaswarmofhugsandbackpats,handshakes,andcongratulations.
Isweareveryoneishappierforherthantheyareforme.
Jasper,mybestfriend,mybrotherfromanothermother,staresatmewithfurrowedbrowswhileeveryoneelseswarmsus.
Deepdown,Iknewhe’dbethehardestsell;heknowsmetoowell.ButIalsoknowifhecan’tbesold,he’llbeavault.HeandIhavebeentooclosefortoolong.Ifanything,he’llunderstandwhatI’mdoinghereandwhyI’mdoingit
Idon’tknowasinglepersonwhoguardshispeacequitelikeJasper.
Cadestepsup,tuggingmeintoaroughhug.IfIdidn’tknowanybetter,I’dsayhe’salittlechokedup.“Wasgonnagiveyoushitforno-showingonmetodaywhenwehadfencesdownandbrokenwaterers.Butifyouwerecelebratingthis,I’llletitslide.Backtorealitytomorrow,though.”
Igrunt,slaphisback,androllmyeyes.OnlyCade,thegrumpyworkaholic,couldturncongratulationsintobothascoldingandarealitycheck.“Fuckingbuzzkill,”Igrumblebackathim,laughingwhenIseehislipstwitch.
“Beau-Beau!”Rhettmovesinfrontofme,ashit-eatinggrinonhisscruffyface,longbrownhairdustinghisshoulders.“Isthiswhyyoukeeptakingoffonus?Tohideawaywiththemissus?”
Iscrubatmybeard.Iknewmybrotherswouldrazzme,andIknewRhettwouldbetheworstafteralltheshitI’vegivenhimovertheyears.Fakehittingonhisgirl,ditchinghimatthesceneofacrime,tattlingonhimeverytimehegetsintotrouble.
Yeah,hiseyesarealightwithallthepossibilitiesforpaybackrightnow.
However,it’sBaileywhothrowsmeunderthebus.Shehasmyheadspinninglikeatopwhenfrombesidemeshesays,“Yeah,Beau-Beaulikestositatmybarandwatchmeworkallnight.”
Rhett’seyesglimmerevenmorewithdelight.Ididn’tthinkitwaspossible,buthereweare.HegrinsatBailey,whowearsatentativesmileandalightblush.Thesoftsummerbreezemovesherhair,straystrandswhippingagainstthedeeptanonhercheeks.
“That’sfuckingadorable,”mybrothersays,disbeliefseepingintohistoneasheglancesbetweenus.
Ireachforherhandwithouteventhinking.Andit’snotforshow.OrnotinthewayIthoughtitwouldbe.It’snotlikeIfeeltheneedtoconvincemyfamilyIlikeBailey—IalreadydolikeBailey.
Iwanttoshowheroff.Iwanttoprovetoherthatlifecanbealittlelighterthanwhatshe’sexperienced.Thatnoteveryonelooksatherandseeswhatshethinkstheydo.
Isqueezeonce,twice,andwhenshefinallytiltsherheadmyway,it’swithasaucyexpressiononherface.Alookshe’scomfortablegivingme.BecauseI’mnotsurewhatsheexpected.Everyonetofreakout?Bemean?Callhertrashandtrytorescuemefromher?
No,that’snotmyfamily.
“God,lookatyoutwo.HowdidImissthis?Bailey’sbeenourserveratTheRailspurforthelastcoupleofyearsnow.”Rhettstillcan’tgetoverit.
Jaspertakesaswigofhisbeerandregardsmecarefully.Notjudgmentally,asifhe’stryingtoworkthingsout.“Well,hehasalwaysjumpedtoherdefense,”hesays.“Andhestoodatherbarforyourentireweddingreception.”IthinkthatmightbeasmuchasI’llgetfromhimtonight.Icantellhe’ssuspicious.
Rhett’sbrowsfurrowatme.“Youdid?Ididn’tevennotice.You’vebeensuchagrumpybitchlately,kindagotusedtoignoringyou.But,dang,Ididnotseethiscoming.”
SummerelbowsRhettandgiveshimascolding,wide-eyedwarning,signalinghimtobequiet.It’saprimeexampleofhoweveryonehasbeenwalkingoneggshellsaroundme.TreatingmelikeImightbreakiftheynudgemetoohard.
Theribbingfeelsgood.
“What?”Rhettgiveshiswifethesamelookback.“Hehasbeenagrumpybitch.Andnowherollsinallsurprisewe’reBeau-Baileynow!Suemefornotseeingthiscoming.”
Baileygigglesandcoughstocoverit.
“Beau-Bailey.”Mydadlaughs,steppingclosetoslinganarmovermyshoulders.Everyonewatcheshimwithbatedbreath.Hehasaknackforsayinginappropriateshitatthemostawkwardtimes.Isupposeit’spartofhischarm.“SoundslikeaDisneymovieabouttwogoldenretrieverswhofallinlove.Happyforyou,son.”
Jasperholdsafistoverhismouth,andWillabitesfuriouslyatherlips,tryingnottolaugh.
“Sorry,whatwasthat,Dad?”Ichokeout.
“BeauandBailey.Imean,don’tgetmewrong,they’renicenames,buttogethertheysoundlikegoodpetnames.Ifyouhaveakid,let’savoidnamingitComet,yeah?”
Igroanandtipmyheadback.Comparedtomybrothers,I’mrarelyonthereceivingendoftheHarveyridiculousnesstheyget.
I’mabouttoapologizetoBailey,butshelaughs.
Notfakeawkwardlaughter.LaughterthewayitsoundswhenGarysayssomethingstupidtoher.LaughterthewayitsoundswhenItestthewaterswitharidiculousnickname.
Thenshestepsintomysideandburiesherheadagainstmyribs.Likeshefeelsathomewithme.
Peoplecrackjokesaroundus,andtheirattentionshifts.We’restillstandinginthemiddleofthedeck,butpeopleseemtoberetreatingtotheircorners,backtotheirconversations.They’resettlingbackintothepre-dinnervibeasifnothingoutoftheordinaryhappenedheretonight.
IsupposeifWintercanannounceherbabydaddyatdinner,thismightnotseemsointerestingafterall.
WhenIcurlanarmaroundBailey’spetiteframe,herdoll-likefacetipsuptomine.Eyesround,lasheslong,lipsdistractinglyplush.“DidIdookay?”shewhispers,handfistingthebackofmyshirt.
Ileandownoverher,grantingussomeprivacy.Shedoesn’tpullaway.Oureyeslock,breathsintertwined.MymusclesbunchasIforcemyselftoresistliftingherupandcarryingherthehelloutofheretohaveheralltomyself.
“Youwereperfect.”Ourlipsgraze—barelyatouch—asthewordsleavemymouth.Imovemereinchestotheleft,pressingaveryrealkisstothecornerofhermouth,missingherlipsentirely.
Somepeoplemightconsideritamistake.
Somepeoplecan’ttellwhat’srealandwhat’snot.
ButIdiditonpurpose.Ididittoplantaseed.
IdiditbecauseIdon’tthinkIwantthefirsttimewekisstobefake.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
MyheadsnapstowardBailey’strailerasIdroptositonthestepsthatleadoffmybackporchanddowntotheriver.“Sittingonmydeck.”Idon’tneedthesuntobeouttoknowfromherethatshejustrolledhereyesatme.“Howaboutyou?”
Shehikesathumboverhershoulder.“It’shotintheBoilertonight.”
Isnort.TheBoiler.“CuteplayonBoler.Myhousehasairconditioning.”
“Couldn’tsleep?”shevolleysback.
Iguessmesittingonmybackporchinthemiddleofthenightmakesitobvious.ButIdon’taddthatthesecondmyclockflicksoverto2:11,mybodyviolentlywrenchesitselffromsleep.
“Nope.”
“Whynot?”
“Arewejustgoingtoyellateachotherfromacrosstheyard?”Ipropmyelbowsonmyknees,mybodylookingmorecasualthanhowIfeelinside.“Seemskindaweirdforanengagedcouple.”
Shesnortsthistime,thenstandsandpadsacrossthedew-soakedgrasstowardme.Iwatchherfeet,thewaytheyrollagainsttheground.Theredpolishonhertoes.Thesmoothskinthatflowsupovertonedcalves.
I’mstillstaringatherfeetwhensheplopsdownbesideme.“It’srudetostare,Beau-Beau.”
MylipscurveasIliftmygazeuptohers.“Amancanstareathisfiancée,can’the,sugartits?”
Herhanddartsuptotuckthecurtainofdarkhairbehindherear.“Fakefiancée,”sheclarifies,glancingdownatmyfeet.
AllIrespondwithisalowhum.Idon’tknowBaileyallthatwell,butIknowtheagreementwereached.Still,Ifindmyselfagitatedbythewordfake
ButI’measilyagitatedthesedays.
Sleepwouldhelp.
“CanItouchthem?”
Istart,yankedoutofmyspiralingtrainofthought.“Touchwhat?”
Baileyjutsherchinatthestepbelowus.“Yourfeet.”
Igazedown.Nexttoeachother,myfeetlooksofucked-upwherehersareso…perfect.Aesthetically,Idon’tcare.Kindafiguredbeingasoldierwouldscarmealongtheway.
It’sthecontrastthatstrikesme,though.Andit’smorethanjustourskin.
“Youwanttotouchthem?”
“Yeah.”Herdaintyfingersbrushoverthetopsofherownfeet,andit’slikeshe’stoonervoustoevenlookatme.SometimesIwonderwhatgoesoninherhead.Whatshekeepslockeduptight,followedbythethingssheblurtsout.
“Okay.”
Ittakesherafewbeatstogatherthecourage,andIwonderifshe’llbackdown.Decidethey’regross.Laughandtellmeshewasjustkidding.
Butshedoesn’t.
Herlefthandmovesoffherfootandhoversoverminebeforethepadofherfingertrailsovertheraisedridgesandpuckeredskin.Hunchedover,shetracesthescars—everyline,everydivot.
Shedoesn’tseematallputoff.Infact,sheseemsalmostentranced.
Ihisswhenshehitsatenderspot.
“I’msorry,didthathurt?”
“Gotrubbedthere,”Ibiteout,annoyedbecausedoingthethingsIusedtohasbecomeadifferentsortofchallenge.
Sheleansdown,peeringcloser,handdrawnaway.“Rubbedhow?”
Myjawworks.“WhenIcouldn’tsleeptheothernight,IjuststuffedmybarefeetintomysneakerslikeIwouldhavebeforetheinjuries.Buteverythingchafesandrubsnow.Theywerealreadysorefromwearingdressshoesatthewedding.Can’tevenwearsandals.Walkingthroughthewaterdidn’thelp.”
“Thatsucks,”Baileyrepliesmatter-of-factly.
Ialmostwanttolaugh.Itdoessuck.Andit’srefreshingtohavesomeoneadmitthatratherthantellmeitwillgetbetter.Ortellmehowsorrytheyare.
Littlethingsshedoes—withouteventrying—makemefeellikeit’sokaytonotbeokayinherpresence.
“Yeah.”Idon’twanttobeamartyr.Iknowthingscouldbeworse.Butadmittingthissucksfeelsgood.Beingallowedtoadmititsuckswithouteveryonerushingtopatchmeupisaweightoffmyshoulders.
Asecondandthirdfingerjoininherexplorationofmydamage.WhatI’dnormallyregisterasaslighttouchfeelselectric.Thenewlyhealedskinismoresensitive,andIknowshe’snottrying,butthesensationofsomeonetouchingmeinawaythatisn’tmedicalhasmydickswelling.
“Haveyoueverhadathreesome?”
Yep.That’lldoit.
Astranglednoiselodgesinmythroat,andshefinallyturnsherfaceuptomine.Sheissodamnpretty,eyestwinklinginthedark,thewarmlightofthebackporchshiningonherdarkhair.
“What?”Iask.
HerfingerspauseasIstarebackather.“Athreesome.Sexwithtwootherpeople.Haveyoueverhadone?”
“Iknowwhatathreesomeis,Bailey.I’mhavingtroublefiguringoutwhythismomentisconnectedtothatthoughtforyou.”
Hereyesblinkdowntoherhand.“Thethreefingers,Iguess?”
“Threefingersonmeltedskinmadeyouthinkaboutathreesome.Lifeiscertainlyneverboringinyourhead,isit?”
“Well,no.Iwasthinkingaboutsex.”Whensheblurtsthelastpartout,shefinallylooksalittleembarrassed.Butnotthatembarrassed.
“Youweretouchingmyfeet…andthinkingaboutsex?”Disbeliefbleedsintoeverysyllable.She’sthemostentertainingblendofinnocentandcurious.
“Yeah.Imean,”—herheadwobbles—“tobefair,Ithinkaboutsexalot.”
Iscrubahandovermyface,coveringmyeyes.“Jesusfuckin’Christ.”
Shescoffsplayfullyasshetracesmyfeetagain,nottheleastbituncomfortabletouchingme.“Don’tbesuchaprude,Beau.”
Alaughlurchesfrommychest.God,Iamsounpreparedforthiswoman.“Ijustdon’tknowhowIendedupengagedtoagirlwithafootfetishwhoblurtsoutpersonalsexquestionsatthedropofahat.”
“Well,youaremyfiancé.MaybeIshouldaskanotherguyinstead,”shemuses,thetipsofherfingersnowtwirlingovermyskinasthoughdancingacrossthescartissue.
Jealousyhitsmehardandfast.Ihavenorighttoit.Ican’trationalizeit.AllIknowisIdon’twanthersharingmomentslikethis—quietandunfiltered,safeandtrusting—withsomeotherjackass.
Iwanttobetheonlyjackasswhogetsthisversionofher.
“I’veneverhadathreesome,Bailey,”IgritoutasIpushtostand,needingtoputsomespacebetweenusbeforeIdosomethingstupid.
Hergazefollows,browneyesstaringupatmelikeI’mthemooninthenightsky.“Whynot?”
Bailey,sittingatmyfeet,fullattentionturnedmyway,isdoingnothingtostopmyhard-onfrommakinganappearance.
“NotabigfanofsharingsomethingonceIdecideit’smine.”
Herlipspart.
Andfuck.Ishouldstop,butthesideofmethatseesdangerandrunsstraighttowardithasmadeanappearancetonight.
SoIreachoutandrunmypalmoverhersilkyhair,cuppingherhead.“I’llstartleavingthebackdoorunlockedforwhenyoudecideyouwanttofindoutifI’maprudeornot.”
Hereyeswiden,andIcan’thelpbutimaginethisishowshe’dlookasIslidmydickintoherprettymouth.
Iwastheonewhotoldherwewouldn’thavesex,andit’stakenonlyafewdaysformetobefightingoffthethoughtofit.Afteraquickshaketoclearmyhead,Iturnaway.Handburning,feettingling,dickrockfuckinghard.
“WhatifIjustcomeinfortheairconditioning?”Hervoiceissmooth,surerthanithasanyrighttobeafterwhatIjustsaidtoher.
Ilaugh,butitlackshumor.There’sanedgetoit.
Apromise.
Idon’tbotherlookingbackatherwhenIsay,“Sure,Bailey.Callitwhateveryouwant.”13Bailey
Beau:Icanpickyouup.
Bailey:No,it’sfine.I’lltakeacab.You’reworking.
Beau:Youdon’tneedtospendyourmoneyonacab.
Bailey:Iactuallydon’tneedyourpermission,sergeant.
Beau:I’mnotasergeant.
Bailey:Captain?
Beau:Notthateither.
Bailey:…Sir?
Beau:Watchit,Bailey.
Bailey:Ifit’sallthesametoyou,I’llbetakingacab.Thankyouforyourhelp,sir.
BeingengagedtoBeauEatonwassupposedtobehelpful.ExceptI’mprettysureit’smyownspecialbrandoftorture.
I’llstartleavingthebackdoorunlockedforwhenyoudecideyouwanttofindoutifI’maprudeornotistheone-linerthathadmerushingbacktomytrailertopulloutmyboxofvibrators.
Ididn’tevenbotherpretendingoneofthemwasJensenAckles.
EverysingleoneisnowBeauEaton.
Despitemylackofsleep,Ihadtowakeupearlytocleanthebarthismorning.BeaudrovemethereinrelativesilencewhileIclutchedmytravelmugwithbothhands.Ifiguredkeepingmyfingerslatchedonwouldpreventmefromcrawlingacrossthecenterconsoleandmaulingamanwhoisonlygoingalongwiththischaradetobenice.
Orbecausehe’sbored.
Orsomething.
IhitchedataxibackouttotheranchwhenIfinished,andnowI’msprawledinafold-outchairnexttomytrailer.Anicedcoffeeinhand.Asunbeamonmyface.
I’mtryingnottostressaboutmytires.Ormymoney.Orifmakingmyselfcomewhilethinkingaboutmyfakefiancéwasabadidea.
Iwanttocheckoutandjust—
TiresgrindagainstthegravelroadleadingtoBeau’shouse.Idon’tbotheropeningmyeyes,evenwhentheyhumontothepaveddrivewayontheothersideofthehouse.Regardlessofanyexternalinfluences,Idon’tbudge,safeandprotectedbymytrailer.TheonethingIstillhavethat’smine.
IknowBeauisgonnacomehere,gunsblazingaboutmesavingmymoney.Ihearheavyfootfalls,andmylipstipupasIimaginehimtoweringovermelikehedidlastnight.
Butthevoicethatinterruptsmypeacefulmomentisn’this.“YouseenBeau?”
IstartleandshootstraightuptoseeCadeEaton,Beau’soldestbrother,withhishandsonhiships,lookingreallybitchy.
“No,”Ibreathe,onehandslungovermychestbecausehesurprisedmeandI’mtryingtocatchmybreath.
Cadeglancesbetweenthehouseandme.“Whyareyousittingoverherewhenthere’sallthatpatiofurnitureuponthedeck?”
Ishrug,tryingtoplayitoff.“Lacksacertaincharm,don’tyouthink?”
Themannodsatthat.“Gottasay,I’llagreewithyouthere.Houselookslikeitbelongsinthecity.”
Istareatthehouse,allstraightlinesandmodernshapes.
ItsuitsBeau—orsomeversionofhim,maybe—butitdoesn’tsuitthesetting.AndIfindmyselfwonderingifBeausuitsthesetting.
“Anyway,hetookoffinthemiddleoftheday,”Cadesays.“Notafuckin’cluewherehewent.Notansweringmycallsortexts,asusual.Soifyouhearfromhim—”
IgiveCadeasalute.“I’llletyouknow.”
Cadeturnstoleavebutthenswivelsback,uncertaintypaintinghisfeatures.“Youthinkhe’sdoingokay?”
Iweighthequestion,tornbetweenbeinghonestandprotectingBeau’sprivacy.
Okay?Thesleep,thewayhe’ssetoffsoeasily,thealcoholintake.He’snotokay,buthe’sawareofit,anditstrikesmethatmightbehalfthebattle.
Asipofcoldcoffeehitsmytongue,anicecubeslippingintomymouth.ItslidesaroundasIconsidermyoptions.
IchooseBeau.
“Yeah,Ithinkhe’sdoingalright.Betterallthetime,youknow?”
Cadenodsagain.Hismovementsareharsh,lackingthepredatory,almostfelineedgeofBeau’s.WhatyouseeiswhatyougetwithCade.He’sstraightforward,handsomeenough,buthedoesn’tconsumespacethewayBeaudoes.
WithBeau,Icansensethetensionradiatingoffhim,theenergy,seethechaosthathumsthroughhisveins.Hecoversforitwell,butIseeit.I’mdrawntoit.
I’mjustfucked-upenoughtofindcomfortorfamiliarityinthattypeofunhappiness.
It’slikewe’rekindredinourdissatisfactionwithlife.Andatpeacewithoneanotherbecauseofit.
IwantsomuchmorethanwhatI’vehad.
AnditseemstomeBeauhashadatasteofmoreandiswallowingintheless
“Ifheactslikeanasshole,letmeknow.”Cadeisallgruff,protectivevibes.Itmakesmesmileagainsttherimofmyglassastheicemeltsinmymouth.“I’llsethimstraight.”
Icrossmylegsandleanbackjustalittle.“That’sokay.I’llsethimstraightmyself.”
NowCadegrins,pointingatmeasheturnstowalkaway.“Andthatisexactlywhatheneeds.”
“Yourbrotherislookingforyou,”IcalloutwhenBeaupopshisheadoutthebackdoor.ThirtyminuteshavepassedsinceCadeleft,andIhaven’tmovedfrommychair.
“Youbetternothavetakenacabbackhere.”HepointsafingeratmelikeI’mintrouble.
Butallitdoesismakemesquirmagainstthecanvasfabricofmychair.
“Orwhat?”Iquirkmyheadinchallenge,myicedcoffeetakingeffectandperkingmeupabit.
Thecarefreeexpressionhewaswearingmeltsfromhisfaceashestepsfullyoutontotheporch.AzingrushesthroughmeasIforcemyselfnottositupandstraightenundertheweightofhisgaze.I’vetrainedmyselftoappearcasualwhenIdon’tfeelitforyearsnow.Itshouldbeeasierthanthiswherehe’sconcerned,butmyskinpricklesandmylegssqueezetogether.
There’sasinfultwisttohismouth,onethatcouldbemistakenforplayful—butIknowbetter.Itonlylastsabeatandthenit’sgone,washedawaybytheshakeofhishead.“Oryoumightfindyourselfstuckbeingfakeengagedtomelongerthannecessary.”
Thathasmeshootingupoutofmychair.Myinstinctistorebelagainstthatlineofthinking,tellhimI’mnotstuckwithhimatall.
IthinkIfeelfreerinhispresencethanIhave…ever.
“Shhh!”Iwhisper-shoutathiminstead,fingerheldagainstmylips,eyeswide.“Shutup!Cadewasheresniffingaroundforyoulikethirtyminutesago,Mr.Undercover.”
Abroadpalmrunsthroughhisfreshlytrimmedhair.“Great.Nothinglikebeingbabysatbymybigbrother.”
“Didyouditchworktogetahaircut?”HishaircutstandsouttomebecauseI’mactuallytakinghiminratherthanbeingoverwhelmedbyhispresence.
Herollshisshouldersbackandlooksaway.“Iwasdue.”
“Beau.Youcan’tjustditchworktogetyourhaircut,especiallywhenyourfamilyisrelyingonyou.”
“Ineededone.”
“Yeah,but—”
“Ihateworkingtheranch,”heblurts,cuttingmeoff.“Bailey…Ifuckinghateit.Imadeapromisetomyfamilyandnowtheydependonmetofollowthrough.ButIdon’tfeellikemyself.Idon’tcare.Istandinafield,andIstareatthosefuckingcows,blinkingbackatmestupidlywiththeirtoo-longeyelashes,”—Istiflealaugh—“andIamjustmonumentallybored.Boredtothepointofmisery.”
Igofromalmostlaughingtorubbingmysternum,tryingtopushawaytheheavyachethat’stakenupresidenceinmychest.
“Like,nooneevenknowstheshitI’vedone.TheimportanceofthethingsIwasdoing.Mymissions?Theysavedlives,theychangedtheworld.Andnow?NowI’msupposedto…fixfences?”Hesighs,histallframeshiftingdownincrementally.“Itmakesme…”
“Angry?”Iprovide,becauseIcanfeelit.Iknowthewaytheairtasteswhensomeoneisangry,canfeelthesurroundingoxygenthickenwithit.
Iknowanangryman.Igrewupinahousefullofthem.ButwithBeau,evenwhenhe’sangry,Ifeelsafe.
“Yeah.”Hishandslinkbehindhisheadandhewatchesme,grayeyesalmostshrink-wrappedintears.“Andit’sfuckingdepressing.”
MytonguedartsoutovermylipsasIconsiderhisoutburst,trytoputmyselfinhisshoes—hishead.Idon’tknowasinglethingaboutwhatit’sliketofeelthatway.AndwhoamItotellhimhe’swrong?
“Itis,”Iagree,slappingmybarethighsasIpushtostanding.Heseemsstartled,eitherbymysuddenmotionormywords.I’mnotsurewhich.“Iknowallaboutlivingadepressinglife,so,like,highfiveonthat.Nowlet’sgodosomethingfun.”
“Funlikewhat?”Hissuspiciousexpressionalmostmakesmelaughoutloud.
Igivehimaonce-over,fromheadtotoe.MygazecatchesonhisbrightwhiteAdidasSuperstars,nowsmudgedwithdirtandgrass.
“Likegettingyousomeshoesthatdon’trubyouraw.”Iwaveafingerbackandforthbetweenhisfeet.“Andmaybenotsowhite.Doesn’tsuityou.”
“Whatsuitsme?”Heasksmelikehedoesn’tknow.Infact,IgetthesensethatpartofBeau’sproblemthesedaysisthathehasn’treconciledthebeforeversionofhimselfwiththeafterversion.
Itturnsout,goingmissinginthedesertfordaysonendchangesaperson.I’mnotsurewhythissurprisesanyone.AndI’mnotsurewhyanyoneexpectshimtobethewayhewasbeforeithappened.
Iguessthat’swhyIshrugandsay,“Idon’tknow.Let’sgofindout.”14Beau
Beau:Hi.Baileysaidyouwerelookingforme.
Cade:Atleastyoutalktosomeone.
Beau:Probablybecausesheisn’tupmyassliketherestofyou.
Cade:Mustbeterriblehavingafamilywhocaresaboutyou.Ifeeljustawful.
Beau:Carealittleless.
Cade:Okay,noproblem.KeepcuttingoutonworktodogodknowswhatandI’llfireyou.
Beau:Youcan’tfireme.I’myourbrother.
Cade:Yeah,andIsignyourpaycheck.Ithinkyou’regonnaneedittopayoffthatring.Ordidyouskipworktogomineityourself?
Beau:Worthit.Looksgoodonher.
Theminuteweopenthedoortotheshoestore,Baileychanges.Thegirlwhochattedawayinthecar,handsgesturingaroundassheexplainedherplantobecomeachiropractor,evaporateslikeasplashofwateronahotgriddle.
ThebellchimesonthedoorasIholditopen,butshestalls.“Yougofirst.”Herteethworryherbottomlip.
“Bailey,I’mnotwalkingthroughadooraheadofyou.That’sjustrude.I’mprettysureitwouldsummonHarvey.He’dpopoutfrombehindashelfandcuffmeinthehead.”
“Iwenttohighschoolwithher,”shehisses,subtlynoddingtowardagirlchattingwithanothercustomer.
“Okay,and?”
“Andshewasawfultome.Let’sjust…”Bailey’sheadswivels,andsheglancesbackatRosewoodStreetasifshe’sconsideringtakingarunningleapintoagetawayvehicle.
Ithitsmehardthatshe’sscared.Thispoorfuckinggirl.
She’sdreadingwalkingintoastorebecausesomeonewassomeantoherseveralyearsagothatshestillcan’tfacethem.
IslideanarmaroundBailey’srigidfigureandleandownoverheragain.Shecurlsintomybodythesamewayshedidtheothernight,likeshecanhidebehindme.
Likeshefeelssafewithme.
IrubherbackasIwhisperagainstherear,“You’rewalkinginherewithme.Thatwasthedeal,yeah?Let’sgivethemsomethingtotalkabout,sugartits.”
Shesnortsatotallyunladylikelaugh,headtiltingintowardmychest,herlonghairfallingoverherbeautifulface.Hidingherselfwhensheshouldn’t.
Itugheragainstmysideanddrapeapossessivearmoverhershoulder,pressinghertinyframenexttomine.
Shestiffensaswewalk,rigidasaplankofwood.
“Relax,Bailey,”Iwhisper,turningustofaceawallofshoes.
“Iamrelaxed,”shebitesback,staringrightthroughtheshoedisplaylikeshe’ssomewhereelseentirely.
“YoulooklikeIkidnappedyouandforcedyoutogoshoeshoppingwithme.Thiswasyouridea.Sellit.”
Hereyebrowsdrop,eyesnarrowingassheshootsmeadirtylittlescowl.Thensheturnsherfacebacktothewallofshoesandslidesherhandintomybackpocket.
Mybodypausesonlyforabeatassurpriseflashesacrossmyface.That’snotwhatIwasexpecting,butI’mnotmadatiteither.
“Hi!”Thebrightvoicemakesmeflinch.It’showeveryonetalkstomenow.Toofake.Tooupbeat.“WhatatreattohaveBeauEatoninthestoretodaywith—”
Iturntofacethegirlwithbrightblondehairstyledintoloosewaves.She’spretty,butnotbeautifullikeBailey.
“BaileyJansen?”ThegirlissoincredulousIhavetobitedownontheinsideofmycheektokeepmylipsfromtwitching.
It’sastruggle,soIturn,dropmylipstothecrownofBailey’sheadasIsqueezeherfirmlyagainstme.“FutureMrs.BaileyEaton,”Icorrect,draggingherhandupovermyhipbone.
Bailey’sfingerssplayovermybelt,massiverockondisplay.
Waytoofuckingclosetothezipperofmyjeans.
Thegirlblinksforacomicallylongtime.Hermouthopensandcloseslikeshe’stryingtofindthewords,butnothingfeelsright.
Bailey’sotherhandmoves,skimmingupmyback—almostlikeshe’shuggingme—untilherfingersfistinmyshirt.There’ssomethingdesperateaboutthemotion.
Ireassureherbyslidingmyhandunderthecurtainofherhair,proppingitonherneck,rightwhereitmeetshershoulder.“DoyouknowmyBailey?”
Thatcommenthasmygirl’sheadwhippinguptofaceme,butthesalesgirlcutsoureyecontactshort.Shelaughs.Laughs.Righttomyfuckingface.“Yeah,Imean,everyoneknowsBailey.”
IfeignignoranceandsmiledownatBailey.Thewomanwithpinchedeyesandflattenedlipswhoisgazingupatmewithagetmeoutofhereexpressiononherface.
“Well,anyonewhoisafriendofBailey’sisafriendofmine.”Igrinattheothergirl,butshe’stoostupidtotellit’snotafriendlygrin.“Maybeyoucanhelpuswithsomeshoes?”
Shelooksconfusedbutreplieswithabright,“Ofcourse!”allthesame.
IglanceathernametaganddecideonthespotthatIhateLily.ButIplaythelonggame.So,IofferherablandsmilebeforeIturnawayandmarchBaileyupanddownthelengthofthestore,assessingmyoptions.Itdoesn’ttakemelongtorealizethatIdon’tgiveafuckaboutmyshoesaslongastheydon’tchafe.
WhenIgetboredwithstaringattheseaoffootwear,Iwhisper,“Sugar,putyourhandbackinmypocket.”
Baileydoesn’tevenmovehereyesmywaywhenshesays,“Why?Ithinkshe’sbuyingitjustfine.”
Mylipsdustovertheshellofherear.“Idon’tgiveafuckabouther.Ijustlikeit.”
Bailey’shipbumpsagainstmine,asilentreprimandforwhatshethinksisajoke.
ButI’mnotjoking.Itakeherhandandshoveitbackintomypocket,smirkingatthesnarkylooksheshootsme.Eventheviciouslittlerevengepinchshegivesmyassbeforecarryingonmakesmesmile.
“Whataboutthese?”Shepointsatapairofbrownsuedesneakers.They’reamixofwhiteandchestnutwithagummysortofsole.
They’refine.
“Sure,let’strythem.”IhavenoideawhatIlike,orifIevencareaboutmyshoes,butIdolikebeingherewithBailey.Thethrillofthemissionhasmefeelingmoremyself.
“Andthese?”Shestepsawayandholdsupasportiersneaker.Blackonblackonblack.“Verytieroneundercoveroperatorwhocouldbreakintosomeone’shouseinthedeadofnight.”
Mylipstwistonachuckle.“Nevergoingtolivethatonedown,eh?”
“Never,”shemurmurswithasmileasshemovesawayfromme,pickingoutmoreshoesandliningthemuponabench.
Sherunsthegamut,andIsayyestoeverypair.EverytimeIdo,shestandsalittletaller,seemsalittlelessconcernedaboutBarbiewatchingherfromthetill,likeshe’sabouttostealalltheshoesondisplay.
Whenshefinallycomestostandbeforeme,slightlyflushed,shepropsherhandsonherhipsandsays,“SoIdidsomereading.”
“Soproudofyou.Iknewyouweren’tjustaprettyface,”Iquipwithawink.
Sheblinksaway,muttering,“Dick,”soquietlythatIbarelyhearit.Eyesbackonmine,shetriesagain.“Ididsomereadingaboutsocksandblistering.Waystoreducefriction.”Shepullsaplasticbagfromherpurseandshakesitatme.“We’vegotsomeoptionstotryforthattoo.Sositdownandstarttryingonsomecombos.”
Iswallow,staringdownatthispint-sizedpowerhouse,wonderinghownooneelseseesthecompassionoozingfromherpores.She’snotallfrillyandsugary.There’sarefreshingget-shit-donekindofpracticalityabouther.She’sfaithful.
Herfingerssnapinfrontofmyface.“EarthtoBeauEaton?”
Thenwegettoworktryingonshoesandsocks.It’salotofworkforLilybecauseIdecidetobeextrathorough.Itryhalfasizeupandthenrequesthalfasizedownforeverypairofshoes,sendingherbackandfortheverytime.
Justtobesure.
Idon’tmissthesuspiciouslookBaileyeventuallyshootsme.
It’salmostlikeshe’sontothefactthatIknowexactlywhatsizeIwear.
“Wereyousendingherbackandforthonpurpose?”BaileyaskswhenIslamthedriver’ssidedoorofmytruck.
IavoidhereyesasIbusymyselfwithbucklingmyseatbelt.“No,IwasjusttryingtomakesureIgottherightsize.Yousawmyfeet,gottabesure.”
“Mm-hmm.”MygazelatchesonBailey’sarms,squeezedtightbeneathherbreasts.“Petty.”
“Howisaskinghertodoherjobpetty?”
“Youknow.Don’tstooptotheirlevel,Beau.It’sunbecoming.”
Leaveittothetwenty-two-year-oldinthisfakerelationshiptobethematureone.
ItrainmyfaceintoablankexpressionasItwistthekeyintheignition,lookingforwardtotheblastofcoldairtheventspromise.“Listen,sheworkedhard.AllmyrespecttoLily.”
“Uh-huh.”Icanfeelthedisbeliefinhervoice,senseitinthewayhereyesworkoverme.
“She’llsleepwelltonight.Ialwaysdoafterphysicallabor.Andmaybewhenshewakesupinthemorningshe’llbelessofabitch.Goodsleepdoeswondersforaperson.”
Baileyscoffsatthat,coveringherfacewithherhands.Eventuallysheremovesthem,rollingherheadalongthebackoftheseattostareatme.“Speakingofsleep.Howhasyoursbeen?”
Ishrugandshouldercheckvigorouslytoavoidlettingmyeyesrestonher.“Fine.Speakingoftrucks…”ItrailoffasIpulloffontoRosewoodStreet,desperatetochangethesubject.“Let’sgogetyours.”
“Idon’tfeellikefacingmybrothers,thanks.Itcanjustrotthere.”
Agrinstretchesmymouth.WhoknewdoingnicethingsforBaileywouldbecomethethingthatgetsmybodyhummingaftermonthsofnumbness?
“DoyoureallythinkIblewmybrotheroffjusttogetahaircut?”
“What?”Hervoicebleedsconfusion.
“Thebarbershopisnexttotheautoshop.Yourtruckisallfixed.”
Herfingerspressintoherchest.“Mytruckisfixed?”
“Correct.Brandnewsetoftires.”
“Howdidyougetit?”
“Orderedatowtruck.”
SeveralbeatsofsilencepassasIrevelinthefeelofthecoolairblowingagainstmyface.It’sfuckingswelteringtoday.Thekindofdaythatendsinakillerstorm.Thekindofdaythathasheatwavesrollingjustabovetheasphaltoftheroads.
“Ican’taffordthis.”
“Youdon’tneedto,”Ireply.“ItoldyouI’dtakecareofit.AndIdid.”
Shejuststaresatmeafterthatstatement.Deepbrownirisesbouncingaroundmyface,alightfurrowtoherbrow,likeI’mapuzzleshecan’tquitefigureout.
BecausenoonehasevertakencareofBaileyJansenbefore.
ButIthinkit’sabouttimeshegotusedtoit.
Jasper’snameflashesacrossmyconsolescreenasIfollowBaileyoutoftownandtowardtheranchonherfreshsetofwheels.
“Hey!”IshoutassoonasIpressthebutton.
“Hi.”Icanhearthesuspicioninhisvoice.“Whyareyouavoidingme?”He’snotabig,dumbhockeyplayer.He’sabig,smarthockeyplayer.
“I’mnotavoidingyou.”
“Youare.You’reaterriblefuckingliarforsomeonewhosupposedlyworkedundercoveronmattersofnationalsecurity.”
“Jesus,didBaileytellyoutocrackthosejokes?”
“No.Ihaven’tspokentoyourfiancée.”
Ibristle.“Whyareyousayingitlikethat?”
Icanpracticallyhearhimshrugthroughthephoneline.Iknowhimsowell.Andheknowsmesowell.
“Dunno,man.Justseemsweirdthatyoucompletelyfailedtomentionyourengagementtomeuntilyouwereannouncingiteverywhere.”
“Aw.Jasper,baby,don’tgetallupinyourfeels.”
“Beau,takethatshitsomewhereelse.Myfeelingsaren’thurt.WhatI’mtellingyouisIdon’tbuyit.”
ThewhooshofairconditioningisallIhearforafewsecondsasIconsidermyoptions.
“Whynot?”
“That’soffensive.”
Isnort.Itis.“I’msorry.Ishouldn’thavetriedtopulloneoveronyou.”
“Forfuck’ssake,Beau.Whatareyouupto?”
Isigh,palmstwistingoverthesteeringwheel.“Baileyneededsomesupport.She’stryingtogetouttahere,andpeoplearesodamnmeantoher.”
Hehums.
“Youcan’tfuckthisupforher.Youneedtokeepyourmouthshut.”
“YouknowI’mavault.”HesoundsannoyedthatIevenhadtosayit.We’vebeenbestfriends,practicallybrothers,sincewewereteenagers,andIdon’tknowamoretrustworthypersonthanJasperGervais.
Isigh.“Yeah.Iknow.”
“Youguyshaveaplan?Howlongyoudoingthischarade?”
“Aslongasittakes.”Mywordsleadtomoresilence.Jasperisn’tabigtalker.Buthe’sasensitivedude.Adeepthinker.AndIcanalmosthearhimthinkingrightnow.
“Butwhat’sinitforyou?”
MyheadtipsfromsidetosideasIconsidermyanswer.“Afriend.Ilikeher.”
“Icantell.Andthat’swhat’sgotmeworried.”15Bailey
“Whynot?”ThelittleboycrosseshisarmsandstaresbackatCade,lookinglikeatinyversionofhisdad.Darkhair,setjaw,narrowedeyes.Hecan’tbemorethansevenoreight,buthecarrieshimselfalotolderthanthatasheglaresathisdadfromacrossthedinnertable.
“Becausetheymakeahugemessandarehardtocontain.AndIdon’tneedanotherlivingthingtotakecareofandcleanupafter.”
“I’llfeeditandtakecareofit.”
Allheadsswivelbackandforthbetweenthetwo.Noonesaysathing,butIcantelleverysinglepersonsittingaroundtheEatonfamilydinnertableisinvested.
“You’reonlybringingthisupheresopeoplewilltakeyourside,”Cadegrumps.
“Willaalreadytookmyside.Shesaidshe’dbackmeupwhenitcametoit.”
Willagroansandtipsherheadback.“Luuuuke.Youcan’tjustthrowmeunderthebuslikethat.We’resupposedtobeateam.”
Istifleasmile,rubbingmyfingersovermymouthasIfocusonstaringattheemptyplatebeforeme.
“Shit,sorry,Mom.”
Beau’shandlandsonmybarethigh.It’scasual,natural.He’sdoingittobracehimselfagainstlaughing,butIcan’tpeelmyeyesfromhisbroadpalmandcallousedfingers,thewaythesizeofhimalmostswallowsme.Thewaymyfleshgivesbeneaththefirmsqueeze.
Itsetsmeablazeinstantly.Ipullmystareawayfromthesightthat’sgotmehotandfocusedonkeepingmybreathingeven,justintimetoseeCade’seyesbugout.
“Luke!”It’sclearthecusswordisnotapproved,butbasedonthehushedchucklesfromaroundthetable,it’snotexactlynewground.
“Dad,comeon.What’sonelittlegoat?”
“No.”
Theboy’seyesgobignow,wideandpleading.“ButDad,theybutcheralltheboyonesbecausetheydon’tproduceanymilk.Theypracticallygivethemaway.”
Lukeisreallytakinghisshothere;he’sgonefromtoughanddrivingahardbargaintotryingthesensitiveapproach.
Smartkid.
“Sowhatyou’retellingmeisthatI’dbebetteroffinvestinginafemalegoatandmakingyoumilkitsoitproducessomethingusefulratherthanworkandmess?”
“Dad,please.”Hisvoicecracks.Iswearhiseyesfillwithtears.“Consideritarescuegoat.”
“Cade,comeon.Livealittle,”Harveypipesup.I’vebeenwatchinghiskeengazetakeintheentireexchange.Icantellhe’sagreatdad,loveshiskids—hisgrandkids.Idon’tknowHarveyEatonwell,butIknowhe’sunlikeanymanI’vehadinmylife.
Cadeshootshisdadadrylook.“Ofcourseyou’dsidewithachild.WhatamIsupposedtodowithamalegoat?”
AsHarveystaresathisson,itseemslikeeveryoneisholdingtheirbreath.Beau’shandtightensonmyleg.Ihopeitleavesmarks.Ichanceaglanceoverathim,notingthewayhe’sliftedafistupoverhismouth.
Bracing.
Harveymakesacontemplativegrumblingnoisewhilescrubbingathisbeard.“Well,youcouldtrymilkingthemalegoat.Butthatmightgetweird.”
ThemostunladylikenoiseI’veevermadeleavesmeinaflurryoftrying,andfailing,tobreathedeeply.Finally,IfocuslessonBeautouchingmybareskinasgigglesovertakemeattheabsurdityandinappropriatenessoftheolderman’sjoke.
Willalosesit.I’mtalkingsprayswaterfromhermouth.Shegetsupandwalksaway,swipingfuriouslyathermaneofredhair.
Rhettgroans.
Jaspergetsawildlyamused,shit-eatinggrinonhisface.
Beauturnstowardme,huffingasoftlaughagainstthecurveofmyneck.It’ssohotout,sostagnant,thatIleanintotherushofaironmyhotskin.
AndCade?Cadejustsitsthere,glaringathisdad.“You’regettingworsetheolderyouget.Youknowthat?”
IcanseeHarveybitingattheinsideofhischeek,tryingsohardtokeepastraightface.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Dad.Youjustmadeajokeabout…”Cadeswipesahandthroughhishairandlooksathissonbeforedecidingtoforgeaheadanyway.“Mejackingoffagoat.”
Ahigh-pitchedgasplurchesfromBeau,whoisnowrubbingathiseyesockets.
“Cade,watchyourmouthatthedinnertable.Andgetyourheadoutofthegutter.Malegoatshavenipplestoo.”
Cadegapesathisdad.“Youfuckingseriousrightnow?”
Harveyshakeshishead.“Ithink.Theymight.Okay,fine.Iwasn’ttalkingabouttheirnipples.”AndthenheburstsoutlaughingalongwitheveryoneelsewhileCadedropshisheaddownonthetable.Hisshouldersshake,soI’mprettysurehe’slaughingtoo.
“Okay,enoughaboutCadeandhisgoathandjobs,”Harveyannounces.
Iheara,“Thereisnomeandmygoats,”fromCade,butHarveyignoreshimandturnshisattentiontoBeauandme.“Let’stalkaboutthenewlovebirds.”
Allmylaughtercomestoascreechinghalt,andaheavypitofdreaddropsintomystomach.Idon’twanttotalkaboutBeauandme.
Forthepastseveraldays,we’veworkedwelltogether.Asin,weseeeachotherinpassing.Beauheadsoutontherancheverydaywithhisbrother,andIworkatthebar.Atnight,IsleepinmyexcruciatinglyhottrailerwhilethinkingaboutwhetherIshouldchancegoingintotheair-conditionedhouse.
TofindoutifBeauisaprudeornot.
Mymoneyisonnot,buteverytimeIgetupandalmostmakeitthere,Istop.I’mtoochickenshittofindout.
“Setaweddingdate?”Harvey’sperceptiveeyesbouncebetweenBeauandmecuriously.
Beauliftshishandfrommyleg,andtheskinfeelsclammywithouthistouch.It’stoohottobeclosetosomeone,yetIwishhe’dputitback.
Likehecanreadmymind,heslingshisarmovermyshoulder,fingertipsdrawingcasuallinesoverthebareskinonmyshoulder.
Ifitwasn’tsofuckinghotout,I’dcovermyselffromheadtotoesoIcouldavoidthedistractionofhisskinonmine.Alas,thisistheheatwavethatneverends.
“Alongengagement,Ithink.”HecantshisheadtowardmeasIturnmyfaceuptohim.Ourlipsaresoclose.Uncomfortablyclose.Ittakesmebacktothatmorningattheriver.
Beau’smetallicirisesdropmygazeandfixateonmymouth.
Iwonderifhe’llkissme.
Ourfirstkiss,atatablefullofhisfamily.PartofmewantstodigaholeandhidefromthatkindofPDA.Theotherpartofmewisheshe’djustdoit.
We’llhavetokissatsomepoint.Webothknow.
Ashiverrunsdownmyspineashestaysfocusedonmylips,movingincrementallycloser.
ButBeaujustsmirksdownatme.It’sacarnalsmirk,onethatsayshesensesmeleaningintohim,seesmychestrisingmorerapidly,knowsIcrossedmylegsjusttostemtheachebetweenthem.
“Yeah.”Heturnshisfacebacktoeveryonesittingaroundthefancy-styletableonthebackpatio.“Longengagement.Nothingsetinstoneyet.”
Iclearmythroatandofferthegeneralvicinityaforcedsmile.“Takingourtime,”Iaddstupidly,voicesoundingalldazed.
“Well,that’sfine.Ididn’tputadateontheannouncement.”
“Announcement?”MyvoicecrackswhenIposeHarveythequestion.
“Yeah,fortheChestnutSpringsHerald.Diditforallmyotherkids.Youtwoaren’tgettingoffscot-free.Plus,it’llkeepalltheladycallersofBeau’sawayifwegetitoutthere.Someofthemarerelentless.”
“What?”Beausoundsgenuinelyconfused.
Hewavesacasualhand.“Ah,yeah.Ican’tevengotothegrocerystorewithoutsomewomanwalkingupandinquiringaboutyoulikeI’mapimporsomething.”
Ibristle,shimmyingmyshoulderstaller.Ishouldn’tcare—Idon’tcare—itjustseemsrudethatHarveycan’tevengethisfoodinpeace.
Sloane’smom,Cordelia,patshishand,givinghimanamusedlook.“Harvey,Ithinkthat’senoughforonenight.”
Somehow,thatchangestheentirevibeatthetable.It’slikeeveryone’sattentionlatchesontothatonemotion.Herhandonhis.Hiseyesonhers.Thewayhetakesherhand,turnsitoverandlinkshisfingerswithhers.Iwatchthesentimentalwayhesqueezesherhand,anexpressionofpureadorationonhisface.
Thentheireyessnapup.
Thentheypulltheirhandsbackandscootawayfromeachother.
Thetableinstantlybecomesawkward.
Now,IwonderifthisiswhatitwaslikewatchingBeauandmestaringateachother.
“Igotnewshoes,”Beauannounces,attemptingtograbeveryone’sattention.“Baileytookmeshoeshopping.Ditchedthedorkywhiterunners.Gotsomeblackrunners,suedesneakers,evenapairofleatherboots.”
Noonetalks,wideeyesstillmovingaroundthetable.Harvey’searshaveturnedpink,andhe’sgulpingwaterdownasthoughthatmightsavehimfromhavingtotalkrightnow.
“Newsocksaremakingallthedifference.Gotsomeofthesedouble-linedonestoreducefrictionandasuperthinwoolpair.See?”Hestretchesafootouttowardtheendofthetable,buthismonologueaboutshoesandsocksisbarelyregistering.“Comeonnnnn.”
Ithinkit’ssweethowhe’stryingtosavehisdadfromthismoment.Foraguywhowantedhisfamilytostoppayinghimsomuchattention,hesureishappytothrowhimselfcenterstage.
Beaucrosseshisarmsandgazesawayfromeveryonedramatically.“WhyisnooneaskingmehowfastIcanruninmynewshoes?Beinganadultsucks.”
Andit’sLukewhocomestohisrescue,drawingafewchuckles.“I’llraceyou,UncleBeau!”
“Doyoureallythinkmydadishookingupwithmydeadmom’slittlesister?”
It’sthefirstthingBeausaystomewhenIpullupbesidehimathishouseandstepoutofmytruck.Wemetatthemainhousefordinneranddrovebackseparately.
“Yes.”
“Butlike…how?”Heslamshisdoorandroundshistruck,meetingmeatthefrontgrillofmine.Hiseyesarewide,andhelooks…adorablynaive.
“I—”Myheadquirksathim.“Well,Idon’thaveanyfirst-handexperiencewithhowitworks,butI’vedoneextensivevideoresearch.Ithinkthebasicsarethathewouldputhis—”
Hishandcoversmymouth.“Whateveryoudo,neverfinishthatsentence.We’retalkingaboutmydad.”
Ilaughagainsthispalmandnodmyhead.
Whenheremoveshishand,Iholdhisgazeandshrug.“Ithinkit’snicehehassomeone.”
Beauscrubsatthebackofhisneck,clearlytryingtoworkhisbrainaroundthefamiliarwayCordeliaandHarveyhadheldhandsatdinner.
“Iguess.Kindaweirdthatit’smymom’ssister.”
“Isit?Maybeitmakesperfectsenseitwouldn’tthreatenher.Maybeit’sokayforyourdadtostillloveherbecausetheybothloveher?Orlike,”Ishrug.“Maybeit’sniceforthemtohaveherincommon?”
Beauwinces.“Shediedalongtimeago.It’sjustweird.He’sneverbroughtsomeonearound.Andhehasn’ttoldusanything.”
“It’salmostlikeyoudon’tneedtotellyourfamilyeverysinglethingthathappensinyourpersonallife,huh?”
Hepointsatmeandsays,“Fair,”whilewalkingcloser.
Ithoughttheheatcomingfromthefrontofmytruckwasuncomfortabletoleanagainst,butthewayBeauisstalkingtowardmehasmepressingbackagainstitlikeit’sthemorecomfortableoption.
Hisblacksneakerscomealmostcloseenoughtostubmytoesthroughthetipsofmysandals.
“Niceshoes,soldier.Theylookfast.”Itosshimawinkandcrossmyarms,tryingtobecasual.
Probablyfailing.
“Theyare.”Hiseyesassessme.“How’sthetrailertreatingya?”
Iswallow.“Great.Wonderful.Ilovemytrailer.”
“Prettyhotthesedays.”
Again,hisbreathisacoolbreeze.
“Sureis.”
“StillholdingoutonmyACoffer?”Hequirksabrowandmirrorsmycrossedarmposition.Andheoozes…promise.
Idon’tknowhowelsetoputit.He’snoteventouchingme,andinthismoment,Iknowexactlywhathe’spromising.
Touch.Pleasure.Experience
Hesaidhewouldn’thavesexwithme,butwhatabouteverythingelse?Itseemsimprobable.Lookingathim,he’slikeabig,cockyAdonis.
Itseemslikeabadidea.
Buthe’salsoyourfiancé.Youtrusthim.He’ssodamngoodtoyou.
I’movulating.That’stheonlyreasonmybrainisrationalizingthistome.
Iletmygazeslidedownhisthickbodyandlandonthecrotchofhisshorts.They’refitted…ish.
Maybethat’swhyIcanseeabulgesoclearly.Thereallybigbulge.
It’sjusttheclothes.Notarealboner.
Thatwouldbeabsurd.
“PleaseletmeknowwhatIoweyouforthesetoftires.”
Heignoresme.“Justyoualone,upsweatingallnight.Icanimagineit.”
“I’mclimatized,”Isqueak,actuallyspinningandrollingmyselfagainstthehoodofmytrucktoescapehim.
“Bullshit.”Hechuckles,watchingmeflee.
“Lovetheheat,”Itossovermyshoulder,dreadinghowhotmytrailerwillbewhenIopenthatdoor.I’mexhaustedfrompoorsleepandeasilyagitatedfrombeingsohotforsomanydays.
“Whyareyourunningfromme?”hecalls,andIcandetectthesmugnoteinhisvoice.Heknowswhathedoestome.Howcouldhenot?Ishowedhimmyhardnipplestheotherday.WhatamIsupposedtodonow?Denyit?
“Youscared,sugar?”
Dick
“Havefundoingmoreextensivevideoresearch.”
Fuckingdick
“Mightdosomeofmyowntonighttoo.”
Itrip.Myflip-flopjamsintothegrass,andmycheeksflareasIfinallyreachforthedoorhandle,fiddlingwiththekeys.
“Backdoor’sopenifyouneedsomeAC!Orliveinspiration!”
IthrowmyselfintothemostunbearableheatIcanimagine.
Butsomehow,eventheunbearableheatismorebearablethanhavingtofaceBeauafterthattoe-curlinginvite.16Bailey
Beau:Backdoorisopen,sugar.
Iregretrunningaway.Ihatebeingsostubborn.
IfIweresmarterthanIamstubborn,I’dbeinBeau’sblissfullycoolhouse,sleepinglikeababy.Instead,I’mintheBoiler.Ican’tsleep,I’mrestless,andIhatemylife.Myskinisdampandclammy,andmyinternaltemperaturegaugeistotallyshot.I’mnotsureI’lleverbecoolagain.
Sure,wegethotspellsontheprairiesduringthesummer.Butthis?Thisisnext-level.
“Fuckit!”EventhoughI’mbeyondtiredandbarelywanttomove,IflipmyselfoutofbedandputonthetiniestpiecesofclothingIown,planningtogoforaswim.Again.
AgitationlinesmyeverymovementasIstepbarefootdownthenarrowhallwayofmytrailer.
Livinginatrailermightmakemesoundliketrash,butthefactofthematterisItakealotofprideinthistrailer.I’velovinglycutandgluedblack-and-whitecheckerboardlinoleumtothefloorandrepaintedallthecabinets,evensewnmywindowcoveringstomatch.
It’smine,andImadeitintooneofthosethatbelongsonPinterest.I’llnevergetridofit.
Oneday,I’llhaveacutehouseandI’llstillspendweekendsandvacationstravelinginthisthing.MaybeI’llevenbeabletoaffordanexteriorpaintjobandairconditioningforitinthefuture.
Asitstands,forthefewdaysoftrulyswelteringheatweget,Ican’tjustifyit.
Ishovethedooropenandletmyeyesfluttershut,waitingforagustofcoolerair.Butitnevercomes.ThatfreshmountainairIknowandloveisstayingupbetweenthepeaks,lettingusallsufferdownhereontheprairieswithoppressivenights.
“Uhhh,”Imoan,butitbordersonacryasIflopdownonthespot,feetproppedonthemetalstepofmytrailer.
I’msomiserableIcouldcry.
Isitwithmyheadinmyhands,andIthink.
ItrustBeau,andIknowhewon’thurtme.Helikestojokearound—that’sjusthowheis—andIdon’tfeelthreatenedbyhimatall.
SowhyamIsoaversetogoingintohishouse?
Becauseyouknowyou’llneverwanttoleave.
Mybrainisasmuglittlebitch,throwingthatinmyface.
Ipeekupattheimpressivehouse.It’sbeautifulandtrulyunlikeanyhouseI’veeverseen.Forme,whereI’mfrom,itlookslikeitbelongsinamovie.ItlookslikethetypeofhouseI’dclosemyeyesandenvisionmyselfinwhenmyrealitybecametoomuchtobear.
Wherethere’dbesomecute,wholesomeboyhostingaparty.Oureyeswouldmeetfromacrosstheroom.We’dbehighschoolsweethearts,andhe’dwhiskmeawayfrommyshittylife.
Thenthesoundofmydad’sdrunkenshoutingwouldfilterin,andI’dgetupandpropachairundermydoor.
Fantasyandreality,socloseyetstillsofarapart.
Yethereisthathouse,thatman.They’rerightthere.Andthey’rereal.
AndhereIam,tryingtoconvincemyselfIdon’tdeservethem.
Teenagemewouldbehorrified.
Iguessit’swithherinmindthatIgetupoffthestep.TeenageBaileywouldhaveruntohimdaysanddaysago.Shewasaromanticatheart.
YoungadultBailey?She’snotconvincedthebackdoorisopen.
ButwhenItrythelatch,itclicks,andthedoorgiveswaytoarushofblissfullycoolair.Isighandlettheflowpullmeintothespace.
AsIstandhere,IfeelabitlikeI’mintruding.Afterall,Iranawayfromhimtodaytohideinmytrailer.
Hejuststoodthere,chuckling.
Fuckingdick.
Ishutthedoorbehindme,wonderingwhatI’msupposedtodonow.ShouldIcallhim?Texthim?Justshouthisname?
Itdoesn’tmatter.Iknowhewon’tmind.
Mygazelingersontheblackleathersectionalinthelivingroomthatoverlookstheriverbank.Thethoughtoflayingmyselfoutoncoolleatheranddriftingoffistootemptingtoresist.
Sothat’swhatIdo.Iplopmyselfdownlikeatiredburglar.Inmytinycottonshortsandloosecroptop,thechilledleatheronbareskinisheaven.I’dlaymyselfoutnakedifIthoughtnoonewashere.I’matthepointwhereI’dhappilylieonthefloorjusttotakemytemperaturedown.
Isighandstareatthevaultedceilingwithaskylight,sodifferentfromthetopofmytrailer.Thelightabovethestoveintheopen-conceptkitchenison,whichmeansit’snotasdarkinhereasyoumighthope.
ButIdon’tcare.
Aslongasitdoesn’tfeellikeafryingpan,I’mhappy.Asimplegirlwithsimpleneeds.
WhenIstarttodozeoff,Ihearfeetpaddingagainstthepolishedconcretefloors.Casualandunhurried—unlikemyheartrate,whichisthroughthefuckingroof.
Hewhistlesatune,andIdebatewhetherIshouldsitupandannouncemyself.Thatseemsliketheleastweirdthingtodo,butasIsettleonitandsitup,Ifreeze.
MygazehasjustclearedthebackofthecouchandlandedonNakedBeau.
Fullynaked.
Head-to-toenaked.
He’swhistlingandgazingintothefridge.Thedoorcovershisheadandshouldersbutleaveseveryotherinchofhissideprofilebare.
Narrowwaist,roundass—
Myeyesgowidewhentheylandonhisdick.It’slikeaporndick.Butflaccid.Istare,tryingtofigureoutifit’sjusttheangleorifit’sthefactIhaven’tseenapenisinreallife.Maybethescaleisdifferent.
Iduckdown,hidingbehindthebackofthecouchbutrefusingtolookaway.I’mofficiallydoingmybestimitationofthatsimplelinedrawingwiththeheadpokingupoverawall,littlemittedhandscurledoverthetop.
Wideeyesbecausethatlittlecartoonpersonisavoyeur.Ijustknowit.
Beaucarriesonhummingtohimselfasheturnsandpullsoutallthemakingsforasandwich.Idipdown,hidingandinternallyberatingmyself.Anynormaladultwouldjusthaveannouncedherselfbynow.Takenaneyeful.Glancedawaypolitely.Laugheditoff.
ButI’veroyallyfuckedmyselfbecauseI’vewaitedtoolong.Nowhe’llknowIwaspeeking,andI’llneverliveitdown.
IdecideI’llsticktomygunsandstayhidden,pretendIsleptthroughitwhenhefindsmesleepingonhiscouchinthemorning.
Resolved,Idecidethere’snoharminpeekingagain.I’vealreadyseenitall.What’sonemoreglance?I’llsaveitinthebraincamforarainyday.
Easinguplikeastealthyninja,IletoutaquietsighwhenIseehe’sfacingawayfromme.Butthebackviewisjustasgoodasthefront.Orside.
Idon’tthinkBeauEatonhasanybadangles.
Buthisass?Icoulddie.Everythingaboutthemanisbigandcoarselymuscled.Scarspepperhisskin,buttheyonlyaddtohisappeal.Thelinesinhisbackandshouldersrippleashe,Idon’tknow—spreadsmayonnaiseonbread?
Neverknewspreadingcondimentsonbreadcouldfeelsexual,yethereIamexperiencingspontaneousovulationbecauseofnakedsandwichmaking.
It’smakingmehungry.Butnotthefoodkind.SoIstifleagroananddropbackdown.Horninesswarswithmyguiltfordroolingoverhimwhilehethinkshe’salone.It’saninvasionofhisprivacy,butmybraincellspackedupandlefttowntheminuteIgotthatsideshotofhim.
Ilistentothesoundsofhimputtingeverythingaway.Shuttingthefridge.Footstepsleavingtheopenlivingspace.Imightfinallybeabletobreatheagain.
Butnotbeforehisvoicecutsthroughthesilenthouse.“Sugar,there’sasparebedroomupstairsontheleft.”
IhaveneverwantedtokeeloveranddieasbadlyasIdorightnow.
Ofcourse,he’dfigureoutIwashere.Heprobablyheardmebreathing.
I’mstartledenoughthatIshootupandwatchhimwalkaway,roundassbunchingwitheverystep.
“Andifyouwanttoseemeupclose,justknockonthedooracrossthehallandask.”
AndIofficiallywanttodieevenmorethanIdidafewsecondsago.
I’membarrassedenoughthatIskiptheguestbedroomandlieonthecouch,silentlyberatingmyselfuntilIfinallyfallasleep.
“Hey!Hey!”
Beau’sshoutshavemeshootingupoffthecouch.Ifranticallylookaroundmyself,tryingtofigureoutwhatmightbewrong.Buttheentirehouseisasheleftitwhenhewaltzedoutofhereonfulldisplay.
“Hey!”
Irealizeheisn’tanywhereclose.He’sjustshoutingatthetopofhislungs.Inmydopeydaze,myfirstthoughtwasanintruder,butthemoremyheadclears,themoreIthinkanintruderwouldn’tstartoutonthesecondfloor.
Igetupandrushacrossthesmoothstonefloors,almostchilledbytheircoolness.OrbythesoundofBeaucallingout,“Hey!”
Overandoveragain.
Itstartsoffloudbutbecomesmoredistraught,moredefeatedthelongeritgoeson.
Idon’tknockonhisbedroomdoor.Ipushrightthroughtofindhislarge,nakedbodythrashingontheking-sizedbedacrosstheroom.Thedigitalclockinthecornershows2:11a.m.
Thepainedmoansspillingfromhislipsmakemystomachdrop.
He’shavinganightmare.Apainful,stressful,franticnightmare.AndIhavenoideawhattodo.
ThefeelingofhelplessnesspricksatmyeyesasIwatchhimstrugglingagainstthinair,relivingsomesortofhorror.
Andmyheartcan’ttakeit.
Imightgetknockedacrosstheroombyastraylimb,butIdon’tcare.
Iapproachhisbed,calmlychanting,“Beau.Beau.Beau.”Ireachoutwithcautionandtouchhisshoulder.Hestillsalmostinstantlybutdoesn’twake.“Hey,Beau.I’mhere.”
“You’rehere.”Hisvoicecracksandhereachesforme.Hisclammypalmclampsaroundmyarm.
“Yeah.It’sBailey.I’mhere.You’reokay.”
“You’rehere,”hesaysagain.Thistime,histonebleedsrelief.Thistime,hetugsmetowardhim.
AndIgo.Idon’thaveitinmetoresisthimrightnow.AsIclimbonhisbed,mychestachesfromhisexpression—pinchedforehead,eyessqueezedshut,andnotraceofthehumorthatpaintedhishandsomefeaturesmerehoursago.
Withonehandonmyarmandoneatmywaist,hedragsmetohim,gatheringmeagainsthischest.
Andverynakedbody.
Butthisisn’tsexual.
I’mnotsureherecognizeswhoIamrightnow,butheholdsmelikeI’macomforttohim.HeholdsmelikeIheldmysadlydepartedstuffedhorse.
HisthickarmswraparoundmeasIsprawloverhim,headtuckedunderhischin,listeningtothesoundofhisheartbeat.
Icanfeelthebulgeofhiscock,firmbutnothard,againstmyinnerthighwheremyshortshaveriddenup.
Icanfeelhischesthairagainstmybarebreastswheremyflimsycroptophasbeendisplaced.
Icanfeelhisdeepbreaths,hislungsfillingandemptying,makingmeriseandfallintimeasthoughI’mridingawavewhilehecatcheshisbreath.
“Whattimeisit,Bailey?”Hisvoiceisallgravel,hisholdnotloosening.
Ipeekovermyshoulderattheclock.“Twotwelve.”
Oneofhispalmsslidesupthecolumnofmyspinetocupthebackofmyhead.“Good.”
ThenIfeelhimkissmyhair.17Beau
Ishouldn’thavedraggedherintomyarms.Notwhenwe’rehere,alone,inthedark.
NotwhenI’munraveledthewayIamrightnow.
NotwhenIcan’tblameitonbeingforshow.
NotwhenIwanttodosomuch—
Bailey’sheadturnsandherlipsdustacrossthehollowatthebaseofmythroat.Iswallow,Adam’sappleworkingasshekissesjustbelowitagain.Puffylipspressagainstmychest.
Awarenesstricklesinashernippleshardenandpointagainstmychest.
Ishouldstop.
Myhandslidesdownherfirmback,tonedfromlonghoursspentworking,andmyfingersdustoverthethickelasticwaistbandthattheymeet.
Ishouldstop.
Shekissesmeagain.Samespot.Buthertonguedartsagainstmyskinthistime.Herbackarches,pushinghertitsdownandherassup.
“Fuck,”thewordisabreath,ahushedcursemarkingme,knowingI’mabouttogotoofar.
Ishouldstop.
Myhandtravelsfurther,andIgripherass.It’smorethanjustfabric.Theshortshaveshifted,andit’ssmoothskin.Myfingersdigin,thetipsofthemdangerouslyclosetowherenomanhasgonebefore.
It’sherfuckingmoanasshepressesherselfbackintomygripthatnearlyundoesme.
“Bailey.”I’mtookeyedup.She’stooclose.Feelstoogood.Smellstoodelicious.
Sheinchesdown,strandsofherhairslippingthroughmyfingersasshekissesloweronmychest.Myhandisstillkneadingthefleshofherasswhenshewhispers,“Areyouokay?”
“No,”Igritout.Mydickswellsatthenearnessofher,thesmell,theweight.Thewayshe’sjusthereinthewakeofmetotallyfreakingout.
“Meneither.”Herhotbreathfansagainstmychest.
IrealizeI’mholdingherinplace,onehandgrippingherass,theotherwithafistfullofherhair.Mycockgoesrock-hardfasterthanIcanfightitoff.Thethoughtoffillingherwithitismorepresentthanever.
“Tellmehowtomakeyoufeelokay,”Isay,myvoicerumblingacrossthetopofherhead.Shehasn’tliftedherface,hasn’tchancedlookingmeintheeye.
Ithinkwebothmightthinkmoreclearlyifshedid.
“Don’tstoptouchingme.”
MyheadtipsbackandIgroan.Thethingsthisgirlsays.
Herlipsmoveovermychestagain.“HowcanImakeyoufeelokay?”Herassliftshigher,kneespushingintothebedoneithersideofmybody.Beggingmetoexploreher.
WhileIturnherquestionoverinmymind,Iletmyhandsroamalongthesmoothskindownthebackofherthightothecrookofherkneethatshe’spushedupontowhilestraddlingme.Mynailsrakeovertheskinofherinnerthigh,tinybumpscropupintheirwake.
“Bailey…Ishouldstop.”Isayitoutloud,thewarningsignthat’sbeenflashinginmyheadforthepastseveralminutes.
Stoppingfeelslikeitwouldbepuretorturerightnow,butI’ddoit.
Ishoulddoit.
“No.Please.”Thewordsrushfromher,breathyanddesperate.“Pleasedon’tstop.”
Mybreathinggrowslabored,andallI’mdoingislyingonmyback.Itrailmyfingersoverthegussetofhershorts,tracingtheseam.Icouldreachbeneaththefabricsoeasily.
Herheadturns,cheekpressingagainstmychest.Facedown.Assup.Handsonmyshoulders.Baileybegsmeagain.“Please…tellmehowtomakeyoufeelbetter.Butdon’tstop.”
Myfingerscurlaroundthestrandsofheronyxhair,andIgiveafirmtug.
Shewhimpersandgrindsherselfagainstmyfingers.
Idon’tknowhowwegotsofarpastthelineofappropriate,sofarpastthelineoffaking.Butthe2:11versionofmelackscontrol,andhe’stheonlyversionofmethat’shererightnow.
“I’dfeelokayifyoustartedsleepingintheguestroom,Bailey.”
Shenods,draggingmyfistalongwithherheadasshedoes.Mydickjutsup,bumpingagainstherstomach.
“AndI’dfeelevenbetterifyouletmereachintotheseflimsyfuckingshortsandmakeyoucomeonmyfingers.”
Abreathrushesfromherlipsandsweepsacrossmychest.
Ishouldstop
“Yes,”sherepliesbreathlessly.Herstomachpressesintomylengthwhilemyfingerscurlaroundthecurveofherass,teasingthatlinebetweenherthighandherpussy.“Yes.”
“Fuck,”Imutteragain,becausenomatterhowmanytimesItellmyselfIshouldstop,Iwon’t.
MyhandinchesforwarduntilIfeelherwetness.Iswipethroughgently,mybodyalmostshakingunderthestrainofholdingback.Thedarkpartofmewantstoflipheroverandfuckher.Impaleherandlistentoherscreammyname.
Butthat’snotwhatthisis.That’snotwhosheis.IwanttohandleBaileywithcare.
Herhipspushback,andthetipofmyfingerslidesin.
“Ohgod.”Sherollsherforeheadovermychest,andI’mprettysureIstopbreathingassherocksherselfagainstmyfinger.
“Bailey.”Igroanhernameandpullouttospreadherwetnessoverherclit.HerlegstrembleoneithersideofmywaistasIdo.“Fuck.”
Herlipslandbackonmychest,andonehandgripsmyshoulderwhiletheotherbracesabovemyheadonthebedframe.
Ipressinagain,furtherthistime,andfeelherclampdownaroundmyfinger.“You’refuckingsoaked.”
Shenodsoncemore.
Withonefingerinsideher,theothersexplorebetweenherlegs.Lips,clit,slidingupanddownherslit.“Ifit’stoomuch,you’lltellme?”
“Yes,yes.”Shechantsthewords,hotshakybreathsagainstmyskin.“Doitagain.”
“Dowhat?”Imurmuragainstherearasshewrithesaboveme.
“Fingerfuckme.”Herwordsarelanguid,notshyatall.
“Likethis?”Islideinandout,settinganevenandtorturoustempo.
Sheliftsherheadtopeeroverhershoulder.Nodoubttryingtoseethewayherbodyfitsagainstmine,thewayIhaveangledmyarmaroundbehindher.“Yeah,likethat.”
Mymusclesburn,butIdon’tgiveafuck.It’snothingcomparedtothewaymydickisthrobbingfromfeelingBaileyalltightandwet,ridingmyfingers.
“Whataboutthis?”Islowmymotionsandaddasecondfingertojointhefirst,toyingwithherentrancebeforeeasingintoherslickheat.Agentletwistofmyhandhashercryingout,andherheaddropsbackdowntomychest.
“Youlikethat,Bailey?Aretwofingersbetterthanone?”Ipushinfurther,spurredonbytheneedymewlingnoisesshe’smaking.
Asoft,“Yes,”spillsfromherdamplipsbeforeshedragsthemovermycollarbones,upthesideofmyneck—whilestillavoidingmyface.
“Inandoutonly?Orwithatwist?Iwanttoknow.”Myutmostdesireistoknowabsolutelyeverythingthatdriveshercrazy.Wecanlearnittogether.
“Twist.”She’sgonemonosyllabic,andItakeaperversesortofpleasureinstealingherpleasureandherwords.
Iworkbothfingersinandout,slowlytwisting,herwetnesssurgingaroundme.
Herbodytrembles.
Herhipsrotate.
Herbodypulses.
Ourbreathscomeoutsharpandchoppy.
“Lookatme,Bailey.Yougonnacomeforme,Bailey?JustlikeItoldyouto?”
“Yesss,”shehisses,nowbuckingagainstmeasshedrawsbackjustenoughtomeetmyeyes.
Ishoveinhardafewtimes,gettingoffonthethroatynoisesshemakes.ThenIpullout,slidingbackandforthoverherclit.Itonlytakesafewtimesuntilsheshatters.
“Fuck!Beau!”Sheyanksmyhair,andherteethclampdownonmyneck.Thesoakedinsidesofherthighsspreadasshetumblesdownontopofme,chesttochest.Herkneesgiveoutandshelosespurchaseonmysheets,slimlegsslippingastheyclampmysides.
Herpussypulsesandslidesovertheedgeofmycock.Downthevein,righttothebase,whereshestalls,tryingtocatchherbreathwithmyfull,roundheadpressedtohernavel.
Theworstfuckingtease.
It’satemptationsofuckingstrongIgaspforairandextricatemyselffromhersoft,needybody.
Awayfromthebedatlast,Istandandrunmyhandsthroughmyhair,needingtostepawayfromhersoIdon’tgoanyfurtherthanIjustdid.
Waytoofuckingfar.
IpromisedherIwouldn’tfuckher.Ipromisedtohelpmakethingsbetterforher.AndImeantit.
She’syoungandsweet,andhasherentirelifeaheadofher.I’mthelastthingsheneedscomplicatinghersituation.
Thisarrangement?It’saglorifiedbet.Andshedeservesbetter.
Ishouldhavestopped.18Bailey
Bailey:Taketonightoff.Gotobedearly.I’mfine.
Beau:No,thanks.
Bailey:Seriously,youcan’tstayuplatewithmeandthenwakeupanhourlaterdoingyourthing.
Beau:Mything?
Bailey:2:11
Beau:Bailey,youdoyourthing,andI’lldomine.Andmineincludessittingatyourbar,soyouaren’talone.
Theknifeslicesthroughthelime,andafreshwaveofpainhumsthroughmyveinsasthecitrusjuicehitsmypapercut.ButIdon’tevenflinch.
IcanfeelBeau’seyesonmefromwherehesitsattheendofthebar,andI’msureifIshowaniotaofpain,he’llcall911tohavemeairliftedtothenearesthospital.Wemaybeontensetermsrightnow,buthe’sstillhere,guardingmelikeaGermanshepherd,readytoleaptomydefense.
I’malsonotoblivioustothefactGaryiswatchingus,drunkeninterestalloverhisface.
MyheadshakesasIrecalltheconversationBeauandIhadthemorningafter…whateverthatwas.ThemorningI’dwokenupaloneinhisbedandgonesearchingforhim.
“I’msorryItookadvantageofyou.”
ThosewerehisfirstwordswhenIfoundhiminthekitchen.
MyeyesbuggedoutathickeyI’dleftonhisneck—theonethat’sstilltheretoday,althoughmoreyellowandlesspurple.Ididn’tknowwhattoexpecthimtosayinthatmoment.Becausethenightbeforehe’dlookeddownatme,handsonhishead,withthemostconfusingmixtureoflustandrageonhisface.Thenheleftwithoutasingleword,andmyheartdropped.Iwantedtofollowhim,andyetIknewheneededspaceandcontrol.
“Youdidn’t.”
“It’smyjobtokeepyousafe.Andthatincludesfromme.”
“It’sliterallynot.”
“Weagreedwewouldn’tcrossthatline.Welaideverythingout.Iwantyoutostayinthehouse,butifyouhearmeinhere…youcan’tcomein.”
ItriednottostareatthewayhisbackstrainedagainsttheT-shirthestillworefromthenightbeforeashebentdownandslidhisnewdouble-walledsocksintohisnewBlundstones.Heexpectedmetojustlaythereandlistentohimpanic?
“I’mnotgoingtostayhere.”Iliftedmychin,forcingmyselftoappearpridefulinawaythatwasacompletemismatchforhowIfeltinside.
Andhedidn’tevenbotherglancingatmewhenhesaid,“Youcanstayinthehouse,orI’llpaytohaveyourtrailerequippedwithairconditioning.Yourcall.”Thenheslappedthedoorframeandleftthehouse.
Thatwastwodaysago.Twonightsofmewakingupat2:11—exactly—andwalkingacrossthehallway.TwonightsofmewrappingmyhandaroundhisdoorknobbecauseIcouldn’thandlelisteningtohimshout.
Andthenstopping.
Wemadeadeal,andIknowallaboutpeoplenotrespectingyourprivacy.Thislastincidentwasn’tthefirsttimemybrothersransackedmyspacesearchingforsomething.
Forthelasttwonights,I’veremindedmyselfthatBeauisagrown-assman,capableofmakinggrown-updecisionsandsettinggrown-upboundaries.
Andmyjobasafellowgrown-upistorespectthoseboundaries.
WhichiswhyIgobacktomyroom,pullmypillowovermyheadandtrynottohearhim.Butit’simpossible.It’sstressful.Andeventhoughtheheatisn’tkeepingmeawakeanymore,theanxietyofknowinghe’srightthereandallaloneisworsethansleepingintheBoiler.
Islicethroughthenextlimeandcutalinethroughthemiddleofthewedgesoitcanrestontheedgeofacup.I’mjustexhaustedenoughthatIdon’tstoptheknifeintimebeforeitcontinuesitsmotionrightovermyfinger.
“Fuck!”Itosstheknifeandinstantlyliftmyfingertomymouth.
“Youokay?”IcanhearthealarminBeau’svoiceasheshoveshisstoolawayandpushesthroughthesmallwoodendoorsthatdividethespacebetweenpatronsandstaff.Heloomsovermeandreachesformywrist,rotatingmyhandtoinspectthedamage,whichislimited.
“I’mfine.”Itrytotugmywristfree.“It’snotthefirsttimeI’vecutmyself,anditwon’tbethelast.Gositbackdown.”Iyankagain,avoidinghisgazeasIbringmyfingerbackuptomymouth.AsIstemthelighttrickleofblood,Iturnawaytograbthefirstaidkitwestorebehindthebar.
Withitlaidoutinfrontofme,Iriflethroughthecontents,lookingforthecorrectBand-Aidsize.
“Letme,”Beausaysinasoftvoice.It’safuckingpunchtothegut.Whenhe’sallstoicandremoved,it’seasiertobeirritatedwithhim.
Iletoutaheavysighandfinallytiltmyhead,gazingupathim.Genuineconcernfillshissilvereyes,alongwithsomethingelse.Pairedwiththewayhistonguedartsoutoverhislips,heappearsalmostnervous.
Hisgazesearchesmyfaceashishandwrapsaroundmywristagain,thistimemoregently,guidingmyfingerfrommymouth.Itstrikesmethismightbethefirsttimewe’vemadeeyecontactinthepastcoupleofdays.
SinceHarveyputtheannouncementinthepaper,alleyeshavebeenonus,butoureyeshaven’tbeenoneachother.
Iblinkaway,notwantingtostarefortoolong.BecauseifIdo,mybodywillreact.I’llstepcloserand—
“Itdoesn’tlooktoobad.”Beaufurrowshisbrowasheassessestheworld’smostinconsequentialcut.
“That’swhatItoldyou,”Ireplythroughgrittedteeth.
Heseemsamusedbymyannoyance,whichjustannoysmemore.
DeftfingerspulltheBand-Aidfromitswrapper,andheplacesitwithmeticulouscare.Ican’thelpbutbeentrancedbyhim—sobigandgruffyetsogentle.
Hewrapsthestickyendstogetheranddelicatelypressesmyhandbetweenbothofhis.MakingalittleBaileyhandsandwich.“There.”
Despiteallmyself-talkaboutbeinganadult,Ican’tbringmyselftomeethisgaze,soImumble,“Thanks,”andturnawaytoresumework.
Helingersforamoment,thenslowlymovesaway,backtohisseat.
Backtohistea.
Backtowatchingmelikeahawk.
AndwhenGaryslurs,“Troubleinparadise?”Ireplywithaperky,“Never,”andgobacktocuttinglimes.Becauseafteraweekspentapplyingforotherjobs,I’mstillgettingnothingmorethanapityinglookandapolite,“We’renothiringrightnow,”eventhoughthejobislistedonline.
Whenwemadethisbet,Iknewmyreputationmightbebeyondsaving.IknewthathewaswrongandIwasright.IknewI’dprobably“win”—whateverthatmeans.
Butwinninghasneverfeltworse.BecauseIknowmyplaceinChestnutSprings,andspendingtimepretendingit’satBeauEaton’ssidejustmakesithurtmore.
Thequietbuzzofmyphonevibratingbesidemymattresswakesme.
It’s2:00a.m.andtheurgetoshutmyphonedown,rollover,andgobacktosleepisstrong.Buttheextraelevenminuteswon’tmakeadifference.NomatterhowIspinit,I’llbetiredtomorrow.
It’sagonizingtohearBeaustruggleonlyafewfeetfromwhereI’mlying.
At2:11,we’rebothhaunted.Me,bythewayIfeltcapturedinhishold,comingapartabovehimwhilehewhisperedmynameagainstmyhair.Himby…well,I’mnotentirelysure.ButIcanguess.
Eitherway,Iwanttorewrite2:11intosomethingdifferentforus.We’restucktogetherinthislittlearrangement,anditdoesn’tneedtobethisawkward.
Ormaybeit’sjustmebeingawkwardbecauseIcan’tmasturbatewithoutthinkingofthatnight.
“Okay,”IgrumbletomyselfandshakeawaythearousalthatsweepsthroughmeeverytimeIrecallthewayhegrippedmyhairwhilehekneadedmyass.I’veneverfeltsoneeded.“Let’sdothis.”
Irollfrommybed,grabthebagIsetnearthedoor,andpadacrossthehallway,checkingmywatch.
2:02.
Iknockonhisdoorfirmlybutwithameasuredpace,wantingtowakehimupwhileavoidinganysenseofurgencythatwillfreakhimout.Beaudoesn’tneedanyextrafreakingout—healreadydoesthatonhisown.
Itoccurredtometoday,ashetendedtomyfingerandthensatvigilwhileIfinishedoutmyshift,thathe’sbecomehyper-fixatedontakingcareofme.
Butwhoistakingcareofhim?
Ihearrustlingandknockagain.
2:03.
“Beau,getup.”Ikeepmyvoicelightandairy.
“Bailey?”He’supandatthedoorlikeashot,rippingitopen.Mymouthgoesdrywhenhetowersoverme,wearingnothingbuthisboxers.
Isecretlyhopedhe’dbenakedagain.NoonehaseverlookedasgoodnakedasBeauEaton.
“What’swrong?”Hishandlandsonmyshoulder,drawingmecloseasheleansoutthedoorandchecksbothdirectionsofthehallway,assessingfordanger.
Iplaceagentlepalmagainsthischestandgiveitareassuringpat.“Nothing.Let’sgo.”
Hischindropsnowashelooksmeover.“Gowhere?”
“Swimming.”
Hisfacescrunchesinconfusion,handstillbrandingmewherehisfingerscurloverontomyback.“Whattimeisit?”
Icheckmywatch.Again.“It’s2:04.”
“WhywouldIwanttogoswimmingnow?”
MyheadtiltsasIconsiderwhattosaytohimnext.“Becauseitseemsalotmorefunthanhitting2:11andscreaminginyourbed.Forbothofus.”
Hishanddropsfrommyshoulderandhiseyestracemyfeaturesinthedarkenedhallway.Hisgazeissteelyinbothcolorandintensity,morethanIcanwithstand.
Iturnandwaveahandovermyshoulder.“Let’sgo,soldier.I’mnotevenplanningonwearingabathingsuit.”19Beau
IfollowBaileytotheriver’sedge,notsurewhattosaytoher.Andnotstrongenoughtosayno.
I’mnotevenstrongenoughtolookawaywhenshecasuallyundresses.Instead,Iadmirethesmoothcurvesofherbareskinhighlightedbythesoftglowofthemoon.
Shedoesn’tsparemeaglanceassheslipsintotheblackwater.Thegentlesoundofitbubblingandrushingcreatesasenseofprivacy.Itseemsstrangetothinkwejusthappeneduponeachotherinthisexactplacenotsolongago.Thatshe’sbeenswimmingnakedinfrontofmyhouseforwhoknowshowmanyyears.
“Yougonnacomein?”shecallsonceshe’ssubmergedenoughtocoverjustoverhernipples.She’slikeagoddesswiththeswellsofherbreastsondisplay,thetipsofherlonghairplasteredoverhercollarbones.
IhavenoideawhatI’mdoing.Ifeeloutofmyelement.Outofcontrolaroundher.
Consumedbythatnight,bytheguiltofgoingtoofar,andbytheknowledgethatitplaysonrepeatinmymindtwenty-fourseven.
Istillwakeupat2:11,distraught.Exceptnow,by2:15,I’mfistingmycockanddreamingaboutslidingitintoher.
Skinnydippingwithhermightbeabadidea,butIcan’tstomachtheideaoftellinghernoagain,soIstartundressing.Ikickmyshoesoffandfaceherfullon,halfexpectinghertoturnandshyawayfrommeexposingmyself.
Butshedoesn’t.
Shewatcheswithraptfascination,ablatantlevelofinterestasIslidemyboxersdownovermyhipsandletthemfallatmyfeet.Itossthemontothelogwhereshediscardedherpajamasandmakemywaytowardthewater.Myeyesstayonherface,whilehersfocusonmydick.
“Isyourpenisnormalbig?Orlike…”Sheworriesherbottomlipbeforeholdingherhandsupinthattwelve-inchspreadagain.“Bigbig?”
“Bailey.”Ishakemyhead,myvoicedisbelievingandgruffallatonce.“Youcan’tjustaskpeoplethingslikethat.”
Shepressesherlipstogetherandblinksawayfrommycockbeforemovingontoherbacktofloat.“Whynot?Youjuststrippedinfrontofme.Andwe’reengaged.AndIpracticallysatonittheothernight.Itseemslikeareasonablequestiontome.”
IgroanasIslipintothewater.“Trustme,Bailey.Ifyousatonittheothernight,you’dstillbefeelingittoday.”
ShejoltsbackuprightasIapproachher,eyeswideanddancingwithinterest.“Doesthatmeanit’sbig,big?”
Adeepchucklerumblesinmychest.Beingabletolaughanywherearound2:11isafuckingtreat.“Yeah,Bailey.It’sbig,big.”
Sheslapsthewater.“Iknewit!Iwastryingtocompareitwithporn.Youknow?But,like…thescaleseemsoffonmyphonescreen,anditwasdarkinyourroom,soIdidn’tgetagoodlook—”
“Bailey.”Iclosemyeyes,sinkdown,andpullafewhandfulsofwaterupovermyface.
“Sorry.”
Butshedoesn’tsoundsorry.Icanhearthesmileinhervoice.Thewaterswishesasshespinsinplacelikewhateverinnocentbutfilthymermaidshe’sportraying.
Itreallyisthemostcharmingcombination.Oldenoughtonotbefreakedoutbysexbutinexperiencedenoughtobeflat-outcurious.
She’sgoingtobethedeathofme.
Andmyrestraint.
Wefloatinsilenceforseveralminutes.Me,tryingtoridmyselfoftheinsta-bonershegaveme,andher…Idon’tknow,justswishingaround.
It’speaceful.
“Ithinkyoushouldtellmeabout2:11,”ishowsheshattersthepeace.
Iknewthiswascomingwhenshereferencedthetimestampbefore.She’sabrightyoungwoman—perceptive—soitshouldn’tsurprisemesheputittogether.
Deepdown,Imightbereadytotalkaboutit.There’snoshrinkcouchhere.She’snotholdinganotepadorassessingmelikeI’manexperiment.
Iamoneoftheluckyoneswhohasampleaccesstotherapy,butoneofthedumboneswhowon’tgo.IknowIshould,butitfillsmewithdread.AndI’vehadenoughofthattolastmealifetime.
SeveralminutespassasIconsiderherquestionandreplaythatnightinmyhead.Thedaysthatfollowed.
“Itwas2:11a.m.whenIwalkedoutofthatbunkerwithMicahdrapedovermyshoulders.”
Theswishingstops,andshepushesupright.Iopttolookatthemoonratherthanthedarkorbsofhereyes.
“Icheckedmywatchandcouldseethehelicoptertakingoff.AndIknewwhattimeIneededtobebackatourextractionpointtogetonthetransportbackout.IknewthatifIkeptgoingfurtherbackintothattunnelsystem,Iwouldn’tmakeitoutintime.”
Ihearhersigh.
“ButIkeptgoinganyway.Icouldhearhimscreaming.AndI—”Iswipeanagitatedhandovermymouth.“Fuck,Ijustcouldn’tleavehimthere,youknow?Hewasourmission,andIcouldhearhim.Hewasrightthere.Icouldn’tleave.”
“Wouldyoudoitdifferentlyifyoucouldgobackintime?”
“No.”Myresponsecomesinstantly.Irepeatmyselftodrivethepointhome.“No.”
“Thenwhydoyousoundlikeyou’rebeatingyourselfupaboutit?”
“BecauseeveryonetreatsmelikeIdidsomethingheroicbyrefusingtoturnback,andthat’s…that’snotwhatitwas.”
Icupmyhandsandsplashmyface.
AfewbeatspassasIwaitforBaileytoaskmewhatImean,butshegoesbacktoturninginthewater,archingherslenderneckbacktodipherheadintothechill.
“TheytrainusdifferentlyforJTF2.Chooseusdifferently.It’smorepsychological,notjustphysical.We’reprepareddifferently.Ihavethisstrategy,awayIbreakthingsdowninmyhead,anditworks.Imean,ofcourse,someoftheshitI’veseenhasfuckedmeup,butit’smostlymanageableifI’mbeinghonest.”
Baileyhumsthoughtfully,trailingherfingersthroughthewater.Idon’tfeellikeshe’spsychoanalyzingme,orjudgingme,oreventryingtohelpme.She’sjusthere,listening.
Actually,asshepicksatwigupoffthesurfaceofthecreekandtossesittotheshore,I’mnotevensureifshe’slistening.Butit’sbetterthisway.
“Iwouldlieinbedandforcemyselftothinkaboutalltheworstoutcomeswhilefallingasleep.Like,thefirsttimeIwouldkillsomeone.I’dlookatit,forcemyselftowallowinitforaminute,reallyfeelit.AndthenI’dshifttothinkingabouthowI’dcopewiththosefeelings,whereI’dtuckthemawaywhenitwastimetomoveon.SomanytimesIfeltlikeI’dalreadyfacedsomethingwhenitactuallycame.Ithinkitdesensitizedme.”
“Shit,andhereIwascountingsheep.”
Ihuffoutalaugh.OnlyBailey.
“SoIhadthisplanformyself.Iprogrammeditin.Setitandforgetit.IknewwhatI’ddoifwefoundMicahLane.I’dstopatnothing.IanalyzedwhatI’ddo—theactionsI’dtake—ifIbecameaPOW.Imean,shit,”Iscrubatmyhair,glancingaroundthepeacefulriverbed.“Ievenmadepeacewithdying.Theprospectofdeathdoesn’tbothermeanymore.Idon’tfearit.Thecave—sure,ithauntsmesomedays.Butnotthewaypeoplethink.Theworstpartofitallisthatforallmyobsessivementalpreparation,Ineverletmyselfanalyzewhatitwouldfeelliketobeout,livinglifeasacivilian.Tobe…”
“Famous?”Baileysaysitwithalightgiggle.Evensheknowsthat’sastretch
Isnort.“Idoubtthat’sthewordforit.”
Agrinstretchesherlips.OnlyBaileywouldsmileafterthatstory.“Infamous.”
Igrimace.“Isn’tthatkindofbad?”
Herfingershootsup.“Notorious!”
“Notthatoneeither.”
“Igotit…”Herhandsmakeasweepingmotion.“Legendary”
Isubmergemyheadunderwatertokeepfromburstingoutlaughing.
WhenIcomebackup,sheadds,“Fabled.”
“Jesus,Bailey.”
“Renowned.Famed.Celebrated!”
NowIdolaugh.“I’mengagedtoathesaurus.”
Thewhiteofherteethflashesatme.“Merriam-Websterisawaybetternicknamethansugartits.Justsaying.”
“Sorry,sugar.Thatone’ssticking.”
Iseeashiverrackherbodyassheglancesawayforabeat.Maybeshe’scold,butthisisnice,andI’mbeinggreedy.Idon’twanttogetoutofthewater.
Baileymakes2:11better.
“So…”Herattentionisturnedaway,soIletmyselfsoakherin.Theeleganceinthewayshecarriesherself,thecurveofherneck,thelittledivotaboveherupperlip.“Youwakeupatthesametimeeverynightbecause…”
Aheavysighrushesfromme.“Therapisttoldmeit’sbecause2:11isthevisualrepresentationofthechoicethatforeverchangedmylifeinwaysIwasn’tpreparedfor.EverynightIwakeupandfeelthefireonmyfeet.Theburningissohotitalmostfeelscold.IheartherhythmicalwhippingsoundoftheBlackhawkbladesoverhead,andIfeeladeepsenseofknowingsettlinginmybones.KnowingthatI’mnotgoingtomakeitbackonthattransport.AndeventhoughIknowit,IturnaroundtogogetMicah,butwhenIdo,allIseeisendless,thickblack.Thekindthatswallowsyou,thekindyougetlostinforever.EverynightItrytoturnaroundandcalloutforthemtowaitforme,butit’salreadypuredarknessallaroundme.Mypurposeisgone.”
Iturnmygazedownandbreatheslowly.I’venevertoldanyoneaboutthatdreambefore.
Myhandssluicethroughthewater.Theriverisdark,butnotasdarkaseverythingfeelsat2:11.Idon’tfeelterrorlookingattheinkyliquid,butitdoesechothebleaknessIoftenfeel.
ThenIliftmyheadandmyeyescatchonBailey.
AndIfeelasparkofhope.
Withafisttomymouth,Iclearmythroatandforgeahead.“IguessitsignifiestheendofthejobI’velovedforever—myidentityineverywaythatI’vecometoknowit.Thebeginningofalifethat…well,IneverenvisionedwhatI’ddowhenIgotout.Didn’twantto,soIneverfacedit.KepttellingeveryoneI’dleavethemilitarysoon,butinmyhead,thatwasn’ttheplan.Ithinkthat’swhathauntsme.Ineversawadifferentcareer,orarelationship,orhavingtoactgracioustopeoplewhoarecongratulatingmejustfordoingmyjob.It’sweird.IpromisedmyfamilyforyearsI’dcomebackandworkontheranch,butit’sboring.”
“Onlyboringpeoplegetbored,”shereplies,flippingherselfuptofloat.Thepeaksofhernipplescrestthewaterasshedoes.
“Okay,harsh.”MyvoicecracksandIlickmylips,willingawaytheurgetoreachoutandpalmherbreasts.
“Thosearepossiblytheonlywordsofwisdommydadeverimpartedonme.”
“Sorry,takingadvicefromMr.Jansenisn’tonmybingocardthisyear.”
Shedoesn’treact;shejustkeepsfloating,staringupatthevelvetnight.“You’reagoodguy,Beau.Butyou’rekindofoutoftouch.”
“Comeagain?”
“Doyouknowhowmanypeopleouttheredojobstheydon’tlike?Orareboredwiththeirprofession?Theygetupandgodoajobtheyhatewitheveryfiberoftheirbeingbecausetheydependonthatpaychecktolive.Theydon’thaveasupportivefamilyandabeautifulhousetofallbackon.That’sreallife.Beingashittyemployeeandunreliableatthejobyousaidyou’ddobecauseitboresyou…”Shemovestostanding,reachinguptopushherhairawayfromherface.“That’saprivilege.Recognizeit.”
MymolarsclampdownasIswallow.ForallmyinternalmonologuingaboutlikinghowBaileydoesn’ttreatmelikeeveryoneelse,thisfeelsrough.
Becauseshe’sright.
“Maybeyouwakeupatthattimeeverynightbecauseyouknowyouneedtomakeaplan.Ifthat’swhatbroughtyoucomfortbefore,whystop?Ifyouhateworkingattheranch,don’t.Buthavetheballstotellthepeoplewho’vebeensupportingyou.Andthendosomethingratherthanwallowingaroundinmisery.”
Adry,disbelievingchucklebubblesupfrommychest.“Youreallyhavenofilter,huh?”
“Youhavetoobigofadicktofeelthisbadforyourself.Literally,everythingisatthetipsofyourfingers.Tryalittlegratitude,Beau.Itwillchangethewayyouseethings.Plus,someoneneedstogiveyouadoseofreality.Mightaswellbeyourfiancée.”
It’smyturntopushbackintothewaterandfloat,lookingupatthenightsky.I’mhitwithanintensewaveofdéjàvu.Floatinghereasaboy.I’vealwayslovedtheriver.Thesound,thesmell,thesensationofbeingweightlessinthewater.I’mnotsurewhenIstoppedgoinginandoptedtojuststareatitinstead.
“Okay,fiancée,whatdoyouthinkIshoulddo?You’rethebestexampleIcanthinkofforapersonwhoistakingchargeoftheirlife.”
Baileycomesupclosebeforeflippingonherbacktofloatnexttome.Herfingersbrushagainstmine,sendingajoltofawarenessthroughmylimbs.
Thetwoofus,inthewatertogether,strippeddowninmorewaysthanone.
Oneofmybiggeststrugglesisgoingfromfeelingsoneeded,soimportant,sointegraltoamissionto…not.
ButwithBailey,Ifeellikesheneedsme,andIneedher.
“Idon’tknow,Beau.Ican’tmakethatdecisionforyou.ButIcanhangwithyouwhileyoufigureitout.”
“I’dlikethat.”20Bailey
Bailey:Seeyouattwo,soldier.
Beau:Seeyouattwo,sugartits.
Myknucklesrapagainstthedoor.“Anothernight,anotherswim.Let’sgo,soldier!”
Thisisournewnormal.Everynight,Isetmyalarmfor2:00a.m.andcometowakehim.AndeverytimeBeauyanksthedooropen,mybreathcomestoascreechinghaltinmylungs.
Likenow.
Big,golden,dopey.Iwantnothingmorethantopushhimbackintohisroomandcrawlontopofhimlikewedidaweekago.Iwanthisbig,warmpalmslidingdownmybackandgrippingmyass,butweseemtohavemostlymovedpastthat.
OrmaybejustBeauhas.Me?Istillobsess.
ItrytocoverforthewayI’moglingalleightofhisabsbysnapping,“Youknowyoucouldsetyourownalarm,right?”
Hefollowsmeout,andIcanhearthesmileinhisvoicewhenhesays,“ButIprefertobewokenupbyyou.”
Irollmyeyes,infrustration.ItrytobenicetoBeau,aconfidante,asupporttohim,andhonestly,itfeelslikeIreallyamhisfiancéeinallthewaysexceptthesexway.
Thefurtherwegetfromthatnightwithouthimaddressingit,ortouchingme,orflirtingwithme,themoreitfeelslikeitneverhappened.
Weswim,andsomenightswetalkalot.
Tonight,wedon’t.Idon’tknowifit’sbecausewe’rebothbeyondtiredorifsomethinghasshiftedbetweenus.
“You’requiettonight,”hesaysasweslipnakedintothewater.
Isupposebynowwecouldstartwearingswimsuits,butwedon’t.Idon’tevenfeellikeI’mbeingacreepnowwhenIstareathisbody.
Infact,Istarelonger.Sodoeshe.Neitherofusseemstobeuncomfortablewiththestaring.Idon’tknowifit’sbecausehelikeswhatheseesordoesn’tparticularlycareaboutwhathesees.
AndI’mtoochickenshittoask.
“Soareyou,”Ireply,pushingouttothedeepestpointoftheriverwhereIcan’ttouch.ThisiswhereIforcemylegstocycleandworksothatwhenIgetbacktothehouse,I’mtiredenoughtocrashbackout.
“Beenthinking,”Beaureplies.
“Thinkingisexhausting.”Ichucklesoftly,feelingtheswellandpullofwaterashemovesclosetome.
Superclose.
Socloseourkneesbump.
“Itis.Iwentbacktoitlately.Afterourswims.IimagineallthethingsIcoulddoandhowI’llhandleit.HowI’lltellmyfamily.”
Iwatchhim,noddingslowly.He’sbeenmorereliablearoundtheranch,helpingCadeandhisdad.Iguessthatbitofunfilteredtoughlovedidhimsomegoodafterall.
“Partofwhatwakesmeupisthesensationofmyfeetburning.IscorchedthemwhenIwalkedthroughthatfiretogetbackthroughthetunnels.Theyweresomangled,soinfectedthatIwassuretheinfectionwouldkillme.ImayhavesavedMicah,butinthedaysthatfollowed,whenweholedupinthatcave?Hetookcareofme.”
“Youevertalktohim?”
Beaunods.“Yeah,weemailnowandthen.IthinkI’dliketovisithimsometime.”
“Youshould,”Iagree.
Thehushofthequietnightstretchesbetweenus.
“How’sthejobhuntgoing?”Hisunwaveringgazeneverleavesmine.I’mnotdumbenoughtothinkhedoesn’tknowhowit’sgoing.I’dtellhimifanythingcameofitandmeneverbringingitupisadeadgiveaway.
“It’sgoing.”Irefusetobeallwoeismeaboutit.
“Ithinkweneedtogoout.Beseentogethermore.Wekindahideoutatthebarandatourhouse.”
Ourhousestartlesme.
“It’snotenough.Weneedtosellit.”
“Butyou’llwinthebetifIdon’tgetajob.”
“Whatbet?”
Myeyesroll.“Theonewhereyoubetmethatbeingassociatedwithyouwouldn’thelpmegetanewjob.YouknewthenIwasalostcause.It’slookinglikeyouwereright.”
“Idon’trememberthat.”
Hisintentionalignoranceirritatesme,andmyhandsswishthroughthewater,pushingawaveofitathim.“Thebet?Thedeal?Thefakeengagement?Thewe’renothavingsex?I’lltakeyoutoahospitalifyoukeepfloatingthere,pretendingyoudon’tremember.”
“Irememberitdifferently.Irememberthinkingthatyoudidn’tneedmynameormyassociationtogetajobbecauseyouweresmartandcapableandqualifiedonyourown.Irememberthinkingthere’snowaypeoplewouldholdyourfamilynameagainstyouthatthoroughly.NowIknowthatthistownisalostcauseandyou’retoogoodforit.”
Mychestgoestight,andapricklingsensationtakesrootbeneathmyeyelids.Noonehaseversaidanythinglikethattome.
Ever.
Iclearmythroat.“Okay,well,bethatasitmay,youmuststillwanttowinthebet.”
Hewavesmeoffcasually,eventhoughthewordshesaysnextfeelanythingbutcasual.“I’veneverwantedtoloseabetsobadlyinmylife.Isitevenabet,Bailey?Whatweretheterms?WhatdidIgetifIwon?”
Iblink,tryingtothinkback.Wastherereallynothinginthisforhim?Thatcouldn’tbe.
“Well,yousaidyouwantedyourfamilyoffyourback.”
Helaughswryly,lookingawayashisbig,stronghandcombsthroughhiswethair.“They’regonnaberightbackupinmyshittheminuteyoubreakupwithme.Possiblyworse,actually.”
Panicsurgesinme,andwhereIwasborderlinecold,I’msuddenlyvery,veryhot.“Sothisisjust…apityarrangement?”
“No,Bailey.It’snotthat.”Hisvoicewentfromcoolandcollectedtoroughgravelwithahintofsteel.
“Whatisitthen?Youplayingherowithmylife?”
“I’mherebecauseIwanttobe.”
Myheadshakes.“Thereisn’tevensexinthisforyou.Youmadeitclearyoudidn’twantanymoreofthat,so—”
Hecutsmeoff.“Iwantedmore.”
Myheartgoesfromthuddingloudly,drowningoutallothersounds,tostillandsilent.“What?”
“Youshouldn’tloseyourvirginityduringabet.Idon’twantthatforyou.”
“Ithoughtitwasn’tabet.”
Hisjawworks.“It’saglorifiedbet.”
“Ifyouhadn’tknownIwasavirgin,wouldyouhavefuckedme?”
Hefidgetsnow,handscrubbingathisbeardashegroans.“Jesus,Bailey.”
“Wouldyou?”
Helooksaway,downriver,beforeturningbacktome.Slowly.There’sasuddenpredatoryvibeinthewayhecarrieshimself,inthewayhemoves.“Thoroughly.”
MaybeIshouldbeflattered,butI’mnot.I’mirritated.
Withadisbelievingscoff,Imovetowardtheshore,tryingtohidemyoffensethatamanIbarelyknowistellingmewhatIshouldandshouldn’tdowithmybody.
“Well,Ibrokemyhymenwithatoysometimeago.SoI’mnotsurewhat’ssosacredtoyou.It’smyvirginity.Feelfreetotakethatbenchmarkofmineoffofyourpedestalanytimenow.”
Ireachdown,grabbingmyclothes,barelytakingthetimetowrapmyselfinatowelbeforeslidingmyfeetbackintomysandals.
“Bailey—”
Idon’twanttohearfromhimrightnow.IwanthimtobeasuncomfortableasIam,soIguessthat’swhyItossback,“Besides,ifyouweren’tsolackingincreativity,you’dknowthere’slotswecandothatisn’tsex.”
ThenIleavehimtherewithouttakingasingleglanceback.21Beau
Beau:Youathome?
Bailey:Yes.
Beau:Whatareyoudoing?
Bailey:Edging.
Bailey:FML.Iam*EDITING*.
Bailey:Myresume.Polishingitup.Changingafewthings.
Beau:Wereallyjustgoingtoskipovertheedgingpart?
Bailey:Yes.Itwasanautocorrect.
Beau:Whydoesyourphoneassumeyoumeanedgingthough?
Bailey:Guessmyphoneknowsyou.
“Whatisthat?”BaileypointsattheshinyblackandchromeHarleyIjustpulledupon.
Iboughtittogivemyselfsomethingtodothatisn’tholdingmydickwhilethinkingaboutyou
Idon’tsaythat,though.Instead,Isay,“Mynewmotorcycle,”liketheNeanderthalIamaroundher.
“Butwhy?”Sheliftshersunglassesoffhereyes,pushingthembackonherhead.Iknowwhatshelookslike,butIstudythemovement.She’spaintedhernailsaprettypeachcolorthatpopsagainstthetantoneofherskin.Herlipsglistenwithgloss,andabeadofsweattrailsdownherchest,rightbetweenherbreasts.Theonesproppedupinacreamyorangetrianglebikinitop.
Iassumeshe’swearingmatchingbottoms,butIrefusetoletmyeyestrailthatfardown.
TodayI’mincontrol.Iwon’toglethetwenty-two-year-oldproppedonalounger,sunbathingonmybackdeck.
“BecauseIwantedto.”
“Isthisathingyou’vealwayswanted?”
MyheadquirksasIripoffmyhelmet.“No.Doesitneedtobe?”
Hergazeperusesmeallthewaydownandthenallthewaybackup.She’sblatant.AnditmakesmewonderwhyIkeepthinkingofBaileyasinnocentortreatingherlikeshe’smadeofglass.
Thegirlflatouttoldmewecoulddothingsthataren’tsex,likeIdidn’tknowthatwasanoption.
ButI’vealwaysknownitwas.AndI’vealwaysknownitwouldn’tbeenough.
Shecrossesherlegstightlyandglancesaway.“Justseemskindofunsafe.”
Itakeacoupleofstepsclosertomybackdeck,eventhoughIdreadcomingthatclosetoher.
ProximitytoBaileyhasanintoxicatingeffect.
“Wecouldalldietomorrow,Bailey.Gottadowhatmakesushappytoday.”
Nowhergazeisbackonme,andherbrowrises.She’ssilentlyrubbingmyfaceinwhatwetalkedaboutjustlastnight.
Wouldyouhavefuckedme?Shethrewthewordsatmelikeweapons,didn’tlowerhervolumeordancearoundthesubject.
Iglareatheruntilherplushlipstipupinaknowingsmirk.Shelowershersunglassesandsettlesbackinherloungerasthoughdismissingme.“IfIdidn’tknowyouwereatotalstickinthemud,I’dsayyournewpersonalitytraitisimpulsiveness.”
Ipuffupwithabitofdefensivenessatthat.Afteryearsofspecialforcestraining,myimpulsecontrolissomethingIpridemyselfon.
Youcan’tbeimpulsiveonmissions.It’llgetyoukilled.
Orstranded
Ishovethatthoughtawayasquicklyasitspringstolife.“Iamnotimpulsive,”Imutterandglanceatthecreek,wonderingifIshouldgrabmyfishinggearandheadoutfortheafternoon.It’sSaturdayafterall.NormalpeopledothingslikegoingfishingonSaturdays.
“Couldhavefooledme.”Sheglidesapalmoverthelengthofherslenderarm,asthoughrubbingmoresunscreenin.
“Bailey.”Isighouthername.Inalotofways,Iappreciatehercandor.Inalotofways,shetestsmypatience.
“Youdecidetopickupashort-liveddrinkinghabitatmybar.”Sheholdsherhandup,liftingherfingersasshepreparestolistallthewaysIamoutofcontrol.“Youlookforfightsinsaidbar.”
“Idon’t—”
“Yougetengagedtoagirlyoubarelyknow,mostlyforshitsandgiggles.Youbuyanabsurdlyexpensiveringforher.”Sheflipsthatfingerupandwavesherhandinmydirection.
Agrinstretchesacrossmyface.Idon’tregretthatring,notforonefuckingminute.“Don’tseeyoucomplaining,sugar.”
Baileyshootsmeasaucyglare,and,fuck,shelooksheragewhenshedoes.Ponytailhighonherhead.Silky,lithebodysprawledonmychaiselounge.Nailspaintedobnoxiouslybright.
“Andnowyoubuyamotorcycle?Apparently,I’mtheonlyoneyou’reterrifiedofbeingimpulsivewith.”
Shesoundsbratty.Thetiltofherheadmakesmewanttofistthatthickponytail,giveitatug,andtellhertowatchherfuckingtone.
Ishovemyfistsintothepocketsofmyjeans,it’sfartoohotstandingaroundinleatheranddenimunderthescaldingsun.Ormaybeshe’stheoneIshouldblameforfeelinglikeI’msuffocating.
“Feltprettyimpulsivewhenyoucamethathardonmyfingers,Bailey.”
Hersunglassescoverhereyes,butshe’sglaringatme.Icantellbythewayherlipspurse,bythewayshecrossesherarmsunderherpertbreastsandhershoulderscreepup.
“Putsomeclotheson.I’mtakingyoutothetownfair.”
“No,thankyou.”
“Yeah?How’sthejobhuntgoing,Bailey?”
Shetipsherchinupdefiantly.“Great.Idroppedoffabunchofresumesthismorning.”
“Andthisweek?”
Herjawticks.“YouknowIdid.”
“Hearanythingback?”
“Fuckyou,”shemurmurswithashakeofherhead,clearlyfrustrated.
“Youcan’tkeeplettingthoseassholesseethatyou’rescaredofthem.”
“I’mnot!”shesnaps,andIknowI’vehitasensitivespot.
“You’rebetterthanthem,Bailey.”
Wehaveasilentstaredown.Iknowshe’llneverrespondtomystatement.Isuspect,deepdown,shedoesn’tbelievethewords.
ButIdo.
“Getdressed.Weleavein”—Iliftawristtocheckmywatch—“twohours.I’lltakeyoutodinnerfirst.”
“No.”
“Fine.I’lltakeyouwearingthat.”Iwaveahandoverherorangebikini.“SinceI’msoimpulsive,I’llprobablybreakthewristofeveryfuckerwhosomuchaslooksatyou.”
Herjawdrops,mouthopeningsodaintily.Thespeechlessreactionfuelsme,soIpropmyhelmetonthenewbikeandboundupthestairstogetshowered.
ButnotbeforeIstopatherchair,fistherponytail,tugherheadbacktodropakisstoherforehead,andsay,“Let’sgogive‘emsomethingtotalkabout,sugartits.”
“Everyoneisstaringatus.”
“No,theyaren’t,”Ireplywhileregardingthecheck.
“Theyare.”
Idon’tbotherglancingup.Iknowpeoplearegawking.Talking.Whispering.Idon’tespeciallycare,butBaileydoes.She’skepthereyesdowncast,andshe’sspentmostofourdinnerwithherlefthandhiddenbeneaththetable.
“They’reonlystaringbecausewe’resittingonthesamesideofthisbooth,whichisfuckingweird.”
Herheadsnapsupasshehisses,“You’retheonewhoyankedmeinherebesideyou!”
IsmileatherbecauseIlikewhenshe’sfeistyandshit.Normally,I’dhatethesensationofbeingboxedintoacornerwherethere’snoviewofthedoorandnoeasyescape.It’saterribledefensiveposition.Butitwasworthittonotleaveheraloneontheotherside,exposedtopryingeyes—worthittofeelBaileysocloseforanentiremeal.
Ireachupanddrapeanarmoverhershoulders,pullingherstiffbodyintomine.ThenIdropmyhead,dustingmylipsovertheshellofherear.“Fuckyeah,Idid.AndI’ddoitagain.”
Whenshetiltsherfaceuptomine,herbreathwhispersagainstmylipsashereyesmovearoundmyface.
We’reseatedinthefancieststeakhousethatChestnutSpringsoffers.It’sbookedsolid,fullofpeople,onaThursdaynightthatcoincideswiththekickoffofourweeklongtownfair.
Butwhenshelooksatmewiththisintensity,oursurroundingsmeltaway.
Idon’tknowhownooneelseseesit.Seesher.It’slikewe’reallstaringatthesamepaintingandeveryotherpersoninthistownismissingthepoint.
Withoutthinkingtoolongaboutit,Idropmyheadcloserandletasliveroflightthroughthedoorofourarrangement.Anopeningforhertokissme.
“Weshouldgo,”shewhispers,tiltingherheadeversoslightly.Hersoftlipsgrazemyroughstubble,andI’mtransportedbacktothatnightat2:11whenshecameintomyroom.Thosesamelipsagainstmychest.Hertightheataroundmyfingers.Myutterlackofcontroltostopmyselfwhereshewasconcerned.
“Thanksfordinner.”Thewordsfilterbacktomeassheturnstoslideherselfoutofthebooth.Anotherdelicate,femininesummerdress,thistimeinblue,trailsbehindherontheleatherbench.
Iswallowhardandfollowher,mutteringundermybreath,“You’regoingtobethedeathofme.”
Withastiffback,shetwiststheengagementringonherfingerwhilepeoplestare.She’suncomfortable.It’swrittenalloverherbody,whichiswhymyarmisbackaroundherinnotime.
Ihugheragainstmysideaswewalkthroughtherestaurant.“Doit,sugar.Putyourhandinmybackpocket.Youknowyouwantto,”Imurmurbeforepressingasoftkisstoherhair.
Someonegasps,followedbyatrailofharshwhispers.
He’sbeenthroughalot.
Warchangespeople.
I’msureit’sjustaphase.
Itmakesmefurious.ItmakesmewanttolayBaileyinthemiddleoftheirtableandkisshersenselessjusttoproveafuckingpoint.
Butthatwouldbeimpulsive.
SoIdon’t.
Ikissherhairagain,andthoughIknowshemusthaveheardtheircruelsentiments…sheslidesherhandintomybackpocket,andwepushoutintothesunnysummerevening.
ThesoundsofthefairfilterdownfromtheendofRosewoodStreet.Buzzersbuzzing,bellsringing,childrenscreaming.Theairsmellslikepopcornandcinnamonminidonuts.Wefollowthattantalizingscentdownthesidewalk.
Myarmslungoverhershoulder,herhandinmypocket.
Andallthewaytothefair,neitherofusdrawsaway.22Beau
Harvey:Haven’tseenyoulately.
Beau:Haven’tseenyoulatelyeither.
Harvey:Beenbusy.
Beau:Yeah?Withwho?
Harvey:Youknow.
Beau:No,Idon’t.Youhaven’ttoldmeasinglething.
Harvey:Richcomingfromyou.
Beau:So,anythingyouwanttotellme,oldman?Aboutyou?Yourlife?Anynewstoshare?
Harvey:Nope.Notathing.Mindyourbusiness.
Beau:Chicken.
Iswingtheoversizedhammerovermyshoulderonefinaltime,bringingitdownwitheverybitofpowerIcanmuster.
Ichanneleveryounceoffrustrationthatbubblesinsideofme—thatconstantfeelingofthislifenotbeingenough.Ofneverbeingsatisfied.
I’mrealizingIamdeeplyunsettledandconstantlypeekingaroundeverycornerforthatlittlebitextra.Thatonethingthatwillgivemesomesenseofpeace.
Ithoughtagoodold-fashionedfairgamewoulddothetrick.
Thehammerhitsthepad,andtheweightfliesuptothetop.Thesharpdingofmetalringsoutaroundus,andthesurroundingpeoplewatchingcheer.Iturn,allpuffeduplikeateenagershowingoffforhiscrush.
Excepttodayit’sformyfiancée.Iflexandkissabiceplikeatotaltool.ButIdon’tcare.Thegirllaughingatmemakesitworththeembarrassment.
Igrinather.Baileybitesdownonasmirkandrollshereyes.
“Alright,kid,”therough-around-the-edgescarniesays.Hismullet,whichendsinascragglygraybraid,swaysashewavesatthewallofstuffedanimalsbehindhim.“Pickofthelitterforyouandyourmuscles.”
Somegirlshoutsmyname,askingmetopicksomethingforher,butit’snotBailey’svoice,soIdon’tbothergivingheraglance.Instead,Ianalyzethewallofstuffedtoys.
“Thehorse!”Baileycallsouttome.
Icheckitout,butit’stoosmall.I’mnotlettingherwalkaroundthetownfairwithatinyprizewhenIjustmadethisgamemybitch.
I’mnotreplacingherrippedhorsewithsomecheapfairprize,either.
Itakeasteptowardtheend.
“BeauEaton,don’tyoudarepicksomethinghuge.”
Iturntofacehernow.SheshakesherheadatmeasIwalkbackward,straightintothewaitingarmsof…agiantstuffedraccoon.Thebiggesttoythey’vegot
“Whynot,futureMrs.Eaton?”Icallback,grinningsohardmycheekshurt.“YoulovethatmassiverockIputonyourfinger,don’tyou?”
“Beau.”Iguessit’sherturntousemynameasasingle-wordscolding.
“Youalsolikemymassive—”
“BeauEaton!”Sherushesforward,clampingapalmovermymouth.Hereyessparklewhileherloosehairdancesinthebreeze—she’sfuckingglowing
“Iwasgoingtosaymotorcycle,sugar,”Imumblebehindherhand.ThenIturnoutofhergriptothecarny.“I’lltakethemassiveraccoon,sir.”
“Sir?”Themanchucklesasheunclipstheoversizedstuffedanimal.“NotsureI’veeverbeencalleda‘sir’before.”
Whenhehandsmetheraccoon,IinstantlypassitovertoBailey,amusedbythewayitreachesfrombeneathherchindowntoherknees.
“Thisisridiculous,”shesays,peekingaroundafurryshoulder.
“Utterly,”Iagree.
“AmIsupposedtocarryitallnight?”
Ithrowanarmoverhershoulder,gettingmoreandmorecomfortabletouchingher.Idon’teventhinkaboutit.Ijustdrawherclose.“It?Kindaharsh.Hedeservesaname,don’tyouthink?”
“Whosaidit’samale?”shevolleysback,smilingupatme.Evenwithanoversizedraccooninherarms,shefinallyseemsatease.
SoitkillsmewhenIhearsomeonesayinastagewhisper,“BaileyJansencarryingaroundatrashpandaistheonlythingthatmakessenseaboutthatrelationship.”
Howfuckingdaresomeonesaythatloudenoughforhertohear?
MyeyesnarrowandIgototurn,instantlyreadyforafight,butBaileyisjustasfast.
Herhandshootsupandwrapsaroundmywrist,givingitasharptug.“Don’tbother.”
“Bailey,peoplearen’tallowedtotalktoyoulikethat.”
“Shewasn’ttalkingtome”Baileytugsagain,urgingmeforward.“Shewastalkingaboutme.Andthat’snotnew.Letitgo.”
Ican’tletitgo.
“Don’tbeimpulsive,”BaileyaddsasIturnabruptly.
Myeyeslandonthegirl,andsheflicksherlongblondehairoverhershoulderlikehercrueltymightimpressme.
Fuckher.
Islipintothateerilycool,calculatedzoneIknowalltoowell.Mygazecutsthroughthecrowd,andIswearI’mseeingatthemallthroughthecrosshairsofariflescope.Ipointatthegirl,singlingherout,andprojectmyvoice,enunciatingeverywordverycarefully.
“Talkshitaboutmyfiancéeagain.Ifuckingdareyou.”
Baileyshrinks,butthegirlwhosaiditjustlooks…confused.
Istarehard,notatalluncomfortableintheawkwardsilence.Andwhennoapologiescome,Ishakemyheadatallofthemandleadmygirlawayfromtheconfrontation.
“Beau,youshouldn’thavedonethatjustnow,”Baileywhisperstersely.
“You’reright.Ishouldhavestarteddoingitalongtimeago,”IgritoutasIsetmysightsontheFerriswheel.
Baileydoesn’trespond,andshestayssilentaswewaitinline.Whenwestepontooursquareandopen-aircapsule,Baileyinstantlydivesforthebenchacrossfromme.SheseatsthemassiveraccoonbesideherselfsothatI’mforcedtositfacingher.
Istareatherprofile.Thefemininelineofherjaw,accentuatedbythewayshe’sturnedherheadtogazeoutoverthetown.Theslopeofhernose.Theunnaturalwaythatsheavoidsblinking.
She’dbeterribleundercover.Shelookslikeadeercaughtinheadlights,frozenandunmoving.
Ourunitmovesjerkily,stoppingandgoingastheyloadotherridersintotheseats.Baileystilldoesn’tlookatme,evenwhenwereachhalfwayuponesideofthemassivecircle.
“Bailey.”
“Mm-hmm.”Shecrossesherarmsasthoughthatcouldkeepmeout.
“Comehere.”
“I’mfine.MytrashpandaandIhaveheardworse.Itbarelyhurtsanymore.”Sheturnsnow,givingmethestiffestsmileI’veeverseenonherface.“Getseasiertobrushoffeverytime.”
Hereyespeekupandtotheright.Adeadgiveawaythatshe’slying.
Infact,Igetthesensethisshitisgettinghardertobrushoffallthetime.AndI’mnotsureifourarrangementismakingherfeelbetterorcausinghermoredistressbecausepeoplestillseemtothinkit’sopenseasonforinsultingher.
“Come.Here.”Ifoldmyhand,usheringherforward.
“No,thanks,”shereplies,nottakinghereyesoffthehorizon.
“Forcryingoutloud,Bailey,”IgrumbleasIstand,grabherbythewaist,andfallbackintomyseatwithherstraddlingmylap.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Herexpressionisoneofshockasthepodswingsbackandforthwildly.Theymentionednotstanding,butfuckthat.Sheneededtobeheld.
“Holdingmyfiancée.”Isettlemyhandsonherhips,fingerssplayingdangerouslylowoverthetopofherass.Webothglancedown,acutelyawareofthewaywe’relineduprightnow.Herthighsoneithersideofmine,thehemlineofherdressedgedupoverthem.
Sheswallows,handsonmyshoulders.“Isaidno.”
“Okay.”Herchestrisesandfallsasherbreathingpicksup.IknowwhatIdotoBailey.I’mjustsofuckingtornaboutwhetherornotIshouldbedoingit.“Thengositbackoverthere,ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
Sheclearsherthroatandstaresattheviewlikethere’ssomethingfuckinginterestingouttherewhenwebothknowit’sjustalotofflatfarmlands.“We’renotsupposedtostandup.”
Ialmostlaugh.Webothknowwhat’sgoingonhere.Agedifferencebedamned.Betbedamned.BaileyandIlikeeachother.Wewanteachother.Butwebothknowweshouldn’tcomplicatethingswhenthisagreementhasaprettyfirmenddate.There’saprettyobviouspartingofwaysonthehorizon.Onethatdoesn’tfeelveryamusingatall.
So,Idon’tlaugh.Idipmyheadforwardandpressasoftkisstothecenterofherchest,justbeneathwherehercollarbonesmeet.
Shesucksinabreath,archingintowardme.“Whatareyoudoing?”HerfingersfistthecollaredshirtIputonjustforhertonight.
“Kissingmyfiancée.”Idragmyclose-cutstubbleoverherchest,dottinghercollarboneswithkissesasIgo.
“Why?”
“BecauseIwantto.”
Herfingersextendovermyshoulders,slidingupmyneckasashiverracksherbody.“Butnoone’swatching.”
Iflicktheflimsystrapofherdressandwatchitfallaway,danglinglimpoverherbicep.“Whydoesanyoneneedtobewatching?”Ikissthespotwhereherstrapwasandglanceupather.Withthelowsunbehindher,hersilkyhairblazeslikeadarkfire.
Hertonguedartsoutoverherfullbottomlipashermouthpartsonashakybreath.“Becausethisismeanttobeforshow.Right?”
Iwatchherwatchingme.HerquestionhangsbetweenuslikealineIknowIshouldn’tcross.AlinesheknowsIshouldn’tcross.AlinethatisbecomingconsistentlylessstarkthemoretimeIspendgettingtoknowBailey.
ThemoretimeIspendwithmyhandsonher.
“Well,Bailey.”Herfacedipscloser,asthoughshe’sstrugglingtohearmeoverthenoiseofthefair.“Wecangivethemallashowwhenwe’reatthebottomandjustenjoyourselveswhenwe’reatthetop.Wecanwalkoffthisridelookingalittletousled.Howdoesthatsound?”
Sheflushes,cheeksbrightpink,justlikeherpartedlips.Herbodyhumsinmyhands,andthesurroundingairisdownrightelectric.
“Soundsgood,”shewhispers.
“Youtellmeifthere’ssomethingyoudon’tlike,okay?”Islidemypalmoverherelbow,wantingnothingmorethantogiveherpleasureaftertheearlieraltercationmadehercrumble.Shewentfromvibrantandhappytolockeddownandwounded.
Ineverwanttoseethatlookonherfaceagain.Iwanttopatchherbackupandsendheroutintotheworldwithconfidence,knowingshedeservesrespectandisstrongenoughtodemandit.
“Okay,”hervoicecracks,andherthumbswipesoverthebonebehindmyearasshesettlesherweightonmycrotch.
Igiveherasternnod,willingmycocktonotgofullmast.Butthat’salosingbattle.
WhenIdropmylipstothesofttopsofherbreasts,thetwangingsoundofthatoneflimsythreadofmycontrolsnappingechoesinmyears.
Impulsive
Thewordrepeatsinmyheadasmyhandsroamherbody.AndIdon’tgiveafuck.
Beingimpulsivehasneverfeltthisgood.
Mytonguedartsout,leavingatrailofglisteningsalivaoverhercleavage.Herheadtipsbackandshemoans,allbreathyandscandalizedsounding.
Thatfuckingmoan.
Allhopeofnotwalkingoffthisridewitharaginghard-onevaporatesinaninstant.Poof.Gone.
Imovebackupherchest,herthighssnugagainstmineasshesqueezesherselfcloser.Tighteragainstme.
HerfingersdiveintomyhairasIworkmywaybackuphersternum.Itakemytimeandsavoreveryinchofher.Everylittlehuffofbreath,everywhimper.
Butthecloserwedrawtotheground,tothelineofpeoplewhowillnodoubtseeus,themoreshetensesup.She’snotashowyperson.She’sperfectedflyingundertheradar,andstraddlingmeinpublicisdefinitelynotthat.
“Bailey.”
“Yeah?”
Mylipsbrushovertheexpanseofskinwhereherneckmeetshershoulder.Ihaven’tkissedherlipsyet.
I’mstillnotsureIshould.NotsureI’llrecover.
NotsureI’llbeabletowalkawayafterthat.
“Ignorethem.”Irakemyfingersthroughherhaironthesidewherepeoplecongregate,tryingtobreakherlineofsight.
Westaylockedinatense,quietmoment.Myhandinherhair,myarmoverherback,cagingherin.
“Ignorethem,”Isayagainaswetrendbackupagain.
“It’shard,”shewhispersagainstmyear,soundingalittlebroken.
Whenwe’vepassedthecrowdsandheadbackupintotheeveningsky,Iask,“Doyoumeanthis?”Iguideherhandbetweenmylegstomycock.
Shesucksinabreathbutdoesn’tpullaway.Herhandgripsmethroughmyjeansalmostinstantly,likeshejustcan’thelpherself.
“OrdoyoumeanhowhardI’mgoingtobiteyouforthehickeyyouleftonmynecklasttime?”
Idon’tgiveherachancetoreplybeforeIlatchontothetenderfleshofherneck.Onehandtravelsunderherskirt,grippingherasshardenoughtoleavemarkstheretoo.
Thesharpgaspthatrushesfromhersiftsthroughmyclose-cuthairandovermyneck.Ipullawayandstareattheredspotbloomingonherneckbeforemeetinghersultrygaze.Bailey’spreviouslyworriedeyesarenowfulloffire.
“Impulsivelooksgoodonyou,Bailey,”Iraspbeforeliftingherstrapbackontohershoulder,thenoptingtoholdheragainstmychestfortherestoftheride.
Holdingherseemssafeenough.Saferthankissingheragain,thanbitingheragain.Bettertopullbacknowbeforewebothloseourmindsandgoaltogethertoofar.23Bailey
Ican’tsleep.I’vetried.
WhenIclosemyeyes,IseeBeau.
IsmellBeau.
ItasteBeau.
IhearBeau.
IfeelBeau’shandstouchingmelikeI’mhisforreal.Ifeelhiscockhardforme
MybrainisallBeau,allthetime.IfeellikeI’vegotasongstuckonrepeat.OneIcan’tgetoutofmyhead.
MybrainkeepsmissingthememothatthisthingbetweenBeauandmeisfake.
It’scutehowIthoughtgettingoutofbartendermodetofallasleepwashard.
Butthisisworsethanthesensationofgoingaroundincirclesallnightlongthatusuallyfollowsmetobed.
Somuchworse.I’mspinningalright,andit’sadownwardspiralthatI’mtoohornytostop.
Icheckmyphone.It’s1:54a.m.andIhavemyalarmsetforsixminutesfromnow.So,there’snopointintryingtosleep.I’mmentallypreparingmyselftowalkacrossthathallwayandslaponacheeryfacade.OnewhereIpretendIdidn’tgropehisdickinpublic,atafamily-friendlyevent.
I’mnotevensureifBeauishere.Afterthefair,hewalkedmetothehouse,usheredmeinside,andsaidhewasgoingtoCade’shouse.Thenlockedthedoorbehindme.
So,I’vebeenaloneandlefttomydevices.Tomyviciousthoughts.
Myheadtookmedowntherabbitholeofhowthetownwillspinwhatwedid.They’llchalkmeuptobeingacheapwhore.AndBeauwillbethepoor,sadsoldierjusttryingtofindhisway.Rightfullyblowingoffsomesteam,they’llsay.
IcanjusthearthewaytheoldbiddieswhomeetformorningcoffeeatLePamplemoussewilltalkaboutit.
ThatfilthyJansengirlmaulingpoorBeauEaton.
BlessBeau.Blesshisgoodfuckingheart.Foramanwhohasseensomuch,he’ssuregotrose-coloredglassesonwhenitcomestomeandmyreputation.
Maybewebothunderestimatedhowdeeplythistownhatesme,becauseIdon’tthinkthepromiseofhislastnameishelpingatall.
Itmightactuallybemakingthingsworse.
Beforethisengagement,Imovedaroundtownlikeashadow.NowImovewithabigfreakingtargetonmyback,followedcloselybyabunchofenviouseyesthatseemtotrackmeeverywhereIgo.
Iflopontomybackandpresstheheelsofmyhandsagainstmyeyesockets,preparingmyselftogetoutofbed.Myhandsfallawaywhenthesoundofanalarmfiltersinfromacrossthehall.Theshrill,repeatingbeepshattersthesilenceforafewmoments.It’sfollowedbyagruff,“Fuck,”thenheavyfootsteps.
Ilieflatonmyback,alertandlistening.
Thequietclickofadoor.Softerfootfalls.Andthen…silence.
Icheckmyphone.It’s1:59a.m.onthenose.Oneminutebeforemyalarm.
IswearIcanfeelBeaustandingoutsidemydoor.We’reholdingourbreathintime.These2:11meetingstakeatollonoursleepandourabilitytothinkstraight.
Alightknock.Butterfliesinmystomach.
“Bailey?”
Myheartpounds.Thisisn’ttheroutine.I’mtheonewhosetsthealarm.Iflipmylegsoutofbed,oversizedT-shirtfallingmid-thighasthecoolfloorseepsintothebottomsofmyfeet.Withmyhandonthedoorknob,Ipause.Idon’tknowwhy.Beaudoesn’tscaremeormakemeuncomfortable.Quitetheopposite,infact.
Yetmythroatisdry,andmybodyiscoileduptightlikeaspring.IfIdidn’thavemyfingerswrappedaroundthemetallever,myhandwouldshake.
“Yeah?”Iask.
“Youup?”
Mylipscurve.“That’sanawfullydumbquestionforatieroneoperator.”
“Openthedoor,”hegrumbles,clearlyexasperatedbymyresponse.Butwhocouldblameme?Thatwasadumbquestion.
Iopenthedoortofacemybig,dumbsoldier.Hisbodypracticallyfillsthecorridor,consumingthespace,theair.He’sasilhouetteinadarkenedhallway,litbythesoftglowofhisroombehindhim.Beau’senigmaticpresencesucksalltheshadowsinfromaroundhim,straightintohisdarkness.
Meincluded.
“Yousetyouralarm?”Iinchtowardhim,fingerscurledaroundthedoorframetokeepmyselftethered,asthoughholdingontothemoldingmightkeepmefromreachingforhim.
“Yeah,butIdidn’tneedto.Ikeepwakingupattwoeverynightnow.”
“Butnot2:11?”
“Well,Idon’tknow.Haven’tmadeitthere.”
Iworrymybottomlip.“Thenwhydoyoukeeplettingmesetanalarmandcomewakeyouupforaswim?”
Heshrugsanddropshergaze.“Ienjoygoingswimmingwithyou.”
“Soyoujustlietherewaitingformetocomeknock?”
Hislipstwistinamischievoussmirk.“Yeah.”
Adisbelievinglaughbubblesupoutofme.“Beau.Eaton.DoyouknowhowfuckingtiredIam?”
Helookssoboyishrightnow,onlymildlychastised.Hedoesn’tofferanapology.
Instead…
Heoffersawordlessthankyou.
Histhicklycordedarmextendsintothespacebetweenus,andmyeyesneedaminutetoadjusttowhatI’mseeinginthedimlight.
“Isthat…”
Ireachout,fingersbrushingagainstthematted,almostwoollytextureofmystuffedhorse’scoat.
“Istitchedit.”
Iletgoofthedoorframeandtakethetoyinbothhands.Myfingertipsrunoverthelineofperfectstitchesdownherside.“Youstitchedher.”
Hescrubsathisbeard.“Right.Her.Well…she’sFranken-ponynow.”
TearswellinmyeyesandIblinkrapidlytopushthemaway,notriskingaglanceupatBeau.I’llsobifIdo.
“Ifoundherinapark,forgottenonabench.”Itracethethreadlinesagainandlaughdryly.“IknownowIprobablystolesomeotherkid’stoy.But,man,inthatmoment?God.Itfeltliketheuniversegiftedmesomethingthatwasmeanttobejustmine.Ididn’tgetBarbiesortoys,butIhadPrincessPeach.”
“PrincessPeach?”
Isniff.“Yeah.ThatchangedintojustPeachessomewherealongtheway.ButI’mnotgoingtolieandsayIdidn’tfeellikeaprincesswalkingaroundwiththisstuffyforalongtime.”Ismileatthelittlebeigehorse.“Ithoughtshe’dbeinalandfillsomewherebynow.”
“Hadtodigthroughthreebagsofgarbagetofindher.”
Thebridgeofmynosestings.
“AndthengogetamendingkitfromWilla.”
“IsthatwhyyouwenttoCade’s?”Ifinallyforcemyselftoglanceupathim,hisruggedfeaturesappearingdarkerinthenight.
Heshrugs.“Yeah.Willahasallsortsofcraftshit.Includingextrastuffing.She’sgonefullMarthaStewartmom.”
Ismilesadly.Whatmustthatbelike?Havingamomwhodoescraftswithyou?
“Thankyou,”Iwhisper,strokingthefuzzy,pilledmane.Touchingthethreadbarefauxleatherthatcoversherhooves.“Thankyousomuch.”
Ilaunchmyselfathim,hugginghimalmostviolently.Mybodyflyingtowardhislikeamagnetthatcan’tresistthepull.Myarmsclamparoundhistorso,Peachespressedtohisback,asasurprisedwhooshofhisbreathbreezesoverthetopofmyhead.IfeellikeI’vesqueezedtheairoutofhislungs.AndyetIcontinueclingingtohim,andafterafewshortbeats,hisarmswraparoundme,andhehugsmeback.
Isigh.Imeltagainsthim.Theprotectiveshellaroundmyheartsoftens.Idon’tthinkanyonehaseverdonesomethingsothoughtfulforme.
“You’rewelcome.”Hisvoiceisgritty.Itscrapesacrossmyskin,downthesideofmyneck,andsummonsgoosefleshovermyforearms.
Thenhestepsback,handsonmybiceps.HoldingmeatadistancewhenIwishhe’dgoontouchingme.
“Let’sgoswimming,”Isaybrightly.Tryingtocovertheemotion,theconfusioninmyvoice.Unabletocontinuefacinghim,IturntoplacePeachesonmybed
Buthisvoicestopsme.
“Nah,Bailey.Getsomesleep.”
WhenIswingbackaround,he’sproppedhishandagainstthetopofthedoorframe.Likeit’sholdinghimback.Thesamewayitdidme.Untilhegavemethesweetestgiftandknockedawayallmyrestraintinonefellswoop.
“ButIthoughtyoulikedswimmingwithme?”
ThewayhisarmisslungabovehisheadhashisbicepbulgingandhisshouldertuggingatthefabricofhisT-shirt.Irememberthewayheclampedmeagainsthimwiththatexactarm.ThewayIfeltwrappedupsafeinhim.
“Ido.”
“But—”
“Butyou’retired.SoamI,andit’sprobablypast2:11now.Wecouldbothusesomesleep.”
Inod,pressingmylipstogetherandtakinganothersteptowardthedoorway.Towardhim.
ForallthenightsI’vebegrudginglydraggedmyselfoutofbed,Ifindmyselffeeling…wounded.EventhoughIlogicallyunderstandhischoicenottoswimtonightisn’tabigdeal,Ican’tshaketheirrationalemotion.
Ireachforthedoorhandle,offeringhimawansmile.“Yeah.Totally,”Isaylamely.“Haveagoodsleep.”
Hisgazedragsdownmybody,thenslowlybackup,settlingonmylipsforabeat
Thenhetapsaflathandagainsttheframetwice—socasually—beforedrawingaway.Forsomereason,thisexchangeispainfullyawkward.Thehumorweusuallycompensatewithisnotablyabsenttonight.
“Iseverythingokay?”Iblurt,footsteppingoutintothehallashetakeshisfirststepaway.
“Ofcourse,Bailey.”Hegivesmeareassuringsmileoverhisshoulderandthentakesanotherstep.
“Whyhaven’tyoukissedme?”Myquestionringsoutintheemptyspace.Iswearitechoesthroughtheentireoversizedhouse.
Beaufreezes,goingeerilystill.Hedoesn’tturntofacemewhenhesays,“Whatdoyouthinkthatdarkredmarkonyourneckisfrom?”
Ireachup,pressingmyfingerstowhatIknewwouldbethereinthemorning.“That’snotwhatImeant.”
Hesighs,shouldersrisingandfallingheavily.Hestilldoesn’tturnmyway.“I’vekissedyouplenty.Asmuchasisneededtosellthis.Idon’twanttobluranylines.”
Sellthis.Mystomachdrops.Itmakesmefeellikethere’ssomethingdirtyandundesirableaboutme.
“Right.”Myvoiceisbreathy.“Doyouthinkpeoplewillfinditweirdifweneverkissnormally?”
Heturnsnow,handsproppedonhiships.
“Likearealcouple?”Iadd.
“Doyouseelotsofrealcouplesouttherekissingonthelipsallthetime,Bailey?CauseIdon’t.It’smorejustfamiliartouchesinpublic,don’tyouthink?”
Inod,swallowing.He’snotwrong.I’mjusttired.Andconfused.
“Tobefair,Idon’tseemanycouplesfull-onmakingoutontheFerriswheelwhileavoidingeachother’slips,either.”
Hestares,eyesnarrowing.
“Isthereareasonyou’dbeokaywithkissingmyshoulderbutnotmylips?Isitme?Iknowpeopletalkalotofshitaboutme,butdidIdosomethingthat—”
“Bailey,don’tfinishthatfuckingsentence,”hegrindsout,backtoscrubbingahandoverhismouth.
Hesoundsangry,anditmakesemotionwellupinme.Inmyeyes.Inmyvoice.Fuck,I’mabouttocry.Icanfeelitcoming,butIforgeaheadanywayinathick,raspingvoice.“IfI’mdoingsomethingwrong,you’lltellme,right?SoIcandothisforrealwithsomeoneonedayandnotmakeatotalfoolof—”
“Fuckit!”Hishandripsawayfromhismouth,likehetoreoffapieceoftapethatwaskeepinghimfromtalking,andwithtwolongsteps,he’shere.
Infrontofme.
Cuppingmyhead.
Backingmeupagainstthedoorframe.
Andkissingme.
TheedgeofthemoldingbitesbetweenmyshoulderbladesasBeaudevoursme.Firmlips,softtongue,roughstubble,bighands.
Heconsumesme.
Andthereisn’tasoulheretoseeit.Thisisjustmeandhiminadarkhallway.Thisis…Idon’tknowwhatthisis.
Thehickeyhegavemepulsesonmyneck,thepadsofhisfingersrakedownthebackofmyhead,histhumbstrokesatmyjawline,allwhilehekissesmesenseless.
Aswipeofatongue.
Amoan.
Thepressofabody.
Myhandsonhisabs.Hischest.
Forhoweverlongwekiss,Idon’tfeellikedirtyBaileyJansen.Ifeellikeawomankissingamanwhowantsher.Reallywantsher.Hecan’tfakethis.Noonecouldfakethis.Nooneisthatgood.
Eventually,thefeverbetweenusebbs.Hard,heavykissesturntoslow,languidones.Hemeltsagainstme,hipsonhips.Mycalfrubsagainsthis,andmyhandslayflatonhispecs,nolongersearchingandtugging.Justsettling.
“Bailey,”hemurmursagainstmydamp,swollenlips.“Youaredoingnothingwrong.Youhavedonenothingwrong.Anyonewhotalksshitaboutyouiscruelandsmall-mindedandnotworthyofyourattention.Youarefuckingperfect.”
Beaupressesakisstomycheekandthenpullsawaytodiveintomyeyes.Long,strongfingersbrushthroughmyhairandthencurveastheytuckitbehindmyears.Hishandssettlearoundmyneck,andhestaresmedownsoseriouslythatIcan’thelpbutstareback,can’thelpbutlistenandhearwhathe’ssaying.
Inod,eyesflutteringshutasherubshisthumbsoverthetopsofmycheekbones,wipingawaytearsheneverletfall.
“Gotobed,Bailey.”
Myeyessnapopen,mybodywhining.Thisisit?
“Getsomesleep.”
Idon’tknowwhattosay.I’veneverhadahotoldermankissmestupidandthentellmetogotobed.
SoIjustnod.
Henodsbackatmeandstepsaway,handsfallingfrommycheeks.Iwanttoyellathimtoputthemback.Iwanthishandsonme.Alloverme.Insideme.
Istayslumpedagainstthedoorframe,bonelessandstunnedfromhiskiss.Itwasn’tmyfirstkiss,butitwasmyfirstkisstofeellikethat
Likethehousecouldcrumblearoundusandwewouldn’tnotice.
LikeIwassafe.
He’ssteppingbackintohisroomwhenIfinallydrumupthewilltoformwordsagain.“Hey,Beau?”
“Yeah?”Heturns,grippinghisdoorhandle.
“Why’dyoukissmewithnooneheretoseeit?”
Thesubtlesmirkthatplaysacrosshislipsmakesmystomachflip.It’sfullofpromise,andsensuality,andexperience
“BecauseIwantedto.”
Andwiththat,heshutsthedoor.24Bailey
Iworrymylipbetweenmybottomteethandthenforcemyselftostopfidgeting.
ThenItugatthebottomhemofmyblazer.
Thewomanbehindthecountereyesme,butnotinanappreciativewaylikeBeau.It’sjudgmental,notingmyflawswitheveryinchhereyesroam.Theycatchonmyoversizedengagementring.
“Icanworkweekends.Myshiftsatthebardon’tusuallystartuntilfive.”
Thewomanstillsaysnothing,thesheetofpaperinherhandcrinklingbeneathhergrip.Basedonthenametagattachedtohershirt,hernameisMary.AsIwouldexpectfromsomeonewhoownsahairsalon,Maryhasperfecthair.It’sawarmgoldcolor,withshadesofblondelacedthroughout.
Iwipeaclammyhanddownmylocksasshepeeksatmyresume.Myhairmaybeplaindarkbrown,butIconsideritoneofmybetterfeatures.Thickandfallingpastmyshoulders—mostlybecauseIgoaslongaspossiblebeforespringingforahaircut.IdrivetothecityeverytimebecauseIlovemyhairandI’mtooparanoidtoletanyoneinChestnutSpringscutit.
MaybeifMarygottoknowmeshe’dbeokaywith—
“We’renothiring.”Shesmilesinawaythatlookspainfultoherasshehandsthepaperbacktome.I’mtoostunnedtoevenliftmyarmandtakeitback.
“Butthere’sasigninthewindow.Itsaysyou’relookingforareceptionist.”Emotionbleedsintomyvoice.Anger?Frustration?Pleading?It’ssomecombinationofthemall.
Herheadflipstowardthewindowandtheplasticsignleaningagainsttheglass.“Oh.”ThatohisallittakesformetoknowMaryisfullofshit.
“Imusthaveforgottentotakethatdown.”Onplatformsandals,shetottersovertothefrontwindow,swipesthesign,andbringsitbacktothefrontdesk.“There,”shefinishesbrightly.
Icanbarelymakeeyecontactwithher,butIforcemyselftodoitbecauseIrefusetobeanythinglessthankind,level-headed,andprofessional.Thatway,peoplecansayanythingtheywantaboutme,butthey’llneverhaveproof.
Theycansaymyfamilyisrotten.Theycanrefusetohireme.Buttheonuswillalwaysbeonthem,becausethey’retheoneswhohavetolivewithknowingtheyhatemefornogoodreason.
“Thankyouforyourtime,”IsayevenlyasIturntowardthedoor.It’swhenmypalmspressagainstthecoldmetalpushbarthatIturnbackandadd,“You’llwanttotaketheonlineaddowntoo.Sinceyoufilledtheposition.”Mylipstipup,butmyheadtiltsinawaythattellsherIcansmellherbullshitfromhere.
Ipushoutthedoor,andassoonasIhitthestreet,mysmilefallsaway.
Thesunisbright.Thepavementishot.Andforsomestupidreason,IthoughtwearingapantsuitIboughtatthethriftstorewouldmakemeappesarmorehireable.
SometimesI’madorablynaive,eventomyself.
“Ugh!”ThenoisecomesoutangryandsharpasItugatthetopbuttonsofmyblouse.Ibuttonedittomythroat—asthoughthatwouldmakemelooklesslikeaharlot—tocoverthehickeyfromthemanwhowasalreadyupandgonetoworkontheranchthismorning.
SomeonewalkingbyliterallyflinchesasIundothreefuckingbuttonssoIcanbreathe,getalittleairflow.
I’mtiredandfrustratedandonthevergeoftears.
HadIbeentiredthenightbefore?
Yes.
Hadthemostelectrickissofmylifebeenthemagictickettoputmetosleep?
Hellno.
I’mmoretiredthanIalreadywas,andIneedacoffee.IshoveintoLePamplemousse,thequaintParisiancafé.Ellen,whoownsit,isalwayskindtome.I’msureshe’dhireme,exceptshedoesn’tneedanyone.Sheworkstheplaceexclusivelywithherhusband.Ithinkit’sadorabletheycanworktogetheralldayandnotwanttokilloneanother.
IfeelflusteredasIenterthebustlingspace.MyskinheatstovolcanolevelsasIgetinlineandsenseeyesonme,butIkeepmychinup,staringahead,pretendingtobeoblivious.
“…dadisbackintown.”WhenIhearthewhisperfromatablebesideme,Iabsorbafull-bodyflinch.
Mydadisintown?Notthatitmatters.He’sneverpaidmuchattentiontome,otherthanblamingmeforshitthatwasn’tmyfaultasachild.Inadulthood,though?Hasn’thadmuchuseforme.Theonlyusefulthinghedoesiskeepmybrothersincheck.
Someonecutsinfrontofme.AsifI’mnotinlineatall.AsifIdon’tevenexist.Ishiftmyfocusaway,asthoughtheartavailableforpurchaseonthewallhassuddenlypiquedmyinterest.IfIweresomeoneelse,I’dtapthisguyontheshoulderandgivethemapieceofmy—
“Mydude.”MyheadsnapstowardthevoiceIrecognize.Willa,CadeEaton’sfiancée,isstandingbesideme.Shehasherbabyslungonherhip,wildredmaneflowingaroundherstunningface,andindignationrollingoffofherinwaves.“Iknowyoudidnotjustcutmysister-in-lawoffandpretendlikeyoudidn’tseeher.”
Hervoice.It’sloud.Andeveryonehearsit.Iswearapincoulddropintheplace.Iwanttofoldinonmyself,likeatidylittlepieceoforigami.Transformintosomethingelseentirely.Somethingthatnoonecanseeorrecognize.MaybeevenwithwingssoIcouldflyaway.
“Seriously?”TheguygivesWillaanannoyedlook.“She’saJan—”
“She’sanEaton.Butfurthertothat,she’sahuman.Awoman.Andyou,myfriend,areanasshole.”
Theman’sbrowsshootuponhisforehead.FirstMaryandnowhim.Itneverfailstoimpressmethatinasmalltownbigenoughformetonotknoweveryone’sname,theyallknowmine.
Themanstilldoesn’tmove.Tobefair,Ithinkshe’sshockedhimintostillness.
Willa’sarmshootsout,pointingbehindme.“Backofthebus,dickhead.Who’syourmama?I’dliketocallherandaskhowsheraisedyousoIcanfileitawayunderwhatnottodo.”
Iglancedownatthefloor,hopingaholemightopenbeneathme.Arockymawthatswallowsmewhole.I’vebeenkissedbyBeauandnowrescuedbyWilla,andthisisallsofuckingembarrassingthatnowmightbethetimetogo.
ButWillajustlinksherbaby-lessarmthroughmineandwalksmeahead,cuttingthedickheadoffthewayhedidme.Thensheturnsandgrinsatmeconspiratorially,lookingalittleunhingedandalotpleasedwithherself.“Goodmorning,Bailey.”
Atfirst,Istareatherblankly,andthenIblurt,“You’renuts.”
“Iknow.”Shegrinswider.“Cadesaysit’soneofmybestqualities.Well”—herheadtiltsinconsideration—“andmytits.”
Ican’thelpit.AllmytensionbubblesoverandIlaugh.
“Therewego.That’swhatweliketohear,isn’tit,Emma?”
Thelittlegirlwithamopofdarkhairclapsherhandswithexcitementandit’simpossiblenottosmile.
“She’sadorable.”
“Yeah,thanks.Iagree.”TheexpressiononWilla’sfaceasshestaresatherbabyispurewonder.Purelove.Itpinchesaspotinmychest.
Thelinemoves,andsodoesWilla,armstilllinkedwithmineaswestepforward.“So,didBeaumanagetofixyourstuffedhorse?”
Iflush,thinkingaboutthesweetgifthegavemelastnight.Orregifted?Upcycled?Idon’tknowwhattocallit.Butheseweditmeticulously.WhenIcrawledbackintobedwithPeaches,Isqueezedhertomychestandtookahugeinhale.Shedidn’tsmellmustyorlikethegarbageshenodoubtspentsometimenexttointhatblackbag.
ShesmelledlikeBeau’scitronellasoap.I’malmostpositivehewashedanddriedherafterrestuffingandmendingher.
Shesmelledlikehome.
Iclearmythroat,realizingIcheckedoutforaminute.“Yeah,hedid.She’sprettymuchgoodasnew.Justacoolbadassscarandawildstorytotell.”
ThesmilethattouchesWilla’slipsnowissoft,notthemaniacalgrinfrombefore.
“KindalikeBeau.”
“Imean,hespeaksinthesesuperiordirtylooksthathe’sbeengivingmesincewewerekids.Butthenheturnsaroundanddoesnicethingsforme.LikebringingSkylarStonetoperformatourwedding?”
Willawalkedmeallthewaytothetill,chattingmyearoff,eventhoughSummerandSloanewerealreadywaitingatatableforher.Iorderedmycoffee,andsheorderedmeamimosa.NowI’msittingatatablebythewindowdoublefistingwiththemallonaFridaymorning.
Lifeisawildride.
“Fordissoextra.”Summerlaughs.
“Wait,sohe’snot…insanelikeyou?”Sloanesmirksfrombehindherchampagneglass,stilldressedinatankandtightshortsfromdancingthismorning.
“Iresentthat,”Willavolleysdryly.
I’mhavingsomesortofout-of-bodyexperience.ItfeelslikeIgotinvitedtohangoutwiththecoolkidsatschool.Andnowthey’resittinghere,talkingaboutpersonalstuff,razzingeachother,likethere’snothingweirdaboutmebeinghereatall.
“Butit’strue.”Willasipshermimosa.“Weareopposites.Ithinkmymom’sbodysavedallthepersonalityformeandgaveallthenerdy,overachieverdrivetoFord.Heprobablyrannumbersandcreatedbusinessplansinthewomb.Ifheevermeetssomeone,she’sgoingtohavetospeakbitch.Becausehecanbearealbitch.SometimesImissworkingforhim.Drivinghimnutswasthebest.”
Thatgetsaroundofchucklesfromthetable.
“Butheisagoodguy,”Summersays.“Ithinkyou’regivingthemthewrongimpression.Youtwohavethewholesiblingthinggoingon.AndIknowyougooutofyourwaytoannoyhim.”
Willajustshrugs,amischievousglintinhereye.
SummerturnstoSloaneandmenow.“You’llmeethimattheweddingandrealizeWillaisexaggerating.”
Thewaytheytalkaboutmeisjust…likeit’sagivenI’llbethere.Thesewomendon’tmakemefeellikethey’redoingmesomehugefavorbyhavingmealong.Theyactlikeit’sperfectlynormaltoincludeme,andIletmyselfsinkintothat.
Afterallthat’stranspiredtoday,it’snicetobewanted.
“Anotherround?”Willaglancesaroundatus,alreadynoddingherhead.
“Another?”Sloanedoesn’tsoundquitesosure.Hermimosaappearstobecompletelyuntouched.“It’saFridaymorning.Justgetmeanorangejuice.”
“It’sboozybrunch,Sloane.It’stradition.Putyourbiggirltutuonandchugthat.Yougotsomewheretobe?OrareyouwussingoutbecauseyournewbestieWinterisbusywithhernewboytoy?”
ApoutformsonSloane’slips.“No,JasperisattrainingcampinRoseHillandsoI’mprettymuchjustdancingtopassthetime.”
“Perfect!”Willaslapsherleg,plopsherbabyintoSummer’slap,andsays,“IalwaysdancebetterwhenI’mdrunk.”Shestandsandwaltzestowardthecounterwithoutacareintheworld.
There’ssomethinginspiringaboutWilla.
“IwanttobeherwhenIgrowup.”Ididn’tmeantosayitoutloud,butthewordsslipoutinamomentofwonder.
“Ithinkwealldo,”Sloanesayssoftly,nodding.
“Speakingofwhenwegrowup,”Summerventuresin,“whatareyourplans?Youdon’tstrikemeasaliferatthebar,Bailey.”
“Ha!”Thechampagnehasmefeelinglooseandalaughburstsfrommeloudenoughthatpeopleturntostare.I’vemostlystoppedcaringaboutjudgmentaleyesonme.ButSummerhasalwaysbeenkindtome,soIknowshemeanswellwiththequestion.She’sprobablylookingoutforBeau.“Howcouldyoutell?”
Shesmilesatmebutoffersnothing.She’salwaystreatedmenormally,thewayanystrangerwhodoesn’tknowapersonwouldtreatsomeonenew.Butnowshe’sbeeninChestnutSpringslongenoughtoknowthestoriesaboutmyfamily,andshestillhasn’tchangedhertune.
MaybeIwanttobeSummerwhenIgrowup.
“Yeah,myultimateplanistogetouttahereandgotoschoolinthecity.Probablykinesiologyandthenchiropracticschool.”
“Ohmygod,Iwouldlovetoberelatedtoachiropractor.”Sloanemoansthewords.“IcouldaskyoutofixmybackanytimeIwant.”
Summer’schocolateeyesstayonmine.“You’dbegreatatthat.”
“Thanks.”Ismileandliftmymimosa.
“HowdoesBeaufeelaboutyoumovingtothecity?”
IfreezeasithitsmehowthoroughlyI’vesteppedinit.Whythehellwouldtwonewlyengagedpeoplebeplanningtopartwayssosoon?OrdoesshethinkBeauisplanningtomovewithmeandhasn’ttoldhisfamily?
IcoverbyfinishingthesipandthensmilingasIcarefullyplacetheflutebackonthetable.“We’regoingtocrossthatbridgewhenwegetthere.It’snotthatfartocommute.Rightnow,withhishoursplusmineatthebar,we’resometimesshipsinthenightanyway.”Myheadwobbles.“AndifIeverpickupanotherjob,Iimagineourscheduleswillbeevenmorechaotic.”
SloaneshrugswhileSummeranalyzesme,fartoocloselyformytaste.“Makessensetome.JasperandIarealwaysbusyduringhockeyseason.Schoolsemesterswouldbethesame.”
“Whatdoyoumeanifyouevermanagetopickupanotherjob?”Summerasks.
Isigh,avertingmygazeoutthewindowtohidemyembarrassment.“Nooneintownwantstohireme,thankstomydadandbrothers.ThebaristheonlyplaceI’vebeenabletoholddownajob.ButIneedmoreshifts,andtherearen’tanyavailablebecauseeveryonewhoworkstherelovesthemoney.”
TalkingaboutmyproblemstotwowomenwhoremindmeofDisneyprincessesfeelsodd,butIcontinue.“Themanagerlikesme,butIguesshecan’tfireotheremployeestomakeworkforme.HeofferedcleaningthebarforextramoneywhenItoldhimIwasinabind,soIdothatafewtimesaweektoo.I’vemovedupandintobettershiftsovertime,butit’snotenoughtosaveforuniversity.”
“Oh,Bailey.”Sloanereachesacrossthetabletoholdmyhand.Everythingaboutherissoftandsweet.Imomentarilywanttoaskherforahug.Ibetshegivessuperbhugs.
“I’llhireyou.”
Ijoltinmyseat,handturningtoclampontoSloane’sasIstareatSummer.“What?”
“Atthegym.Ibarelyhavetimetodomyownworkoutsanymore.I’malwaysatthefrontdesk,oransweringemails,ororderingthisthingorthatthing.Whydon’tyoujusttellmewhattimeofdayisgoodforyouandI’llworkwiththat.”
Istraighten,myshouldersshimmyingasIholdmyselftall.“Idon’twantyoutopityhireme.Thatwasn’twhatIwastryingtodobytellingyouthis.”
Summershrugsandleansbackinherseat.“Iknow.Iaskedyou.”
Mybrowsfurrow.“DidBeauputyouuptothis?”
“Youkiddingme?Beauworksalldayandthenrusheshomeortothebartohangoutwithyou.Ibarelyseehim,letalonetalktohim.Hedoesn’tevenbringyouaroundtothemainhousethatoften.He’shoggingyou,ifyouaskme.Thiswillbefun.We’regoingtobesisters-in-law.Westicktogethernow.”
Apangofguilthitsmehardandfast.ShemightnotbesingingthistunewhenBeauandIcometoanend.
Cometoanend
Thathasatwingeofpainlandingstraightinmygut.
ButIignoreeverysensationandforgeaheadwithacheerfulsmile.“Iwouldlovethat.”
Summersmilesbrightly,holdingherchampagnefluteuptocheersme.“You’rehired!”
Ineedthis.Ineedthistogetout.Ineedthistosurvive,andI’llgetovertheguilteventually.
LeavingBeaubehind,though?
ItfeelslikeI’llnevergetoverthat.25Beau
Beau:Justgothome.Whereareyou?
Bailey:Howdomostguyslikeagirltohaveherpubichair?
Beau:Bailey,honesttogod.Youcan’tjustleadwiththingslikethis.
Bailey:Canyoujusttellme?It’shardtoknow.Inporn,it’snothingatall.ButIknowpornisn’treallife.Solike,whatamIsupposedtodo?What’sthenormoutthere?
Beau:Whateveryoulikebest.Anyguywhoholdsastrongopiniononhowyoustyleyourpubichairdoesn’tdeservetobebetweenyourlegs.
Bailey:Somaybeatriangleorastrip?Ican’tdecide.
Beau:Decidesomeothertime.Whenitdoesn’tinvolveme.
Bailey:It’sthefinalhouroverhere.I’minthebath.Razorinhand.
Beau:Whydoyouinsistonaskingmethingslikethis?
Bailey:Becauseyou’vepresumablyseenalotofpussies.
Beau:Bailey,juststop.
IthoughtIwastiredwhenIwalkedinthedoor.AsleeplessnightofmendingPeachesfollowedbyaveryrealkisswithmyveryfakefiancéemeansIsleptlikeshit.ThenIgotupearlytoworkwithmyverygrumpybrotherallfuckingday.
I’mwrungout.Fried,ifI’mbeinghonest.Deliriousmaybe.I’veneverbeenastiredasIamatthismoment,andthat’ssayingsomethingforsomeonewhowasstrandedinacaveinAfghanistanforseveraldays.
ButknowingBaileyisnakedinmybath,askingformyinputonhowsheshaves?
Ipacemyhouse,tryingnottothinkaboutit.IgotothefridgeandeyeupabeerbecauseIknowitwilltaketheedgeoff.ButIdon’tknowifIcanhandleit.Ithought2:11waswiggingmeout,butIthinkBaileymightbefuckingwithmyheadmorethananythingelse.
Igrabacanofkombuchainstead.It’sbeer-like—that’swhatIkeeptellingmyself—andhealthy.Thepoppingsoundofitopeningissatisfying,butthefirstsipisnot.I’mstilljittery.
Ineedashowerafteralongdaymovingcattlefromonequartertothenext.Yes,ashower.IheadupstairsandgostraightpastthedoorwhereIknowBaileyisinthebath.
“Hi.I’mhome.Goingtohaveashower,”Icalloutloudenoughthatshecanhear.
“Okay.”Hervoiceiscrystalclear,sofeminineasitechoesback.
Yeah.Thisshowerwillhavetobecold.Anditis.IleaveitfreezingasIstepintotheglassbox.Itakemycanofkombuchawithme,amilliontimeslesssatisfyingthanashowerbeer.Infact,almosteverythingaboutmyliferightnowfeelsunsatisfying.
EverythingexceptforBailey.
She’sabreathoffreshair.She’sexcitement,andinnocence,andapurposeallwrappedupinone.Imissedhertoday.Icouldn’twaittogethomeandseeher.Ispentalldaysittingonthebackofahorseplottingoutwaystokissheragain.
Andshe’sdownthehall.Askingmehowtoshaveherpubichairafterrecentlytellingmethereissomuchwecandothatisn’tsex.
Ilatherandscrubthedirtfromthedayoffmybody.TheonlycontactImakewithmydickistowashitquickly.IfIlingertheretoolong,IknowwhatI’llendupdoing.AndIdon’twanttobetheweirdguywhojerksoffwhiletheyoungergirlhe’ssupposedtohelpishavingabathjustacoupleofdoorsdown.
Shavingherpubichair.
BeforeIhavetimetooverthinkit,I’moutoftheshower,thecanofshittyreplacementbeerforgottenonthetiledshelf,wrappingatowelaroundmywaist.
BeforeIhavetimetotalkmyselfoutofit,I’mstandingatthedoorofherbathroom,knockinglightly.
“Yeah?”
“Didyoudecidewhichone?”
Ihearalightchuckleontheotherside.
“No.I’mstillconsideringmyoptions.”
“Whataretheoptions?”Ishakemyheadatmyself,onearmproppedhighonthedoorframe,oppositehandpressedflatonthedoor.Innotimeatall,Iwentfromdon’tbethecreepyguytothis.
“Areyougoingtomakemeshoutthemtoyouthroughthecloseddoor?”
“Areyouinvitingmein?”Ivolleyback.
There’sabeatofsilenceandthenasimple,“Yes.”
Iswallow,assessingmyself.Myspeedingheartrate,thetoweltiedtightlyaroundmywaist,mywethairdrippingdownontomybareshoulders.IprobablylookjustasoutofcontrolasIfeel.
Notforthefirsttime,thepromiseofBaileymakesmetotallyimpulsive.
Ireachforthedoorhandle,turnit,andwalkstraightintothebathroom.Theairisthickwithhumidity,coatingthemirrorinalightlayerofsteam,andeverythingsmellslikelavender.Bailey’stinyheadpopsupoutofaheapingpileofbubbles.Thewayshehastwistedherhairontopofherheadmatchestheirshape.
Shelooksfuckingperfectinthemassive,oversizedbath—rosycheeks,eyesalittleglassy,andherlipstippedup.Theearthytilesurroundmatchesthetonesofherhairandskinsowell.IfIdidn’tknowanybetter,IwouldsayIdesignedthisbathroomknowinghowperfectshe’dlookinmytub.
Myeyessnagonthepinkrazorrestingbesideafreshwhitebarofsoaponthetub’sledge.
“Idefinitelythoughtyou’dbetoochickenshittocomeinhere,”shetauntswithasmirk.Thewatershiftsbeneaththebubbles.Nodoubtherhandsaremovingunderthewater.
“Youdon’tknowmethatwell,Bailey,”Ireply,shuttingthedoorbehindme.
Hereyesraceovermybody,eatingupeveryinchofbareflesh.
“Iknowyou’rescaredoflosingcontrolaroundme.”Herchintipsupasthoughshe’stoldmesomethingthatwillmakemebackdown.Runmeoff.
Itdoesn’t.
“No,I’mscaredofyoubecomingsomethingIcan’tlivewithout.”
ShesucksinabreathasIstalkconfidentlytowardher.
“I’mscaredoftakingsomethingIdon’tdeserve,somethingwebothknowwillleadtoabiggermessthanwe’realreadyin.”
Ikneelbesidethebath,proppingmyelbowsontheedgeandstaringherdown.
“Thisisn’tamess—”
“I’mscaredofhavingtogotoworktomorrowandspendingalldaywithahard-onbecauseI’mwonderingifyouwentforatriangleorstrip.”
AllshedoesisstarebackandbreatheheavilyasIreachintothehot,soapywaterandtrailahandoverherthightoherknee.Leaningcloser,Iwhisperagainstherear,“AndI’mfuckingscaredofwhatI’lldowhenthedaycomesIfindoutsomeotherfuckergetstohelpyoudecidethesethings.”
Sheregardsmecarefully,armsproppedontheledge,breathsevenbutshallow,darkeyessparklingliketheriverat2:11.Mypalmslidesupanddownherthigh,nevergoingtoofar.
“Okay,buttonight…areyouhelpingmeorleaving?”
Imullthequestionover,tellingmyselfIshouldleavewhileadmittingtomyselfI’mnotsurewhyIthinkIneedto.Isitbecauseshe’syounger?IsitbecauseI’vebecomeborderlineobsessedwithhelpingherandIworrythatthiswillalljusthurtherintheend?
OramIworrieditwillhurtmeintheend?Idon’tknowifIcanhandlebeinghurtanymore.
Shesqueezesherthighstogether,trappingmyhandbetweenthemandforcingmyeyesfromthecracklingbubblesuptohers.
Westaylikethatforabeat,andthenIsay,“Helpingyou.”26Bailey
Ithoughthe’dleave.Ithoughthe’dsaymynameinthatone-wordscoldingwayofhis.Theonethatsaysstop,you’retestingmypatience.
Buthedidn’t
AndnowIdon’tknowwhattosayback.SoInod,stomachaflutter,wordsfailingme.
I’mscaredofyoubecomingsomethingIcan’tlivewithout.
FilethatawayundersentimentsIdon’tknowwhattodowith.
Ieaseoffonsqueezinghishandbetweenmylegsandsearchhisfaceforanysignhemightbackout.Thathemightcometohissensesandwalkaway.Idon’twanttotiemyself-esteemtoaman’sresponse,butifBeauEatonwalksoutthedoortellingmethiswasamistake,Idon’tknowhowI’lllookhimintheeyeagain.
“So,”myvoicecracksonasuddenlydrythroat,“triangleorstrip,what’sbetter?”
Thecolumnofhisthroatworksashisarmmovesagain.Onthisswipe,hishandmoveshigherthanbefore,overthatdipjustabovemyinnerthighs,painfullyclosetomycore.Hisbroadpalmslipsovermystomach,skirtingtheboundaryashisfingertipstracethelowerridgeofmyoppositehipbone.
Ibuckagainsthishand,allsensationandforeigntwinges.Ican’tseehishandthroughthethicklayerofbubbles,but,god,Icanfeelit.
“Neitherisbetter,Bailey.Ialreadytoldyouthis.I’mjustheretoseewhatyoudecide.”
“Butwhatdomenli—”
“No.Don’taskyourselfthat.Whatdoyoulike?”
Helooksincrediblyhandsome,kneelingbesidethetub.Iwanttodraghiminherewithme.
“Imean…”Ilickmylips,tryingtoformwordswheneverycellinmybodyisreadytoexplodeoverthesensationofBeau’sfingerstracingmyhip.Hiseyesonmemakemefeelexposed,eventhoughsoapywhitebubblesconcealmyentirebody.“Idon’tknowwhatIlike.Iusuallyjusttrimeverything.AsI’msureyounoticedtheothernight.”
Hisrespondingchuckleisdeepandraspy.Itoozessexandexperience.“Bailey,trustme,”hesays,palmslidingupandshapingmywaist.“That’snotwhatInoticed.”
“Whatdidyounotice?”
Hegroans,eyesflickeringshutforabeat.“Thenoisesyoumade,”heconfessesquietlyashispalmslidesupovermyribs.“Howwetyouwere.”Theedgeofhishandskimsthelowerswellofmybreastsashecontinueshisgentleassaultonmysenses.
Iwhimper,fixatedonthesternexpressionofconcentrationpaintingeveryfeatureofhisface.
Hisbig,stronghandslidesdownthecenterlineofmytorsoandcupsmysex.“Thewayyoushookwhenyoucameforme.”Histhumbswipesoverthetrimmedpubichair.“So,no,Bailey.Ididn’tgiveafuckaboutthis.Iwastoobusyholdingmyselfbackfromslidingintoyou.”
Thosefingersdon’tmakeasinglemove.They’rethere,buthedoesn’ttryanything.We’reinastandoff,eyeslocked,pantingmorethanbreathing.HislipsaresoclosetominethatIcan’thelpbutdropmygazetothem,rememberingthewayhekissedmelastnight.
Soundly.Likehecouldn’tcontrolhimselfenoughtostayaway.LikeIundidhim,andheundidmetoo.
“IknowwhatIwant,”Imurmur.
“Yeah?”
HethinksI’mstilltalkingaboutshaving.
ButI’mnot.
“Iwantyoutokissme.”MylipspartasIsuckinabreathontheheelsofmyconfessionandwatchraptlyashistongueslidesoutoverhisbottomlip.
Thenhishandonmycentermovestocuppingmycheekasheanglesmyfacetohisandtakesmymouthinasearingkiss.Onethathasmebowingupoutofthewater,bodyyankedtowardhisbyforcesoutsidemycontrol.GivingmeexactlywhatIwant,likehecouldneversaynotome.
Coolairhitsmynipplesashistongueslidesagainstmine.Myhandgripshisneck,holdinghimnear,notwantinghimtopullawayandbreakthismomentbetweenus.Ashislipsmoveskillfullyagainstmine,theraspofhisstubblesendschilledgoosefleshoutovermyhotbody.
Hesmellsalmostsweet,likelimoncello.
Hetastesliketemptation.
Hefeelssodamnreal.
Whenweslow,heleaveshisforeheadpressedagainstmine,histhumbstrokingoverthebowofmytoplip.
“Thisisn’thelpingmedecide,”Ihuffoutwithabreathlesschuckle.
Adeephummingsoundrumblesinhischest.“Okay,well,let’stakealook.Maybethatwillhelpyoudecide.”
“What—”
Idon’tgettofinishmysentencebeforeBeaustandsandswingsalegoverthesideoftheoversizedtub.Hestepsrightintothewater.
“Ialreadystarted!There’shairinhere.”
Hegrinsandshakeshisheadashetosseshistoweltothetilefloor,hislong,hardcockbobbingbetweenhislegsbeforehesinksintothebubbles.“Ilivedinacaveforeightdays,sugar.Idon’tgiveafuckaboutabitofyourhairinthewater.”
Themassivehandsaroundmywaistliftmybodyeffortlessly.Hesetsmeonthetub’sledge,andwithgentlestrokes,heremovesthebubblesfrommyskinandhair.
Mycheeksflameashetakesmein,eyesfocusedbetweenmylegsbeforedraggingup.Theweightofhisgazeislikeasharppointglidingovermyskin.Likeifhestarestoohard,hemightpierceme.
WhenIglancedown,myskinisrosy,takingonapinkhue,andpatchesofbubblesslidedowndifferentpartsofmybody,meltingawayasIbaremyselftohim.
We’vebeenswimmingnakedtogethereverynight,sothisshouldn’tfeelasstrippeddownasitdoes.Butthelightsareon,andhe’slookingatmelikehe’sseeingmefortheveryfirsttime.
Theinexperiencedgirlinmewantstoshyaway,butthewomanwhogoesafterwhatshewantsopensherlegsandrevelsinthelookofintensityonBeau’sface.
“Bailey.”Thistime,mynameislessofanadmonishmentandmoreofaplea.
“Triangleorstrip?Itriedtogettherest,butitwasawkward.”
Hetouchesmenow,callousedpalmsslidinguptheinsidesofmythighs.Spreadingme.Silvereyesburninglikehotcoals.
“Icancleanitupforyou,”hemurmurs,removingonehandtotakeboththebarofsoapandtherazor.
“Youdon’thaveto—”
“Iwantto.”Hesilencesmewiththefinalityofthatstatement.Ialmostgetthesensethatit’smorethanjustwantingto.Heneedsto.
Hewetsthebarofsoapandrubsitoverthemoundofmypubicboneandalongwheretheseamsofmyunderwearmightgo.He’sthoroughand…businesslikeaboutit.WhichmightexplainhowI’mabletositherewithmylegsspread—withoutcombustingentirely—whileBeaulooksatmypussyreallyfuckingclosely.
I’mbothrelievedbyhisrestraintandachingforhisfingersinsideme.TofeelsofulllikeIdidallthosenightsago.
Buthedoesn’tcrossthatline.Helathersthesoap,rubbingitbackoverthesamespotswithawethand.IfeelmyselfclenchandreleasewhenhegetsdangerouslyclosetowhereIwanthim.Myarousalisonlydisguisedbythefactthatwe’rebothdrenchedwithlavendersoapandbathwaterrightnow.
“Areyousureyou’reokaywiththis?”heasksasheplacesthesoapdownanddipstherazorinthebath.
Igazebackathim,eyeswide,lipsparted.Hischiseledbodykneelsbetweenmyspreadthighs,andthewayhehandlesmeissosure,socaring.HowcouldIbeanythingbutokaywiththis?“Itrustyou,”Ireplyquietly.Asthewordsland,hejoltsslightly.
Withoutsayingaword,hedipshisheadcloseranduseshisfingerstospreadmylipsinawaythatmakestherazorlandinflat,evenstrokes.
Myheadtipsbackandmyeyesfluttershut.“Fuck,”Imurmurashegripsme.Thepressureofhisfingertips,thescrapeoftheblade,theknowledgethathisfaceisrightthere
Whenhefinishestidyingoneside,hemethodicallymovesontothenext.Large,deftfingersspreadandmanhandlemeashefixesupthespotsIfailedtoreach.Icanfeelmyselfleaking,butIignoreit.There’snowayhecantell.
IfeellikeIcouldcomejustfromhisproximity.ButIdon’t.Ifocusonbreathing,onnotshaking.Ifocusonwillingoneofhisfingerstoslipinsideme—forhimtocrossthatline.
Forhimtobeevenmoreimpulsivethanhe’salreadybeenbycrawlingintothisbathwithme.
“There,”heannouncesroughly,voiceechoinginthesteamybathroomashemassagesthetopportionofhairthatremains.Hisjawissettight,browlightlyfurrowed.“HaveyoudecidedwhatI’mdoinguphere?”
“Oh,you’redoingthatpart,areyou?”
Hedoesn’tevenpretendtomakeeyecontactwithmewhenheresponds,“WhenIstartajob,Ifinishit.”
“Okay.”
“Whatshape?”
“Idon’tknow.Idon’teventhinkIcare.”AllIcareaboutiscoming.BasedonthewayBeau’seyesareeatingmeuprightnow,Idon’tthinkitmattersatall.
“Triangle,”hebitesout.“Ifyouhateit,youcaneasilychangeittoastrip.”
“Oryoucan.”Myvoicesoundsthick,deep—notmyown.Ifeellikesomeoneelserightnow.Someonebeautifulandpowerful,someonesureofherselfandwhatshewants.
AndwhatIwantishim.
Heswallowsandnods,thenmovesincloser.Myhandgripsthetilededge,thesharpcornerdiggingintomypalm.Thehugediamondonmyringfingersparklesunderthelightfromabove.
“OrIcan,”herepeatsasheglidestherazoroverthetophorizontalline.
“Nexttime,”Iadd,makinghiseyesfinallysnapuptomine.
“Nexttime,”herepeats,anditfeelslikeanagreement.Itfeelslikeamomentwherewebothrealizethispullbetweenusisstrongerthaneitherofuscanresist.
Ormaybeinthismoment,webothrealizethatneitherofuscarestostruggle.We’vebothstruggledenoughalready.
Hisgazedropsalongwithhishead,andhegetstowork.
Beauismeticulous,handmovingbetweenus,pressingeachlegopenwider,andthenrestingonmylowerstomach.Hisfaceisclose,soclose.Helookslikeanartistpaintingataneaselorsomething.Italmostmakesmelaugh,becausewhatelseisagirlsupposedtodointhissituation?Tossedsofaroutofherrealmofexperiencebythegruffmilitaryman.
Ialmostdon’trecognizemyself.
Afterheshavesmypubichairintoasymmetricaltrianglewithmilitaryprecision,hescoopsupwater,washingawayalltracesofsoapandhair.
Thepadsofhisfingerstraildelicatelyovermyslit,andIshiver.Amoantearsfrommylips,loudenoughtohearovertheswishandtrickleofwater.MyheadtipsbackandItrytohidemyembarrassmentbehindclosedeyelids.
Iswearhegrowls.Mylegstrytoclampshutinresponse,buthecatchesthemfirst.
“IfIleavethisbathroomrightnow,whatareyougoingtodo?”
Heatlashesatmycheeks,spillingdownovermychest.Mybreastsarefull,mynipplespeakedalmostpainfully.
“Tellme,Bailey.Iwannahearit.Icanseeyou.You’remakingamessontheedgeofmytub.IfIgetupandwalkoutrightnow,whatamIgonnahearyoudoingfromtheothersideofthatdoor?”
Mymindraces.Alittlepartofmewantstoclamuponhimrightnow.Tapout.Thiswaterfeelstoodeepforsomeonewhohasn’tspentmuchtimeswimming.
ButI’masurvivor.AndIwantthis.
“ProbablyplaywithmyselfuntilIcomewithyournameonmylips,”Iadmitinahushedtone.
Hishandsmoveuptomyinnerthighs,oneoneachside,thenhisthumbspressupovermyouterlips.
He’steasingme.
Iarchmyspine,teasingrightback.
“SeemsunfairthatyougettoplaywiththisprettypussywhenI’mtheonewho’sbeendownonhiskneesdoingallthehardwork.”
Onethumbgoeshigher,brushingovermyclit.
Icryout.
“Don’tyouthinkthatseemsunfair,Bailey?”
Anotherswipe.
“Yes!”Myvoiceisadesperatewhine.
“Askmetoplaywithyourpussy.Letmehearit.”
Ilickmylips,glaringdownathimthroughlust-filledeyes.AndthenIraisehimone.“Pleaseplaywithmypussy.”
“Fuck,Bailey,”isallhegetsoutbeforeheburieshisheadbetweenmylegsandhistonguespearsintome.
Oneofmyhandsfliesbacktopropupmyneedybody,whiletheothershootstohishair.IbraceforwhathastobethemostoverwhelmingwaveofpleasureI’veeverbeenhitwith.Maybeit’sthepastfiveminutesofanticipation,maybeit’sthatnoonehaseverusedtheirmouthonme.
Maybeit’shim
Whateveritis,itmakesmyvisiongoblackandmybrainshutdown.Itmakesmylegsspreadimpossiblywider,andmyhipsgrindforwardagainsthim.
“You’refuckingdelicious,”herasps,thenslingsmylegsoverhisshoulders.
Mywhimpersturntomoanswhenhistonguemovesup,teethgrazingmyclitbeforehesucksonit.Andmymoansturntocrieswhenheaddsonefinger—andthentwo—stretchingmesocarefully.Hesoothesthebiteofhisintrusionwiththeoverwhelmingpleasureofhistongue.
“Beau.Beau.Beau.”Ichanthisnameashepushesmehigher.
Heshoveshisfingersintomehard,shakingmybodywiththeforceofitwhilesuckingmeallatonce,andIscreamhisname.Arushofheatflowsfromme,disintegratingmybonesintheprocess.
Myorgasmrocksmyveryfoundation.BeaustaysbetweenmylegsasIcomebackdown,softlylickingandsuckingandtellingmehowprettyIam,andthatmakesmyaddictiontohimevenmoreobsessive.
Coolairrushesinwhenhepullshisheadback,andIopenmyeyesjustintimetoseehimlickhislips.Helookspleasedwithhimself.He’sgotthatdevilishsmirkonhisglisteningface,andthatcockyglintinhiseye.
“Newrule,Bailey.”Hepointsatmylefthand,slungovertheedgeofthetub,andthenbetweenmylegs.“Solongasyou’rewearingthatring,thispussyismine.”
Myheartthundersathowbasehesounds,stakingaclaimtomybody.
“Nexttimeyoufindyourselfthinkingyou’regoingtopullthatboxoftoysoutandplaywithitallbyyourself,you’regoingtoofferittomefirst.”
Istraightenslightly,tryingtoappearlessbonelessthanIfeelasInodbackathim.I’mbuzzingwithexcitementasmytonguedartsoutovermylips.“Okay.”
Hepushestostandaboveme,andmyeyesbugatwhat’spointingstraightatmefrombetweenhislegs.Heregardsmecarefully,completelyignoringhisragingerection,somethingIfindchallengingtodo.
Iitchtotouchit.Iwonderhowitwouldfeelinmymouth.Iwanthimtotellmeinpainstakingdetailhowhewantsmetosuckit.
“You’refuckingperfect.Youknowthat?”Thenheleansdown,kissesmetenderly,andbrushesathumbovermybottomlip,makingmetastethelingeringremainsofmyorgasm.
Myeyescatchonhis,andthesinceritytherestunsmesilent.
SosilentthatIwatchhimstepoutofthetub,replacehistowelaroundhiswaist,andleavemetherewithoutanotherword.27Beau
Idon’twakeupscreamingforonce.
ButIwakeupwithphantomburningpains.Myfirstthoughtisthatthisisanimprovement.Mysecondthoughtisthatit’s2:11a.m.andBaileydidn’tcometomyroom.
IshouldbehappyIseemtobeimproving,evenifmyhealedfeetfeellikethey’resizzlingagainstahotgrillbeneaththecovers.
ButallIcanthinkaboutisBailey.ThegirlI’msupposedtobehelping,notplayinggameswith.
Isawhertoday.Thewayshelooksatme.Howeasilyshetoldmeshetrustsme.
Sheshouldn’t.
AndIshouldn’thavetakenasmuchtrustasIdid.SaidthethingsIdid.
Ithoughtaboutmarchingacrossthehallanddraggingherintomybed.Itkillsmetoknowshe’srightthere,yetjustbeyondmyreach.Itkillsmetoknowthere’sanexpirationdateonourarrangement.Butthereneedstobe,becauseI’vegottenmyselfinfardeeperthanIevershouldhave.I’vetakenmyherocomplextounseenlevels.
ThismissionIbackedmyselfintoisbeyondcompromised,andshehasnoidea.
Iscrubatmyfaceandrolluptositting,turningtopressmyfeetagainstthecoolfloor.Itdoesnothingtostoptheburningsensationonmyfeetortheroilinginmystomach.IbasicallypromisedheranexttimewhenIshouldn’thave.IknowIshouldkeepheratadistance,butIwishshewasinmybed,notaloneinhersafterwhatwejustdid.Iwantthe“nexttime”toberightnow.
Howfucked-upamI?I’mhotandcold.Isayleftandgoright.
Itellagirlwhoneedshelpgettingajobthatherpussyisminenow,likeI’msomesortofover-the-topobsessivecaveman.
ShemakesmefeellikeIam.
I’msolostinthoughtthatIdon’tevenhearherapproach.Sherushesintomyroomwithoutknocking.Tinyshorts,aneventiniertanktop,andtotallydisheveledhair.“I’msosorry!Youorgasmedmestupid,andIforgottosetmyalarm.”
Handsproppedontheedgeofthebed,chinalmostagainstmychest,Ilaughsilently.Myshouldersshake,andthelaughtercomesoutasasoftwhooshofair.
“Ohmygod,Beau.”Sherushesforward,fallingontoherkneesatmyfeet.“Areyoucry—”Hereyeswidenwhenshegetsareadonmeinthedarkroom.“Areyoulaughing?Ithoughtyouwerecrying!”Sheslapsmyknee.
Ibringonehandup,pressingmyfingersintomyeyesockets.“Theshityousaysometimes.Ineverknowwhat’sgoingtocomeoutofyourmouth.”
“Youscaredme!”
“DidyoureallysayIorgasmedyoustupid?”
Sheglancesaway,bitingatherlips,clearlytokeepfromlaughingtoo.“Well,”shesaysprimly,glancingdowntobrushathershorts.“It’strue.Youdid.AndIwassleepinglikethedeadbecauseofit.”
Igotoreachforher,butdropmyhandbackdownonthebed.“Ishouldn’thavejustwalkedawayafterthat.I’mjustnotusedto…Ihaven’tdonethisbefore.”
Shesmiles,turningbig,darkeyesupatme.Givingmeaflashofhowshemightlookonherknees,staringupatmewithamouthfullofmycock.
Ishakemyheadandblinktheimageaway.
“Beenengaged?Yeah,meneither.”Shewavesahanddismissivelythroughthespacebetweenus.“It’sokay.Ididn’texpectyoutostickaround.”
There’snotraceofhurtinhervoice,nothreadofalie.Shedidn’texpectmetostickaroundafterbeingintimatewithher,andthatrealizationislikeasteel-toedboottothegut.
“Didyouhavethebaddream?”Shecarriesonlikewhatshejustsaidtomeisn’tinfuriating.
“Bailey,don’tletmentakeadvantageofyouandexpectnothinginreturn,”Igrumble.
Sheleansbackalittle,takenabackbytheabruptchangeinmydemeanor,nodoubt.“Isthatwhatyoudid,Beau?Takeadvantageofme?Suredidn’tfeellikeit.FeltlikeIaskedyouforsomethingandyougaveit.Andthenwehigh-fivedandpartedways.”
“Wedidn’thigh-five.”
“IfI’dbeenabletomove,I’dhavehigh-fivedyou.”
“Goodgod,Bailey.”
“Listen,Iknowyou’rehungupontreatingmelikeaporcelaindollbecauseI’mavirgin,butIthinkyou’remixingupmyexpectationswithyourexpectations.Whathappenedtonightwasconsensual.Idon’tfeeltakenadvantageofjustbecausewe’redoingthisthingforshow.”
“Iwishyouwantedmoreforyourself.”
Shebarksoutaquietlaugh,andIrealizethewordsarecheap.Theymakewhathappenedfeelcheap.
Ireachoutandrunapalmoverhersilky,mussedhair.“I’msorry,thatcameoutwrong.”
Shelooksbackupatmenow,sadnessshimmeringinhereyes.“Iwantplentyformyself,Beau.Iamsingle-mindedlymakingthatmorehappen.It’swhyI’mhere.It’syouwhobelievesheisn’tmoreofwhatIwant.”Herhandcoversmine.“Youaremore.ButI’vebecomeaccustomedtowantingmoreandnotgettingit.Idon’tletmyselfneedmore.That’saluxuryIcan’tafford.Ijustkeepmovingtowardmyendgoal.Butyou’dbeafooltothinkthatmeansIdon’twantthingsformyself.”
Herfingerspatagainstmine,andshepushesuptostanding,turningtowalkawaylikeIdidtoherearlier.IthoughtIwasdoingwhatwasbestforher.
Forme
Ifeltcockyandampedup,readytoteaseandplaygames.Butnow,myfeethurt,andwitheverystepshetakesawayfromme,sodoesmychest.
“Bailey,”Icroakhernameinthequietroom,andshestopsbutdoesn’tturn.“Stay.”
Itfeelsliketheworldstandsstillforamoment.LikeIjustpouredmyselfoutthereandamwaitingtobejudged.It’sastrangesensation,waitingforanotherpersontochoosewhenI’vealwayspridedmyselfonbeingapersonofaction.Arationaldecision-maker.
Thisisn’trational,though.I’moperatingoninstinct,whichissomethingI’vedonebefore,justnotwithawoman.Usually,IprepareforwomeninmylifethesamewayIprepareforanythingelse.Iletmyselfimaginealltheoutcomes—theworstoutcomes—andthenIdecideifit’sworththerisk.
I’vedonethisexercisewithBaileyinmyhead.
AndIthinkthat’swhatholdsmeback.
Iwon’tletmyselfthinkoftheworst-casescenario.Ithurtstoomuch.
Afteronemomentturnsintoseveral,sheslowlyrisesuponhertoesandrotates,likeshe’stryingnottostartleme.“Stay?”
Isaynothing.Ifeellaidbareenoughrightnow,hunchedoverontheedgeofmybed,askinghertostaywhilemyfeetcontinuetoburn.
“Like,youwanttogoswimming?”
Iswallowandshakemyhead.
“Stayhere?Inyourbed?”
Inod,bitingattheinsideofmycheekandkickingmyselfforcomingoffallOldBeaubefore.IactedconfidentandcommandingwhenthisiswhatIfeellikeinside.Panicked,andsore,andlonely.
ImustbegivingBaileywhiplash.It’snotfairtoneedherlikethis.Itwasn’tthedealwemade.ButIcarelessaboutthatdealallthetimeandmoreaboutkeepingherclose.
“Ifthisisyouofferingsomesortofpitysex,Idon’twantit.”
Iscoffandhangmyhead.Thisgirl
“I’mserious,Beau.”Shewalkstowardme.“IfI’mgoingtolosemyvirginity,it’sgoingtobehot.Notsad.”
Ibarkoutadrylaughandswaptostaringupattheceilingassheapproaches.“DearGod,sendhelp.I’msofaroutofmydepthwithmyfiancée.”
Shepointsattheceilingasthoughaddingtomyfakeprayer.“Sameforme,bigfella.Sendhelp.I’mengagedtothemostconfusingmanintheworld.”
Thenshemovespastmeandcrawlsontothebed.
“You’regoingtostay?”Iturntoask.
Shetugsbackthecoversandwrigglesinwithagrumbled,“Ican’tbelieveourmilitarythoughtyouwerecutoutforspecialops.Getin.I’mtired.”Herhandpatsthemattressmatter-of-factly,andsheflopsbackonthepillowslikesheownstheplace.
Ithoughtshemightbeawkward,butIshouldhaveknownbetter.Baileymightgetuncomfortablearoundotherpeople.
Butnotme.
“WhydoIgetthemouthyversionofyouandeveryoneelsegetstheagreeableversion?”IaskasIstandup,flickthebedsidelighton,andheadtomyensuitebathroom.OnceIgrabthebodylotion,hopingitwillhelpthesensationinmyfeet,Iheadbacktothebed.
Baileyshrugs,wilddarkmanetumblingaroundhershoulders,awebofcreasesonhercheekfromwhereshewasclearlypassedoutagainstacrinkledpillow.“I’vethoughtaboutthat.Ithinkit’sbecauseIknowyouwon’thurtme.”
IsuckinahissingbreathlikeI’vejustbeensuckerpunched.
“Whatareyoudoing?”sheasks,carryingonwithherstreamofconsciousnessasItakeaseatbesideheronthebed.
“Rubbingsomelotiononmyfeet.”
“Asonedoesinthemiddleofthenight,”sherepliesdryly.
Isnortandcarryon,proppingonefootovermyquadtospreadcoolcreamoverthemottledskin.
Baileywatcheswithoutspeaking.
Iglanceatherandhereyesflicktominebutdropbacktomyfoot.Iswaptotheoppositefootandstartrubbing.IwishIcouldsayitwasmakingthembetter,butmyhandsjustfeellikechafingonrawskin.Igrowlinfrustration,refusingtolookupather.
Thesilencebetweenusisalmostawkward.
AndthenBaileysays,“Itrubsthelotiononitsskin,”inthesoftest,mostsugaryvoice.
Icrackup.
MyfeetburnlikeI’mstuckinthatfuckingcave,butIdidn’tlaughthen.“Bailey!”Iwheezehernameandtearsprickatmyeyes.“PleasetellmeyoudidnotjustquoteTheSilenceoftheLambsrightnow.”
Hermelodiclaughtercaressesmyearsandthebedshakesbeneathusaswebothlaughoverthecreepiestfuckingquoteshecouldhavepulledout.
Butthat’sBailey.Sayingrandomshitatrandommoments.
“Woman,you’reoutofcontrol.”Iwipeatthecornersofmyeyes,smellingthenon-scentedlotionthatsmellslikeahospitaltome.
“Comeon.Yougottatellmewhywe’resilentlysittingheresidebyside,rubbingcreamontoourfeetinthemiddleofthenight.”
I’mstillchucklingwhenIofferheranexplanation.“Phantomburnpain,accordingtoGoogle.”
“Andyourdoctor?”
Igrunt.
“Beau.”
“Ihaven’tasked.Notabigdoctorguy.”
“Therapist?”
Igiveherawrylook.“YousayingIneedtherapy?”
“I’dgoifIcouldaffordit.Gottatakecareofyourself,Beau.Ifyoudon’t,whowill?”Asshescoldsmeabouttakingcareofmyself,shecrawlsoutfromunderthecovers,movingdowntowardtheendofthebed.Thenshepeeksupatme,foldingherhandinacome-hithermotion.“Givemeafoot.”
“Apparently,youwill.”
Sheyanksmyfootintoherlap,handswrappingoverthesensitiveskinsogently.Theburningsensationinstantlysoothesunderhertouch.Herdaintyfingerstrailovermylimbswithafeather-lighttouch.Shespreadsthemoisturizerupovermyankle,pressingmorefirmlyatthebackofmycalf.
“Someone’sgottadoit.”
“Mightaswellbemyfiancée,”Isay,eyesfixedonherface.
Whenshelooksatme,Iwonderifshe’llcorrectittofakefiancée.I’veusedthetermtwicetonight.I’mtestingourboundaries,waitingforhertoputmebackinline.
Butshedoesn’t.
“Mightaswellbe,”sheagreessoftly.
Herhandsworkandwebothgetlostinwatchinguntilsheasks,“Whatdidyoueatinthatcaveforeightdays?”
“Rationsfrommykit.Asipofwaterhereandthere.Itwasn’tmuch,butjustenoughforuseachtohaveabiteachday.Weranoutthedaybeforetheyrescuedus.Micahwasstarving,sohegotmoreofthedriedrations.”
“Soyoujustdidn’teat?”
“Ididn’tsaythat.Ihadtoatleaststaystrongenoughtogetusoutwhenthetimecame.”
“Alright.So…”
“Cockroaches.”IgrinasIsayit,readyforhertogetallsqueamish.ButIshouldknowbetterbynow.Shedoesn’t.
Andshedoesn’toffermesympathyforiteither,whichissomethingIconstantlybraceforwhenItalkaboutthosedays.Idon’twantsympathy;Iwanttofeelnormalagain.
Iwanttofeelsomethingagain,andwithBailey,Ido.
Herhandskeepworking,andherlipspartandclose.Likeshewasabouttosaysomethingandthenthoughtbetter.
“Weretheygood?”
That’swhatshecomesupwith.Sheispriceless.
“Theykeptmealive.Notgonnabeorderingthematarestaurantanytimesoon.”
Shesmiles,switchingtomyotherfootandproppingitoverherthighs.
“Speakingofdeliciousfoods.”Ichuckleathertransition,myeyesflutteringastheburningsensationslipsaway.“IhadbrunchwithWilla,Sloane,andSummertoday.Well,yesterday,Iguess.”
“Terrifying.Butgoon.”
“Itwasnice.Iwasn’thavingaverygoodday.Appliedatthehairsalonandgottoldthepositionhadbeenfilled.Spoileralert:ithadn’t.”
Iscrubahandovermyface.“JesusfuckingChrist.”
“AndthensomeguywasadicktomeatLePamplemousse.”
“Bailey—”
Shewavesmeoff.“It’salright,Willaswoopedinand…”Shepauses,smilingwhilestaringoffintospace.“Willafuckinglostitonhim.”
Thatmakesmesmiletoo.“Good.”Inmybook,Willaisoneofthebest.Actually,allthosewomenare.
“TheyseemedalittleconfusedwhenItoldthemIwassavinguptoleavetown.Iprobablyshouldn’thavesaidthat,butIjust—”
“You’reanhonestperson.It’sokay.”
Shenods.“Andthen,Summerofferedmeajob.”
Isitupstraighteratthat.“Yeah?”
Shenods,lipsrollingtogether,lookingalittlebashfuloverit.“Yeah.ButBeau…”Bigbrowneyesflickuptomine.“Youdidn’taskhertodothat,didyou?”
“No.”
“Becauseitseemslikeabitofahandout,andIalreadyfeellikeawelfarecase.Itwouldembarrassmeifyouweremaneuveringlikethatbehindmyback.You’realreadydoingenough.Ineedtoachievesomeofmysuccessesonmyown.”
“Ididn’t.”Iswallow,mybodytaut.
Hereyesarewide,earnest,searching.“Promisemeyoudidn’tcreateajobforme.”
“IpromiseIdidn’tcreatethatjobforyouwithSummer.”
Shesighsadeepsigh,shoulderssofteningasshereleasesthebreath.“Okay,good.”
“I—”Istarttotalkandthen…stop.Switchinggears,Iblurt,“IthinkIwanttobecomeafireman.”
Shestopsrubbingmyfootasherheadquirks.“Yeah?”
“Ithoughtalotaboutwhatyousaidthatnight.AboutdoingsomethingIwanttodo,andIdon’twanttospendtherestofmylifeworkingthisland.Itseemsweirdtoswitchcareersandstartsomethingnewatthisage—”
“It’snotweirdatall.You’dbeincredibleatthat.”
LeaveittoBaileytosupportmemorethanIcaretosupportmyself.“IthinkalotoftheskillsIlearnedinthemilitarycouldbeappliedthere.”
Shebitesatherlipinthemostdistractingway.“Yeah,Idon’tthinkfiremendoanystealthyundercoverwork,soyou’dprobablybefine.”
Igentlyshoveafootather,topplingherback,andwebothlaugh.
Alwayspickingonme.
“BeauEaton,tieroneoperator.”Shewavesahandinfrontofherselflikemynameisthetitleonamovieposter.“Askerofobviousquestions.Shaverofpussies.”
Ilungeforherwithalaugh.“Bailey,getyoursnarkyassuphere.”Armsaroundherwaist,Ihaulhertomeandsoakherlaughterin,lettingitsoothewhat’sinsidemethewayherhandssoothedmyfeet.ShesquirmsandsquealsasIcageherin,leaningovertoclickmybedsidelightoff.
Iturn,floppingdownandwrappingmybodyaroundherthewayIdidthatnightontheriverbank.Beendreamingofholdingherlikethissincethen,soImightaswellcapitalizeonitwhiletheopportunityisstillhere.
Withmyarmsaroundhertorsoandmylegslungoverhers,shefinallysettles.Herlaughtereasesintoalight,contentedsigh.
“Howareyourfeet?”Shepushesbackintome,pressingherbackflushagainstmyfront,andIdropakisstoherhair.
“Better.Thankyou.”
“You’rewelcome,”ishersoftreply.
Ishutmyeyes,assumingnowisthetimewegotosleep.
ButIshouldknowbetterthantoassumeanythingwhereBaileyisconcerned.
“Hey,Beau?”
Isighraggedly.“Yes,Bailey.”
“Whydidn’tyouletmeputyourcockinmymouthearlier?”
Goodfuckinggod.“Bailey.”
“Ithoughtthatwascomingnext.Yaknow?Youstoodup,anditwasrightthere.PointingatmelikeIwasthechosenone.AndIwasreadytopractice.ButyoutookoffbeforeIcouldmakemyvocalcordsworkagain.”
Anytricklesofrelaxationthatweretakingoverinmybrainarewashedawayinaninstant.RapidlyreplacedbyimagesofshovingBaileybackintothosewhitelavender-scentedbubblesandlettingherpracticeputtingmycockinhermouth.
“Readytopractice?”Igrumble,annoyedbyhowuncontrollablemyurgesarearoundher.
“Yeah,someinstructionwouldbegood,soIknowwhatI’mdoingoutthere.”
Outthere.ThatmeansafterthisandIdon’tlikethatthoughtatall.
SoIsqueezehertighter,notlettingmyheadgothere.Notlettingmybrainplanforthatworst-casescenario.Theinevitablecasescenario.
Ican’thandlefacingit,soIjustsay,“Gotosleep,Bailey.”
AndIspendallnightdreamingofteachingherallthethingsshewantstoknow.
Butonlyhereandonlyforme.28Bailey
Beau:Cadecalledmeoutearly.Youwereoutcold,soIdidn’twakeyou.ButIdidn’twantyoutothinkIjustditchedyoueither.
Bailey:Youleftmebreakfastandanoteonthekitchenisland.WhywouldIthinkyouditchedme?
Beau:Thoughtyoumightseethisfirstwhenyoucheckedyourmessages.Didn’twantyoutothinkI’ddothattoyou.
Bailey:Ijustdidn’tcheck.You’retheonlypersonwhomessagesme.Thankyou.
“Where’sBeauthismorning?”Summerlooksupatmefrombehindthefrontdeskofherathleticclub.She’sfresh-faced,sportingatopknotwithdamphairbyhertemples,andshe’swearingabrandedHamiltonAthleticstanktopstretchedtightoverherchest.
“HesaidCadecalled,andhehadtorunoutandhelpwithsomethingattheranch.”Itrytokeepmyvoicebright,takinginthewide-opengymwithhighceilingsandperfectlypolishedmirrors.
Truthfully,Iwasn’tsurewhattomakeofthefactthathewasgonewhenIwokeup.Couldn’ttellifhereallyhadworkorwasmakinganexcuse.Thisallstartedoutasashow,butthethingsthatarehappeningbehindcloseddoorsmakeitfeellikeahellofalotmore.
There’ssomethingfracturedaboutBeau.Abouthisspirit.Likehe’stornbetweensomanyversionsofhimselfanddoesn’tknowwhichonetopick.
Iwishheknewit’sokaytobeallofthemwithme.
Heswapsfromsolemnandbroodingtoplayfulandflirtatious,tosensualanddomineering,tointrospectiveandsensitive.Frankly,it’sbecomingdifficulttokeepupwithwhichversionhe’sgoingtogivemeeachday.
It’sbecomingdifficulttonotwantthemall.
We’reintimateandhewalksawaylikenothinghappened.I’munfamiliarwithhowtonavigaterelationshipswithmen,andI’mrealizingIpickedacomplicatedonetogetmyfeetwet.
“Okay,well,I’llshowyouaroundandgetyouacquaintedwitheveryoneandthespace.”Shetakesaswigofwaterandsmilesatme.“Whendoyouwanttostart?”
“Anytime.Literallyanytime.Today?”AmIcomingoffasdesperate?Maybe,butIdon’tcare.Iamdesperate.“Monday?”
Herheadtiltsinquestion.“Ithoughtyouworkedatthebaronweekdays?”
Ishrug.“Yeah,Ido.”Butthatmakesnodifference.I’musedtoworkinghard.“Idon’tmind,though.”
“You’regoingtoworkbothjobsonthosedays?”Sheseemsslightlyalarmed.
“Ineedthemoney,”Iconfess.
“Youdon’thavetoexplainyourselftome.”Shetwiststhecapbackontothebottle.“Ijust…IfiguredBeauwouldgiveyouabitofalegup.”
Ikeepmyfaceblank.
“He’sdonewellasasingleguywithnexttonoexpenses.Investedwell.He’s—”
Iscoffandwaveahand.“Oh,totally.Ijustdon’twanttorelyonhim,youknow?I’vebeenforcedtobesuperindependentmyentirelife,soit’shardtoescapethat.”Myexplanationreallyisn’tmuchofareach.IpridemyselfonhowhardIwork,onbustingmyasstobedifferentfromthepeoplewhoraisedme.
“Well,whydon’tweworkyourshiftsaroundyourcurrentschedulesoyoucanstillhaveacoupleofdaysoff?Bewithyourman.”Summerwinksatme,likewe’retwogirlswhoknowwhattheotherisupto.
Ifeelinstantguilt.She’sbeensokindtome,andI’mlyingtoherfaceandusingherbrother-in-lawtogetahead.
Mybraincyclesbacktowhereitdidearlier,andIwonderagain…
“DidBeauaskyoutodothis?”
Summerrearsback.“Dowhat?”
Ishiftonthespot,suddenlynervous.Askingthatwasprobablyabadidea,butIdon’tbackdown.Iasked,andImeantit.“Hireme.”
Theotherwomaneyesmespeculatively,andwestareateachother,butnotforlong.Shecatchesmeoffguardwhenshelaughs.“That’sfunny,becauseBeauwouldabsolutelydosomethinglikethat.ThoseEatonboysareaprotectivebunch,butno.IfIstartedlettingthosemeatheadsmakemybusinessdecisions,they’dtakeoverthedamnplace.Beauhasn’taskedmetodoanythingforyou,Bailey.”
Myeyesskimoverherface,andthenInod.“Okay.”
Shemimicsthemotionandrepliesbackwithherown,“Okay.”
ThenIspendthenextcoupleofhourslearningtheropesatHamiltonAthletics.
Mynewjob.
“We’regoingout,”Beauannouncesashestrutsintohismodernmarbledkitchen.HisjeansandV-neckT-shirthavenobusinessclingingtohisbodythewaytheydo.
Iwanttobethatshirt
Iglancedownatmycroppedtanktopandoversizedsweats,rolledoverandoveratthewaist.“Weare?”
“Yeah.I’mtakingyouout.”
Ilookdownagain,wonderingifhe’sblind,becauseIamdefinitelynotreadytogoanywhere.I’vegotacelerystickinonehand,ajarofpeanutbutterintheother,andI’mleaningupagainstthekitchencounterhavingasnack.
“I’mgood.”Goingoutinthistownisaconstantexerciseinhumility.
“Oh,yeah?”Hiseyesperuseme,lickingovereveryinchofmybody.Flickingeveryswitch.Likeelectricityzippingthroughacircuit,Igofromrelaxedtohighlyawareofhiminaninstant.
IguesstonightIgetthesexed-upversionofBeau.
“Yeah.Everytimewegoout,it’sahugespectaclewithdramaandwhispers.IstartedatthegymtodaywithSummerandworkedabit,soI’mallset.”
Mysentimenthangsintheairbetweenus,andhisgrayeyesflash.I’mallset
Wecanbothseethatmeanswemightnotneedthisarrangementanymore.WecanbothseethepointIjustmadeflashinglikeaneonlightbetweenus.
Webothpretendit’snotthere.
“I’mnottakingyououtinChestnutSprings.We’reheadingintothecity.”
Thathasmestraightening,myeyessnappingtohis.
“Why?”
Hesmirks.“Forfun.”
Hisexpressiondripswithpromise,andIdon’tknowwhattomakeofit.
“Justus?”
Henods.“Justus.”
“Why?”Iaskagain,mostlybecauseI’mtryingtofigureoutwhatthismeans.Wherewestand.Beauhasmealltwistedupinside,andIshouldhaveknownwe’dendupconfused.Ishouldhaveseenthiscoming.
Onceagain,hegivesmethesamesimpleanswer.“BecauseIwantto,Bailey.”
“Well,Ican’tgooutlikethis.”Isniffandtwistthelidbackontothepeanutbutter.
“Whynot?”Idetecthisteasingtone,andthemotionofhimproppingahipagainstthekitchenislandandcrossinghisarms,makinghisbicepsbulge,drawsmyeyes.
Fuck,he’shot.
“Becauselookatyou.”Iwaveahandoverhim.“Youlooklikethat,andIhavetotrytomatchyou.”
“Youdomatchme.Andithasnothingtodowithwhatyou’rewearing.”
IhavetoturnawaybecauseIdon’tknowwhattomakeofthatsentence.AllIknowisIcan’tmeetBeau’seyesinthewakeofit,soIopttoputthepeanutbutterbackintothepantryandgivehimmyback.
Isensehisgazeburningbetweenmyshoulderblades.
“WhatifItellyouIstilldon’twanttogo?”
Ifeelhimprowlingcloser,hisvoicedroppinganoctaveasheadds,“ThenI’llhavetodomybesttobeevenmoreconvincing.”
Ashiverracesdownmyspine.I’mtalkingabiggame,buttheprospectofgoingintothecitywithBeau,wherenooneknowsus,wherehe’snotanEatonandI’mnotaJansen…
It’sreallyappealing.Funisararecommodityforme,soI’mwillingtogiveitatry.
Largehandslandonmyshouldersandheturnsmearoundtofacehim.Thenhisfingersslideundermychin,forcingmetomeethiseyes.
“Bailey,Idon’tgiveafuckwhatyouwear.Youcanwearthatifyouwant.Won’tstopmefromtakingyouout.”
Mycheeksflush.He’snotAloofBeautonight.He’s…almostaggressiveinsayingwhathewants.Ithasmychestflutteringandmystomachflipping.
“Notachance.I’llgochange.”Iforcemyselftosoundunaffected,butI’mnotsureitworks.Iwouldguessthatmypinkcheeksareadeadgiveaway.
“Anddon’twearafrillylittledress,Bailey.We’retakingmybike.”
ThethoughtofspendinganhourpressedupagainstBeaumakesmycheeksburnbrighter.Still,IholdmyheadhighasIwalkaway,throughthespacioushouseandtowardthestairsthatleaduptomyroom.
I’vestartedkeepingallmyclothesthere,eventhoughmytrailerisprettymuchonhisfrontlawn.
That’sanotherthingwehaven’ttalkedabout.Theheatwaveisover,andyethereweare.Stilllivingtogether.
Itfeelsalittlelikethestrawhousewebuiltisstartingtotumble.
Idon’tneedtheairconditioning,andyetI’mstillhere.
Idon’tneedanotherjob,andyetI’mstillhere.
Idon’tneedtogooutwithBeautonight,andyetIdo.
Iholdhimclose,thewindwhippingagainstusasweracedownthehighwayintothecity.
Ateverystoplight,hereachesbackandrubsmycalfuntilitturnsgreenagain.
Andnothingaboutanyofitfeelsfake.29Beau
Willa:Talkedtomydickheadbrother.Justdropyournamesatthedoor.HisnameisFordGrantJr.,andyoucanaskforhimifyourunintoanyproblems.
Beau:Junior?
Willa:Yeah.Emphasisonthejunior.It’shisfavorite.
Beau:ForsomereasonIdon’tbelieveyou.Butthanks,Wils.Ioweyouone.
Willa:Cool.Actually,youcanpullthelittlehairsatthebackofhisneckandsayit’sfromme.Helovesit.
Beau:Iwillnotbedoingthat.ButI’lltellhimyousendyourlove.
Willa:Lol.Yeah.Tellhimthat.That’sevenfunnier.
It’sdarkoutbythetimewehitthecity.Igotcaughtupwithworktodayanddidn’tmakeitbackhomeuntillaterthanIthoughtIwould.
Baileypressesagainstmyback,herarmswrappedtightaroundmywaist.Shesqueezestightereverytimewetakeofffromastandstill,anditmakesmewanttostopandgoallnight.
Iknowshewasn’tsuperkeenonthebike.Infact,herwordswere,“Don’tgetuskilled,soldier.Thingsarefinallylookingupforme.”
Andthensheswungalegoverandhungonfordearlife.
Irevelinthefeelofheragainstmybody,intheknowledgethatshetrustsmewithherlife.Cocooningherinmybedlastnightstuckwithmeallday,andI’mnotaboveadmittingpartofthereasonIwantedtodothistonightwastohavehercloseagain.
Iwanthertosleepwithmeagaintoo.Butaskingforthatwiththewaywedesignedourrelationshipfeelstooforward.
Gettingintoherbathandmakingamealoutofherwasprobablytoofartoo.
SomaybeBaileyisright.MaybeIamimpulsive.Butonlywhereshe’sconcerned.AndIdon’tregretit.
Westopatanotherredlight.ThebarIwanttotakehertoisjustahead.Ireachback,trailingahandfromherkneedownoverhercalf.HopingIhaven’tfreakedherouttoobadlywiththebike,Isqueezeherreassuringly.
Iturnovermyshoulder,myhelmetbumpingagainsthers.“Youokay,sugar?”
Shenods.
“Almostthere.”
Thelightturnsgreen,andwithinminutes,wepullupinfrontofGinandLyrics.OwnedandoperatedbytheoneandonlyFordGrant—worldfamousinvestorslashrecordproducerandWilla’solderbrother.WhichistheonlyreasonIgotournamesontheVIPlist.
Thisbaroffersmusicofallkinds.Differentgenresondifferentnights.Concertsforslightlybiggerbands,talentnightsfornewbies.Tonight,there’saDJplaying.Idon’tknowshitaboutthem,butIfiguredanightinthecityforBaileytohavefunwithoutconstantlyhavingtolookoverhershoulderwouldbeagoodgift.She’sstillsoyoung.Sheneedssomefuninherlife.
Iwanttogivethattoher.
“We’rehere,”IsayasIpullmyhelmetoffandrunahandthroughmyhair.Bailey’shandstrailovermybackandmyribsassheextricatesherselffromthebike.Musicthumpsfrominside,andwhenIglanceback,shelooksexcited.
Hereyessparklelikedarkgemstonesasshestraightensherhair,onlyslightlyflattenedontopfromthehelmet,thencurlinginlittleswoopsaroundherarms.Longandloose.
Shelookscarefreeforonce.
Platformsandalspropupherwide-leg,loosejeans,andtheskinonherchestshimmersfromthereflectionofthelightsoutfront.She’swearingablackleatherjacketwithalittletearintheelbowandacorset-styletanktopthathasmefightingnottostareatherbreastslikesomebasicassholewhositsatherbareverynight.
EventhoughIamone.
“I’veheardaboutthisplace,”shemurmurs,combingherhairoutwithherfingers.There’sasoftsmirkonherlips.Aflashofanticipationinthosechocolatedepths.“Haveyoubeenhere?”
Ishakemyheadno,struckspeechlessbyhowdifferentsheseemsintheglowofthecitylights.
She’sstandingtaller.
Hereyesaren’tdartingaround.
Itseemsasthoughjustgettingherpastthosetownlimitshasgivenheraboost
Evenhervoicesoundsdifferent—lesssugaryandfake.Moresultry,likesheisn’ttryingtobesomeoneelse.
Shecanbeherselfhere.
AndIcan’tstopstaringather.
“Beau?”Herheadflipsinmydirection,hairwhippingoverhercleavage,hipcockedout.
Ishakemyheadtoclearit.Itdoesn’thelp,though.I’mfullydistractedbyher,andIdon’tthinkI’llbegettingoverthatanytimesoon.
“Yeah,sorry.No,Ihaven’tbeenhere.”
Aflashofwhiteteethgratesoverherfullbottomlipassheconsidersmyanswer.“Iheardit’shardtogetinto.”
Itossherawink,decidingIneedtogetbackinmyconfidentmodeandleavethisstarstruckversionofmyselfouthereintheparkinglot.“Notforus.WillagotusontotheVIPlist.”
Hereyeswiden.“Seriously?”
Ipopourhelmetsonthebikeandsteptowardher,handoutstretched.“Seriously.Youready?Datenight?”
Mybreathstills,alittlepartofmewonderingifshe’llcorrectme.Wehadanagreement.Thisshouldn’tbeadatenight.
ButIwantittobe.
Sheeyesmyhandwithasmilethatmakesmychestache,thenshelinksherfingerswithmine.“Ready.”
IunderestimatedhowclaustrophobicIwouldfeelinthemidstofthiscrowd.IthitsmethatIhaven’tbeenanywheretrulybusysincegettingoutofthemilitary.I’vebeenhidingontheranch,inthattown,notlivingmylifethewayIshould.
Ifeelintenselyfreeanddeeplyterrifiedallatonce.
IclingtoBailey’shandlikeshe’smylifelineandpushintothebar.Thethruminmybodygivesmeathrill,theburstofdopamineIonlygetwhenIbuysomethingdumb,dosomethingimpulsive,oranytimeI’mnearBailey.
Bailey’sdarkeyesglanceoverhershoulderassheleadsmein.“Yougood?”
Shelookslikeadifferentperson.Withalittleoveranhourbetweenherandherchildhoodhome,andafacenoonerecognizes,shebecomesadifferentperson.Iadoreeveryversionofher.
Butthis?
Suddenly,Iwantnothingmorethanthisforher.Excitementdancinginhereyes,awarmblushonhercheeks,acasualsmileonherlips.
Conversationhumsandbassthumpsaroundus,andallIcandoisnod.BecauseIdon’tknowifI’mgood,butI’mrealizingsheis.It’shittingmeshecan’tstayinChestnutSprings,andIwouldneverwantherto.Howcouldanyonewanttokeephertherewhensheblossomsintothisvibrantwomantheminuteshe’saway?
“Whereto?”sheasks.
“Notsure,”Ireply,tuggingherback,notwantinghertoofarahead.Notwantingtolosesightofherinthecrowd.
Notwantingtolosesightofherever.
Myeyescatchonaroped-offsectionthatisonlyacoupleofstepsupfromthemainfloor.It’ssimilartowhatWilladescribed,butthemantalkingtoasecurityguardbesidetheentranceisn’tquiteanexactmatchforhowshedepictedherbrother.ThoughIcanseetherelationclearasday.
Hairalmostlikemine,butscruffy,dull,andboring,justlikehim
Thisman’shairismoreofacopperbrownthanWilla’sbrightred.
Tall,sohecanglaredownhisnoseatyou.
Okay,he’saboutmyheight.Six-footthreeorso,whichIguessistallenoughto“glare”downhisnoseatWilla.
Greeneyeslikemine,butdarkerlikemoney—hisfavoritething
Ichuckledatthat,butIcan’tseehiseyecolorinthedimclub.He’sgotagreenV-neckT-shirton,though.
Decentfashionsensebutclearlytryingtodresslikehe’ssaltoftheearthwhenhe’sactuallyastuffybillionaire.
Jeans.Scuffedboots.Somebraceletsadornhiswrists.Leatherstrapononeside.BeadsstackedoveraRolexontheother.
Ican’thelpbutchuckletomyselfatWilla’sdescriptionofhim.It’sso…Willa.Andyet,Ifeellikeithelpedmepickhimout.
“Thisway,”ImurmuragainstBailey’searasImoveustowardthetwomenwhoaredeepinconversation.
Theman’sheadturnsasweapproach,andupcloseIcantellthathedoes,infact,haveanunusualeyetone.Morejade-likethanWilla’sgoldenmoss.
“Ford?”Iask,incliningmyheadslightlywhilesqueezingBailey’shand.
HelooksmeoverswiftlybeforedoingthesametoBailey.Ihavetostopmybrainfromgoingferaleverytimeaguylayshiseyesonher.ButI’mnotaboveadmittingthere’sasuaveenergyaroundFordGrantthatI’mprettysureIdon’tpossess.AndIwonderifBaileylikesit.
Hisgazedoesn’tlinger,though.There’snothinginappropriateorrudeabouthisgaze.
“YoumustbeBeau.”Westickourhandsout,givingeachotherafirmshake.“AndBailey,”hesays,turningtoher.Shelooksstartledwhenheshakesherhand,likeit’salarmingtoherthatsomeonewouldwanttoshakeherhandatall.
“Nicetomeetyouboth.”Fordsmirks.It’snotarelaxed,laid-backkindofsmile,butit’snotthescowlandgruntWillapreparedmetoexpect.“I’msuremysisteronlysangmypraisestoyou,”hesaysasheturnsandunhookstheredvelvetrope.“She’sgotarealknackforthat.”Hesnortsandgesturesusthrough.
Ichuckle.“Aspecialwaywithwords,forsure.ButIknowshemeanswell.Still,makesmewonderwhatshesaidaboutus.”
Hegrinsnow,pointingatatableforusalongthedroppeddancefloor.“IbelievethetextmessageIreceivedmentionedherGIJoebrother-in-lawandhisjailbaitfiancée.”
Baileygaspsandcovershermouthtostifleagiggle,themassiveengagementringonherfingersparklingasshedoes.Ijustshakemyhead.
FuckingWilla
“Forwhatit’sworth,”FordcontinuesasBaileyandIslideintoourseatsacrossfromeachother,“Ithinkyoumakealovelycoupleandmysisterbelongsinastraitjacket.”
Nowit’sBailey’sturntobarkoutalaugh.
Fordwinksather.“AndyoucantellherIsaidthat.”Thenheknocksacoupletimesonthetableandsays,“Youtwohavefun.Needanything,justletmeknow.I’llprobablybehidinginmyoffice,soIdon’thavetolistentofuckingdancemusicallnightlong,butyoucanaskKarlthereattheentrancetoringme.”
“Thanksfor—”IstopbecauseFordisalreadywalkingaway.Ichalkhimuptobeingabruptandallbusiness,butnotquitetheragingassholeWillamadehimouttobe.
“Wow,thegenesinthatfamilyaresomethingelse,”BaileysaysappreciativelywhilewatchingFordwalkaway.
Itranklesmemorethanitshould.Istraightenandgiveherapoutyglare.
Shegivesmewideeyesback.“What?”Sheliftsherlefthand,wavingherfingerstoshowoffherring.“I’mengaged,notdead.Andyou’dhavetobedeadtonotnoticethat—”
“Bailey.”Istareatherflatly,andshejustsmirks.
“Jealous?”Herlipscurveup,andIknowshe’steasingme.
Iswallowandhearthecrackleofitinmyears.“Yes.”
Heralreadybigeyesgowider.“Really?”
Itannoysmeshethinksnomancouldbejealousoverher.Thatshe’slearnedtoviewherselfassoundesirableIwouldn’tfeelthreatenedbysomeoneelse.
Tobefrank,it’sanewfeelingformetoo.AndIcan’thelpbutwonderifit’srearingitsuglyheadbecauseofthenatureofourrelationship.Thefakeness.BecauseI’veneverbeeninsecureinthispartofmylife.
ButIdon’ttellherthat.
Ileanoverthetable,elbowspressedtotheflatsurfacewithmyforearmscrossed,andsay,“Ifyouwantsomeonetoeye-fuck,I’mrighthere.”
Iexpecthertobetakenaback,butshe’snotChestnutSpringsBaileytonight.Instead,sheleansincloser.“AndwhatifIwantsomeonetoactuallyfuck?”Shespitsthewordsoutandtheylandonmelikerat-at-at-atfromthesprayofbulletsincombat.
Ofcourse,anunwantedintruderapproachesthetable.“Hi!I’mDani!I’llbeyourservertonight.WhatcanIgetstartedforyoutwo?”
BaileyandIstareoffforanotherbeatortwobeforewebothgiveintoourpoliteinstinctsandturnourattentiononthegirl.
“I’llhaveamargaritaontherocks,”Baileyanswerssmoothly,likeshedidn’tjustchallengemetofuckher.
“I’llhaveaCoke,”Ibiteout,notlookingawayfromthewomanacrossfrommeasImakemyorder.
TheserverleavesandBaileygivesherheadaslowshake.“Noneedtobesnippyatherjustbecauseyourpantiesaretwistedupovernothing.”
Iclearmythroatandleanbackabitinmychair,snappingoutofwhateverintenseheadspaceIwasjustin.Ofcourse,Baileyisright.She’stheonlypersonwithabigenoughpairtocallmeoutwhenI’mbeingadick.
“You’reright,”Igrumble,regardingthebustlingdancefloor.
“Haveyoudecidedwhichversionofyourselfyou’regoingtobetonight?”
Herquestionstartlesme,andIsitupstraightagaintolookather.“Pardonme?”Ialmosthavetoshoutitacrossthespaceforhertohearme.
“You.You’reinconsistent.I’mgonnaneedaneckbracetokeepupwithallthedifferentpersonas.”
Istareather.Reallystare.Beinganonymousinabusybarhasemboldenedherinmorewaysthanone.
ThetruestthingI’veeversaidtoherpitchesupoutofmythroatunbidden.“Idon’tknowwhoIamanymore,Bailey.”Ishoutitacrossthetable,listeningtoeverysyllablegetswallowedupbythethumpingbass.
“Whodoyouwanttobe?”
Thequestionissosimple,butitbowlsmeover.
“Idon’tknow.Iwassotiedupinmyjob.NowIdon’tevenknow.Arancher?Partofmycommunity?Aroundformyfamily?Agooduncle?Agoodson?”
Sheshakesherheadatmeslowly.“No,thoseareallthingsthatyouthinkotherpeoplewantyoutobe.”Shereachesacrossthetable,indexfingerpokingmeinthecenterofmychest.“Whodoyouwanttobe?Beselfish.Youalreadytoldmeyouwanttobeafirefighter.Whyareyoupretendingthat’snotonthetablenow?”
Idon’tknowwhattosay,butsheforgesahead.
“Me?IwantajobIcan’twaittogotoeveryday.Onethatisn’tdependentonhowIlook,onethatI’llhaveworkedimpossiblyhardtoget.Iwanttowalkintoastoreoracafeandhavepeoplebehappytoseeme.Iwantthemtowavehelloatme.Iwantafancy-asstruckwithleatherseatsandallthebellsandwhistles.Idon’twanttoworkatgoingunnoticedconstantly.Iwanttolookrespectable,butIalsowanttoberespectable.Iwanttoberespected.”
VitalitycoursesthroughherandIwanttosoakitallup.Justbeingaroundhermakesmewantmoreformyself.
Iwanttoanswerherquestionwiththesamekindoffervorandsurety,buttheonlythingIcanthinkis,“Iwanttobeyoursforreal.”
“Wannadance?”
BaileyhashadtwomargaritasnowandIcantellshe’sfeelinggood.Loose.Sheseems…relaxed.
IchuckleandtakeasipofmyCoke.I’dkillforabeerrightnow,andIthinkIcouldhandleone,butIstillhavetodriveusbacktoChestnutSprings,andIhavepreciouscargo.“I’mnotabigdancer,Bailey.Ornotthistypeofdancing.”IgestureattheDJ,liftedonapodiumacrossthedancefloor.Bodiesbounceandwritheinthepitbetweenus.
“Moreofatwo-stepkindaguy?”Shegrinsatmeandpatsmyshoulderasshestandsup,jeanshuggingherhips,breastsfullandondisplayoverthenecklineofhertop.She’stotallyoblivioustohersexappeal.
AsIwatchherwalkawayfromme,weavingthroughthecrowdtowardthedancefloorwithherheadheldhighandhershouldersrolledback,shedoesn’tlookyoungorinexperienced.Shelookslikeawomanwhocouldbringmetomyknees.
Ican’thelpbutnotethatothermenarenoticinghertoo.
Myeyesneverleaveher.Herhairshines,reflectingtheflashofblueandpurplelightsfromabove.Whenshefindsanopenspot,hertonedarmsslideupoverherhead,hereyesfluttershut,andherhipsswayintimewiththesultrybeatofthemusic.
It’sapunchtothegut.
She’sfuckingstunning.Andconfident.Ican’tpeelmyeyesaway.Ican’tbelievethisismyBaileyJansen.
Quiet,nervous,borderlinemousy,BaileyJansen.
Butthat’snotwhosheistoday.That’snotwhosheisatall.
She’ssomeoneelseentirelyandhertransformationissomethingtobehold.Itfeelslikeagifttosithereandwatchherbeherself.
Andit’sagiftIonlygettosavorforsolongbeforeIseeahandslidearoundherwaist.Onebrushofanotherman’sfingersoverthesingleinchofexposedskinbetweenherwaistlineandshirt,andhereyessnapopen.
Hergazelatchesontominefromacrosstheroom.
Theguyshoutssomethinginherearfromwherehestandsbehindherandshesmiles,stillstaringdirectlyatme.
Thensheholdsherlefthandup.
Iseeherpalm.
Butheseesherring.
Iseetheguychuckleandsaysomethingelsebeforepattinghershoulderandmovingaway.Whichisperfectbecausehejustfreedupmyspot.
I’moutofmyseatandmovingacrossthedancefloortowardmyfiancéewithinseconds.Wedon’tdropeyecontactevenonce.WhenIgettoher,Iskimmyhandsoverherwaist,thatinchofskin,asthoughwashingawaytheotherman’stouch.
“Bailey,”Igrowlagainsthercheekandpressabriefkissthereasshewrapsherarmsaroundmyneck.
“Beau.”Shesaysmynamelikeasentence,asIdohers,andreturnstheonesimplekisstomycheek.
Itugherclose,liningourhipsup,revelinginthefeelofherswayingagainstme,thevibrationoftheloudmusicthatrattlesinourbones.
Droppingmylipstoherear,Iconfess,“IhavenoideawhatI’mdoing.”
Thedancing,mylife,thisdealwithher—Imeanallofit.IhavenoideawhatI’mdoing.Andforamanwho’shadaplanforsodamnlong,itterrifiesme.
Sheswaysagainstme,fingersrakingthroughthecloselytrimmedhairatthebackofmyhead.“You’rejustbeingherewithme.That’sallIwant.”
Sheturnsandleansherbackagainstmychest,assbrushingagainstmycock.Iletmyselfsettleintothethoughtthatmaybeit’sokaytohavenoideawhatI’mdoing.
ThatbeingherewithBaileyisenough.
Thatmaybeshewantsmorethanthisarrangement,impossibleasitmighthaveseemedoriginally.
Ispendallnightonthefuckingdancefloor,swayingtothebeat,whileBaileydancesagainstmewithaheart-rendingsmileonherface.
“Beau,takemehome,”shefinallyasks.
Ofcourse,I’mmorethanhappytodothattoo.Butthistime,Idon’tjustholdherlegatredlights.IreachbackandgripherthighfortheentirewordlessdrivebacktoChestnutSprings.
AndIswearsheholdsmecloserthansheeverhasbefore.
Bythetimewemakeithome,I’verealizedthatI’llprobablygivethisgirlanythingshewants.
Aring.
Sex.
Forever.30Beau
Oursilencecarriesusthroughthehouse.Somehow,thecomfortbetweenushasgrown,andsohasthetension.
She’sslippedintoanoversizedvintageMadonnaT-shirtthathitshermid-thighandcastscuriousglancesmywaythroughthemirrorwhenIbringmytoothbrushintoherbathroomtobrushmyteethnexttoher.
DidItakeonelookatmyemptybathroomandthenopttobrushmyteethinhersinstead?
Yes.
Idon’twanttobefarawayfromher,andI’mtootiredtofightitrightnow.
Wespitourtoothpastesimultaneously,andbothofusawkwardlyreachforthetap.Ourhandsbump,andweyankbacklikethebrieftouchelectrocutedus.
HereyessnagonmynakedtorsoasImumble,“Sorry.”
Sheclearsherthroat,blinkingaway.“Don’tbe.Whatareyou—”
“Whereareyou—”
Ourwordscollidewitheachotherclumsily.Afterafunnightspentyellingateachotherovertheblareofelectronicmusic,thehouseistooquiet.
Tooprivate.
We’reoutofplacestohidefromeachother.
“CanIstaywith—”Istart,rightasshesays,
“Ineedtomasturbate.”
Myearliersentencediesonmylips.“Comeagain?”
“YoutoldmeIshouldofferittoyoufirst.”Shestraightenswithpride,staringatmethroughthemirror.“ThenexttimeIwasplanningondoingit.”
Istareback,hatingmyselfforsayingthosewordstoherinamomentofweakness.HatingthatImeantthem,andshe’sthrowingthembackatmewhenI’malreadyfeelingsovulnerablearoundher.
“Listen,youcan’tjustmaulmeallnightonthedancefloorandexpectmenottohaveneeds.I’mnotarobotlikeyou,apparently.”
Ikeepstaring,grapplingforsomesemblanceofcontrol,butit’sslippingthroughmyfingerslikesandIhavenohopeofcontaining.
Baileyturnstolookatmedirectly,forcingourgazesawayfromthereflectiveglass.Oureyesclashasthetensionpullstautbetweenus.“Ifeltyouhardagainstme,Beau.Yougonnatellmethatdidn’thappen?”Hervoicetakesonavenomoustone,frustrationhummingatthebackofherthroat.“Yougotsomebig,mature,paternalwordsofwisdomformeaboutwhatIshouldandshouldn’tdowithmybody?Becausesohelpmeg—”
Myhandshootsforward,fingerscurlingintoherhair.UntilI’mfistingit,tippingherfaceuptominewhileIstepupclose,toetotoewithher,cuttingheroff.“Bailey,stoprunningyourmouthorI’llfindanothercreativewaytokeepitbusy.”
Hertonguedartsoutoverherpuffyrosebudlips.Hereyesarefuriousflames.“Good.Doit.”
MyjawpopsasIsqueezeafistfulofherthick,silkyhair.Iwanttoflipheroverandtakeherhardandfastandwild.Iknowshe’drisetothechallenge.
ButI’dneverforgivemyself.Itbothersmethatwhatwe’redoingherecanbefiledawayasfakewhenit’sthemostrealthingI’vefeltinmylife.AndBailey’sbeenpickingupthescrapsofwhatshecanfindforfartoolong.
No,whenItakeBailey,there’snotgoingtobeasinglefakethingbetweenus.She’snotgoingtoneedmetostayafloattopayabill—Iwon’ttakeadvantageofherthatway.Iwanthertoneedmefornootherreasonthanshecan’tstandthethoughtofnothavingme.
“Where’sthatboxoftoysyou’realwaysgoingonabout?”Igrowl.
“Undermybed.”Hervoiceisbreathiernow,lacedwithnervesandanticipation
“Good,nowyou’regoingtoshowme.”
“Showyou?”
Idropherhair,reachbeneathherthighs,andhoistherintomyarms.HerlegswraparoundmywaistasImarchusoutofthebathroomstraighttohersprawlingking-sizedbed.
WhenIdropherdownshestepsback,thebacksofherthighsbuttingupagainstthebed,breathingheavily,justlikeme.
“Whodoyouwanttobe?”
Thatquestionagain.Likeshecanseestraightintomethroughtheconfusedhaze
Beselfish,shesaid.SoIrespondwiththefirstthingthatpopsintomyhead.“Themanwhowatchesyoucometonight.”
It’strue,butit’salsonotenough.Iwanttobesomuchmorethanthat.
Bailey’seyesdanceacrossmyface,flittingfromeyetoeyeassherollsherlipstogether.Finally,shenodsslowlyasshelowersherselftositontheedgeofthemattress,thewarmglowofthebedsidelampmakinghersmoothskinshimmer.
“Theboxisunderthebed,Beau.”
Icrouchandreach,feelingthecooledgeofasmallplasticbox.WhenIpullitout,itresemblessomethingyoumightstoreoldkeepsakesin.Iopenitandfindabouttendifferenttoys.Variouscolors,shapes,andsizes.
Iswallow.
MyfingerstrailovertheedgeasmybrainflipsoverintoaplacewhereI’mfunctioningonlyoninstinct.ImagesofBaileyusingthese,squirming,moaning—intheroomnexttomeorinhertrailerjustacrossthelawn—flashthroughmyhead.
Iconsidermyoptions.Slenderwithasecondarm.Hotpink.Anotherthatlookslike—
“Listen,ifyou’regoingtobackout,whydon’tyoujust—”
Myhandwrapsaroundtheonethatlookslikearealdick,thickandheavilyveined.Ipushtostandandcuphercheekwithmyotherhand,runningmythumboverherplushlips.Pushingthemtothesideandwatchingthempopbackintoplace.“Bailey,whatdidItellyouaboutrunningyourmouth?”
Ademuresmilecurvesherlipsasshesays,“Thatyou’dfindsomethingcreativetodowithit.”
Hersmilemaynotbesodemureafterall.
Ileandownandwhisper,“Brat,”justbeforeIpressmylipstohers.WhenIswipemytongueintohermouth,shemakesthishappylittlehummingnoiseandtipsherheadback.Tanglinghertonguewithmine,herhandsgofromgrippingtheedgeofthebedtowrappedaroundmyneck.Pullingmecloser.Kissingmedeeper.
Ilether.Andforseveralseconds,Ikissherback.Takingpleasureinthefeelingofbeingsowanted.Soneeded.
Soalive
WhenIeventuallypullback,shedropsherarmsfromaroundmyneck,andIchuckle,deepandraspy.“IsthatwhatyouthoughtImeantbycreative,sugar?”HereyeswidenwhenItrailtheheadofthesiliconcockoverherlips.“Open,Bailey.”
Shedoes.
“Tongueout.Niceandflat.Likeyou’rebeggingforit.”
Herfingersdigintothemattressasherthighssqueezetogether.Thenhermouthopenswide,andshestickshertongueout,justlikeIinstructed.
IfeellikeI’mgoingtoburstrightthroughmyfuckingboxersasIslidethetoyoverherextendedtonguewhileshestaresupatme.Ready.Nipplespointedagainstthincotton.
Ipushitback,watchingthefakecockfillhermouth,lipsthinningasshewrapsthemarounditsgirth.
Fuck,Iwishitwereme.
Itwillbeme.
Idragitbackout,hersalivacoatingit,andthenglideitinagain.Furtherthistime,butnottoofar.I’llsavethatforanotherday.
“CanIgofurther?”Iask,workingitinandout.
Shenods,andIpumpitintoheragain.
“Suck,Bailey.Moveyourtongue.Butnoteeth.Openwideforme.”
Iwatchheradapt.Hercheekshollowout,andIalmostblowinmyfuckingshorts
Salivacoatsherlips,astringofitstretchingbetweenthetoyandhermouthwhenIpullitallthewayoutandgobackformore.Easingbackin.Iwatchherlipspartarounditagain.
“You’refuckingperfect,youknowthat?”IlookherintheeyewhenIsayit.
Alittlewhimperlodgesinherthroat,andshereachesformyhips,bracingherself.Bracketingmycock.Mypalmonherhairgentlypaceshermotion.
“You’redoingsowell,Bailey,”Imurmurinthequietroom,easingbackoutjustabit.
Andthenshedoesit.Mouthstuffedfull,shemovesonehandandletsitroamovermyrock-harddick.
“Fuck,”Igroan.Eyesflutteringshut.
Sheaddsasecondhand,tuggingmyshortsdownandgrippingme.Soft,tentativehandsroammybody.
There’saninnocencetoit.It’sexploratory.AndIlethergoontheadventure.Myhipsbuckforwardwithoutevenmeaningto.
Hereyesflittomineasonehandmovesdowntocupmyballswhiletheotherworksupanddownmylength.
“Careful,Bailey.”
Shedrawsback,therubbercockleavingherlipswithawetpoppingsound.“Why?”
“Becausemycontrolisshot,andit’sbeenalongfuckingtimesinceanyoneotherthanmehastouchedmycock.”
“So,you’regoingtocomeonme?”Isweartogodherlashesflutterassheasksmethat.
Thisgirl.Herquestions.Icanhardlykeepup.Itdoesn’thelpthatherhandshaven’tstoppedworkingme.Itipmyheadbackandgroan.
“I’mfinewiththat.IthinkImightlikeit.”
Mybodycoilstight,musclesbunchingbeneathhertouch.“Bailey.”
Shehumsinresponse,andthere’salmostalaughtothenoise.Sheknowsshedrivesmeinsaneandgetsoffonit.
“What?I’monbirthcontrol.Youcancomewhereveryouwant,anditwouldprobablybe—”
“Jesus,”Ibiteoutandreachdownforher.Withmyhandsgrippedaroundherribs,IlifthereasilyandtossherbackagainstthepileofpillowsthatprotectherfromtheheadboardasIscrambleuponmyknees.
“You’realittlecocktease.Youknowthat?”
Hereyesarelikesaucers,wildandsparkling,andthisgirl…thisgirlfuckingsmirksatme.
HershirthasliftedhighenoughthatIhaveaneasyviewoftheredlaceshortsshe’swearing.Thesightofher—legssplayed,cheeksflushed—makesmeferal.
“Losetheshirt.I’mnotstaringatMadonnawhileIwatchyoufuckthistoy.”
Hermouthpopsopen,andIconsidershovingmydickintowatchhertrytokeepupwiththerealthing.Butshe’sneverdonethisbefore,soIcan’tdoitallatonce.Ihavetopacemyself.Ihavetogoslowwithher.
Shedeserveseveryoneofthebases.Shedeservesalltheangstyalmosts
Baileyripsoffhershirt,tossingitcarelesslytotheside.Imoveforwardandkneelbetweenherlegs,usingmyeyestotraceeverycurve.
Iwanttomemorizeexactlyhowshelooksrightnow.Duskynipples,heavingchest,goddamntriangletanlinesfromthatbathingsuitshe’salwayslayingoutin.
Myfingerstrailthescallopedtopedgeofherredlaceunderwear,hookingunderbutnotpullingyet.
“CanItaketheseoff?”
Shenods,eyesnowfixedonwheremyhandsare.Shelookssotinybeneaththem.Ipeelthefabricaway,inchbydeliciousinch,bendingherkneetofreeoneside.
IdecideIlikethelookofthemhaphazardlystillstuckononeleg,wrappedaroundonethigh,likewedidn’tcareenoughtotakethemoffcompletely.
Itmakesherlookalittledisheveled.Alittleundone.
Ismirkatthesight,glancingupather.“Youokay,Bailey?Gonnaneedyoutokeeptalkingtome.”
Shenods,anedgeofpanicinthemovement.
“Sugar.”Imoveforward,leaningoverhersprawledbody,theoneIhadmyhandsoninthemiddleofastupiddancefloormerehoursago.Igraspherchingentlybetweenmythumbandforefinger.“Anytimeyouwanttostop,westop.Yougotthat?”
“Ohmygod.Pleasedon’tstop.”Thewordscomeoutonasharpexhale.“Justignoreme.I’mhavinganout-of-bodyexperience.”
“Bailey.I’mnotignoringyou.”
Shelicksherlips.“Youshould.”
“Impossible.I’mmemorizingyou,”IreplysoftlybeforekissingheragainandfeelinghernakedbodybowupintomineasIsettledownoverher.
Herhandstangleinmyhairbeforerunningovermyshoulders,trailingdownmyspine.Ilosetrackofhowlongwespendlikethis.Mybodydrapedoverher.Herlipsfusedwithmine.Myfingerspinchinghernipples.Herhipsrockingdesperatelyagainstmine.
Idon’tstopherwhenshereachesforthewaistbandofmypartiallyremovedboxers.“Thesearedrivingmecrazy,”shemumblesagainstmylipsasshetugsatthemfrantically.“Iwantthemoff.Iwanttofeelyou.”
Ipantagainstthecrookofherneckassheleansupjustfarenoughtoshovethemaway.Andthenherhandsarebackonmycock,grippingme.Hertouchisclumsyandunfettered.Warmandfirm.
“Beau,”shemoansmynameandmyhipsflextowardher,intohergrip.Herlegswraparoundme,herheelsdiggingintothebacksofmycalves.“More.”
Shedrawsmeclose.
“Bailey…”Myswollenheadbumpsagainstherinnerthigh.“Careful.”
Idigmyteethintohershoulder,wantingtoleaveanothermarkonher.
“I…”Shebreathesthatonesyllable,andit’ssofulloflongingthatIalmostloseit.“Idon’twanttobecareful.”
Ibiteherneck.Herskinishot,amatchformineasweslideagainstoneanother.It’sintoxicating.Hersmell.Herfeel.Herwords.
We’rebothimpulsiverightnow.
Irearupaboveher,eyescatchingontheredmarkIleftbehind.
Herlegsaresplayedovermythighs.Pussyonfulldisplay.Pinkandwetasherhandsdrawmecloser.
“Bailey,”Igritoutasshelinesusup.
Apearlofpre-cumglistensatthetipofmycock.Shefuckingwipesitagainstherself,rightthroughherwetness.Hereyesshutandhertitstiltupatthatfirstcontact.
“Bailey,”Isayagain,reachingforwardtofistmybase,pushingherhandsawayintheprocess.Theyenduponhertits,pinching,squeezing—thatbigdiamondflashingatmelikeawarninglighttoslowthefuckdown.
She’smindlessrightnow,forme
Andme?I’mmindlessforher.
Butshe’sdependingonme.Dependingonmetotakecareofher.Tonotbetooimpulsive.
“Beau.”Hereyesflipopen,searingmewiththeheatdancingintheirdepths.“Iwantit.”
“Iknow,baby.Butwe’renotrushingthis.”
Iswipemyselfthroughherfoldsagain,becauseIamagluttonforpunishment.“Iwanttomakeitsogoodforyou,Bailey.”
Shesquirmsandmoans.“Italreadyis.”
“Notyet.”Ibarelyraspthewordsout,seeingtheheadofmycockcomeawayallwetwithher.
Shewhines,actuallywhines,andspreadsherlegsfurther.“When?”
Fistaroundmydick,Ipressitagainstherpussyagain.“WhenIsayso,Bailey.Didn’tItellyouthispussyisminenow?”
Shemoansinresponse.
Andgod,I’msofuckingweak.Myhipsdefyme.Theyedgeforward,andoneinchofmycockdisappearsinsideher.
Webothfreeze.
“Fuck.”Igroan,feelingherpulsearoundme.
Herheadrocksslowlyfromsidetosideonthepillowasshechantsmyname.
I’mstandingattheedgeofacliff.Onehalfofmesaysjump.Theothersaysmaybegrabaparachutefirst
Ipulloutandpressthatsameinchbackin,watchingherspreadforme.
God.Itwouldbesoeasytojust—
No.Idon’twanttobecarelesswithher.It’snotjustherbody.Herfirsttime.It’sherheart.
It’smyheart.It’smyhang-uponfakingit.It’smycontrolinquestion.
WhichiswhyIpulloutandreachforthetoythat’slyingforgottenonthemattressbesideus.
Ireplacemyselfwithitandwatchherwrithe.
“Fuck!”shecriesoutasIworkitintoher.
It’snotaslargeasIam,butshestillshakeswhenIpushitallthewayin.
Myfistispainfullytightaroundmygirth,likeIcansomehowcutthebloodflowoffandkeepmyselftogetherbysqueezingtighter.
“Bailey,baby,useyourhands.Showmewhatyoudo.”
Eyesonme,shetrailsherhandsdownhertorsountilshe’sholdingthesiliconbase.
Shepressessomewhere,andthethinghumsandvibrates.Wetnessleaksoutfromwhereherbodygripstheskin-tonedtoyasshecriesoutinstantly.
“Youlikethat?”
Shenodsinresponse,andIusemyfreehandtograzeafingeroverherlips,stretchedtightaroundthevibrator.
“Youlooksofuckingprettylikethis.”Iwrapmyhandaroundmycockandpumponce,andshemovesintimewithme,easingthetoyoutandbackin.
It’stheworstteaseintheworld,watchingherfuckherselfandwishingitwereme.Mybodyacheswithit.Lowonmyback.Behindmyhipbones.
“Whatdoyouthinkaboutwhileyoudoit?”
“You.”Fuck.Shedoesn’tevenhesitate.Lipsparted,bothhandsworkingbetweenherlegs.
Iswipeathumboverherclit.Herlegsshake,andshemovesthetoyinamoreeventempo.
“YoupretendingI’mfuckingyourightnow,Bailey?”Ican’tlookaway.We’reajumbleoflimbsandwetness.
“Yes,”shewhispersandlicksherlips.
Ikeepatherclit,palmslidingovermydickasIimaginewhatitwillbeliketofuckherhowIwantto.Roughandmessy.Claimingher.
“Idon’tknow,Bailey.I’mbiggerthanthattoy.Youthinkthistightlittlecuntcantakeme?”
Shegaspsassheshovesthetoyinharder.“Yes,Beau.Fuck.Giveittome.”
“Givewhattoyou?”Ourwordsarechoppy.Breathless.Soiseverymovement.Everymuscleandtendonstrunguptight.Everythingaboutthismomentisreadytosnapandcrumbledownaroundus.
“Yourc-cock,”shestuttersslightly,doingherbesttokeepup.
Idon’tmissthedeepblushonhercheeks.Listeningtohersaythingssheprobablyneverhasmakesmeharder.I’mtheluckyfuckerwhogetstohearhertrythemallout.
“Whataboutmycum,Bailey?Wouldyousettleforthattonight?”
Astrangledgroancatchesinherthroatassheshutshereyesforabeat.Thenherlashesliftlazily,andshetakesaquickbiteonherfullbottomlipbeforeshesays,“Yes,sir.”
That’sallittakes.Iblow.
OnehardjerkandI’mcoming,handnowbracedonherinnerthigh,spreadingheropen.Thefirstropelandsonhertoy,theoneshedoesn’tstopfuckingherselfwithevenasImarkher.Thenextonherclit,drippingdownontoherlips.
Sheworksmycumintoherpussywiththevibrator.AndIwatchherdoit.
“Ohgod,”Igroan,losingitoverhowfuckinggoodshelooks.Anotherropehitsthefreshlytrimmedtriangle,thenextherhand.
Shedoesn’tstopthrustinghertoy.Shewatches,lipsparted,legsshakingagainstmine,asImakeamessofherinthebasestwaypossible.
She’shotandpinkandtrembling.Allittakesismewipingtheslickofmycumoffherhandandpressingitagainstherhardclit,rubbingitinonefirmcircle,forhertofallapartrightbeforemyeyes.
Baileyscreamsmynameasherheadfallsback,exposingtheelegantcolumnofherthroat.
“Ohgod,ohgod,ohgod,”sherepeats.Herbodygoesimpossiblytaut,thenimpossiblyslack.
Shetossesthetoyawaybeforeslinginganarmoverherface,butotherwisedoesn’tmovetocoverherself.
Ipressherclitoncemorebeforemyhandsexploremoreofherexquisitebody.Palmsoverherinnerthighs.Herstomach.Ishapeherwaist.Gentlycupherbreasts.Thenkisseachone.
Andsheliesthere,lettingme.Astillnessrollsoverus.Apeace.
“You’reperfect,”ImurmurasIkissmywaydownthevalleybetweenherbreasts.“Everyinch.Everylook.Everyword.”
Herhandsmovetomyhair,fingerstrailingovertheshellofmyear.Thebackofmyskull.
“I’msofuckinghunguponyou,it’snotevenfunny,”Iconfessquietly,andthenpressakisstoherbellybutton.Sheshivers,fingersglidingdownthebackofmyneck.
Idon’texpecthertosayanything.Ortofeelthesameway.I’mtooold.She’stooyoung.Toogoodformewhenitcomesdowntoit.
Whichiswhyitsendsmereelingwhenshewhispers,“Whereveryou’rehangingfrom…IthinkI’monthesamehook.”31Beau
Beau:Ineedtotalktosomeone.
Jasper:Noshit.Beentellingyouthatforawhilenow.
Beau:No.Dick.Ineedadvice.
Jasper:HaveyouconsideredHarvey?Hisadviceisalwaysthemostentertaining.
Beau:Jas,I’mserious.Ican’thandleHarvey’sinsanityrightnow,andyou’retheonlyonewhoknowsaboutthis.
Jasper:Oh.Beer?
Beau:Beer.
Jasper:Pickmeup.Sunnywilldrivemehomewhenshe’sdonepractice.
Beau:Icanbringyouback.
Jasper:Youcould,butyou’llprioritizesittingatthebarlikethelovesickpuppyyouare.
IswingbyJasper’shousetopickhimup.He’sbackfromsummertrainingcampinRoseHillandgettingreadyforpre-seasonwiththeGrizzlies.Whichmeanswe’reheadingintothetimeofyearwhereIhardlyseehimatall.
EspeciallynowthathehasSloane.
NotthatI’monetotalkwiththeamountoftimeI’vebeenspendingwithBailey.
Iputmytruckinparkandwait.Thisfuckerisconstantlyrunninglate.Hasbeensincewewereteenagers,sinceIpickedhimupandmadehimmoveinwithus.MadehimanhonoraryEaton.
Myminddriftsbacktothismorning.TowakingupwithBailey,naked,cradledagainstme,mynosenestledintohercoconutandsugar-scentedhair.Myarmswrappedoverherbodywhileherhandsheldmybiceps,asthoughIwouldletgoifshedidn’tholdmeagainsther.
Afterourorgasms,Iusedawarm,dampclothtocleanthemesswemadeandcrawledintobedwithher.
Wedidn’tsayanything.
At2:11,Iwokewithagaspratherthanayell.
Shereachedformebeforepaddingtothebathroomandreturningwithlotionthatsmelledlikeher.Inthedimlight,shegentlyrubbedmyfeetuntiltheburningsensationsubsidedandthencrawledbackunderthecoverswithme.
Wedidn’tsayanything.Didn’tneedto.
Untilmorning,whenIrealizedtherewerethingsIneededtosaytoher.Thingsthatshouldn’tgounsaid.
Andforallmyheroics,Itookonelookatherpeaceful,sleepingface,feltmybodycomealivefromwatchingherliethere,andIcrawledoutofbedbeforeIcoulddoanythingIshouldn’t.
Iworkedallday,foundthingstofixjusttokeepmyselfbusy.
ThenItextedmybestfriend—myalmost-brother—andtoldhimIneededtotalk.
Movementatthefrontdoordrawsmyattention.JasperjogsdownthefrontstepsofhisandSloane’snewhouse.He’sdressedlikehe’sbeentothegym.Haircurlingaroundhisears,CalgaryGrizzlieshoodiestackeduparoundhisneck,shorts,andsneakers.
Whenheyanksthedoorofmytruckopen,hesmilesatme.I’veknownJasperforthebetterpartofourlives,andI’veneverseenhimlookashappyashedoeslately.He’slostsomuch,beenaloneinsomanyways.Hewasmoodyandquietandshy.
ButnowhehasSloane.
Ismilebackathim.“Hey,man.”
Hehopsin,slammingthedoor.“Hey,dumbass,”ishisreplyashebucklesup.“How’sitgoing?”
Irollmyeyesandpulloutofthedriveway.“Fine.”
“That’sit?YoutextandtellmeyouneedtogoforadrinkwhenIknowyou’rebasicallylivingsomesortofdeep-covermissionandwhatyougivemeisfine?”
“I’mwaitinguntilwe’reontheroad.”
“Why?”He’sliterallylaughingatmenow.
“Idon’tfuckingknow,Jas.I’mparanoidaboutanyonehearing.Idon’twanttobetrayBailey.”
“YouthinkCadehassomesortofspecialmicrophonesplantedaroundtheranch?”Hepeersaroundusdramatically.
“Fuckoff.”
Hedoesnotfuckoff,though.Instead,heclapshishandstogetherandthenpointsatme.“Nah.It’sprobablythosenewsupersonichearingaidsHarvgot.”
“Dadgothearingaids?”
Jasperchuckles,floppingbackinhisseat.“Goddamn,dude.Youasksomeseriouslystupidquestionsforsomeonewhowassupposedtohavebeenasupersoldier.”
Ican’thelpbutcrackasmilenow.“That’swhatBaileyalwayssays.”
IexpectJaspertolaugh,buthedoesn’t.Infact,hegoessoquietIglanceoverathimasweturnoutoftheranchandheadintotown.
Hestaresatme.
“What?”
Hetipshischinatme.“You.”
“Don’tbeMr.Mysteriouswithme.That’snotourjig,andyouknowit.”
“Okay,well,thatrulegoesbothways.Yeah?”
Ishakemyhead.Can’teverpulloneoveronJasper.He’stoosmart.Watcheseverythingtoodamnclosely.
Includingme,apparently.
“Fine.Sure.”
“I’vebeeninyourcompanyforliketwominutesandyou’vebroughtBaileyuptwice.”
“And?”
“Justmakinganobservation.Onceperminuteisaprettysolidclip.”
“YoutalkaboutSloaneallthetime.”Isounddefensivetomyownears.
“Well,wearemarried.Wereactuallyengagedatonepoint.”
Istraightenandtwistmypalmsonthesteeringwheel.“Well,soareBaileyandI.”
Idon’tneedtoturnmyeyesonJaspertoknowthelookhe’sgivingmerightnow.It’sblankandimpassive.Hedoesitwell.
“Really,Beau?We’regonnaplaythatgame?”
“What?Weare.Forallintentsandpurposes,weare.”
“Doyouknowwhattheword‘intent’evenmeans?”
Mymolarsgrind.“Yes.”
“Okay,good.Cool.Thoughtyoumighthavebeenconfused.”Hechucklesashepropsonefootoverhisknee.
“I’mnot.We’reengaged.”
Irefusetoglanceoverathimandkeepmyeyesontheroadassilenceblanketsthecabofmytruck.Fivesecondsstretchintoten.Intotwenty.I’mreadytosnapathimaboutthesilenttreatmentwhenhefinallysays,“Ohshit.”
“Ohshit,what?”
“You’reintoher.”
Intoher
Thatseemslikeit’svastlyunderstatingwhateveritisIfeelforBailey.
Invested.
Possessive.
Obsessed.
IscrubahandovermyfaceanddecidenottouseanyofthosewordsincaseJasperthinksI’minsane.“Yeah,”isallIreplywith.
“So,thefakepartofthisfiancéethingisn’tveryfakeanymore?”
“Idon’tknow.It’schanged.”
“Ithoughtyoudidn’twanttobetieddown?”
Igrunt.“Idon’t.Okay,Ididn’t.”
Jasperletsoutalowwhistle,likehe’simpressed.HeknowsallthereasonswhyIhaven’twantedtotiemyselftoanyone.ButnowI’mnottakingoffatthedropofahat.Nowmychancesofdyingaresignificantlylower.
NowI’mheretostay.
“Butyouguyshaven’ttalkedaboutit?”
“No.Notyet.”
“Thenwhyareyoutalkingtomeaboutit?”
“BecauseIdon’tknowwhoelsetotalktoaboutit,”Ibiteout.
“Maybetrythegirlwhoitinvolves?”
“Richcomingfromyou.HowmanyyearsdidyoupineafterSloanebeforeyoucameclean?”
Fromthecornerofmyeye,IseeJaspershakehishead.“Thatwasdifferent,andyouknowit.Butevenifitweren’t,IhaveenoughperspectivenowtotellyouIwishI’dtoldhersooner.IwishIhadn’tcountedmyselfoutorconvincedmyselfIdidn’tdeservesomethinghappy.”
Iflinchathiswords,coveringitbypretendingtoswatatafly.Didn’tdeservesomethinghappy.He’salittletooonthenosetoday.
“Nobodyjustwaltzesaroundtellingtheirlifelongfriendthey’reintothem,Jas.Notanyonewithamodicumofsurvivalinstinctanyway.Imaginesheturnedyoudown.Oof.Thatwouldhavebeenrough.Kissthatfriendshipgoodbye.”
IlookbothwaysbeforepullingoutontothemainhighwaythatwillleadusintoChestnutSprings.Thetiresgofromcrunchingovergraveltohummingoverasphalt.Theradiofromslightlycracklingtoclearsound.
Finally,Jasperspeaks.Butit’sinthatquintessentiallyJasperway,quietandintrospective,likehe’sthoughtouteverysinglewordbeforetheyevenleavehislips.“Right.ButitwouldhavebeenworsetospendmylifewonderingwhatwouldhavehappenedifItoldher.OrwishingIhad.”
Iswallowasthehorizonlineinfrontofuschanges.Buildingscropupasdowntowncomesintoview.Aswedrawclosertothebar.ToBailey.
TothegirlImightspendalifetimewishingI’dtoldthisthingisn’tfaketomeanymore.32Bailey
Beau:JasperandIarecomingtohangoutforadrink.
Bailey:Oh,asignoflife.Thanksfortheheadsup.
IshouldbeBeauEaton’sbiggestfantoday.HemademeseestarslastnightandthenheldmeagainsthimlikeIwashisfavoritestuffedtoyallnightlong.Then,whenIthoughthewasgettinguptogotothebathroomorgetadrinkofwater,hedisappearedonme.Ifitwereforwork,he’dhavegoneearlier.Butinstead,hesleptinandthenleftwithoutawordwhenhethoughtIwasstillasleep
Hetoldmehewashunguponme.Thenfuckedoff.AndIwastoochickenshittogoafterhim.
Igrabanotherfork,spoon,knifecomboandanglethemacrossthepapernapkin,rollingthecutleryuplikeit’sdonesomethingtooffendme.Itossitintothebucketbesideme,glanceupanddownmymostlyemptybartoseeifanyoneneedstoppingup,andstartalloveragain.
I’vespentalldaytryingtomakeheadsortailsofit,andit’sbecomecleartomeIhavenocluewhatI’mdoingwhereBeauEatonisconcerned.I’mofficiallyabasicbitchwithamassivecrushonthesamepersonaseveryothergirlintown.
AndIknowI’mleaving.Whichisahilariouscombination.
Dopeoplemasturbatetogetherallthetimeandthenjustcarryonlikenothinghappened?Idon’tevenknow!Worse,Ihavenoonetoask.
ExceptforBeau.Whichjustcomesoffkindofpatheticinthiscase.SoI’vestewedallday.Lyinginthesun,pretendingtoreadwhenI’mfairlysureIjustreadthesamepageoverandoveragainwhilewaitingforhimtoshowup.
ThenIgotreadyearlyforwork,takingextratimetolookreallyfuckinggood.Glowingfromanafternoonspentinthesunmadeiteasytogolightonmymakeup.Iscrubbedandmoisturizedmyskinuntilitfreakingshineswhenthelighthitsit.Wantingtoshowcasethegoods,Ipickedafloraltanktopthattiesatbothshouldersandtuckeditintoskin-tightblackjeans.JeansIknowmakemyasslookgreat.
AndthenIspentapainstakingamountoftimeblowingoutmythickheadofhair,sectionbysection,witharoundbrush.Ittumblesdownmybacklikeamane,heavyandvoluminous.
I’mcountingonBeauactuallyshowingup.Forallhismixedsignalsbehindcloseddoors,he’sbeennothingbutsteadfastanddependablewheresafeguardingmeatmybarisconcerned.
Andsureenough,thedoorswingsopenat8p.m.,andinhewalks,allbronzedskin,tightT-shirt,andsun-bleachedhair.Hisbrownlocksarenowhighlightedwithstreaksofblondandwarmchestnutbecauseherefusestowearahatatwork.Heinsistshe’snotacowboywhilesimultaneouslyburninghisearsworkingtheranchalldaylong.
Mystomachflipsoveronitself,butterflieseruptingasheapproaches.
Hedoesn’tbelonghere.
ThethoughtpopsupandIswipeitaway.Writeitoffaswishfulthinking.Ofcoursehebelongshere.He’stheprinceofChestnutSprings.
“Boys.”IsmilestifflyandtosstwocoastersonthebarasBeauandJaspersaunterup,pullingstoolsoutforthemselvesandgreetingGary.Beaureachesacrossthebar,avoidingmygaze,andgrabsmyhand.Hepressesakisstothetopofit,hisusualbargreetingformesincewegotengaged.HislipsbrushmyskinandelectricitysizzlestheirwakeasItugmyhandaway.
GaryslurssomesortofgreetingandIshakemyheadathim.Hetosseshiskeysuponthebarwithoutargumentandgivesmeawaterysmile.
AttentionbackonBeauandJasper,Ifinishwith,“WhatcanIgrabya?”MyeyesmeetBeau’sbrieflyandhisgazescorchesme.Itlicksovermybody,hotandintense.Tonguedartingoutoverhislipswhenhegetstomybreasts.Theonesproppedupinmyverybestbra,becausefuckhimforleavingmethismorning.
“Hi,Bailey,”Jaspersayskindly,eyesbouncingbetweenBeauandme.“I’llhaveaRoseHillRed,please.”
Beau’sbrowsfurrowasheturnstohisfriend.“NotaBuddyzBest?IthoughtthatwasyoursandSloane’sfavorite.”
Jasperlaughs,caramellocksshakingaroundhisears,skinbesidehiseyescrinkling.“Truthis,Idon’treallylikeit.ButSloanedoes,soIdrinkitwithher.”
Beauseemsconfused.“Youdrinkbeeryoudon’tlikebecauseyourwifedoes?”
Jaspershrugs,offeringmeaknowingwink.“Yeah.Makesherhappy.It’sourthing.I’llsitaroundanddrinkwateryBuddyzBestwithSloanefortherestofmydamnlifeifitmakesherhappy.”
Iswallowandblinkaway.Fuck.That’sreallycute.
Meanwhile,I’vegottheemotionalequivalentofarocksittingacrossfrommeafterhightailingitoutofmybedthismorninglikehecouldn’tgetawayfastenough.
AndIwasn’tevenaskinghimtodrinkwaterybeerwithme.
“I’llhaveaRoseHillRed,too.”Beau’slongfingersrapagainstthebartop,andIslicehimanareyousurekindoflook.
Henods.
“You’lllikeit,man,”Jaspercarrieson,unperturbed.“There’salittlebreweryinRoseHillwherewejusthadtrainingcamp.Thebestcraftbeers,patiorightonthelake.Can’tbeatit.”Thenhelaunchesintoaconversationabouthockey,andIinstantlyzonethemout.
WhileIpourthepints,ImulloverallthealcoholicsI’veknowninmylife.IpeekoveratGary—allthealcoholicsI’veservedhere.IknowBeauisn’toneofthem.IsawBeauatadown-and-outmomentinhislife,andhequitwithoutabackwardglance.
Peekingupoverthereddish-brownbeeraccumulatinginthepintglass,Iwatchhim.Andhecatchesme.Oureyeslockforabeat,andanother.Myheartratequickens.
Andjustlikelastnight,dancingwithhishandsalloverme,everythingaroundusmeltsaway.Untiltheonlythingsthatexistarehimandmeandtheairbetweenusthatfeelsthickenoughtotripon.
Coldliquidhitsmyhandasthebeeroverflows.“Shit!Whatthehell.Thistapalwayspoursslowandthentodayitmagicallyworks.”Ishakemyhandoff,butallthatdoesisflipasizeablespotofbeerfoamrightontomycleavage.Iwatchitthere,whiteanddripping,thenmygazeflitsuptoBeau’s,whichisplasteredonthesamespot.
Onlyme.
Afterlastnight?Thiswouldonlyhappentome.
Withonefinger,Iwipethefoamofftheroundedtopofmybreastsandshakemyhandoffagain.Thesplatterfallstotherubbermatbeneathmyfeet,wetnessdottingmysandals.
“Jesusfuckin’Christ,canyoutwonot?We’reinpublicrightnow.”Jaspergroansandscrubsahandoverhisface.
Idecidenowisn’tthemomentwhereI’llstartcoweringaroundtheseguys.I’mabartender.I’mpaidtobanterwithcreepyoldmen.Myfakefiancéandhisbestfriendshouldbeabreeze.
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,Jasper.”Iforcemyeyestogocomicallywide,staringatthemanlikeI’mgenuinelyconfused.“It’sjustbeer.”
Poor,sweetJasperGervais.Hisneckturnspinkfirst,rightattheedgeofhisstubble.Iwatchitcreepuphisthroatandspreadacrosshischeeks.“It’sjustthatyoutwowereall”—hemakesgooglyeyesandsortofshakeshishandsbesidehisface—“andthenitlookslike…well,youknow.”
Iblinkafewtimes,channelingmyinnerBambiandleaningintothefactthatIlookyoungerthanmyage.“Whatdoesitlooklike?Idon’tfollow.”
Jasperblinksbackatmeandtugsatthenecklineofhishoodielikeit’schokinghim.ButIknowbetter.It’stheawkwardnessthat’schokinghim.
“It…”
“Itlookslikebeerfoam?”Itiltmyheadinnocently.
Beaulaughs.“Jesus,Bailey.Givetheguyabreak.He’saswholesomeastheycome.Hecan’tevensayitoutloud.”
Jasperstraightupchokes,afisthittinghischestasIhandhimhisbeer.“Here.Washitdown.Breathethroughyournose.”Iwinkathim,andheshakeshishead,doinghisbesttomatoimpression.IturnbacktoBeau.“Saywhatoutloud?”
“Youtwohavethesamefucked-upsenseofhumor,that’sforsure,”Jaspermurmursagainsttherimofhispintglass.
Beau’seyesstaypinnedonme,aknowingsmirktuggingathislips.Whenhestaresatmelikethis,Iforgetwhyheannoyedmeinthefirstplace.
“Thatitlookslikeyouhavejizzonyourtits.”
Jasperspraysbeerintohishand,asadattempttocoverhismouthfoiledbyhisinabilitytokeepittogetherrightnow.ButBeauandIjustsmirkateachother.
WhenIpush,hepushesback.Whenhepushes,Ipushback.Wekeependinguprightinthemiddle.
Together.
It’swithalightshakeofmyheadthatIgetbacktowork.IsilentlyhandBeauhisbeerandproceedtomostlyignorethetwoofthem.Theyspeakinmutedtones,andIheartheoddnameIrecognize.Beau’seyeswatchmeallnightlong,whileJasperpeeksbetweenthetwoofuscuriously.
Hescrutinizeswithacuriousintensity.Itmakesmewonderwhatheknows.
Itmakesmefeellikethey’retalkingaboutme.
Beaunurseshissinglepintandswitchestotea.Sloanecomesin,hairinabun.ShewrapsherarmsaroundJasper’sneck,andheturnsonhisstooltokisshersoundly.Whenhepullsback,thelookhegiveshermakesmethinkhe’salotlesswholesomethanBeaumightrealize.
Shortlyaftershearrives,theyleavetogether.
ButnotbeforeJasperwhisperssomepartingwordsinhisfriend’sear,squeezeshisshoulder,andgiveshimasternnod.“Youneedtotellher.”
Idon’tknowifIhearitorifIreadhislips.AllIknowisthatonesentencelandsinmygutlikeaboulderatthebottomofalake.
Tellmewhat?33Bailey
WhenBeauandIwalkintothequiethousetogether,ourpresenceinthespacemakesthesilenceevenmoredeafening.Beautosseshiskeysontothekitchencounter,andIflinchattheloudclatterofmetalonmarble.
There’sclearlyanelephantintheroomandneitherofusknowshowtotalkaboutit.Atthirty-five,heshouldknowwhathe’sdoingwithallthisshit.Apparentlynot.Inhisdefense,it’snotlikehedidn’twarnmehedoesn’tdorealrelationships.
ButhereIam,fallingforhimanyway.
Istarttowardthestove,needingtodosomethingwithmyhandstocombattheawkwardnessbloomingbetweenus.“Wantmetomakeussometea?”
“Weneedtotalk.”
Ifreeze.Thatboulderissodamnheavyinmygutwhileeverythingelsespinsaroundme.Iforcemyselftokeepwalking.Everymovementfeelslikeastruggle,likeI’mwalkingthroughmolassesuptomyknees.
“Sure.Aboutwhat?”Ikeepmyvoiceairyasmyfingerswraparoundthekettle.
“Bailey,Idon’twanttea.Comehere.”
Therushofmyheartpumpingbloodsoundslikeaheavydruminmyears,butIturnandwalkbacktohim,likeamarionetteonstrings.
He’stakenaseatononeofthestoolsontheisland.Hisbrowsdiplow,andhecrossesthemassivearmsIsleptinlastnight.Theyfeltsowarmandwelcoming
ButI’mseeingthemdifferentlynow.Big,foreboding,perfecttocrushmyheartwith.
Proppingahipagainsttheisland,ImirrorhimandcrossmyarmsasashieldagainstwhatIseemtoknowiscoming.“What’sup?”ItsoundsmorepetulantthanIintended,butI’mfeelingalittlepetulantrightnow.“Youghostmeandbarelyacknowledgemeallday,andnowyouwanttotalk?Luckyme.”
IguessI’mallinonthepetulancetonight.
“Ididn’tghostyou.Iwenttowork.”
“Right.”Mylipspresstogether,andIglareathim.
Beausighs,broadchestrisingandfallingashereachesbackandgripshisneck.“Look,Ineededsometimetowrapmyheadaroundthingsafterlastnight.”
Theurgetoberatemyselfisoverwhelming.Ishouldn’thavetoldhimIwashunguponhimtoo.I’msureIfreakedhimrightthefuckout.
“Sohelpme,ifthisissomemomentwhereyoudecidetoadmiremyvirginityagain,Iwillwalkoutthatfrontdoor.”
“I’mnotadmiringit,Bailey.I’mtellingyouitmeanssomethingtome.I’mtellingyouthereareonlysomanyfirstsinyourlifebeforeeverydayjustturnsintoablurofmoreofthesame.I’mtellingyouthat,whetherornotyourealizeit,itmightmeansomethingtoyouoneday.AndIhatethethoughtofyoulivingwithanyregrets.”
Ignawattheinsideofmycheek,feelingmorechildishandinexperiencedbythesecond.Beauisn’tstaringatmelikeI’mchildishatall,though.
Ican’tputmyfingeronwhat’sthereinhisgaze.AllIknowisI’mquitecertainnopersoninmylifehaseverlookedatmethewayBeauisrightnow.Mychestwarmsundertheintensityinhiseyes.
Buthesquashesthatinitstracks.
“Ithinkweshouldstop.”
Stop
That’swhatmyheartdoes.Stopsrightinitstracks.
“Ican’tdothisanymore.”
MylungsnolongerpumpairasIstandinthetoo-quietkitchen,staringatthetoo-handsomemanbeforeme.
“You’vegotajobnow.”
Inod,butIdon’treallyhearhiswords.Ikeeprepeatingtomyself:don’tlethimseeyoucry
“Asecureone.You’llbeabletosaveuptogetoutoftown,noproblem.”
“Mm-hmm,”isallIcanmanagetochokeout.I’mcertainthatifIopenmymouthtosaysomething,onlyasobwillcomeout.
Everywordfeelslikehe’stearingawayapieceofmyheartIsworeIwouldn’tgivetohim.IthoughtIhadn’t.
“…sowecanprobablysafelyendthisarrangementnow.”
Hewastalking,andIwasn’tlistening.It’soneofthosemomentswhereyouknowit’shappening,butitdoesn’tseemreal.Everythinghappensinslowmotion
Iblinkhard,forcingmylipsintoasmilethatleansmoretowardagrimace.Beauisaniceguy.Idon’twanttomakehimfeelworsethanheprobablyalreadydoes.Idon’twanttobethenaivegirlwhowasfoolishenoughtobelieveinsomethingthatwasnevermeanttobe.
I’msofuckinghunguponyou
Ishakethewordsaway,filingthemunder“thingsmenmustsaywhenthey’vehadanamazingorgasm”.
“Yeah,ofcourse.”Myvoiceiswatery,butIdon’tthinkthere’sanyhelpingthat.
Beau’sforeheadcrinklesinconcern,andheunfoldsonethickarm,reachingforme.Whenthetipsofhisfingerstracemyhipbone,Irecoilandstepback.
Hejustdumpedme.Fakedumpedme?
Whateverthefuckyoucallthis,Ihaveenoughself-respecttonotwanthishandsonme.
Inonesmoothmotion,Ipullthediamondringfrommyfingeranddropitontothemarblebetweenus.“Noproblem.Definitelydon’twanttooverstaymywelcome.Youtakethis—”
“Bailey.”Hepushestostand,andIhatethatInoticethewaythemusclesinhislegsflex.Thelinefromhisquadsthatrunsdowntohisknees.Downtohismarredfeet.
Thefeetthatstillburneverynight.
ThefeetIwokeupandrubbedlastnight.
Howfuckingdarehedothistome?
“I’lljustheadbackouttomytrailer.”
Ican’tevenlookathim.
Myfeetmoveswiftlyacrossthefloortothefrontdoor.
“Bailey,wait—”
Iholdahandupovermyshouldertocuthimoff.“It’sallgood.Totallyfine.Cool,cool,cool.”Thelastcoolcomesoutasasob.
Mysandalssitintheentryway,butIdon’tfeelliketakingthetimetostrapthembackon.Abuckleisjustnotinthecardsrightnow.Iyankthedooropen,sensinghimbehindme.
“Fuck,”hemutters.Hestartstofollowme,butthenheturnsaround,movingintheoppositedirection,backintohishouse,whileIjogoutintothecoolnight.Thedogdaysofsummerareuponus.Theyhitwithstartlingrapidity.Itwentfromhotatnight,totepid,torefreshing.Theminutethesundisappears,sodoestheheat,themountainaircreepinginasfallapproaches.
DewygrassclingstomybarefeetasIfixateonmytrailer.IfIcanjustgetmyselfthere—acrossthatline,behindthatdoor—Imightbesafe.
Safeenoughtobreakdown.
Mypalmslandflatagainstthechilledfiberglassexterior,andIreachforthehandle,myfingerswrappingaroundthechippedmetal.
Inside,I’llbeokay.
Itug,butthedoorholdsstill.
It’slocked.Becauseofcourseitis.
Asobracksmybody,andmyforeheadthumpsagainstthesideofmytrailer.“Fuck,fuck,fuck.”
ThebackdoorofBeau’shouseslams.“Bailey.”
Thistime,mynameisn’tlacedwithamusedfrustration.There’sanedgetohistone,asharpness.It’snotcasualandunaffected.It’shotandfiredupwithmilitaryabruptness.
Hisfootstepsapproachme,andIfeelthetensionthatradiatesfromhisbody.Forsomereason,heseemsangry.
“WhatmadeyouthinkIwasdonetalkingtoyou?”
Ilaugh,butitsoundsmorelikeI’mcrying.Iwipeatmycheekandmyfingerscomeawaywet.TurnsoutIamcrying.“Feltprettyfinaltome.Noneedtodragitout,Beau.I’llbeokay.”Idon’tturntofacehim.“Justleavemealone.I’llbefinebymorning.”
“Bullshit.Youwon’tbefineinthemorning.”
Istartattheharshnessinhiswords.Okay,probablynot,butitseemscrueltorubmyfaceinthatfact.“Fuckoff,Beau.”
Hispalmlandsonmyshoulder,andwhenIgotoshrughimoff,heflipsmearound,pressingmeuphardagainsttheexteriorofmytrailer.Hegetsrightinmyface,onehandcuppingmycheek.“No.You’recrying.”
Hisheaddrops,andhekissesatearthatstreaksdownmyface.“Ican’tfuckingstandthesightofyoucrying.”
Ohgod.Myhearttwistsanditfuckinghurts.
Iknewitwouldbepainful,butnothingcouldhavepreparedmeforthesearing,intenseache.
Ineedspace.Ineedtobreathe.
Ishovehim,butit’snouse.He’stoobig.Mightaswellrunaroundtryingtopushtreesoveratthisrate.“Please.”MyvoicecracksasIlookupintohisface.“Fuckoff.”
“NotuntilIfinishwhatIwastryingtosaybackinsidethehouse.”
“Youdumpedme.Whatmoredoyouwanttosay?”
Intensitypaintseveryinchofhisstupid,handsomefacewhilehiseyesdancebackandforthbetweenmine.
Iwaitforhimtosaysomething.
Buthedoesn’t.
“Didyouforgetwhatyouwantedtosay,Beau?BecauseIthinkIcan’tdothisanymoresumsthingsup,don’tyou?”Ispitthewordsout,steelingmyself.Tryingtoinflictpain.ThoughIthinkrepeatinghiswordsoutloudhurtsmemorethananyone.
Hishandstightenonmybody,grippingmeashepusheshiskneebetweenmylegs,pinningmeinplace.Tearsstreamdownmycheeks,clumpingmyeyelashes,andmychestachessoheavyanddeepthatsimplybreathinghurts.
Thehandonmywaistmovesup,wipingawayanothertearbeforepushingbackalockofmycarefullystyledhair.“WhatImeanttosay,Bailey…”Heemphasizesmynameinawaythatsendsashiverdownmyspine.HishandcupsmyheadsoIcan’tlookanywherebutstraightathim.“WhatImeanttosayis…willyougooutwithme?”
Everythingaroundmecomestoascreechinghalt.Notonlyisthesentencejuvenile,butit’salsojustplainconfusing.
“Youjustbrokeupwithme.”
Aboyishsmilecurveshissinfullips.Hekissesmytempleandgoesbacktostaringmedown.“Ifyouhadletmefinish,I’dhavetoldyouIcouldn’tkeepdoingitanymorebecausepretendingthisthingbetweenusisfakeisfuckingkillingme.”
“What?”
God,that’swhatIblurtout?What?
“TheonlyreasonyougotthisfarisbecauseIwentbackintothehouseforthering.”
Hereachesdownandpullstheteardrop-shapeddiamondfromhispocket,holdingitbetweenus.
“I’mdonepretendingtobeheadoverheelsinlovewithyoubecauseI’mlegitimatelyheadoverheelsinlovewithyou.AndactinglikeI’mnottearsmeup.”
Igriphiswrists,squeezingsoIcanassuremyselfthathe’sreal.Thatthismomentisreal.Becauseitfeelsdistinctlyunbelievable.
“Maybeit’stoosoon.Maybethisisimpulsive.Maybeyoudon’tlovemeback.ButI’llwait.Idon’tcare.I’lltakemytimewithyou.SolongasIknowyou’rereallymine,Icanbepatient.”
“Beau…”Mychestheavesasmybrainstrugglestocatchup.
Hedoesn’tgivemeachancetosayanymorebeforehe’spullingmyhanddownandslidingtheengagementringbackontomyfinger.“Thisbelongshere,”hemurmurs.
“Maybeweshouldjustdateforabit?”God,I’mnotfiringonallcylindersrightnow.IshouldtellhimIlovehimback.Ishouldkisshim.
“Callitwhateveryouwant,sugar.Buttheringstayshere.”
Webothstareatthediamond,thebackporchlightsflittingoffeverybrilliantfacet.Ourbreathscomeoutragged.We’rebothampedup.Confused,excited,frustrated.
“Feelslikebadlucktowearitwhenwe’renotreallyengaged.”
“Wearereallyengaged.”Hisresponseleavesnoroomfordebate.
“Imean,ifwe’retakingourtime,testingthisthingoutforreal,youprobablyshouldn’twaltzaroundpretendingyouintendtomarrymewhenyoudon’t.”
Iswearhegrowlsatmyresponse.Adeeprumbleinhischest.Anarrowingofhiseyes.Theveinathistemplethrobs.
Ihatemyself.WhyamIarguingwithhimandpokingholesinhislogicwhenthisshouldbeadreamcometrue?
It’sbecauseitdoesn’tfeelreal.Goodthingslikethisdon’thappentoBaileyJansen.Notwithmenlikehim.
“Stopthinkingwhatyou’rethinking.Stoppretendingthisisn’treal.”Hebendsslightlyandliftsme,pickingmeupeasilyandcarryingmebacktowardthehouse.“StoptellingmewhatIintendtodo,”hewhispersagainstmyear.“BecauseIdointendtomarryyou.AndIwantyoutowearthatfuckingringwhileIshowyouthatit’strue.”
Thenhekicksthedooropen.Marchesmeupthestairstohisroom.Dropsmetomyfeetatthefootofhisbed,andsays,“Strip.”34Beau
Bailey’seyeshavewidenedtounbelievablesize,andherlipspopopenasshestaresbackatme.Shocked?Confused?I’mnotsure,butIcantelltheeventsoftonighthavethrownherforaloop.
“Wasthereapartofthatorderyoudidn’tunderstand,Bailey?”
Istepclosertoher,chintippingdowntokeepmygazefixedonhers.Hertonguedartsoutoverherbottomlipandmyeyesfollowithungrily.
“Okay.So,letmegetthisstraight.”
Inod,bitingdownonasmirk.She’shavingahardtimeacceptingthis.Inhindsight,Ishouldhavestartedthisconversationdifferently.
“We’renotfakinganymore.”
“That’sright.”
“Becausewebothwantthis?”
“Itseemsthatway.”AdeepchucklerumblesinmychestasIwatchherworkitoutinthosecoal-blackeyes.AdarknessIactuallywanttogetlostin.
“Howdowedothis?Like,wejustcarryon?I…”Oneofherhandsgripsherthroat.“Beau,Ihavealltheseplans.”
Iskimahandupanddownherribcage.“We’llworkitout.Wedon’thavetohavealltheanswersrightthissecond.”
Shenibblesatherlip.“I’myourrealfiancéenow?”
“Yes.”
Sheslowlynodsherhead,understandingflaringtolifeinhereyes.Andthen…somethingmoreplayful?
Herheadtilts,herarmscross,andhermouthtakesonateasingcurve.“WhatifItoldyouIdon’twanttobeengagedtoyou?”
Idropmylipscloserdrawninbytheheatfromherskin.Webreatheeachother’sbreath.“ThenI’dcallyouafuckingliar,sugar.”
Ikissher.Idon’tgiveherachancetorunhersmartmouthandtestmypatiencewithbrattyjokes.Itakehermouthtoshutherupandtoclaimher.
Herhandsfistmyshirtandourtonguestangleasmyfingersthreadthroughthesilkylocksofherhair.Thiskissfeelsdifferent.Better.Lesstentativeandmoredesperate.
“You’reinsane,”shemuttersagainstmylipsbetweenkisses,andshe’sprobablynotwrong.ButI’mpastcaringaboutthewayI’mperceived.
Ipullback,dottingkissesoverhercheeks.Overhernose.
AndIconfessmytruthtoher.
“I’vebeendoingimpulsiveshit,hopingoneofthosethingsmightmakemefeelsomething.Andnotasingleoneofthemdid.Untilyou.Soifthisthingwithyoumakesmeinsane?I’llbehappytowearthatbadge.”
Whenoureyesmeet,allIseeislongingandpride.Nopity,nouncertainty.Webothknowthisisright.Itjustfelttoounlikelytosayoutloud.
“Doyoureallyloveme?”
DoIloveher?God.Whatapedestrianquestion,onethatfeelslikeitdoesn’tencompassallthefeelingsIhaveforher.Itdoesn’tseemlikeenough.ButI’llkeeptellingher,keepshowingher,untilIfigureoutbetterwordstodescribethewayIfeelabouther.
“BaileyJansen,Iloveyou,”Imurmurasourfacesdanceclosetooneanother,exchangingsoftkisses.We’reinthiskindoflull.Standingonaprecipice,readytotoppleovertheedge.
“Howdoyouknow?”
Ikissjustbelowherear,revelinginthewayshetiltsherhead.Mylipsmovedowntoherneck.“Ijustdo.”Ikisshershoulder,rightbesidethetiedstrap.
“Idon’tthinkanyonehaseverlovedme.”
Ifreeze.Thepaininmychestissharp,instant,acute.
Shesaysitlikeit’safact.
I’veseenalotofsadshitinmylife,butnoneofithaswoundedmethewaythatonesentencejustdid.Idon’tknowwhattosay.Whatisapersonsupposedtosaytothat?Arewordsenough?
Itstrikesmethatthey’renot.
Aboymightstandherewaitingforhertosayitback,butIdon’tneedthatvalidation.Baileymightnotknowwhatloveis,butIdo.
LoveistellingmeI’mactinglikeanassholewhennooneelsewill.
Loveistakingmeshoppingtofindshoesthatdon’trubmyfeetraw.
It’swakingupeverygoddamnnightforweekstoswimintheriverwithme,soIdon’thaveanightmare.
Baileydoesn’tneedflowerywords.
Baileyneedsproof.
Iliftmyhead,gettinglostintheinkydepthsofheririses.“Thenletmebethefirsttodothattoo.”
Shenodsandmyfingerscurlaroundthesoftcotton.Islowlyliftit,draggingitupherbody.HerarmsraisewithoutresistanceasIdiscardtheshirt,leavingherstandingbeforemeinapalepinkstraplessbra.MyhandsroamasItakeherin,continuingdownherbackwhereIunfastenthehooksandletherbrafallawaytoo.
WhenIdroptomykneesinfrontofher,herhandssinkintomyhair.Combing.Stroking.
Itakemytime.Itfeelsabitlikeunwrappingapresent.ButnotthewayIdidasachild,shreddingandtearinguntilIgottowhatwasunderneath.No,thisismecarefullypeelingthetapeback,smoothingeverycrease.
Herbutton.Herzipper.Herjeans.Allgentlypulledawayuntilit’sjustasmoothexpanseofskinandapalepinkthong.
Ilookupather,meetinghergaze,asmyhandsslideoverherhips,cuppingthefirmglobesofherass.“Iloveyou.”
“Okay,”shewhispers,likeshestillcan’tquitebelieveit.Andthat’sfinewithme.Ilikeachallenge.
“ShouldIkeepgoing?”
Hernodisfast,slightlyfrantic.“Yes.Please.”
MylipsquirkasIworkherunderweardownherthighs.She’sstill.Toostill.“Ilikeitwhenyou’resosweetandpolite,Bailey.”
Anervouslaughtumblesfromherlips,andshebreathesagain.“Fuckyou,Beau.”
Mycheektwitches.There’sthegirlIknow.
Withherpantiesaroundherankles,Iglanceupather,givinghermywickedestgrintocutthetension.“That’sexactlywhatyou’regoingtobedoingonceIfinisheatingthisprettypussy.”35Bailey
I’mprettysurethisisadreamandsomeonewillshakemeawakeatanymoment.
ButwhenBeaulicksupmyslit,tongueflickinghardatmyclit,mybackbowsoffthebedandIknowthisisn’tadream.
BecauseIalwayswakeupfromsexdreamsrightwhenit’sfinallygettinggood.
Andthatwasreallyfuckinggood.Imakesomesortofuncontrolledmewlingnoiseandmybodytremblesagainstmywill.
“Youlikethat,baby?”Beauasksashedrapesmythighsoverhisshoulders.
Thenhedoesthesamethingagain.Slowandpurposeful,thepressureisjustright.
Iattempttostifleanotherdesperatesoundcomingfromthebackofmythroat,butfail.“Yes,”Itrytoreply,butthewordisallgarbled.
Ifeeltherumbleofhisdeep,amusedchuckleagainstmycore.ThenoiseImakeissomethingwilderthanawhimper—thismanknowsexactlyhowtohandleme.
Hedevoursme.Mylegswraparoundhisshouldersandeventuallyworktheirwayuptothebackofhishead,tugginghimcloser.Hisstrongarmswraparoundmythighs,bighandssplayed,holdingmeopensohecanfeastonme.
“AmIthefirsttodothistoyou?”
Inod,tuggingathishair.Mindlessforthisman.“Yes.”
“I’mgoingtobetheonlyonetodothistoyou,Bailey.Markmywords.”
Myheadspins.He’ssofuckingsure.Idon’tknowwhattomakeofhisconfidence.Howtocopewithit.Inmyworld,nothinglastsforever,andloveisn’tevenonthetable.
Beaugivesmesomuch.IworryI’llneverbeabletorepayhim.
Heslidesafingerintome,workingmybodyintimewithhismouth.Mybackarchesandmypalmsflyuptomyface,glidingbackovermyhair.
“ShouldIaddanotherfinger,Bailey?Getyouniceandreadytotakemycock?”
“Yesss.”ImoanthewordrightasItugatmyownhair.
Hedoesexactlyashepromised,slowandsteady,suckingatmyclitashishandmovesfaster.Harder.Mybodyshakesasheworksmeover—squeezingmyass,fingerscurlingintome,devilishtongueflicking.
“Fuck,fuck,fuck,”Icurse.Allmyhard-wonattemptsatbeinga“lady”flyoutthewindowwiththisman’sheadbetweenmylegs.“Beau,I’mgoingto—”
“Comeforme,baby.”Hepullsback,watchinghisfingerspumpinandoutofme.“Letmeseeit.”
Hisintimategaze,hishuskywords,andhisthumbreachinguptorubmyclitcausemetoshatter.Hegripsmelikeavise,twofingerspushingatthatmagicalspotdeepinsidemeasIcallhisname.Mybodyissuffusedwithheat.Thebacksofmycalvescramp.Everymusclebraces,clenchingonhim,beforereleasingeveryounceofpressure.Rockingmetomycore.
AndBeauneverstops.Watching.Touching.Admiringhishandiwork.
“Yeah,I’llnevertireofthisview,”hesaysgruffly,asmylimbsgosoft.
AllIcandoisconcentrateonbreathing,gettingmyvisionbackintofocus.Hisfingersleavemybody,accompaniedbyawetsound.Myeyesshut,atrickleofembarrassmentfindingitswayin.
“Whatwasthat,Bailey?”heasks,andIfeelthebedsinkundertheweightofhim.Hiskneesbraceoneithersideofmynakedbody.
Myeyesflipopentomeethis.“Nothing.”
“Doyouknowhowfuckingbeautifulyoulook,comingwithmynameonyourlips?”
“No,”Ireplyhonestly,andhejustsmiles.
“Whatabouthowgoodyoutaste?Doyouknowhowfuckinggoodyoutaste?”
Ishakemyhead,mybodythrummingjustfromtherumbleofhisdeepvoiceinthedimroom.
Hesmirks,fullofpromiseandknowing,andthefingersthatwerejustinsidemetracemylips.“Suck,Bailey.”
“Yourcock?”Myeyeswidenwithexcitement.
“Wecansavethatforanotherday.I’llbehappytoletyoupractice.Butfornow…”Histwofingerstapagainstmylipsandmymouthpopsopen.
Heslideshisfingersontomytongue,andmylipsclosearoundthem.Myeyeslockwithhisasthetasteofwhathedidtomefillsmymouth.“Suchaprettygirl,”hemurmurs,pullingthembackoutwithapop.“AndifIeverseeyoulookingembarrassedaboutyourselfagain,I’llleaveanothermarkonyournecktoweararoundtown.”
Thenhekissesme.Hard.AndItastemyselftheretoo.Itastehim,thatsignaturescent.
Itasteus
Intheblinkofaneye,heflipsusandpullsmeupthebedwithhimsoI’mstraddlinghim.Heleansagainsttheheadboard,lookinglikesomesortofking.Tousledandgoldenandimpossiblybroad.
“Undressme,Bailey.”Hedoesn’tblanchorblinkawaywhenhetellsmewhattodo.Hiseyesburnhotter,andIwantnothingmorethantoburnwithhimtoo.Torisetohischallengeandnotcrumpleundertheweightofmyinexperience.
Sowithasoftnod,Ireachdownandgrasphisshirt,tuggingslowlyatfirst,thenmorefrantically.Heleansforwardandliftshisarmstohelpme.Itossitaway,andit’sjustmyhandsonhisskin.Roaming.MemorizinghiminawayIhaven’tbeenabletountilnow.
Warm,smoothskinbeneathmypalms.Thickbulgesoverhispectoralmuscles.Tightnipples.Ipinchoneandpeekupathim.Hiseyesblazeandhegivesmeareassuringnod.
SoIpinchagain.Thistimeboth,notingthesharpintakeofbreaththatfollows.Myhipsgrinddowninresponseandhisbuckuptomeetme.
God.Ican’tbelieveI’mreallyhere,doingthiswithhim
Tocoverforthewaymyhandsshake,Ikeepmovingthem,roamingdownhistonedabdomen.Athinscarmarsoneofhisperfectabs.
Itrailafingeroveritslengthandwhisper,“What’sthisfrom?”
“Gotshivved.”
Mygazesnapsup.“What?”
“Letmyguarddownthatday,gettingoneofmyfirsttargetsintocustody.Learnedavaluablelesson.Neverlettingthathappenagain.”
Ismilesoftly,feelingtheraisedskinagain.“Don’tthinkyou’remuchatriskofgettingshivvedinChestnutSprings.”
Hisbroadpalmsslideupmythighs,myribs,overmyshouldersuntilheframesmyfacewiththemandpushesmyhairbackbehindmyears.“Stillnotlettingmyguarddown.NotwhenI’vegotyoutokeepsafe.”
AshiverracesdownmyspineasIstarebackathim.AllIcanofferisanod.
Idon’tthinkanyonehaseverprioritizedkeepingmesafe.
TheweightofhisgazeisalmostmorethanIcanmanage,soIdropitandgobacktotouchinghim.Myfingertipstravelthelightdustingofhairalongthetopofhisshorts.Ipullatthewaistline,thentugharder,wantingthemoff.Gone.Wantingtoexplore.
Wantinghisskinonmine.
Betweenthetwoofus,theygettuggeddown,slidoffhislegs,andforgotten.
ForgottenbecauseallIcanseeisthemassivecocklaidacrosshismasculinestomach.Itakeineverything.Muscledthighs.Heavyballs.Theveinthatrunsuptheundersideofhislength,pulsing.
Imean,yeah,I’vewatchedporn,butit’snotthesame.It’slikewatchingtheNationalGeographicchannelandsayingyou’veseenalioninthewild.
Oneofthesethingsisnotliketheother.
Ikneelbesidehim,andmytonguedartsout.
“KeeplookingatmydicklikethatwhilelickingyourlipsandI’llbeinyourmouthinsteadofyourpussy.”
Iflush,eyesflashinguptohis.“Iwantboth.”
“You’llalwaysgeteverythingyouwant.Ipromise.”Theneed,thewant,thelustradiatingbetweenusaredownrightelectric.“Takeit.”
Myeyeswiden,brainstumblingthroughthefogofmyhormones.“Takewhat?”
Histannedhandreachesdown,wrappingaroundhisgirth.Hejerksonce,thentwice.Itremindsmeofwatchinghimcomeonme,markingmewhileIfellapartunderhiswatchfulgaze.
“Takemycockandputitinyourmouth.Getitniceandwetforme,Bailey.”
IlickmylipsagainasIglancedownathispenis.Thedarkerheadlookssosmooth.
“Fuck,”hemutters,fingersgrippingthebaseofittightlyasapearlofpre-cumformsatthetip.“Baileyifyoudon—”
Hedoesn’tneedtofinishthatsentence.I’msalivatingforhim.Ileanforward,wrappingmyhandaroundhimforataste.
Iwanttoknowhowitfeelstoholdthatpartofhiminmymouth.Toseehowhemightreact.
Mytonguedartsout,lappinguptheliquid,andBeaugroans.WhenIpeekup,hiseyesareathalf-mastandfixedonme.
Hemoveshishandsaway,foldsthembehindhishead,andleansbacklikehe’sreadytotakeinsomesortofshow.
Nerveshitme.
Idon’tfuckingknowwhatI’mdoing.WhatifIdoitallwrong?Whatifhehatesit?
“You’reperfect,Bailey.”Hiswordssoothemeinstantly.Hereadsmelikeabookandknewexactlywhatwasrunningthroughmyhead.
Perfect
I’mnotsurethere’sanysuchthing,butIletmyselfbaskinthecomplimentanyway.IletitencouragemeasIslipmylipsdownovertheswollenheadofhiscock.Ifeeleveryridgewithmytongue,everysilky-smoothexpanse.
Iexplore,andheletsme.
Ilick.Isuck.IfillmymouthwithBeau,andthenoisesofpleasurehemakesareallIhear.
Fuck,yes.
Justlikethat.
You’redoingsowell.
Themorehetalkstome,thebetterIfeel.ThebolderIfeel.
Ipushfurtherdown,feelingtheblunttipofhimatthebackofmythroat.IgagwhenIgotoofar.
“Easy,Bailey.”Heswipesahandovermyhair.“Youdon’thavetogothatfar.Everythingyoudofeelssogood.”
Ipullup,flushingashispraisewrapsaroundme.“It’sokay?”
Hischeeksarerosytoo,eyesalittleshiny,likehe’shadtoomanydrinks.ExceptIknowhe’sdrunkonme
“BestI’veeverhad.Theonlythingthat’snotokayisthatI’mgoingtofinishinyourmouthifyoukeepitup.Andthatwouldbeawastewhenwebothknowwhatyoureallywantismycuminyourpussy.”
Myeyesfluttershutasgoosefleshbreaksoutacrossmyskin.Idowantthat,butgod.Hearinghimsayitoutloud?
Hishandspullmeuptohimasaknowingchucklerumblesinhischest.“YoulikeitwhenIsaythingslikethat,don’tyou?”
“Maybe,”Imurmur,kissinghisshoulderashelaysmeoverhim.
“Youdo.Ijustwatchedyournipplesgetharderrightasyourcheeksgotevenpinker.”Heliftsmehigher,suckingonenippleintohismouth.Igaspatthesensation,andjerkwhenhenipsgently.“Ican’twaittofindoutwhatelsedrivesyoucrazy.”Hisdamplipsdragacrossthevalleybetweenmybreasts.“YoulikeitwhenItellyouwhattodo?”
Ikisshisskinagain,tryingtoactmorecoythanI’mfeelinginside.Idolikeit.“Maybe.”
Hesucksmyoppositenipple,andarushofwetnesspoolsbetweenmylegs.
Hesmilesagainstmybreastbeforeasharpniponceagainleavesmegasping.
“Well,inthatcase,quitfuckingaroundandsitonmycock,Bailey.”
Hismassivehandscirclemywaist,andIriseabovehim,nipplesglisteningwithhissaliva,pinkindentsfromhisteethbesidethem.MybloodthundersthroughmyveinsasIgazedownatthisbeautiful,protectivemanwho’sgivenmeeverythingandmoreandaskedforalmostnothinginreturn.
Hesayshelovesme,andIdon’tknowhowtoprocessthat,butIwanttofeelitallthesame.
Iinchmyhipsback,handsplayedacrosshischestasIlineusup.Iknowhowitfelttohavejustaninchofhiminsideme,andknowingI’llgetthewholethingthistimesendsathrillthroughme.HeholdsmeupasIreachdownandtakehiminmyhand.
Iswipetheheadthroughmywetness,feelinghiscockslipsoeasilythroughmycore.Hegroans,fingersflexingonmywaistlikeit’stakinghisalltonotshovemedownandimpalemeonhislength.
WhenInotchhimatmyentrance,oureyescatch.TheweightofhisgazeisalmostmorethanIcanbear.Andyet,Idon’tlookaway.Ican’t.
I’msocaughtupinhim,inus—he’sallIsee.
ThemusclesinmylegsstrainasIcarefullylowermyselfontohim.
Oneinch,hisjawticks.
Twoinches,hiseyesgosteely.
Threeinches—fuck,he’ssothick—hishandsshake.Ormybodydoes.Idon’tevenknowanymorewhereheendsandIbegin.
Withawhimper,Ieasedownfurther,andsodohiseyes.He’sgonefromwatchingmyfacetowatchingwherehe’sfillingmeup.
“Fuck,Bailey.”
Ionlymoan,lettingmyeyesfluttershutandmovingmyhandstohisroundshouldersforsupport.
“Youokay?”
Inod,feelinghishandssoftenandhisthumbrubreassuringlyagainstmystomach.
Thisisnothinglikemytoys.It’stenfoldmoreintense.I’mfullinawayIneverhavebefore.
“Bailey,baby,you’redoingsogood.Ifyouneedtostop—”
“Idon’tneedtostop.”MyvoiceisbreathyasIcontinuetosinkdownontohim.Mybodypulses.“Ijust…god.Ifeelsofull.”
Iwhimper,lettingthebiteofhissizedistractmeforamoment.Butlikealways,Beauisrighttheretoreassureme.“You’realmostthere,Bailey.You’resobeautifulwithmycockinsideyou.Justgoslow.”
InodandmoanasIlookdownatwherewemeet,strugglingtogetthelastofhislengthinsideme.
Hispalmsslideovermyribs,shapingdownovermyass.“Iknow,baby,Iknow.”
Suddenly,I’mstruckbyanurgency,likethismomentmightslipthroughmyfingersifIdon’tmakethemostofit.IdropmyselfallthewaydownandcryoutasIhitthebaseofhim.“Ohgod.”
“Fuck,fuck,fuck.Thatfeels…”
Fingersgripme,andhe’severywhere.I’msofullofBeau,I’mso—Idon’tevenknowwhereIam,onlythatI’montopofhim,he’sinsideofme,andI’veneverfeltmoresafe.
Ipant,nailsdiggingintohispecs.
“Doesithurt?”heasks,voiceallraspyandlow.
Ishakemyheadno.
“Bailey,talktome.”
Myeyessnapopentomeethissilvergaze.“It’sjustintense.Itfeelssodifferent.”
Henods,smoothinghiscallousedpalmsovermyback,thetopsofmythighs.“I’mfollowingyourlead.Tellmewhatyouneed.”
“I…”Myvisiongoesalittleblurry.“Ineedyoutomoveorsomething.”
Hetipshischinup.“Youfirst.Liftandcomedownagain.Getafeelforit.”Hishandsswoopupmystomach,palmingmybreastsalmostreverently.Hiseyes,suchanunusualcolor,glowmetallic.They’rehardnottogetlostin.“Youcan’tdoasinglethingwrong.Justdowhatfeelsgood.”
“Whataboutyou?”
Onesideofhismouthtugsup,analmostpainedexpressiongracinghishandsomeface.“Trustme,baby.Itallfeelsgoodwithyou.”
Myteethsinkintomybottomlip,andIflushathispraise.Then,withmyhandsonhischest,Iliftup,feelingineveryinchofhimasIdo.
Theoutstrokesendsajoltofdeliciousspasmsthroughmybody.Atthetop,pusheduponmyknees,Ilookdown,wantingtowatcheveryinchofhimdisappearintomybody.AsIsinkdownonhim,Ican’tlookaway.It’ssoforeign.Sofuckinghot.
Idoitagain.Andagain.Everystrokeislessforeignthanthelast,morepleasurablethanthelast.Hishandsroam,alwayssoothing.Slowandsteady.I’munabletotearmygazefromwhereBeauandIarejoined.Likeit’ssomesortofexperimentandI’mcompletelyfascinated.
“Seehowprettyyoulooktakingmycock,Bailey?”
“Yeah,”Imurmurabsently,becauseit’shardtodisagreewithhim.There’ssomethingentrancingaboutthesight.
Beaumovesahandbetweenus,tracinghisthumboverthetightgripofmypussylipsaroundhisgirth.Hespreadsmywetnessup,swipingitovermyclitasIcontinuemyslowride.
Oh
Myeyeswidenashemakesgentlecircles.
“Youlikethat,don’tyou?”
Inod,struckspeechless.Idon’tjustlikeit,I—
“Letmehearit,Bailey.Useyourwords.”
“Iloveit.”
Hesmirks,confidentandplayfulallofasudden.“ItoldyouI’dmakeitgoodforyou.”
Good?Thisissomuchmorethangood.
Heplayswithmyclitagainandrollsmynipplebetweenhisfingers,forcingmetocryout.AsurgeofwetnesscoatsusasmyhipsmoveinawayIneverknewtheycould.Iriseanddropmoreheavily,hipsrotatingasmymusclesrelaxintothemotion.Andtruetohisword,Beauletsmegetafeelforit—forhim.
“Attagirl.Rideme,”heurgesashisfingersworkmeoverexpertly.
Asheenofsweatcoversmybodyasmyhandsgripandscratch.Myeyesflitfromonedeliciouscornerofhimtotheotherbeforetheysinkintothosesilverpools.
“Yougonnacomeonmycock,Bailey?”
“Ithinkso,”Ibreatheout.Everycornerofmybodyiswarmandsizzlingwithanticipation.Everymusclecoilingashefillsmeup.
“That’smygirl.Giveittome.”Histhumbpressesharder.Hisfingerspinchtighter.Hisbarecockpulsesinsidemeandlikeacountdownone,two,three…I’mwashedaway.
Bowledoverbyawaveofpleasuresointense,IfeellikeI’veleftmybody.Itoppleforwardastheexquisiteburstclaimsme.Ifeeleverything.
Him.
Me.
Warm.
Safe
BeforeIcanevengathermysenses,he’sflippedusover,hisbodycagingmein.Onehandstrokesmycheek,whiletheotherhikesmythighuphigh.TheangleisnewandIgaspwhenhesinksintomefromabove.
Hestops,cockfillingmetothebrimwhilemypussystillpulsatesaroundhim.“Bailey,baby,”hebitesout,voicerumblingovermyskin,settingitaflame.God,justthevibrationofhimagainstmehasmynerveendingsjumping.“Idon’tthinkIcanholdbackanylonger.Mycontrolis—”
“Giveittome.”Irepeathiswordsbacktohim,liftingmyheadjustenoughtobrushmylipsoverhis.“Anddon’tholdback.”
“Fuck.”Hespitsthewordoutandcrusheshislipstomine,takingmymouthinasearingkissashepistonsintomerelentlessly.
Thebedshakeswiththeferocityofhisthrustsandmybodyachesinthemostdeliciouswayasheclaimsme.
“Hottestfuckofmylife,”hegrowls,thenheshoutsmynameagainstmyshoulderbeforebitingdownhard.Hisbodygoestaut,andhiscockjumpsandpulsesashespillshimselfinsideme.
“Iloveyou,BaileyJansen,”hemurmurs,strokingmyhairandlickinggentlyoverwhatI’msurewillbeabitemarktomorrow.
AndallIcandoissmile.Becausethatwasworththewait.
IhaveneverfeltmorecherishedthanIdowithBeauEatonwrappedaroundme.36Beau
Jasper:Didyoutellher?
IlathersoapoverBailey’sbody,rubbinghershoulderstoeaseanytension,runningmythumbsfirmlyoverthetightspots.Herheadtilts,andsheletsoutamoanassheleansintothepressure.
AfterIshampooherhair,Irinseitunderthewarmspray,thenfollowwithagenerousamountofconditioner.Icombmyfingersthroughherstrandstoridthemofanyknotsandturnher,enjoyingthewayherbodymovesreadilytomine.ThewayshetrustsmeismorethanIdeserve.
Oureyesmeetinthesteamyspace.Butwedon’ttalkandshewatchesmeasIcarryonsoapingherandmassagingherbody.Herchest,herbreasts,gentlyandquicklybeforemovingoverherribs.
Idropdownontomykneesbeforeher,usingthebarofsoaptowashherhips,thetrimtriangleofhairIhelpedhershave,herthighs,calves.Hell,evenherfeet.
Herperfectfuckingfeet.
Theygowitheverythingelsethat’sperfectabouther.
I’matalossforwords.Forwhatshesharedwithmetonight.Forwhatshe’ssharedwithmeoverthepastseveralweeks.Ifeelunworthyinthemostprofoundway.ButIwanttobeworthy.
Ifeeldesperatetobe.
Reachingbehindher,Itracethesoapovertheroundglobesofherassbeforeputtingitbackontheledgeanddirectingthewatertorinsethesoapaway.Iretracemysteps,ignoringthenipoftheporcelainagainstmyknees.Whenherfingerscombthroughmyhair,Idropmystubbledcheekagainstherstomachandhughertome.
Thisgirlhasbroughtmebacktolifewithouteventrying.AllthattimeIsearchedforsomeonetomakemefeelsomething,andshewasrightfuckingthere.
MylipspressakisstothespotjustaboveherbellybuttonandthenItipmyhead,draggingmygazeuptomeetherdarkeyes,swirlingwithemotionandedgedinconfusion.
Idon’tthinkanyonehasevercherishedBailey.
NotlikeIdo.
Andnooneelseeverwill.
“Iloveyou,”Irepeattoher,notcaringI’vesaiditmultipletimestonightandshehasn’t.
Youdon’ttellapersonyoulovethemwiththeexpectationthey’llsayitback.Youtellthembecauseyouwantto.Youtellthembecauseit’strue.
IspentmanyhoursinacaveinAfghanistanwishingI’dtoldmorepeoplehowmuchtheymeanttome.IpromisedmyselfIwouldstart,butI’vebeentoohunguponmyshittogetaroundtoit.
Thatendsnow.
Bailey’sfingerspressfirmlyatmytemplesbeforeslidingbackthroughmyhair.“Howdoyouknowyouloveme?”sheaskssoftly.
“HowdoIknow?”
“Yeah.”Herhandsdon’tstopmoving,soothing.“Doesn’titseemsoon?Fast?Unlikely?”
Ihum,asmiletouchingmylips.“Idon’tknowthatthere’saprescribedlengthoftimeittakes,Bailey.There’snotsomemagicalbenchmarkortestyouneedtotaketoseeit.SometimesIthinkyoujustknow.”
“Youjustknow,”sherepeatsthoughtfully,worryingherbottomteethbetweenherlips.
Ikissherstomachagain.“MypaindisappearswhenI’mwithyou.IgettobeanewversionofmyselfwhenI’mwithyou.Isleep.Ilaugh.Ihavesomething—someone—tolookforwardtoattheendoftheday.Ifeel…”Ipeerbackupatheragain,swallowingasIrunmyhandsupthecolumnofherspine.“Ifeelwholeagainwithyou.”
Herpalmscupmyneckwhileherthumbsbrushoverthehighpointsonmycheeks.“Idon’tknowwhattosaytothat.”
Myhandssqueezeatherhips,andIknowI’moverwhelmingher.ThatIneedtolightenthemood.Thatshe’stooyoungandI’mcomingontoofuckingstrong.
SoIlandaplayfulslaponherassthatringsoutintheshower,thenItease,“Yousay‘yes,sir’andletmerinsetheconditioneroutofyourhair.”
SheburstsintoafitofnervousgigglesasIstandandflipheraroundintothespray,watchingthecreamy-coloredwatercascadedownherbackuntilitrunsclear.Iwait,andIwatch,andIwaitsomemorewhileshetriestogetherbearings.
Whenshestepsoutofthewater,Itakeafistfulofherhair,tippingherheadbacktome,andmurmuragainstherlips,“Ididn’thearyou,Bailey.”
“Hearwhat?”Hereyesglistenwithexcitement,andIknowshe’spretendingnottoknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.
“Doyouknowwhatbratsget?”
Shebitesdownonherbottomlip,butshe’snotworried.She’stryingnottosmile.“Hopefullyspanked.”
IgroanandletmyeyesfallshutasIrubmylipsovertheappleofhercheek.“You’regoingtobethefuckingdeathofme.”
Shechucklesandturnsherfaceintomineasshewhispers,“Butwhatawaytogo.AmIright?”
Thenshekissesme,andIlether.Becauseshe’snotwrong.
Thiswouldbethewaytogo.
Iwakewithastart,shootingstraightoutofbed,practicallyshovingBaileyoffofmeasIgo.
Aglanceattheclocktellsmeit’s3:26a.m.,whichisarefreshingchangefrom2:11.Wemusthaveeithersleptorfuckedthroughthatone.
“What’swrong?”Ihearthealarminhervoiceandsneakaquickglanceatherovermyshoulder.She’sonherkneesinthemiddleofthebed,bothhandsheldflatoverherchest,likelyoverherpoundingheart.
Somethingisoff.Itfeelslikeaspideriscrawlingupmyspine.Callitwhatyouwant—asixthsensemaybe.Onethathassavedmylifecountlesstimesinthefield.
IholdonefingeruptoBailey,signalingtohertobesilent,asIapproachthelargewindowfacingtheriveroutback.
Ihearitthen.Clumsyfootsteps.Asoft,“Ow!”Followedby,“Shutup!Someonewillhearyou!”
Irollmyeyes.Hefuckingshoutedit.Ofcoursesomeoneisgoingtohearthem.Youwouldn’tneedtobespecialopstoheartheseidiotscoming.Ipullthecurtainbackaninchtoseetwodarkfiguresonmybacklawn.Withashakeofmyhead,Iturnandstridetowardthedoor.
“Bailey,stayhere.Onthebed.”
“What’swrong?”sherepeats,apprehensioninhervoice.
“Gonnagohaveachatwithyourbrothers,”Igrumble,notbotheringwithashirtasIstormoutofthebedroom.
“Beau!”shewhisper-shoutswithsuchferocitythatIturntotakeherin.It’sagoodthingIdidn’tgosearchingformyshirtbecauseshe’swearingit.Hairallwavyandbed-mussed,lookingsotinyandswallowedupinthatplainwhitetee.
Iquirkmyhead,waitingforhertosaywhatsheneedstosay.
Shesighsandlicksherlipsbeforeofferingaquietbutborderlinetearful,“Becareful.”
Igiveherasaluteandawink,whichonlyearnsmeawaterysmile,andthenI’mheadingdownthehallway,straightformygunsafe.
Don’thavemuchuseforthemnow,savefortargetpracticeorifIeverhappenuponsomethinginmybackyardthatwantstokillme.ButI’mprettysureIwouldn’tneedtoshootabearoracougartostaysafe.
Atthebackoftheclosetnearthefrontdoor,Ienterthesafe’scodeandpulloutmyoldhuntingrifle.IpropitundermyarmasImakemywaytotheback.
TweedleDeeandTweedleDumbaretryingsohardtopickthelockonBailey’strailertheydon’thearmeexitmyhouse.Granted,I’mprettystealthyaboutit,evenasIplunkmyselfdowninthechairwhereBaileylaysherselfoutwhilewearingthattinybikiniIlikesomuch.
Ispreadmylegsandpropthegunovermyknee.It’shardtotellinthedark,butIthinkthey’reusingabobbypintoopenit.Iwatchthemstruggleformorethanafewseconds.
Fuckingstupid.
Bettheyslamriverrockstogethertryingtostartafiretoo.
“Y’allwantsomehelpwiththat?”Iannounce,forcingmyselfnottolaughathowhightheyjumpwhenmyvoiceringsout,echoingbackofftheriver.
“Fuckyou!”thefirstonetogethisbearingssays.Ican’ttellinthedarkwhichiswhich.“Thisisourtrailer.”
Ibouncemyknee,notingthewaytheireyesdroptothegunproppedonit.
Iwouldn’tactuallyshootthem,butIgetakickoutofwatchingthemgorealfuckingstill.Ifeelliketheoldme.Inmyelement.
“It’snotyourtrailer.It’sBailey’s.Andit’sonmyproperty.Soareyou.It’stimetogetthefuckoff.”
“Where’sBailey?Sheowesusrent!”theotherpipesupandlicksalmostrabidlyathislips.Highasagoddamnkite.
“Baileydoesn’toweyoushit.Yougotsomethingtotellher?Itgoesthroughme.Somethingtogiveher?Yougiveittome.Youwanttosomuchaslayeyesonmyfiancée?Youbettercomecrawlingaskingformypermission.”
“She’smysister!Overmydeadfuckin’bodyamIaskin’youforpermissionforshit.”
“That’sexactlywhatyou’llbeifyougoanywherenearherorherthings.”
“Comeagain?”Icanseenowthatit’stheolderbrotherashetakesanaggressivesteptowardmybackdeck.He’stoohightobeproperlyafraidofme.
Ichuckleandscrubatmybeard.“Youheardme.HarassheragainandI’llpaintmydrivewaywithyourbrains.Youwon’tbethefirstmanI’vekilled,butyoucouldeasilybethelast.”
It’stheyoungeronewhopipesupnow.Possiblythesmarterone.Likelythemoresoberone.“Sheowesrent!Shepaysitandyouguyswon’thearfromusagain.”
Iclickmytongue.“YouJansenboysmustbeasdumbaseveryonesaysifyouthinkthatI,ofallpeople,amgoingtonegotiatewithterrorists.Getoffmyproperty.”
“Youjust—”Theystarttoarguewithme,butIdon’tletthemgetfar.
IpickupthegunandpretendlikeI’mtakingaim,whichiswhentheyscramble.Ialmostwanttolaugh.Thesetwofuckersareaddicts,pettythieves—notcriminalmasterminds.
Butthey’rejusttroublesomeenoughthatIknowthey’llpickonBaileyaslongasshe’shere.They’retoolazytofollowheranywhereelse.She’sjustaneasytargetforthemhereinChestnutSprings.
Well,shewasaneasytarget.
Notanymore.
“You’refuckinginsane!”oneofthemcallsbackastheyrunintothedarkrivervalley.
“Yeah,buddy.Youhavenoidea!”isallIcallbackasIwatchthemscamperaway.Eventually,Ihearcussingandsplashingastheymaketheirwaybackacrossthecreektotheirland.
Idiots.
Idon’tlikethemonourriver,whereBaileyandIfirstspentanighttogether.Itseemslikeanintrusion,soI’llberunningelectricfencingalongthatsideofmypropertytoo.Withalaboredsigh,Istandandheadinside.Icheckeverydoorandwindowonthemainfloorandsetmybarelyeverusedalarmsystembeforetrudgingupstairstothegirlwhofeelslikeshe’sthepartofmethat’sbeenmissingfortoodamnlong.
WhenIgettomyroom,she’sstandingatthewindow,lookingashen.
“ThoughtItoldyoutostayonthebed.”
Shenods.“Youdid.”
“Andyet,thereyouare,atthewindow.”
“Iwantedtowatch.”Sheshrugs.“Andyou’renotmybossanyway.”
Ismirk.“Yeah,Iam.”
Sherollshereyesbeforelettingthecurtaingoandmakingherwaybacktothebed.Imeetherthere,liftingthecoverssoIcantughercloserandcradleherinthecurveofmybodywhereIknowshe’ssafest.
Silencesurroundsusuntilshewhispers,“Paintyourdrivewaywiththeirbrains?”Asoftsnortleavesher,andhershouldersshakeonalaugh.“Thatissoromantic.”
Ipullhertighteragainstmeandhuffoutanexasperatedbreath.“Imeantit,Bailey.YouaskedmehowIknowIloveyou?That’show.I’vegotanyonewhowantstohurtyouinmycrosshairs,andIwon’tfeelbadabouttakingthemdown,either.”
Thatstatementmakesherquietforafewmoments.
Shekissesmyhandandpressesbackonme.“Shouldwecallthecops?”
“Nah,Igotthis.”
“Thankyou,”areherfinalwhisperedwordsbeforeherbreathingeventuallygoesdeepandeven.
Butme?Istayuplistening.
UntilthesuncomesupandIknowshe’ssafe.37Bailey
Wefallbackontothebedinatangleofsweatylimbs.MyheadisrestingonBeau’squadwhenhebitesmyinnerthigh,leavingyetanothermarkI’msure,sincethatseemstobehisthing.
Iyelpandrolloffhim,pretendingI’mtryingtogetaway.Butheknowsbetter.Hegrabsmeandhaulsmebackagainsthisbody.
“StartingtothinkyouaskmeifI’veevertriedsomethingjusttomakemeshowyouhow,sugar.Suchaneedylittlebrat.”
Ilaughagainsthischest,bitinghispecinresponse.“Sixty-ninejustseemedsoconfusing.Ineededsomecoaching,sir.”Ican’tsayitwithoutgiggling.IswearI’mgiddyallthetimenow.
SexwithBeauishot,andfun,andemotionalallatonce.Ican’tgetenoughofit.
“Bailey,”hegroansinthatexasperatedwayhelikestosaymyname,buthisdicktwitchesbeneathmylegwhereit’sslungoverhisnakedbody.
DoesitmakemeabratthatIgetarealthrilloutofsayingthingsthatshockhim?Idon’tknow.ButIdon’tcarebecauseIgetakickoutofit.
Ialsogetalotoforgasmsoutofit.
Andalotoffeelings.BigfeelingsthatI’mnotsurewhattodowith.Bigfeelingsthatmakemestillwantingoutofthistownveryconfusing.Iwassoconvincedthatsexwasjustsex,butwithBeau,it’ssomuchmore.Everythingfeelssodifferentnow.
Wesnuggle,meplasteredoverhimandhisarmssnugaroundmywaistasthemorningsunfiltersinthroughthewindow.Hewokemeupgettingreadyforwork,andItookadvantage.I’mtiredandwanttogobacktosleep,buthemustbetiredtoo,consideringhestillsitsatmybarfournightsaweekguardingme.
Hehumscontentedlyandthencarriesontomakeafakesnoringsoundthathasmesmilingagainsthischest.“I’msorry.Youmustbesotired.”
Abroad,callousedpalmslidesupanddownmyback.“Allgood,baby.It’sworthit.”
“Youcan’tkeepthisup.”
“What?”
“Stayingupallnightwithmeandworkingontheranchallday.”
“SureIcan.Isleepthrough2:11likeababywithyouhere.”
Irollmylipstogether,weighingmywordscarefully.“Weneedtotalkaboutwhatwe’redoingatsomepoint,Beau.Webasicallyfuck,cuddle,andthenyouwatchmework.”
“Yes,it’sperfect.”
“Youcanbarelykeepyoureyesopen.”
“It’snotmyfaultyou’resohornyallthetime.Youwearmeout.I’mold.It’shardtokeepup.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“Youdon’tseemtostrugglewithkeepingup.Like,atall.”
“WastalkingtoMitchHenderson,thefirechief,theotherdaywhileIgassedup.”
“Oh?”
Henods,hischinbumpingupagainstthetopofmyhead.“Yeah.Hetoldmetocomedownanytime,andhe’dslidemeintothenexttraininggroup.ThinksI’dbeperfectforthejob.”
Iknowhedoesn’tmeananythingbyit,buthiscommentchafes.Acasualconversationatthegaspumpgetshimaninwithwhateverjobhewants.Meanwhile,Istruggletostayafloatatajobwhereit’stakenyearsformetoworkmywayup.Andtruthfully,Idon’tknowhowtheyhaven’tfiredmeyet.AndnowIhaveanotherjobwithawomanwhothinkswe’reabouttobecomesisters-in-law.
Itfeelsunfair,andIgorigidinhisarmsasIwrapmyheadaroundwhathe’sjusttoldme.I’mhappyforhim.
Iam.
I’mnothappyforme.He’sputtingdownrootshere,andI’mstillplanningmyexitstrategy.I’mgoingtobethefirstpersoninmyfamilytoattenduniversity.IhaveplansformyselfbecauseIdon’twanttobeChestnutSpringsBailey.I’llalwaysbeaJansenhere,nomatterwhat.ThefactBeauthinkshestillneedstowatchovermeconstantlyisproof.Andwhetherornothewantstoadmitit,hecan’tkeepitup.
“Youwouldbegreatatthat,Iagree.”
“Thenwhenyougoofftoschool,I’llhavearegularschedulethatwecanworkaroundifneedbe.”
“Oh.”Idon’tknowwhyIassumedhehadn’tplannedforthis.
“Longdistance.Tostartwith.”
“Longdistance.”EvenIcanhearthesurpriseinmyvoiceasIrepeathisidea.“Wecoulddolongdistance.Andit’snotthatfar.Anhour?That’schild’splay.”
Butwhatdoestostartwithmean?ThatheexpectsmetomovebacktoChestnutSprings?
“Ofcoursewecan.”
God,I’manidiot.Heprobablyisn’teventhinkingthatfarahead.Ishouldjustenjoythemoment.TrustthatBeauhasgotthis.
Isqueezehimandsuckinadeepbreathofhiscitronellascent.
Longdistance
I’llmissthis,though.Havinghimeveryday.I’veonlyhaditforaweek,andIalreadyknowI’llhaveahardtimegoingwithout.
Andthatprospectterrifiesme.
“Bailey.”
“Yeah?”
“Icanfeelyouworrying.”
“Yeah?”Isnort.“Isthatsomethingtheyteachyouasatieroneoperator?”
Henipsatmyear,alwaysturningaseriousmomentplayfultoeasemyanxieties.“Mouthylittlebrat.”
“Yourmouthylittlebrat,”ImurmurasIsnuggleintohim,myearagainstwhereIcanhearhisheartbeating.
“Yes,Bailey,you’remymouthylittlebrat.AndI’llgiveyourmouthsomethingtoquietitdownlater.”
“Cheesy.”
“Fine.”Heunfoldshimselffromthebed,peelingmyspentbodyoffhim.“I’llseeyouatworktonight.Andwhenwegethome,I’llwatchyoutrytomockmewithmydickshoveddownyourthroat.”
Ilaughandrollovertolookatthisbeautiful,filthy,funnymanwhostormedintomylifeandturneditallupsidedown.
IthinkI’mstillreeling.
IthinkI’moverwhelmed.
IthinkI’minlovewithhimtoo.
“Seeyoutonight,”Ireplywithawink.
Thenhekissesmeandswaggersoutthedoorlikehehasn’tgotacareintheworld.38Beau
Beau:T-minussixhoursuntilyou’rechokingonmycock.
Bailey:Lol.Butwho’scounting,right?
Beau:Me.I’mcounting.
Bailey:He’shot*and*cancount.Really,thewholepackage.
Beau:WillbegivingyouthewholepackageinT-minusfivehoursandfifty-nineminutes.
Bailey:CHEESY.
Mypalmlandsflatagainstthecooldoor.Thebrasspushbaracrossitlooksalittleworseforwear.ImakenoteofthatasIwalkintothetailendoftheMondaynightdinnerrush.
ThelowchatterofconversationhumsthroughtheairwhileGeorgeStraitplaysoverthespeakers.Poolballsclatteragainsteachotherlikeachimeinthesong
IcatchsightofBaileybehindthebar.Shiny,almost-blackhaircascadesdownoverhershoulders.
Hertight,drawnupshoulders.
Myeyesraceoverher.Jawsetstubbornly,movementsalmostjerky,likeshe’stryingandfailingtoactcasual.
She’saterribleliar.Everythingabouther,fromherfacetoherbodylanguage,absolutelygivesheraway.Somethingiswrong,andshemightaswellbeaflashingneonsigntellingmeasmuch.
TheotherdeadgiveawayisGary,whoissittingupstraightwithahalf-drunkpintinfrontofhim.Hedoesn’tevenhavehishandonit.Usually,heneverletsitgoonceshehandsitover.ItbothersmebecauseIfeellikethebeermustgetwarm,whichisjustveryunappetizing.ButthenIalwayssupposethathedrinksitfastenoughforitnottomatter.
Eitherway,he’srigidtooandwatchingBaileywithaglintoffatherlyprotectivenessinhiseyethatI’veseenbefore.Buttodayit’ssharper…moresober
Icheckmywatch.
Seventhirty.He’susuallydrunkbynow.
Myeyesscantheroom,notingthesmilespeopletossmeasmygazeslipspast.Idon’tsmileback.Iwentfromrelaxedtohighalert,andwhenIhitthebackcorner,Iknowwhy.
Bailey’sshittyfuckingbrothersandhershittyfuckingdadarehere.Ithoughthewasinprisonsomewhere,butwhatdoIknow?Truthbetold,wedon’ttalkmuchaboutherfamily.Icantellshedoesn’tlikeit.IcantellitmakesherfeeldirtyandIneverwanttomakeheruncomfortable.
They’rehappilytossingbackbeers,laughing,playingpool—liketheybelonghere.Furyracesthroughme.
HaveInotkickedthemoffmypropertyalready?
Itakeafewstepstheirway,readyforconfrontation,whenIturnandgiveBaileyaquickglance.Imusthavefelthereyesonmebecausewemakeaconnectioninstantly.
Sheshakesherheadno.
Ibitetheinsideofmycheeksoharditbleeds,thentipmyheadharshlytowardthedoorbeforeturningandstormingout.Hopingshe’llfollow.Needingtotalktoher.
Imarchbackoutintotheparkinglot,freshlypaved,sotheplaceisn’tsofuckingdustyallthetime.
“Beau!”shecallsassheclearsthedoor.
“Overhere.”Iwaveherbackwithme,goingaroundthebuildingtothelittleshelteredshedatthebackwherewekeeptheemptykegs.PickupshappenonMondays,sothere’snothinginhererightnow,andIyankthedooropen,usheringherin.ShescootspastmeandIslamitshutbehindus.
Lightseepsinfrombetweentheboards,castingafaintglow.
Bailey’seyesarewidewithunease,andsheopenswith,“I’msorry.Ididn’t—”
Icutheroffbypressingonefingertoherlips.“Areyouokay?”
Shenodsbutblinksrapidly.Fuck,mygirlistough.She’ssayingshe’sokay,butshe’snot.
“Bailey,”Isighhernameandtakemyhandback,scrubbingitovermymouth.Allthetensioninmybodypulsestothesurface,writhingbeneathmyskin.
“Beau,please.Justdon’tmakeascene.They’reneverasbadwhenmydadisaround.Idon’twanttheretobeascene.Iwantthemtofinishtheirshitandgetoutandtojustbethebiggerperson.”
“I’mfuckingsickofyouhavingtobethebiggerperson,Bailey.Theyknowwhatthey’redoing.Itoldthemtogetoffmypropertyandstayawayfromyou.Andyet,heretheyare,shovingtheirdefianceinmyface.Youdeservesomuchbetterthanthis.”
Sherubsathertemples,peeringdownatherfeet.AndIwishIcouldmakethisallsomucheasierforher.ButIdon’tknowhow.
Sheneedstogetoutofthistown,andsoon.
Webothknowit.Wejustdon’ttalkaboutit.
Idon’tpretendtoknowhowmuchmoneysheneedstosaveuptopullthepin,butIsuspectthere’salevelofnervesthataccompanyherplan.Wantingtoleave,butalsoafraidofstartingfresh.
IworryI’mholdingherback.
Sheturnstearfuleyesupatme.“I’msotired,Beau.Sofuckingtired.”
Theairinmylungsemptiesinaheavywhooshasmychestcavesinatheradmission.
Idon’tknowwhattosaytomakeitbetter,soIkissherinstead.Itstartswithalittlewhimperintomymouth,butthenherhandsareonthebackofmyneck.Hernailsareinmyhair.She’sgrippingmetoherlikeshemightbreathemeinandsustainherselfonmykissalone.
Myhandsstartonherhips,buttheminutetheystarttoroam,theenergyintheshedchanges.
Ourpatiencefrays.
IwantherwithaviolenceI’veneverexperienced,withaferocitythatshocksme.
Ishoveheragainstthewall,pressingmylegbetweenhers.MythighgrindsagainsttheapexofherswhileItakehermouthandripatthebuttonofhertightjeans.
“Beau,”shewhispersbetweenbruisingkisses,handsrunningupundermyshirt.
“Iwantthesepantsoff.Now.”
“Beau.”
“Iwantyoutowalkbackinthereknowingthatyou’remine.Nomatterwhathappens.Nomatterwhatanyonesays.”
“What?”
“Iwantyoutowalkbackintherelookingfreshlyfuckedsothatnoonequestionsasinglethingaboutus.Especiallynotyou.”
“Beau,therearecustomers…”ShetrailsoffasIyankherjeansdownherfirmthighs,leavingthemstretchedthere,andrunmyfingersoverherpanties.
“Bailey,shutupandletmefuckwhatbelongstome.Wecantalklater.”
“Yeah,”isherbreathyresponseasIrubatthecottonthongthat’snowwedgedbetweenherpussylips.
“Turnaroundandbendover.”Myvoiceissharp,borderingondemanding,butshedoesn’tflinch.Sheknowsmewellenoughtoknowtherearedifferentfacetsofmethatcomeouttoplay,dependingontheday.
Shetellsmeshelikesalltheversionsofme,soIhaven’tbotheredhidingeventhemostviciouspartsofmyselffromher.TheonesI’vealwaysleftoverseasoronbase.Idon’thavetopretendthosefacetsofmedon’texistwithher.
Iloveherallthemoreforit.
Baileyspins,palmsflatagainstthecrudelyconstructedwalloftwo-by-fours.Herbareassfacesme,herheadbowedwhileherbodyrisesandfallsundertheweightofherpanting.
“Soobedient,Bailey.”IhookafingerundertheTofherthongwhilemyoppositehandpressesflatonthesmallofherbacktobendheroverfurther.
“Yes,sir,”isherrushedreply.Butthistimesheisn’tjoking.Sheknowsitmakesmehardwhenshesaysit.
Sheknowsmetoodamnwell.
Andyet,shedoesn’tknoweverything.
“YouneedmetofillyouupbeforeIsendyoubackintheretofinishyourjob?”
“Yes.”
Ilandafirmswatonherassthatmakesherjump.“Askpolitely.”
Herbreathinggoesragged,andIwatchthetipsofherfingerscurlintothewall.“Yes,please.”
Ispankheragainandshemoans.“Yes,please…”
“Yes,please,sir.”
God,thewaysheemphasizesit.Ishouldn’tbegettingoffonfuckingatwenty-two-year-oldatworkandmakinghercallmesir.
ButIdon’tletmyselffocusonitfortoolong.Iquicklyunbucklemybelt,pullmycockout,andfistit,slappingitdownagainstthepinkhandshapebloomingonherass.
Holdingherpantiestotheside,Iruntheheadofmycockthroughherwetness.“Fuckingsoaked,Bailey.ShouldIteaseyouuntilyoudripdownyourthighs,makeallyourcustomerswait?Orwouldyouratherbedrippingmycum?”
“Yourcum.”Herhipsmovebacksuggestively,andshepeeksoverhershoulderatme.Eyesstillglassy,butnotsadlikebefore.“Please.Sir.”
“Fuck.”IshakemyheadandgrindmymolarsasInotchmyselfinsideher.“Areyousore,baby?”
Westartedoffslowly,butwehaven’tbeenlately.
“No,no.”
Shewigglesagain,andIadmirethewaymycocklooksagainsthertightlittlecunt.ThenIblinkupather.“Good,becauseyouwillbeafterthis.”
Ishovemyselfintothehiltandherbodybowstoaccommodateme.Shetriestobitedownonacrywhileherpussyclenchesandflexes,wrappedaroundme.
“Sofuckingtight,Bailey,”IbiteoutasIwithdraw.“Youfitmelikeaglove.Likeyouweremadeforme.”
Ishovebackin,feelingherlegstrembleandstruggleagainstthetightdenimthatpreventsherfromspreadingthemwiderlikesheclearlywantsto.
Afrustratedmewlspillsfromherlipsandshetriestoreachdown,butIgrabherhand,puttingitbackagainstthewall.“Handsstaythere,Bailey.Flat.”
Iholdherhandthere,reachingaboveher,whilemyotherhandholdsherhipandmycockdrivesintoherrepeatedly.Roughly.
Thesoundofmyhipsslappingagainstherassisaccompaniedbyourmutualpanting.
Ithrustharder,andshepushesback,meetingmyeverystroke.
Herfingerslacewithmineagainstthewallaboveus.Idon’tknowwhoinitiatedit,onlythatitlendsasoftspottoourotherwiseroughfucking.
Linked.BaileyandIarelinkedininextricableways.
Wedon’tmakelove,wefuck.
Ilayaclaim.
Shemeetsmeateveryturn,justlikeshehassincethedayIstormedintoherbarinafoulfuckingmood.
“Beau.Yes.Fuckme.Spankmeagain.”
Itakemyhandoffherhipandlanditonherassagain.Herskingoesrosy,herbodyshakes.
Shefuckinglovesit.
“Again.”
“Asknicely,Bailey.”Ibitehershoulderinmyfavoritespot,hopingitleavesamark.
“Please.”Thewordisamindlesswhine.
It’ssofuckinghot,hearingheraskforwhatshewants,gettingtowatchhertryallthesenewthingsonforsize.
Ileanbackslightlyandlandanother,louderthanitishard,andhermusclesclampdownonme.
“Ohgod.Ohgod.I’mgoingto—”
“Attagirl.Comeonmydick.”
Idriveintoherhardassheshatters.Herbodymilksmeaswebothracepastthefinish.
Sheslumpsagainstthewall,andIleanintothehandaboveus,usingittopropmyselfupafterwhatmighthavebeenthemostintenseorgasmofmylife.
“Fuck,”Ibreatheoutagainstherneck.
“Yeah,”sheresponds,squeezingmyfingersagainstthewood.
Ikissdownherneck,andsheshiverswhenmylipsdragovertheboneatthetopofherspine.
“Ready?”Ifinallyask.
“AsI’lleverbe.”
MycumslipsfromherbodywhenIpullout,andItakeasicksortofsatisfactioninliftingherpantiesbackinplacetocoverthemess.“Ithinkyourpantiesmightberuined.”InipatherearbeforeIeaseaway,puttingmyselftorights,fixingmypantsandsteppingbacktoseehowprettyshelookswithmyhandprintonherass.
Shelooksreallyfuckinggood.
Igrunt.“That’sahellofaview,sugar.”
It’swithabreathlesschucklethatshefinallyfindsthewherewithaltomoveagain.Sheslidesherjeansupandglancesbackatmewiththemostbreathtakingsmile.“You’rewelcome.”Shewinksplayfully,likeIfuckedtheworryrightoutofher.
Butwebothknowbetter.Whenweleavethisshed,it’sbacktoreality.
Shesmoothsherhair,rubsatthecornerofhereyes,andshimmieshershouldersback.“HowdoIlook?”
Istareatherforafewbeats.Whatawoman.
Whatanincrediblefuckingwoman.
Shedeservesthegoddamnworld.
AndI’mgoingtobetheonetogiveittoher.
“Likemine,”Isaywithafirmnod.
ThenIreachforherhandandleadherbackintothebar,straightintothefire.Becausetheminutewestepthroughthefrontdoor,Iseeherbrothersleaningatthebar,impatiencepracticallydrippingfromthem.Asthoughtheycouldn’twaitfivefuckingminutesforabeer.
“Hey,Bails.Ifyou’redoneplayingtheEaton’swhore,weneedanotherround,”Aaron,theyoungerofthetwo,callsoutloudlythroughthebusybar.He’stryingtoshowoffbyembarrassingher,anditworks.
Shetugsherhandfrommineandshrinksbesidemeasalleyesturntoher.
Iwatchawomanwhowassoaliveandsosureofherselfmeremomentsagoturnbackintothegirlshe’stryingsodesperatelytogrowoutof.
Shedidn’twantascene,butIthinkasceneiswhatsheneedstobreakfreeofthisplace.
IknowI’llpayforwhatI’mabouttodo,andIshouldhavecomecleanalongtimeago.ButifitmeansBaileycomesoutahead…thensofuckingbeit.Haven’tleftamanbehindonamissionsofarinthislife,andIhavenoplanstostartnow.
“Youthree!”Ipointinturnatherbrothersandthenatherdadinthecorner,allleanmuscleandshrewdeyes.
“Beau,”shehissesthroughherteethandtugsatmyshirt.“Don’tdothis.It’snotyourplace.”
Itiltmyheadandgazedownather,memorizingthelittlefrecklebesideherupperlipjustincaseInevergetcloseenoughtoseeitagain.“Yeah,itactuallyis.”
Confusionflashesonherface,andIturnbacktothenowmostlyquietbarwhereeverysetofeyesintheplaceisturnedonme.ThenIprojectmyvoice,soeverysinglepersonhearsmeloudandclear.“Youthree,getthefuckoutofmybar!OrI’llhavethecopscomeremoveyoufrommypropertythistime.”
Baileygasps,butIdon’tstopthere.“Andanyoneelsewhoplanstotreatmyfiancéeandmystaffwithanythinglessthantheutmostrespect,youcangetouttoo.”
IturntothewomanIlovetoseeifIcangaugewhatkindofdamagemysecrethascaused.AllittakesisonebeatspentinhereyesformetoseethedamagemightbemorethanIcanrepair.39Bailey
Mybar.Mystaff
ShoutsringoutaroundmeandadullsongI’veheardamilliontimesplaysoverthespeakers,butallIhearisthepoundingofmyheart,thebloodrushinginmyears.
Istareatthepolishedwoodfloor.Itusedtobemorescuffed.Thechairs?Theyusedtolookdated.Brasschandeliersreplaceddingyhanginglamps.TheRailspurbecamecountrychicsomewherealongtheway…
Undernewownershipwasthetowngossip,butInevercaredmuch.Ihadajobthatpaidreasonablywell.Ikeptmyheaddownandworked.Managementneverchanged,andthecompanysignedmychecks.Thestorywasthattherewasasilentinvestor.Someonehands-off.
Ipullmyeyesbackfromthefloor,catchingonBeau.AllIcandoisshakemyhead.“No.”
Hisfeaturesarestoneashestaresbackatme,givingnothingaway—excepttheveinthatrunsdownoverhistempleispulsing.
One,two,three
Hisheartbeats.
Myheartbeats.
HestaresatmewhileItrytocatchup.
“Sincewhen?”
“Afewyearsnow.”
Afewyears
God.
Theacheinmychesthasmegaspingforbreath.ItcouldtakemetomykneesifIletit.
“Troubleinparadise,sissy?”Aarontaunts,thestenchofhisbreathfillingtheairaroundmeasheleansinclose.
It’stheswatofmydad’sgrizzledhandthatpullshimback.Mydadwasalwaysswattingus.Sometimesharderthanothers.
Myownfathersaysnothingtomeashepassesby;instead,hemutterstomybrothers,“Youfoolstryingtogetmesentbacktotheclink?Getout.”
Ierupt.
“Yes!Getout!”Myvoiceisloudandstrongandbrimmingwithyearsoffrustration.Myhanddoesn’tevenshakeasIpointatthedoor.“Gotojail.Gotohell.Godigaholesixfeetdeepandstaythere.Idon’tfuckingcare.Butgoaway.Far,farawayfrommeandmylife.Iamdone!”
Icanfeeleverygoddamneyeintheplaceonme.LikepeopleareconfusedbythefactthatIdon’tseemchummywithmyfamily.
“Donewithallyouassholesandallyourshit!Iamdonebeingtreatedlikegarbage.Iamdonerisingaboveitallwithapolitefuckingsmile.Iamdonetryingtobeclassyaboutit.IamdonewithbeingrelatedtoyouwhenIhateyou.Go.Away.”
Apincoulddrop,andyou’dhearit.Thebarissilent.AllIcanhearismylaboredbreathingandthebloodrushingthroughmyveins.
Withascoff,theyleave.IdoubttheyevencareaboutwhatI’vesaidtothemtoday.Butitfeltgoodallthesame.
SoIkeepgoing.
“Andeveryoneelse!”IturnandfacetheotherpatronsinTheRailspur.“StoplookingatmelikeI’minfectious.Stopwatchingmelikethisisentertainment.Stoptreatingmelikeyou’resuperior.You’reallcruelandshittyandbigotedandhavemadelivingheremyentirelifeabsolutelymiserable.”
Thevastmajorityofpeopleinthebarlooklikedeercaughtintheheadlights.Ijustranmytruckintothemfulltilt.Thereareacouplemurmured“sorrys”andtheoddclearingofathroat.
IjustshakemyheadandpropmyhandsonmyhipsasIpeeroveratthetablethatmyfamilyjustleft.Dinedanddashed,naturally.
Iusedtohavetopayforthoseoutofpocket.
Buteversince“newownership”tookover,wehaven’tbeenonthehookforwalkouts.Or,well,Ihaven’tbeen.Nooneinthistownwouldwalkawaywithoutpaying,unlessIwastheirserver—thenitwasafunnyjoke.Iusedtohearthemlaughingaboutit.
Until“newownership”bannedanyonewholeftwithoutpayingfromcomingback.
Fuck.Fuck.HowlonghasBeaubeenlookingoutforme?Andheletallthisgounsaidwhilewe…
WhileIstartedtofeel…
“Beau,yougetouttoo.Ineedtogetbacktowork,”IwhisperasIliftmychinanddropmyshoulders.
I’veheldmyheadhighthroughdeeperembarrassments.Thiswillbenodifferent
“I’mnotleaving.”Hecrosseshisarmsandstaresatmedownhisstraightnoseasifit’ssomesortofchallenge.
ButI’mnotstrongenoughtofaceoffwithhimrightnow.Notwithanaudience.Notatall.
MyeyesshutterandIsuckadeepbreathinthroughmynoseasmyhandsproponmyhips.Ipresstheminonmyhipbonestokeepthemfromshaking.“ThenIquit.”
HisrigidbodystartslikeI’vehithim.Hedidn’tseethatcoming.
Ireachbackandpullmyswipecardforthecomputersystemoutofmybackpocketandholditouttohim.“Here.”
Helooksatthecardbutdoesn’ttakeit.“Okay,Bailey.I’llleave.”
“No.”Ishakemyheadrapidly,tearswelling,stingingalongthesidesofmynoseasIstruggletokeepthemfromfalling.“Ineedtoleave.”
“Youcan’tquit.I’llcome—”
“Ican.AndIneedtobealonerightnowmorethanIneedthepaycheck.”MyvoicecracksandIpursemylipstogether.Ishovethecardtowardhimagain,silentlybegginghimtotakeit.Themassivediamondringhegavemesparklesinthewarmlightfromthebeautifullyupdatedchandelieraboveus.
HowdidIneverthinkmoreaboutwhothesilentinvestormightbe?HowdidIneverquestionthings?HowdidInotseethis?
“Bailey.”Mynameisasighonhislipsashisbroadshoulderssagindefeat.
Anangrywhimperlodgesinmythroat,andIdropthecardontheperfectlypolishedhardwoodfloorbeforespinningonmyheelandgettingthefuckawayfromBeau.
Thefuckawayfrommyfiancé.
Thefuckawayfrommyboss.
WhenIgethome…
IshakemyheadasIwalkuptheconcretefrontsteps.
WhenIgettoBeau’shouse,Iwalkinthefrontdoor,enterthealarmcode,swipemyBolerkeyfromwhereallourkeys—hiskeys—hang.Idon’tevenbothertakingmyshoesoffasIwalkstraightthroughthemainlivingspaceandoutthebackdoor.
Hecanwashhisstupidcleanfloorwithatoothbrushwhilehethinksaboutwhathe’sdone,forallIcare.
Andwhathe’sdoneislie.Liesodeeply,sothoroughly—evenifitwaswell-meaning—hemademebelievesomethingwasreal,anditnowfeelsasthoughmaybeitisn’t.NowitfeelslikeIwasjustapawninsomestupidgameforhim.Likehegothomeandmademylifehisnewundercovermission.
Excepthefailedtotellmeaboutitandmademefallin—
“Ugh!”AtearspillsdownmycheekandIswipeatitangrilyasIstormuptomytrailer.Keyinthelock,Iyankthedooropenandshovemyselfinside,swiftlyboltingthedoorbehindme.
Ineedtobealone.
Ineedtothink.
AndIcan’tthinkinahousewhereeverythingremindsmeofhim.Everythingsmellslikehim
Tearsfallfreelynow,andIdon’tbotherwipingthemawayasIplopwoodenlydownontothebedatthefarendofwhatusedtobemyhouse.
Maybeit’smyhouseagain?
Thethoughtofthat,ofleavinghim,makesmefeellikemybonesarecrackingundertheweightofsuchaheavyburden.
Itrytocalmmybreathing,butitjustgetstothepointwhereIfeellikeIcan’tbreatheatall.
I’mhurt.
I’membarrassed.
IfeelfoolishthatIletmyselfbelievesomeonecouldlovemesohonestly.
Andyet,Iacheforhim.Ionlywanthim.Hisarms.Hiswords.Hissmell.
Iknowit’stheonlythingthatwillmakemefeelbetter,but…I’mfurious.
MomentspassandIwatchthesilenttearslandonmyjeans,stainingthelightdenimdarkastheysoakin.Thespotsstartsmallandseepoutintobigger,rounderoneswithsofteredges.
Suddenly,Ihearhispanickedvoicecallingmynamefromthehouse.Iclosemyeyesandlistentohim.
“Bailey!”
Hisvoice—ithurts.Icansensethepaininit,painthatwouldmatchmyownifIcouldevenfindanywordstosay.
“Bailey!”He’sinthekitchennow,Icantellbyhowclosehesounds,andIknowthathidingfromhimlikethisishurtinghim.ItmakesmefeellikeIcouldthrowup.
ButIneedthismoment.Ineedthisspace.Thistrailermaysitonhisland,butit’sstillmine.Simpleandplainandrun-down,butmine.
Ithoughtthebarwasmine.Ithoughtthatwastheoneplacepeopleappreciatedmeandmyhardwork.IthoughtIearnedthatplaceintheworld.
Thebackdoorcrashesopen,andIknowthismanwouldteartheworldaparttofindme.Tosaveme.
ButI’msotiredofneedingsaving.
“Bailey!”Hispalmlandsflatonthedoorofmytrailer.Icanhearitslap.
Thechildishpartofmewantstokeephidingfromhimandnotrespond.
Butthepartofmethat’sinlovewithhimisbeingshredded,stripbystrip,asIlistentohimfranticallysearchforme.
“Yeah?”Isniff.
There’sathumponthedoorandIfeellikeIcanperfectlyenvisionhim,foreheadtippedagainsttheplainmatte-grayexteriorofmyjunkylittletrailer.Allgoldenandperfect.
“Bailey.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”Thewordsareasob.IthoughtI’dholdittogether,butI’mnot.I’mfuckingcrumbling.
Hesaysnothing,anditinfuriatesme,soIgetupandshovethefiberglassdooropen,sendinghimstumblingback.“Whydidn’tyoutellme?Foraguywhodesperatelydidn’twantourrelationshiptobefoundedonalie,yousuredoubleddownonthisone.”
Helickshislips,thegoldenlightbehindhimglowingoverthesilhouetteofthehouse.“Ididn’tlie.”
Ibarkoutaharshlaugh.Tearsstillmarmyface,butIdon’tcare.“Oh,fuckoff.Itwasalieofomission,andyouknowit.”Ishakemyhead,lookingawayattheyard.“Anditcameoutinthemosthumiliatingway.Infrontofeveryone,Beau.”
“Iknow.”Hebraceshishandsbehindhisheadandstaresatme,totallyforlorn.“I’msorry.”
“Idon’twantyourapology!Iwantanexplanation.Haveyouspentallthesenightssittingatmybarbecauseyou’reprotectingyourinvestmentorbecauseyouwantedtobewithme?”
“Bailey,howcanyouevenaskmethat?I’vebeentotallyhands-offwiththatplaceforyears.It’salwaysbeenaboutyou.”
Mychest.Ithurts.
“Explain.”
Hishandsscruboverwherethehairisshorteratthebackofhishead,anexpressionofconcentrationonhisfaceasheriflesthroughhishead.He’sclearlytryingtopickhisnextwordscarefully.
Hepaces.“OnenightwhenIwashomeandheadingintheretomeetJasperforadrink,Ioverheardtheownerandthemanagertalkingoutside.”
Ipropashoulderagainstthedoorframeandcrossmyarms.Asilentinstructionforhimtokeepgoing.
“Theyweretalkingabouthowtheplacewasgettingrun-down.Therewasn’tenoughmoneytofixitup.Fred,theguywhoownedit,toldJakethatfiringyoumightbringmorepeopledown.”
Itrytocovermyflinch,butmycheektwitchesandIknowheseesit.Ilookaway.FuckingFred.Thatguywassuchacreep.
“ButJakerefused.Saidyouwereagoodemployeeandneededthejob.Hewenttobatforyouandlosthisjobforit.”
“Jake?”
Beaunods.
“Buthe’sstillthemanager.”Jakeisfromthecityandhasalwaysbeennicetome,didn’tknoworcaremuchaboutmybackground.
“Ihiredhimback,butI’vedoneitallthroughalawyertokeepmyselfanonymous.I’mtotallyhands-off.ExceptwhenIgoinandfixtheoddthing.Ifixedthattapforyoutheotherday.ButIstillwantedtobeabletogotomyfavoritebarwithmyfriendsandfamilyandjustbearegularjoepatron.Aregularsmalltownguyinaregularsmalltownbar.”
“I…Idon’tevenknowhowtomakesenseofthis.Whybuyitatall?”
Thesmilethattoucheshislipsissad.“Iwatchedyouthatnight.Isawhowhardyouworked.Hownervousyouwere.AndI…”Hescrubshishandsdownoverhisface.“Idon’tknow,Bailey.IguessI’vealwaysbeenimpulsivewhereyou’reconcerned.BecauseIwalkedintothebackandmadeFredanofferontheplacethathecouldn’trefuse.Itjustdidn’tfeelright.Knowingwhathewasgoingtodotoyou.”
“That’sinsane.Ofcourseit’snotright!Foramanwho’sbeenthroughsomeshit,you’reawfullyidealistic,Beau.Badthingshappentogoodpeople.Youdon’tneedtobeaheroeverytime.Youdon’tneedtosaveeveryone.”
Heshrugs.“You’renoteveryone.”
Istareathim,slack-jawed.Iwanttohughim,andIwanttohithim.Allatonce.Heisinfuriating.MyteethgrindasIwatchhim.“I’msofuckingmadatyou.”
Hiseyesdrop,butnotbeforeIseetheshamethere.“Iknow.”
“Whydidn’tyoujusttellme?”
“Iwantedto.Fuck.”Hewipesathismouthandpaces.“Iwantedto.Jaspertoldmeto.He’stheonlypersonIevertold.ButIknewweweretoofardownthispathforittonothurtyouormakeyoufeellikeIwasmaneuveringbehindyourback.And,god,Bailey.TheverylastthingintheworldIeverwanttodoishurtyou.”
Mythroataches,constrictsonitselfuntilI’malmostnauseous.
“IactuallyfeltlikeIwasyourpartner,Beau.Likeyourespectedme.IreallyfeltlikeIwasintegraltoyousomehow.Iwasn’taproject.Notsomedeep-covermission.Notapawninyouplayingsupersoldiertoscratchanitchorfoolyourfamily.”
“Idorespectyou.Andyouareintegraltome.Ifuckingloveyou,Bailey.”
Love.
Whoeversaidlovehurtswasn’tfuckinglying.
“Andthatjob?ThatjobhasalwaysfeltlikeproofIdidsomethingformyself,despitewhereIcomefrom.ProofthatIdon’tneedanyone’spity.ThatI’mstrongenoughtoriseaboveitall.ThatifIhadthechancetoshowpeoplehowhardIwork,they’drewardme.AndyoujusttuggedtheonethingIthoughtI’ddonewithmyliferightoutfromunderme.I’mutterlydependentonyou,andthatterrifiesme.Andit’sevenworsebecausefirstyoumademefallinl—youknowwhat?”Iwaveahanddismissively.“IneedsometimetogetmybearingssoIdon’tsayanythingI’llregret.”
Beaublinksrapidly,standingtallandproud.Likehe’spreparedtofacetheconsequencesheadon.Hedoesn’ttellmeit’sokay,orthatI’moverreacting.“That’sunderstandable.”
Hetakesallmyfrustrationandswallowsit.Likeaman.
Liketheflawedbutgoodmanthatheis.
Likeaflawedbutgoodmanwholovesme.
Holdontothat.
Inodandgotoclosethedooronhim,buthestopsme,steppingupandwrappinghishandaroundtheedgeofit,hisfingersbrushingagainstmine.“Howlong?”
Mygazebouncesbetweentheswirlingmetallicpoolsinhiseyes.“Aslongasittakesformetonotbethismadatyou.”
Hislipspressintoaflatlineashebitesdownonwhateverhewasabouttosay.Andthen,afterabeat,herepeatswhathe’salreadytoldme.“Sugar,Iamsosorry.”
Ismilesadlyanddrawawayfromhim.“Iknow,”isallIsayasIlockmyselfintomylonelylittletrailer.AndthenIheadbacktothebed,whereIlieawakeallnightlong,analyzingmylifefromeveryangleandwonderinghowthehellIgothere.
AndhowthehellI’mgoingtofixussoIdon’tspendtherestofmylifefeelinglikeBeauEaton’spetproject.40Beau
Beau:Garywantsmetotellyouhe’sonyourside.
Bailey:Hefuckingbetterbe.
Beau:I’monyoursidetoo.
Bailey:Youfuckingbetterbe.
IknockonBailey’sdoor.
Shesaidsheneededtime,andIdon’tblameher.I’dwantabreakfrommetoo.Unfortunately,I’mstuckwithmyself—hatingmyself—andobsessingoverhowtomakethisright.Lastnight,Iwentbacktothebartohelpout.Camebackjustintimetowatchherswimintheriverbyherselffromthetopofthebanklikeatotalcreep.Thenwenttobed,whereIdidn’tsleepawinkandlaidawakedespisingmyselfinstead.
Iseeaswishofhercurtains.Movement.Asuresignthatshe’sinthereandknowsI’mstandingoutherelikeasadpuppy.
“I’mnotdonebeingmadatyou,”iswhatshecallsfrominside.
Mylipstwitch.Shesoundsso…huffy.AndIcantakethis.Icantakeherbeingmadatme.Icanwaitherout.Iwillhappilywaitherout.
“That’sfine.Ijustcametobringyoubreakfastandyourtipsfromlastnight.Andalittlesomethingelse.”
Iglancedownatthetrayinmyhands.Coffee.Scrambledeggs.Strawberries.Cash.Envelope.
Herdoorswingsopenandmyheartlurchesinmychest.Hereyesarepuffy,thickhairdrawnbackinahighponytail.
“Whyareyoubringingmetips?”
“Becauseitwasyourshift.”
“Iquit.”
“Iworkeditforyouanyway.”
Shesniffsandhernosewigglesassheglancesaway.“Didn’tknowyoucouldbartend.”
“Ican’t,andGarywasreallymeantomeallnight.”
HerdarkeyeslaserinonmeandIcanseeherfightingherlipsintoadownwardcurveatthattidbit.“Good.”
“Here.”IholdthetrayouttoherandsighwithreliefwhenshetakesitandIseemyringstillonherfinger.
“What’sintheenvelope?Whydoesitsay#teambaileyonit?”
Ishrug.“Somepeoplefromtowndroppedbywithcashtohelpwithyournewunemploymentstatus.Garywrotethehashtag.”
“Peoplefromtown?Gavemecash?”
“Itwouldseemyougoingoffonthemhadaneffect.Youmayhaveinspiredsome…remorse?”
Shesniffs.“Idon’twanttheircash.Don’tneedit.”
“Well,goodluckreturningit.There’salotinthere.Frommultipledifferentpeopleandbusinesses.Idon’tthinktheyknowhowtosaysorrytoyou,andthisisthebesttheycouldcomeupwith.”
Heririseswidenasshestaresdownatthetray,lipslightlypartedlikeshe’sreadytosaysomethingbutcan’tfindthewords.Tobefair,Iwassurprisedtoo.
“Fuckme,”iswhatshesettleson.
“Iknow.”Iagreewithalightchuckle,whichjustearnsmeasourglare.
“Stopagreeingwithme.We’restillfighting.”
Iholdmyhandsupinsurrenderandstartbackingawayfromher.“Sorry.Mybad.It’sjustthatIamalsohashtagteamBailey.”
Sheshakesherheadatme.“You’rerelentless,youknowthat?”
AndIjustgiveherasaluteandawink.Becauseyeah,Iam.
NoonehasevershowedupforBailey,butshe’sabouttogetthefullexperience.
“No,sugar.Whenitcomestoyou,I’mdownrighthopeless.”
“Whatisthis?”
IsmilebecauseBaileydoesn’tlookasdisheveledtoday.No,mygirllooksstronger.Likesheslept.
Heroversizedcrewneckislooseonherpetiteframe,longtanlegsstretchingoutofhersleepshorts,stackedfuzzysocksonherfeetassheholdsthetrailerdooropenwithascowlonherface.
She’sgotapenstuckbehindherear.
Iimaginethisishowshe’lllookwhenshe’scrammingforfinalexamsatuniversity.
I’llbebringingherbreakfastandcoffeethentoo.
Istaredownatthetray.“Food.Andcaffeine.Thoughtyoumightneeditbeforeyouheadtothegymagaintoday.”
“HowdoyouknowIworkatthegymtoday?”
“IaskedSummer.Shedidn’tknowthatanythingwasamissbetweenus.”
“Whywouldshe?”Baileycrossesherarmsandquirksahip.Ringflashingonherfinger.
Ishrug.“Thoughtyoumighthavetoldherwhileyouwerethereyesterday.”
Sherollshereyes,lookingherage.Butwhatcomesoutofhermouthiswisebeyondheryears.“No,Beau.I’mnotgoingtoruntoyourfamilywaggingmytongueaboutwhatashitheadyou’vebeenbecausethat’sourbusiness,nottheirs.”
Ourbusiness
Thatsentimentgivesmehope.
Iclearmythroatandofferheranod,notwantingtooverstep.She’sclearlystillmiffedwithme.
Bailey’sfingerpointsdownatthetray.“What’sthat?”
“Cash.”
“Why?”
“BecauseIworkedyourshiftatthebaragainlastnight.Garystiffedme.Saidhewasn’tpayingsomeoneasstupidasmetopourhisbeersandthenthrewhiskeysatme.”
Herhandcomesuptocoverhermouthashereyesflitaway.Iknowshe’stryingtosmotheralaugh.
“Youshouldkeepit—”
“Bailey.Takethecash.Youdeserveafreshstart.Youdeserveafairchanceatwhateveryoneelsegets.Takethemoneyandmakeithappen.Idon’tneedit.”
“Beau…”Herheadtilts,confusionpaintingherfeatures.
“No,listen.Youneedoutofthistown.Forawhilethere,Ithoughtyoudidn’t.Forawhile,IthoughtIcouldmakeitbetterhereforyou.Butthetruthis,youmademylifebetter,somuchfuckingbetter,andIworryImadeyoursworse.”
Shelooksstrickenbymywords.
Butshestilltakesthetraybeforeturningbackintohertrailer.
“Soyou’rejustgoingtokeepmakingherbreakfast?Andsendingheronherway?”
Iflipthebaconwithmyphonewedgedbetweenmyearandmyshoulder,tryingtoignorewhatasmugprickJaspersoundslikeonthephone.
“Yeah.Shewasuplate.Icouldseethelightsoninhertrailer.Andsheneedstoleave.It’swhat’sbestforher.”
“Dude,Itoldyoutotellher.Ihopeshemakesyoubringherbreakfastforyears.”
“Fuckyou.”
Jasperlaughs.“Youcouldusealittlehumbling.It’sgoodforyou.Buildscharacter.”
“I’mfullofcharacter!”Bacongreasesplashesmeonthehand,andIpullitaway,shakingitout.
“You’refullofshit,iswhatyouare.Andshefiguredyouout.”
“Jas,whatthefuck?You’resupposedtobemybrotherfromanothermother.Whatisthistoughlovegarbage?Ithoughtyouwereonmyteam.”
“It’sakickinthepants.Wakeup,Beau.You’renotthesamepersonyouusedtobe.Theclassclown,theshiny,happyhero.Nowyou’reameremortal,liketherestofus.Onewhomakesdumbmistakes.Onewhodoesn’tgeteverythinghandedovertohimeasily.”
“Hey,I—”
“Iknow,Iknow,”Jasperplacatesme.“Noteverythinghasbeeneasy.Butyourpathhasalwaysbeenclearcut.Thedecisionsyoumakeareobvious.DidyoueventhinktwiceaboutgoingbackintothatbunkertogetMicah?”
“No,”Igrumble.“IalreadyknewIwasgoingto.”
“Yeah.Exactly.Sowhat’syourplanforthis?Yougonnakeepworkingajobyouhateinatownyouclearlyfeeluncomfortableinbecauseofyourmisplacedsenseofdutywhilesheleavesandlivesherlife?You’vegotachoicetomake,andI’mnotsureyourealizeit.Yougoingwithherornot?Youkeepsayingthatleavingiswhat’sbestforher,butwhataboutwhat’sbestforyou?”
“Ihaveaplan,”Imumble.BecauseIdo.Ihaveforquitesometime.Ijusthaven’ttoldanyone.Haven’tgivenanyonethehonesttruthaboutmyplansinyears,andtheonlypersonI’mgoingtochangethatwithisBailey.Truthfully,Idon’twantanyinput.Itrustmyjudgmentwhereshe’sconcerned.Ihaven’tfeltsuchasingle-mindedpurposesincebeforemyaccident.
Andhercommentaboutnotsharingourbusinesswitheveryonehithome.
SheandI.
Westartedoutasasecretbutturnedintosomuchmore.Eventhoughwe’rebothdoingourownthingrightnow,italwaysfeelslikewe’re…
Alonetogether.
“She’llprobablymeetsomeonealotlessoldthanyouinthecity,”JasperprodsmeandjealousylashesatmystomacheventhoughIknowhe’sjoking.
“YouandIarethesameage,dick.”
“Yup.”HepopstheP,andIheartheclatterofhimdoingsomethinginhiskitchen.Lazyfuckercouldhavejustdrivenovertoseeme.“Oldenoughtoknowbetter.”
“Goodlord,man—”IstopwhenIseeBaileystepoutofhertrailer.She’swearingaprettywhitedressandadenimjacket,andherhairisallsilkyandfreshlybrushed.Iknowshe’sbeenshoweringatthegym.Summertoldmesowithapiercingglarethatdrippedwithdon’tfuckthisup
Iglanceatmywatch,realizingit’sprettyearlyforhertobeleavingalready.Idon’twanttomissher.
“Gottago,Jas.Bye.”Ihanguponhimbeforehecangetanotherwordinandtossthebaconinthewaitingbun,completewithtomato,lettuce,andmayo.ThenIwrapitinapapertowelandracetothefrontdoor,whereIknowthepatharoundthesideofthehousewilltakeher.
“Bailey.Wait!”IcallrightasIripthedooropenandbounddownthestairs.“Imadeyoubreakfast.”
Shestopsinhertracksandturnstolookatme.“Youdon’tneedtokeepmakingmebreakfast.”
“Youwereuplate.”
Herheadtilts,andsheregardsmewithaconfusedexpressiononherface.“Howdoyouknow?”
“Lightswereon.Checkedonyou.”
Baileyclearsherthroatandreachesforwardtotakethebun.Ringstillonherfinger.“Thanks.”
“Sure,”Isay,tuckingmyhandsintomypockets.“Whereareyouofftosoearly?”Ikickatthedriveway,feelinglikeateenagertalkingtohiscrush.
She’squietjustlongenoughthatithasmelookingupathertoseewhat’swrong.
“Tothecity.”
“Oh,yeah?”
Shenods,teethsinkingintoherbottomlip.
“Canyouwaitfiveminutes?”
Shesighs.
Ican’tstopcatalogingeverymoveshemakes.Likeitgivesmesomeinsightintowhatshe’sdoing.Whatshe’sthinking.Whenshe’sgoingtoletmecomecloseenoughtokissheragain.Leaveabitemarkagain.
“Forwhat?”
“I’mheadingintoo.CanIcatcharide?”
It’samomentwhenshecouldsayno.There’szeroreasonIcouldn’tdrivemyself.Truthfully,I’dratherbetheonebehindthewheel,butIalsojustwanttobenearher.AndifsittinginhershittylittletruckwhileshegivesmethecoldshoulderiswhatIcanget,thensobeit.
Icanalsotellbythewayshe’speekingatmethatshe’scuriousaboutwhyI’mheadingintothecity.Andthefeelingismutual.
Maybeifshe’sstuckinavehiclewithme,itwillforcehertotalk.
Ifnothingelse,itwillforcehertolisten.41Bailey
Summer:Havefuntoday!Sendpicsoftheplacesyoulookat.Andtellmewhichneighborhoods.Iwanttoknowliterallyeverything.
Bailey:Okay.Thanks.
Summer:Youalright?
Bailey:Yeah.Ijustwasn’texpectingyoutotextme.
Summer:Whynot?
Bailey:Beauistheonlypersonwhotextsme.
Summer:Well,nowit’sBeauANDme.
Bailey:Thoughtyoumightbeannoyedaboutmemoving.
Summer:WhywouldIbeannoyedatthat?
Bailey:Uh,becauseIjuststartedworkingforyou?
Summer:Iknowathingortwoaboutgoingafterwhatyouwant.Ilovetoseeit.Makethatworldyouroyster,girl.
Beaupullshimselfintothepassengerseatandtheairinmytruckinstantlygetshardertoswallow.
Helooksdelicious.Aplaidshirt,amixtureofgreensandcreams,withakhakiteebeneath.Icanseethesilverchainofhisdogtagsdisappearingbeneathhislayers.Jeans.TheleatherbootsIhelpedhimpickout.
It’scoolthismorning,andthenipoffallcreepsacrosstheflatfieldsaroundus.Itgetshotmidday,andthenthetemperatureplummetsintheevening.
Ilovethistimeofyear.
Shiftingintodrive,Ipullawayfromthehouse,tryingtokeepmyeyesontheroadratherthanonhim.
Imisshim.
Forthreedays,I’vemissedhim.Forthreedays,I’veforcedmyselfnottowalkbackintohishouse.
AndnotbecauseI’mtryingtopunishhim.Irealizedthatondaytwo.Thisisn’tevenabouthim.
It’saboutme.It’saboutmyfearoutweighingmydesire.It’sabouttakingmyownfirststepstostartfresh.BeingabletoknowIdiditonmyown,withoutanyoneholdingmeback,andwithoutanyonegivingmealegup.I’vebeenavictimofmycircumstancesfortoodamnlong.
First,Igotmadathowunfairmylifewas.
NowI’mgettingeven.
“Whatareyoudoing?”heasksafterwe’veleftthelimitsofChestnutSprings
“Driving.”Myhandstwistonthewheel.
“Noshit.Inthecity,Bailey.Whatareyoudoing?”
MytonguedartsoutovermylipsasIconsiderwhatIwanttotellhim.He’sso…overbearing,overwhelming,overprotective,andIdon’twanthimbarginginonthisdayforme.HemadeitverycleartheothermorningthatIneedtoleavetown.Thathewantsmetoleavetown.
Andhim?He’sgotafamily.Ahome.Anyjobhewants—thathecancasuallypickupatthefuckinggasstation.
No,doinganyofthesenextstepswithhimintowwouldhurttoodamnmuch.
“Youcan’tcomewithme.”
“That’sfine.”Hesettlesbackinhisseat,thickbicepsstrainingagainstplaidashecrosseshisarms.“IhavesomethingIneedtodoanyway.”
Curiositytugsatme.“Whatareyoudoing?”
Ipeekathim,andhegrins.Mystomachdoesthisnauseatinglittleflip.God.He’ssobeautiful.
“Askedyoufirst,sugar.”
Myeyesroll.Howadumbjokeaboutcallingmesugartitshasturnedintoatermofendearmentisbeyondme.Andyet,itmakesmesmile.
“Goingintocheckoutthecampus.IfinallyactivatedmyenrollmenttostartinJanuary.”
Thegrinhehitsmewithisdownrightblinding.Iblinkaway,likehe’stoobrighttolookatdirectly.Ithurts.
“Gonnacheckoutafewrentalplacestoo,”Imumble.Talkingaboutthesethingswithhimfeelsawkwardinthewakeofeverythingthat’shappenedbetweenus.Fake,toreal,toalittletooreal.
IguessI’mjustinexperiencedenoughtonotknowwhereIstandwithhim,orhowtoevenbroachthesubject,eventhoughIknowIhaveto.
AllIknowishelied.Myfeelingsgothurt.HebringsmebreakfasteverymorningandgivesmeeverybitofspaceIaskedfor—possiblytoomuchspace.AndhetoldmeIshouldleavetown.
Butthenhesmilesatmelikehelovesme.
AndIgorightbacktobeingconfused.
“Goodforyou.”
Iscoff.Goodforme.It’slikeapatonthehead,andthat’snotwhatIwantfromhim.Iwanthimtotossmeoverhisshoulderanddragmebacktohishouse.
ButIdon’twanttobeinChestnutSprings.
Iamsofuckinglost.
“Whatareyougoinginfor?”
“Work,”herepliessimply.Allthatdoesismakemethinkhe’sdoingsomethingwiththebar,whichremindsmehe’sbeenlyingtomeoutofsomemisplacedsenseofduty.
Heroicmotherfucker.
Wefallintosilenceoncemoreasthefieldswhipbyandtheskyscrapersoverthecitycomeintoview.
“WhereamItakingyou?”
Heshiftsinhisseat,grabbingtheoverheadhandleandlookingoutthewindow.“I’lldirectyou.”
Crypticmotherfucker.
Weheadstraightintothecity.
“Lefthere.”
Iturn.
“Rightupahead.”
Again,Iturn,followingtheroadintoacozy,tree-linedneighborhood.Olderhouses.Someinfills.Aone-levelbrickschoolwithabrightlycoloredplaygroundoutfront.
Iwasexpectingsomethingdifferentwhenhesaid“work”.Ihavenoideawhatwe’redoinghere.Atleastitisn’tfarfromcampus.
“Onemoreblockup.”
MybrowsfurrowasIwatchastreamofchildrenmaketheirwaydownthesidewalk,too-bigbackpacksslungovertheirshoulders.
“Justhere.Ontheleft.”
Istopontheoppositesideoftheroadandlookacrossatanotherbrickbuilding.
Afirehall.
“What’sthis?”
“Kindafiguredthebigredtruckoutfrontmightbeadeadgiveaway,”herepliesonachuckle.
Ihearhimunbucklinghisseatbelt,butIcan’tseemtopeelmyeyesawayfromthebuilding.
“Right.Butwhy?”
“Jobinterview.”Hetugsthehandleandopensthedoortoexitthesmallcab.
Ashegetsout,Iaskthesamequestionagain,notquitecomprehendingwhat’sgoingon.“Butwhy?”
Beauturns,andhiseyessweepovermyface,likehe’stryingtomemorizemyeveryfeature.Thenheshrugs,anonchalantmotionincontrasttotheintensityofhisgaze.“ToldyouIloveyou,Bailey.AndImeantit.”Hegivesmeawinkandhitsthetruckrooftwice,likeI’mafuckingcabdriverorsomething.“Makesurewhateverhouseyoupickhasroomforustohostfamilydinners.YouknowtheEatonclanwillvisitmorethanwewantthemto.”
Us.We.
Isithereslackjawed,atalossforwords.Ishegettingajobinthecityjustsohecanbewithme?
ButIdon’tgetachancetoaskbecausehestridesoff,callingbackoverhisshoulder,“Textmewhenyou’reheadedback.I’llkeepmyselfbusyuntilyou’redone.”
Thenhe’sacrossthestreet.Goingforajobinterview.
Andme?I’manemotionalpuddle.
Iwanderthecampusinadaze.
Idrinkacoffeethattastesblandandwatery.TheonesBeaumakesmearebetter
Iwalk,checkingforanycafesorrestaurantsthatmightbehiring.IdropoffaresumeattwothatIlikethelooksof.BothtimesI’mmetwithsmilesandenthusiasm.Peoplewhoseemedexcitedbytheprospectofhiringme.
It’snice,but…Idon’tfeelthatgoodaboutit.
ThefirstrentalIhaveanappointmentatisacondominiumonthetwelfthfloor.Thewomanshowingittomeseemsniceenoughassheleadsmethroughthespace,whichhasbigwindowsandlovelyviews.Butwhenshesays,“Andthere’sroomforasmalldiningtablerighthere,”whilepointingatapracticallynon-existentspace,Iburstoutcrying.
Becausethat’snotnearlyenoughspacetohosttheEatons.AndIwantthat.IwantBeau,andIwantthatlife,andI—god,Iwishhewasherewithme.
Lookingatplacestolivewithouthimherefeelswrong.Especiallyafterthatsmuglittlebombhedroppedonmerightbeforeleavingmytruck.Socasual.Likehe’sknownallalongwhatIdon’t.
IpressmypalmagainstthecenterofmychesttopressawaytheachethereasIridetheelevatordowntothelobby.I’mprettysurethisisn’tthespotforme.NotonlybecauseI’malmostpositivenoonewantstorenttheirplacetoagirlwhocriesoveradiningroom,butalsobecausethatdiningroomissimplynotbigenough.
ImissBeaumoreintenselyinthismomentthanIhaveinthepastthreedays.
Iwonderwhathe’sdoing.
Iwonderhowhe’sfeeling.
Iwonderifheknowswhathe’sdoing.
Iwonderifhe’llregretchanginghislifeforme.Andtheweightofthatisdownrightcrushing.
Idon’tgotomynextappointment.Idon’tthinkIcanhandlelookingatanotherdiningroomandwonderingaboutBeau.WhatIwantistocrawlintobedwithhimandhavehimholdme.
Idon’ttexthim.Ijustdrivebacktothefirehall,preparedtowaitforhimifIhaveto.
ButIdon’thaveto.
WhenIpullup,he’sseatedonabenchinthesun,kneesslungopen,phoneheldlowwhilehescrollsthescreen.
You’dthinkforatieroneoperatorhewouldnoticemeacrossthestreet,buthedoesn’t.SoIwatchhim.Hesmilesandhisshouldersvibrateonalaugh.
Iwonderwhathe’swatching.
Iwonderhowhisinterviewwent.
Iwonderhowlonghe’sbeenwaiting.
Iwonderifhe’shungryorifheatelunch.
Iwonderifhe’dbeokaywithmecomingtositbesidehim.
ItfeelslikemybrainisjustanodetoBeauEaton.Ithinkabouthimallthefuckingtime.Worryabouthim.Cravehim.
I’mstaringathimwhenhefinallyglancesup,likehefinallyfeltmehere,soakinghimin.Spellboundbyhim.
Notforthefirsttimetoday,hehitsmewithasmilethatmakesmyentirebodywarm.It’sgenuineandsoulful,andsodamnboyish.
Ilovethatsmile.
Withnofurtheroverthinking,Iturnthekeytostoptheignitionandstepoutofthetruck.Afteraquickglanceinbothdirections,I’mwalkingtohim.Okay,morelikejogging.
“Hi,”IwhisperasIstandinfrontofhim,myeyesgettinglostinhis.
“Hi,”hesays,pattingthebenchbesidehim.
Itakeadeepbreathandsitdownnexttohim.Thewoodenslatsarewarmbeneathmybarelegs,andIfeelsafenexttoBeau’sstrongbody.“Howwasthejobinterview?”
“Igotthejob.”Hisvoicebrimswithpride,andmyeyessting.“AndnotbecausetheyknewwhoIwas.They’llputmestraightintoatraininggroupbecauseofmyJTF2experience.Andthat…Iearnedthat.Iworkedreallyhardtogetintothatunit.It’sabigpartofwhoIwas,whoI’llalwaysbe.Imissit.ButIwasofferedachanceatajobtodaybasedonthatmerit.It’snotafavorfromafriendorabuilt-injobfrommyfamily.”
Heturnsnowtolookatme,shoulderbumpingminelightly.“Beensittingherethinkingabouttoday.Itfeelsgoodtobewantedbecauseyoubringsomethingtothetable.I’mreallyproudaboutthispossibility,Bailey.ItfeelslikeIearnedit.AndI’msorryItookthatawayfromyou.”
Ihum,orsob.I’mnotsurewhich,butitlodgesinmythroat,andIblinkmylasheswildlytokeepfromcrumblinginfrontofhim.“Thankyou,”Iwhisper,andthenIreachacrossthesun-bakedwoodandtakehishandinmine.Callousedfingersenvelopmyown,andIsigh,enjoyinghistouch.
Iclosemyeyesandsoakupthemoment.
“Didyoufindusaniceplacetolive?”
“No.Icouldn’tlookwithoutyou.”
Hisfingerspulse.
“Actually,Iwenttoone.Sheshowedmethediningroom,andIstartedcrying.”
“Why?Wasitnice?”
“No.”Isniff,feelingthetearsslipoutpastmylashes.“Itwastoofuckingsmallforourfamilydinners.”Ifinishthesentencewithatruesob,onethathehearsloudandclear.
“Oh,Bailey.”Hisvoiceissotender,andhisgripissofirmashegathersmeagainsthim.Strongarmsencirclemyshoulders.“Baby,pleasedon’tcry.I’lldoanythingtomakeyounotcry.I’msofuckingsorry.”
Iburymyfaceinthecrookofhisneckandbreathehimin.“Don’tlietomeagain.Ever.Don’tpulltherugoutfromundermeagain.Ever.”Idrawback,grippinghishandsomefaceinmyhands,searchinghiseyes.“Ifuckingmissedyou.God.EvenwhenI’mfuriouswithyou,Iwanttobewithyou.”
Hegrins.
“It’snotfunny.IthinkI’mobsessedwithyou.Likeeveryotherstarry-eyedgirlinthatgodforsakentown.”
Helaughs.
“Don’tlaugh.It’sdiagnosable.I’mmadatyou,andIlayawakeallnightwonderingifyouweresleeping.Orifyou’deaten.Afteryearsofholdingittogether,I’vefinallylostit.”Itrytopullahanduptoswipeawaymytears,buthe’sholdingmesotight,soclosethatIcan’t.
Iopttowipemyfaceonhisshirtinstead.
“Youhaven’tlostit.Orifyouhave,sohaveI.BecauseIwaswonderingallthesamethings.Shit,Idon’tknowhowmanytimesIgotuptochecktheperimeterofthehouse.Sotheanswerisno,Iwasn’tsleeping.”Hechuckles,likethat’sfunny.
Igazeathiminwonder.“Butwhy?”
“Youaskanawfullotofquestionssomedays,BaileyJansen.”
“Idon’tunderstand,though.You.This.Thebreakfasts.Noneofitmakessensetome.”
Hissmileisdifferentthistime,tingedwithsadness,brimmingwithreverenceashetouchesmeurgently,brushingmyhairbehindmyears.“You’renotusedtoanyoneshowingupforyou,Bailey.Thisiswhatthatlookslike.ItoldyouIloveyou.I’veneverlovedawomanbefore.Wasn’tsureIeverwould.ButnowIdo.Andyouandme?We’reateam.Youdon’tquitonyourteammates.Youdon’tleaveamanbehind.Sonowyou’restuckwithme.I’mjustbeingpatient.Waitingforyoutocomeback.”
MytearsfallfreelyasIlistentohimpourhisheartouttome.
“It’slikeI’vebeensearchingforsomething,somethingtotiemetothisnewreality.Iwasn’tlookingforlove;Iwaslookingforapurpose.Ijustdidn’texpectmypurposetobeyou.”
IsaytheonlythingIcansayinthewakeofhiswords,inthewakeofeverythinghe’sdoneforme.“Iloveyou,Beau.”
Thatblindingsmileisback,butthistimeit’smatchedwithglassyeyes.Henodsatme,everymotionswimmingwithlove.Admiration.Icanfeeltheaffectionineverythinghedoes.
Anditfeelssoforeign.Itfeelssogood.
“ItoldyouoncethatIdon’tthinkanyonehaslovedmebefore.But…”Inibbleatmylip.“ButIdon’tthinkI’veeverreallylovedanyoneeither.”
Histhumbsswipeatmycheeks,brushingawaythetearsthatslipovermyskin.
“That’sokay,baby.Icanbeyourfirst,”hesays.
Andthenhekissesme.
Thefirst,last,andonlymantoloveme.
AndI’mokaywiththat.42Beau
Beau:Everyonebettershowuptonight.
Harvey:YES,SIR.
Beau:Youcan’tsaythat.Like,ever,Dad.
Harvey:Whynot?
Harvey:…Sir?
Beau:Youjustcan’t.It’soffthetablenow.
Jasper:REPORTINGFORDUTY,SIR.
Rhett:SEEYOUFORDINNER,SIR.
Cade:WHYAMIRELATEDTOSOMANYIDIOTS,SIR?
Beau:Ihateyouall.Seeyoutonight.
“Everyoneiscoming?
“Yes.”Icasuallyslickmyhairbackinthemirrorlikenothingintheworldiswrong—becauseit’snot.
“Like,everyone?”Baileyhoversbehindme,herhandstuckedintothesleevesofthecamel-coloredsweatershe’swearing.She’sgotonearmcrossedoverherstomach,theotherbrushingatthebottomofherchininasteadyrhythm.
“Ofcourse.Youtoldmetoinviteeveryone.”
WhenIpeekatherstandingbehindme,she’sworryingherlipbetweenherbottomteethandlookingalittlefrantic.
“Right.Ofcourse.”
She’snervousandscansthebathroom,liketheremightbesomethingtodistractherfromherthoughts.
Thebathroomissmallbutfreshlytiledbyyourstruly.Whitesquareswithlittleblackdiamondsateachcorner.Aclaw-foottubinthecorner.Apedestalsink.Thishouseonacozy,tree-linedstreetisfullofvintage,old-worldcharm.
AsmuchasIlovemyhouseattheranch,Ihavetoconfess…itfeltlessmesinceBaileycameintomylife.Thehardlinesandechoeyspacesfeltcold.Atoddswithherthere.
Thishouse,though?Warmhardwoodsandbigwindowsthatthelightspillsthrough.Theoaktrimaroundeverywallremindsmeofhertanskininthesummer.AndthecrystaldoorknobsthatadorntheFrenchdoorsthatleadintothediningroomremindmeofthewayhereyessparklewhenshe’sexcited.
Nah,myhouseattheranchistheoldme.
Thisone?Thisisthenewme.Themewithher.AndlikeItoldher,it’sagreatinvestment.EveryinvestmentI’vemadeinthiswomanwillalwaysbe.
Iturntoher,tryingtohidemysmile.It’sbecomedownrightimpossiblenottolookatBaileywithoutsmiling.Evenwhensheisaballofstress.“Comehere,sugartits.”
Hereyesroll,andsheletsoutabeleagueredsigh,butshestepsintomeanyway.Shekeepsherarmswheretheyareanddropsherheadrighttomychest.“Youneedtocomeupwithabetternickname.”
“Absolutelynever.”HerforeheadrollsbackandforthagainstmychestasIwrapmyarmsaroundher.“Bailey,stopstressing.”
“Ican’t.Idon’twantthemtohateme.”
Thatgivesmepause.“Whywouldmyfamilyhateyou?”
“Idon’tknow.YouallareChestnutSpringsroyalty.It’slikeyou’rewiththebanishedpariah,andarechoosingtoliveinexilewithmeoverstayingwithyourfamily.”
Mychestshakeswithsilentlaughter,andsheslapsmyshoulder.“It’snotfunny!WhatifIchange?Whatifwechangeandyou’vegiveneverythingupforme?”
Isqueezehertighter.“Bailey,Bailey,Bailey.Youwillchange.You’re…ugh.Sayingyourageoutloudmakesmefeelold.”
“Youareold,”shequips,butIcanhearthesmileinhervoice.
“You’retwenty-two.Youstartuniversityinsixweeks.Ofcourseyou’regoingtochange.Nobodystaysthesameatyourage,andinmycase,thankfuckinggod,causeyou’dhavehatedtwenty-two-year-oldme.”
ShelaughsandIcarryon.“Andwe’llchange.Andwe’llhavedifficulties.Becausethat’slife.Youdon’trecognizethehighswithoutthelows,sugar.I’vechangedtoo.”Igriphershouldersandnudgeherawayfrommetolookherintheeye.“That’showIknewyouwereit.That’showIknowI’llloveyouineveryversionofyourself,becausewe’reallconstantlychanging.Growing.Becoming.”
“I’llregisterforaphilosophyclassifIwantone,soldier,”shesays,swipingatherbig,glitteringeyes.
“Bailey,shutupandlistentome.”Shechucklessoftlywithanothereyerollbeforegivingmebackherfullattention.“Youfillmewithpurpose.Liftingyouupgivesmeareason.Seeingyousmilemakesmefeelwhole.AndI’mnevergoingtoapologizeforthat.We’resymbiotic,youandme.Withoutyou,thisversionofmedoesn’texist.Withoutthenextversionofyou,thenextversionofmedoesn’texisteither.We’regoingtogrowtogether.”
“You’refuckingmymakeupup,Eaton,”shemurmursdryly,wipingastraytearoffherfacewiththesleeveofhersweater.
Ijustsmile.Sheneedstohearthesethingssobadly,bereassuredofthemoverandover.AndI’mhappytodoit.“YouaskedmewhoIwantedtobeonce,andit’sthis.Me.Righthere.Rightnow.Withyou.”
Allshecanmanageisanodandasniffle.“Okay.Ihavenopoeticresponsetothat.Otherthanyes,please,sir.”
Nowit’smyturntorollmyeyes.
Herhandslandonmycheeks,andsherisesonhertiptoestokissme.“Iloveyou,soldier,”shewhispersasshepullsaway.
“Youfuckin’better.”Ikissherbacknow,liftingheragainstmeandgivingheratightsqueeze.Thetensionseepsoutofher.AndwhenIputherbackdown,westareateachother.It’sbeenawildcoupleofyearsinmylife,butwortheveryhardshiptobestandingherelookingdownatthiswoman.
“ReadytohostourfirstEatonfamilydinner?”Iask.
Shenods,appearingstrongeralready.“Youreadytotellthemyou’removingherepermanently?”
Isnapmyfeettogetherandgivehermybestsalute.
Itmakesherlaugh.
Andthatmakesmefeelwhole.
Thehouseisfull.Bustling.Loud.Warm.Chatterfillsthespacewithlife.Long,dark,quietdaysspentinacave,thinkingI’dnevermakeitout,feelsofarawaytheyhardlyseemreal.Eveninmychildhoodhome,IfeltlikeIwasstuckinacave.Andnowit’slikeatrippydreamIoncehad.
Themindworksinmysteriousways.
Baileysitsononesideofme,handonmythigh,chattingawaywithSummer.Butit’sWinter,tomyright,whowatchescarefully.Herfiancé,Theo,holdstheirdaughter,Vivi,onhislap,chattingwithHarveyandCordelia.
Ibarelyhearthewomanbesidemewhenshemurmurs,“I’mreallyhappyforyou,Beau.”
IleanoverslightlytowardWinter.“Isthatamedicaldiagnosis?”
Herlipscurveup,butherfaceremainsmostlyimpassive.“No,I’mnotyourdoctor.Justafriendwho’sbeenworriedaboutyou.”
“Ididn’tknowwewerefriends.”
Allsheoffersbackisacoolshrugasshepicksupherglassofwineandtakesanunaffectedsip.“Family,Iguess.Kindredspirits?We’renotsodifferent,youandme.Iliketoseeusfucked-uppeoplepullourselvesoutofourownshit.”
“Weprobablyneedtherapy,”Ijokequietly.
Winternods.“Notprobably.Definitely.”
“You’renotnearlyasmeanaseveryonemadeyououttobe,yaknow?”Ileanoverjustenoughtobumpmyshoulderagainsthers.
Herlipscurveupasshetakesanothersipofherwhitewine.Thenshebumpsmyshoulderback.“Andyou’renotnearlyasdumbaseveryonemadeyououttobe.”
Isnort.Sheiskindofmean,andyetI’mcharmed.Theoturnstoglanceatus,andwhenhiseyescatchonWinter,theysoften.Theywarm.
Iknowhowthatlookfeels,butseeingitissomethingelseentirely.
IturnbacktoBailey,lovingthewayshethrivesinthisenvironment.Myfamilyhasbecomehers.Andhershasgoneradiosilentsinceshelefttown.Whichisagoodthing.Blessthemforbeingtheperfectcombinationoftoodumbandtoolazytobotherharassingherifitrequiresanyeffortontheirpart.Outofsight,outofmind,Iguess.
Stirredtoactionbythatthought,Iclankmyknifeagainstmyglass.“Everyoneshutup!Ihaveanannouncementtomake.”
Winterscoffsbesideme,buteveryoneelsequietsdown.
ExceptRhett—leaveittohimtomakeitintoafight.“Thisisn’tthemilitary,bonehead.Idon’ttakeordersfromyou.”
Summergroansandgazesupattheceiling.“Whyareyoulikethis?”
“Shouldwetakeitoutsidelikewhenwewerekids,then?”Iquirkabrowatmylittlebrother.Shitdisturberthatheis.
Rhettlaughs.“Nochance.You’llkickmyasswithyourJamesBondshit.I’mwild,notstupid.”
Winterscoffsagain,butjustkeepsdrinking.IseeTheostiflealaughbehindhisfist.
“TakeCadewithyou,”WillawhispersasloudlyaspossibletoRhettfromacrossthetablewhilebouncingababyonherlap.“Atagteamsituation.AndI’llwatch.Orreferee.Whateveryoucallit,Idon’tcare.It’shotwhenhegetsmad,soI’mallinonthisidea.”
“I’monUncleBeau’steam!”mynephew,Luke,announces.
Ipointathim.“Smart,kid.”
“Atthisrate,we’lljustbeabunchofskeletonssittingaroundthetablebythetimehemakeshisannouncement,”Jaspersays.“We’lldieneverknowingwhatitishemeanttosaybecauseyouallwereplanningaRoyalRumbleinBailey’snewhouse.”Hiseyesdancewithamusementfromacrossthetableashetakesaswigofhisshitty,cheapbeerwithadogonthelabel.
“Ihateyou.”
Jaspergrinsatme,reachingtotakeSloane’shand.“Hateyoutoo,bro.”
“Listen,I’llbethefirstofustoturnintoaskeleton,”Harveypitchesin.“Outwithit.”
Silencedescends,andBaileygoestensebesideme.
“So…thisisn’tjustBailey’shouse.It’sminetoo.I’mmovinghereandstartinganewjobwiththefiredepartment.”IglanceoveratCade.“Sorry,man,thisismytwoweeks’notice.”
Hejustgrunts.“That’sfine.You’retheworstemployeeI’veeverhad.”
Irollmyeyesandforgeahead.“SoI—we—won’tbelivingontheranchanymore.We’llcomehangoutsometimes,butthisishomebasenow.”
Everyoneisquiet.Watchful.
Mydadspeaksfirst.“That’syourannouncement?”
Mybrowsfurrow.“Yeah.”
“That’sthestupidestannouncementI’veeverbeenfoolenoughtogetexcitedabout.”
Jasperwheezesalaughandtriestocoveritwithhishand.
“No,listen.Winterannouncingherbaby’ssecretpaternityatafamilydinner?Thatwasanannouncement.”
“Gottawinatsomethingsometimes,Iguess,”shemuttersfrombesideme.
“MetellingyouallthatCordeliaandIaretogether?That’sanannouncement.”
Atable-wideintakeofbreathsoundsout.Cordeliacoversherfacewithherpalm,butHarveyignoresitall.
“Butyouandyourfiancéebuyahouse—adamnnicehouse—inthecity,whereshe’sgoingtobespendingthenext,what?Sevenyears,atleast?Andyou’reannouncingthistouslikeitisn’tthemostobviousthingintheworld?Y’allareabunchofattentionseekers.Ordumb.I’mnotsure.Eitherway,justwild.”Heshakeshishead.
Winterscoffs.Again.
Baileyleansincloseandwhispers,“Iknewit.”
“Harvey,”Jasperstarts,fingersrollingagainstthebrownbottleinhishand.“Sinceyou’renotanattentionseeker…”Hecanbarelygetthewordsoutwithoutlosingit.“Caretoelaborateonthe‘youandCordelia’bit?”
Harveyshiftsinhisseat.
“Itjustsortahappened,youknow?Shewasallupinmyspacewhensheleftherhusband.Andwe,well,it’sbeenalongtimesinceyourmom,youguys.Thirtyyears,andI’veneverstoppedlovingher.And…”Hetrailsoff,staringatCordeliawithatwinkleinhiseye.OneI’mgladtoseebecausehereallyhasbeenaloneforalongtime.Lonelyforalongtime.“Cordelianeverstoppedlovingher,either.Andwebondedoverthat,Iguess.Itfeelslikeanotherlifetime,onethatpeopleareoftentoouncomfortabletobringup.Butwecantalkaboutitall.Laugh.Reminisce.I’mhappy.”
Shesmilesathim,skincrinklingaroundhereyesashefoldsahandprotectivelyoverhers,rightontopofthetable.“Metoo.”
“I’msohappyforyouboth!”Summerclapsherhandstogether,lookinggenuinelyexcited.Everyoneelsefollowssuit,offeringtheircongratulationsandlove.
“Andquitefrankly,ifSloanecanmarryhercousin,IfigureIcan—”Harveystartsupagain,andIgroan.
Jasper’sheaddrops,hispalmspressingintohiseyesocketswhileSloaneburstsoutlaughing,rubbingsoothingcirclesonhisback.
“ThenIcanbewithCordelia.”
“She’snotmycousin,”Jasperhuffsthroughalaugh.
Harveyelbowshimplayfully.“Sure,sure.AndCordeliaisn’tmysister-in-law.”
“Well,ifwe’realllayingthingsoutonthetable,”Sloanesays.“SinceHarveybroughtupJasperandme…”Sheplacesasmallblack-and-whitephotoonthetable.“I’mfourteenweeks.”SheglancesatHarvey,sohappythatshe’sfuckingglowing.“Broughtthesonogramsoyoucanseethereisindeednotail.”
Everyonelaughs,recallingmydad’snever-endingjokesaboutSloaneandJasperhavingtailbabiesbecausethey’rerelated—eventhoughtheyaren’t.
Afterthat,thetablebreaksoutintohappychatter.Moreribbing.Morelaughter
Baileyturnstome,eyesbright,smilewide,cheeksrosy.“Thisis…thisdoesn’tfeellikealonetogether.Thisjustfeelsliketogether-together.”
Withonehand,Igripherchin,watchinghereyesdancebetweenmine.Ikissherhard.Mybetterhalf.Myotherhalf.
“That’sus,sugar.Together-together.”EpilogueBailey
CadeandWilla’sweddingbelongsinacountrylifestylemagazine.Willa’ssoftlycurledhaircascadesdownherbackoverthetightlacedressshechose.Cadewentwithabrownsuitandabolotie.Theylookstunning.
We’reallseatedinthemassivewhitetent,sparklingwithstringlights,setupinthefieldbehindthemainranchhouse.Ithasablack-and-whitecheckereddancefloor,andthere’sevenastagewhereWilla’sbrotherhasarrangedforSkylarStonetoperformlater.
Rightnow,he’swrappinguphistoasttothebride,andhisdryhumorhaseveryoneinstitches.I’vewatchedRhettwipetearsoflaughterfromhiseyesatleastthreetimes.
FordGrantstandsatthepodium,chestnuthairjustalittletoomussedtobeaccidental,wearingatuxedothatfitslikeitwascreatedspecificallywithhiminmind.He’ssuave.Andcutting.Thewayhelooksathissisterwithsomuchloveinhiseyeshasmyownbrimming.
“Inclosing”—heclearshisthroat—“I’mrelievedthatI’mnolongertheonlypersononthereceivingendofallyourmostannoyingtextmessages.Infact,theiroccurrencehasdecreaseddramaticallysinceCadecameintoyourlife.Oryoublastedintohis,and—let’sbehonest—knowingyou,that’sthemorelikelyscenario.Whichleadsmetobelieveyou’vemadehimthetargetofallyourunhingedharassment,andIcouldn’tbehappierformyselfaboutthat.”
Chucklesripplethroughthecrowd.
“Mostofall,I’mhappymylittlesisterfoundsomeonewholovesgettingthoseobnoxiousmessagesasmuchasIdo.Andifseeingherthisunbearablyhappymeansafewlesschancestomockhermercilesslyviatext,thenthat’sasacrificeI’mwillingtomake.”Willa’seyesroll,butIseetearswellinthewakeofthatmotion.“BecauseI’mselflesslikethat.”Fordtossesherawinkandakillergrin.
Shemouthsyou’reanidiotbacktohim.
“Willa,ifyoueverstopmakingfunofme,I’llknowyou’renotokay.Socheckinnowandthen.TellmesomethingmeansoIknowyou’restillwell.Butsincewe’renottextingrightnowandIdon’tseeyouthatoften,I’lltakethisopportunitytotellyouIloveyouandIamwildlyproudofthewomanyou’vebecome.Ittakesaspecialmantokeepupwithaformidablepersonlikeyou,andI’msogladyoudroppedyourpantiesinfrontofonewhocan.”
Everyonelaughs.EveryoneknowsWilla.Everyoneknowsthepantystory.
Fordholdsupaglassofchampagnebythestem,tippinghischindownatthehappycouple.“Cheerstoyou,babysister.Iwishyoualifetimeofunhingedhappiness.”
Nowtherearesniffles,followedbypoliteclappingandafewwhistles.
Beau’swarmhandsqueezesmythighthroughmysilkydress.“Yougood?”
Ismileupathim.“I’mgood,”Ireply,watchinghimlookoutoverthecrowdofpeoplegathered.Locals—townspeople—whodon’tglareatmewithcontemptanymore.Thattreatmentcametoafairlyabrupthaltaswordofmyrantthatdayatthebarspread.Ihavetoconfess,itmakesChestnutSpringsafarbetterplacetobe.WhichisniceconsideringwestillliketospendtheoddweekendatBeau’sranchhouse.
“Wegonnadothisoneday,sugartits?”
Ishakemyheadwithasmile.“Wefuckin’better.”
“Soon?”Hislipsdustovertheshellofmyear.LivinginthecitywithBeauhasbeenlikeexistinginsomesortofdreamworld.Hefinishedhistraining.I’minschoolandlovingit.
“Yeah,soon.”
“Whatkindofweddingdoyouwant?”
Hekeepsgettingcloser,turninginhischair,longlegswrappingaroundwhereI’msitting.Maulingme,basically.
“Somethingsmall.Notquitelikethis.”
“Okay.”
Hekissesmyneck.
“Maybedownbytheriver,”Iwhisper,confessingwhatI’veenvisionedforsometimenow.“Behindyourhouse.Like,whereitallbegankindofthing.”Ishrug,feelingsuddenlyshy.
“Wherewespentourfirstnighttogether?”Hislaughrumblesovermyskinashekissesmyshoulder.
“Whereyoucameacrossthewatertosaveme.”
“Wherewestruckadeal.”Anotherkiss,besidemymouththistime.
“Wherewespentsomany2:11stogether,”Iwhisper.
Henuzzlesintomynecknow.“Sowhatyou’resayingis…whereIfellhopelesslyinlovewithyou?”
“Yes,soldier.There.”
“When?”Hishandsgripmyhipsjustalittletoolow.
“Yesterday.”
Helaughsatthat.“Wannagoscopeoutthelocation?”
“Rightnow?”
“Yeah.Let’ssneakout.I’llshowyouwhatIwasthinkingaboutdoingthatmorningwiththeboner.”
“Life’salwaysanadventurewithyou,BeauEaton.”
Hegrins,drawingawayeversoslightly.“Itis.”
AndIgrinback,twiningmyfingerswithhis.
“Let’sgo.”Acknowledgements
Ifyou’rewonderinghowIknowIknowaboutthirddegreeburnsandskingraftsonfeet…it’sme,hi,I’mtheonewithburnedfeet.IthappenedwhenIwasveryyoungandwhilethey’reobviouslytotallyhealednow,findingshoesthatarecomfortableanddon’tirritatethatthinnergraftedskinisstillastruggle.
Allthatsaid,givingBeauthislittlepieceofmyownstorywasahugehelpinmefindingathreadtoconnectwithhimandhisstruggles,becauseinalotofwayshewasthemostchallengingheroI’veeverwritten.Hewillalsogodownasoneofthemostmemorable(andaskedfor!)andIhopeyoualllovedhisandBailey’slovestoryasmuchasIdo.
ItoldMr.SilverthatIneededtowritemyacknowledgmentsandhehadsomesarcasticcommentaboutthatIbetterthankhim.Turnsouthe’sneverreadanyofmyacknowledgements.Thisismyninthbook,andheisineverysingleone.Iliterallyjustwatchedhimstandinmyofficeandflipthrougheveryoneofmybookssearchingouthislittlenote.SoIfeellikehe’sprobablyhadenoughpraiseforoneday.Butstill,thankyouforeverythingbabe.Iloveyoutothemoonandback.
Tomyson,whomakesmelaugheveryday.Whohugsmeeveryday.Whotellsmehelovesmeeveryday.Yourecentlytoldmethatyou’llsnugglemeforeverandIfeellikethatwillbeanawkwardconversationwithanyfuturegirlfriends,buthonestlyI’mholdingyoutoit.Notakesiesbacksies.
Myparents,whoaremybiggestcheerleaders.Thankyouforalwaysbelievinginme,evenwhenIhaven’tbelievedinmyself.
Averyspecialthankyoutomyagent,KimberlyBrower,whohasbelievedinthisseries(andme!)fromstarttofinish.Iprobablydon’tsayitenoughbut,thankyou.Youaretrulyincredible.Youradviceandyourwisdomaresoappreciated.IwouldnotbewhereIamtodaywithoutyouinmycorner.
ToRebekahWest,myeditoratPiatkus.Meetingyouandspendingtimewithyouthisyearwasatruehighlight.Workingwithyouisaprivilege.Thankyouforcheeringmeonandlovingthisseriesthewaythatyoudo.CheerstomorebubblyandmaybeevenafootballmatchnexttimeI’minLondon.
CatherineCowles,Iwouldn’thavefinishedthisbookwithoutyou.Blessyourorganizedpersonaandsupportivespiritandincredibleheart.I’msodamnfortuantetohaveafriendlikeyou.Iloveyou.
KandiandLena,mySpicySprintSluts,Iloveourlittletribe.You’restuckwithmeforever.Iloveyouboth.
Myassistant,Krista…sorry,you’reactuallytheexecutiveassistantnow.Keeperofmyschedule.Organizerofmylife.TheonlypersonIcanrandomlytextandask,“Woulditbehotifhershavedherpussy?”
StephanieandKodywhobothmake#teamelsiecompleteandhelpmebalanceallmysocials.I’msofortunatetohaveyoubothinmycorner.Thankyouforallyoursupportandhardwork.
Paula,myeditorsincemydebutnovel.Ican’tbelievewe’vebeenatthisforNINEbookstogether.Here’stoninemore,myfriend!
Mydevelopmentaleditor,Júlia.Youaretalentedandwise.Andwatchingyoueatabananaisoneofmyfavoritepasttimes.
Tomyproofreaderandbetareaderandsigningassistant(!!!)Leticia,thankyouforlendingyourbraintomybooks.You’restuckwithmenow.
Tomybetagirlieswhoneverfailtocrackmeupastheyread.Trinity,Josette,Amy,youareallsowonderful,thankyouforgiftingmewithyourtimeandopinions.Isoappreciateyouall.
Finally,tomyARCreadersandstreetteammembersandinfluencerswhoshoutaboutmeandmybooksandthisseries…cheers.Yourworkisalwaysappreciated.Yourcreativityisvalued.ThiscareerisadreamcometrueandIwillneverforgetthewayyou’veralliedaroundmetomakeitpossible.Fromthebottomofmyheart,thankyou.Can’tgetenoughofElsieSilver?
Gobacktothestartandre-readRhettandSummer’sstorytoday!
‘ElsieSilver’swritingisatruerevelation!’
AliHazelwood
Availablenowfrom
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