For always, p.3
For Always, page 3
Fallon and Riley each clasped their hands to their hearts.
“I love Outlander,” Fallon said. “Diana Gabaldon is a goddess.”
“I love Nora Roberts,” Riley declared.
I reached for my beer, intending on a sip but guzzling half as I nodded and stared wide-eyed over the rim. “Yes, me too.”
Beau sat back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest and a smug smile. “Smut,” he cooly said. “She edits smut books. The filthiest, dirtiest shit you’re likely to read.”
Jason sputtered mid-sip. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he said, “No fucking way. Not Kate.”
The way Jason said my name…
I didn’t linger to hear the responses. I shot out of my seat and headed for the bathroom, which was humiliating enough. I ran away.
With a multiple-stall situation in the bathroom, I waited for a free one. The woman before me asked if I had a medical condition that needed attention.
Catching sight of my pale and wet face through my frantic and wild eyes in the mirror, I politely told her, “No worries. Just a good old-fashioned panic attack.”
“Why were you embarrassed?” Taylor asked. “Because of what you edit?”
She must have gotten off the subway because I heard the chaos of blasting horns in the background.
“You chose Tattered Edges as your end game because you love the authors and the books we put out.”
“It wasn’t the books,” I said, rubbing a hand over my forehead, clammy from the memory of it all. “It was Jason. He couldn’t believe that I was an adult, doing adult things. The way he said my name, Taylor.” I puffed a breath. “It was the tone. He said nothing mean, but his tone communicated plenty.”
“You should have told him about the adult things you do in life, Kate.” She laughed.
“That would lead to conversations about my dating life and the embarrassing fact that I read about love all day, but have never fallen into it. Jason would tease me ruthlessly. He and Beau? They may suck, but they’ve been in long-term relationships before. Me?”
Taylor sighed. “You date. There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, didn’t Jason and his high school sweetheart break up? Who is he to criticize your life choices?”
True, but talking about it reminded me of the imbalance in my life. Work was my love. Professional success was my commitment. The rest? It made my skin itchy and too tight. I didn’t want to talk about it, at least with Jason—the man who broke my stupid teenage heart.
It embarrassed me, and I had enough of that in his presence. Unfortunately, last night didn’t improve matters.
“Back off, asshole!” Taylor shouted, her hand muffling the receiver. “Sorry. The streets are crowded today. Look, you’ve had panic attacks before. I get that it’s not ideal or how you want others to see you, especially your regrettable childhood crush, but I hardly think that qualifies as a disaster.”
I took another deep breath. “You didn’t let me finish the story.”
After twenty minutes of hiding in the bathroom, I calmed enough to leave. While the remnants of sweat still left their mark on my clothing and my face held no color, I wouldn’t hyperventilate. Deep breathing steadied my heart rate.
It was fine. Totally fine.
Until I saw Jason casually leaning against the wall across from the door. He pushed off the exposed brick, the scuffing of his shoes against the tile echoing in the empty hallway around us.
“Are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while.”
Oh god. He probably thinks I was pooping.
“Fine!” My back hit the wall, my shirt completely damp against it. There’d be an imprint when I found the courage to leave.
Jason eyed me with skepticism. He shifted weight from one foot to the other, intently focused on my face. “Are you on drugs, Kate?”
The question was so insane that I didn’t just laugh—I cackled. Cackled.
Jason stepped back, giving me space as he waved his hand in my direction.
“I know there’s better shit out there than when we were kids. And I get it. You’re back home. It’s a small, boring town. You want some fun.”
He pointed at my armpits, exposed to his line of sight as soon as I planted my hands on my hips. “You’re awfully sweaty. It’s the drugs, right?”
That observation was horrifying.
“I’m not on drugs.”
I should have been, though. Maybe a beta blocker or benzodiazepine.
I shoved him aside. “Besides. You’re only asking because you want some.”
He followed on my heels, shamelessly grinning and making no claims to dispute that.
“Katherine.” Jason grabbed my elbow, tugging me back.
Not expecting it, I collided with his chest. He smelled good. Really good. And me? I smelled like a barn.
“I know you probably hate me because of all the shit Beau and I did growing up, and I’m sorry. But it will be an excruciating week if we can’t find a way to get along.”
I willed myself not to stare too long into his dark brown eyes. The kind of dark that was more peaceful than nightmarish, though the thundering of my heart with his attention on me felt pretty scary.
“I don’t have any drugs.”
“Damn.” He ruffled his hand through his thick hair. Hair even darker than his eyes.
Tall, dark, and handsome? Jason nailed it. It made me hate him all the more. But what made me hate him most at that moment? He was being nice to me. Jason had rarely been nice to me. And once, he’d been cruel.
But last night? I couldn’t believe he waited in the hallway to check on me... like he cared. Something shifted in my chest, and I didn’t like it.
“I’m going home,” I said.
He pointed up and down. “Consider a shower before bed. That’s the kind of situation that might require burning sheets if you don’t.”
Because he just couldn’t miss an opportunity. I guess nice had its limits.
I bit my thumbnail, gripping the phone tight in my hand.
“My feelings are so frayed when he’s around, Taylor. It wasn’t just the teasing growing up or the years of playful taunting or mockery. It was that one goddamn night...”
I took another deep breath, letting those waves of embarrassment roll over me.
“Kate?” Taylor asked softly.
I cleared my throat. “I had these ideas about confronting him. The things I’ve spent more than a decade ruminating on. I wasn’t supposed to be sweaty and panicking in a bar, but if the moment presented itself, so be it. I stood before him, my chin high and my eyes determined.”
“And?”
This time, my voice softened. “He lifted his hand and tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear.”
She gasped.
“You’re kind of a mess right now.”
Never had Jason touched me like that. Such a simple gesture, but that simplicity made it intimate.
“I panicked,” I said. “Like scalp tingling, ears ringing, heart palpitating panic. He meant nothing to it. He’s a tactile man. I know this from growing up with him, but never with me. I panicked.”
Taylor mumbled something away from the phone, probably at the restaurant. I was on borrowed time, so I spit it out.
“You know me. My fear response is to run.” I didn’t freeze. I didn’t fight. I ran. “I ran fast and without awareness of the world around me. The place was crowded, and I smacked into a man carrying three pint glasses, all spilling on me.”
“Oh no,” she whispered.
I wiped my eyes. “Horrified, I backed into the waitress with a tray full of pitchers and glasses. The shattering glass drew the attention of every single person in that pub.”
Taylor gasped. “Oh, shit. Kate.”
I dropped my head. “I ran even faster out of there, got in my car, and made it home. It wasn’t until I ran upstairs to my room and finally took off my shoes that I realized I had a long strand of toilet paper clinging to one of them the entire time.”
“Oh, mother of god,” Taylor mumbled. “Dear lord baby Jesus of the high heavens.”
“Yep.”
Taylor didn’t console me. She couldn’t. Nothing she said would make last night any less humiliating.
Taylor conceded. “You can get sloshed on all the mulled wine, Kate. You can.”
That was the plan.
Four
Jason
Istared at the biggest set of tits I’d ever seen.
“You ever consider redecorating this room?”
I shifted on the air mattress, the squeak of the rubber against the sheet no less unpleasant than it had been during the night. I’d been restless and sleep proved difficult.
Beau stood at the dresser, his fingers tracing the cologne bottles littering the top.
“Nope. I enjoy coming back here and having my room like it was growing up.”
In our junior year, he put up the poster of Tiffany Tits, as we called her, a woman kneeling in a skimpy pair of panties and nothing else atop a Corvette. Her long blonde hair blew wildly in the wind. Elbows pressed against her tits, hiding her nipples. Barely.
I couldn’t even count the number of times I’d masturbated to Tiffany.
I laced my hands behind my head and relaxed on my makeshift bed on the floor. The Daltons were generous, inviting me to stay with them. Although they had little space for guests, Mama Dalton insisted they’d make it work when Beau told her he’d be dragging me along this year.
I’d spent many nights in Beau’s room growing up. Many nights listening to music or smoking pot or begging him not to spritz himself with whatever concoctions lined that dresser.
He picked up a bottle and sniffed, his face scrunching.
“Shit. I can’t believe I used to wear this. This can all go.”
“We were such dipshits,” I said, staring at his ceiling and smiling with the memories of all the stupid shit we’d done over the years.
Beau hummed his agreement, dumping his cologne collection into the waste bin and rifling through his drawer to pull out a hoodie.
“Such dipshits,” he agreed. “Probably still are. Just older and better looking. Easier to get away with it.”
I rolled onto my side, propping my head on my fist. “You gonna take Fallon up on that offer?”
Beau crossed his arms and leaned against the dresser as he stared out the window.
“I think so. Maybe. Not sure about her situation with Jake, and it feels a little weird, but she insists it’s fine.”
Beau and Fallon’s ex had been anything but friendly growing up. Beau always had a thing for Fallon, and her ex hadn’t been thrilled about that.
“She’s been staying with her parents since she moved out of Jake’s place. I’m staying with mine.”
“Like high school all over again.”
He laughed. “Yeah. True. And you? You consider Riley?”
I groaned, covering my face with my hands and collapsing back.
Riley cornered me last night at The Pub, pushing me between her warm body and the jukebox in the back. It was loud, the music blared, and the surrounding conversations echoed.
Riley had to lean close for me to hear her. With her hand pressed to my chest and her mouth against my ear, she suggested we reconnect.
We’d never connected in the first place, but before I could point that out, her mouth was on mine, and her tongue forcefully pried my lips apart. Too surprised to think it through, I pushed away and tried to figure out how to handle the situation.
Then I excused myself, taking a break in the hallway to gather my thoughts and figure out whatever swirled in my gut with the offer.
I hadn’t cared for Riley in high school, but she’d matured and was friendlier in her thirties than in her teens. But…
“I think she’s trouble,” I said.
I could appreciate a forward woman who was clear about her intentions. But something about Riley didn’t quite settle right.
I couldn’t tell if it was her, me, our shared history in school, or the fact she and Vanessa had hated each other. Or maybe something else.
Beau’s room was cramped, even without an air mattress covering most of the floor. He carefully stepped in the crack between his bed and mine, sitting on the twin bed. It’d been a long time since we sat like this in his room.
“You’re looking for any reason to say no,” he said, reaching for a stress ball on his nightstand and squeezing it.
“I’m not.”
I was.
Beau gave me a pointed look. He never let me get away with anything.
“Shut up,” I grumbled, stretching before sliding off the air mattress. “What time are we getting the tree?”
He grinned so widely that it looked like his face had split open.
“Someone has to be the first, my friend.”
I flipped him off. “You offering?”
He hopped off the bed, shoving my shoulder. “It’s been a long time since Vanessa. You deserve to move on, too.”
“It was a long time with Vanessa,” I said quietly.
I’d had a crush on Vanessa since middle school, but finally landed her junior year. When we graduated, I followed her to Michigan for college so she could be closer to her aunt and farther from Windmere. I knew it’d be worth it. When I was eighteen, I swore she was supposed to be the girl I married.
But she wasn’t, and she wouldn’t be. Sometimes, what you think you want at eighteen isn’t what you’ll want as an adult.
Beau patted my shoulder. “I know.”
I cleared my throat. “You want me to make myself scarce so you can have the room? Happy to do it. I can sleep in the living room. You can sneak Fallon through the window. Relive those high school glory days.”
It wouldn’t be the worst. The living room had a fireplace. It’d be toasty and warm.
Beau rolled his eyes. “Yeah, as if my mom won’t find it suspicious that I’ve banished you to the living room.”
I shrugged. “Tell her I snore.”
He shot his fist out, aiming for my balls.
“I’ll tell her you like to jerk off when I’m asleep, and it makes me uncomfortable.”
I barely caught his fist in time. My balls had just stopped aching from that baseball.
“One time, asshole. One time, when we were fifteen. Your mom loves me. Don’t spoil my reputation with her.”
“I’m not above ruining your reputation, but I’ll figure something out.” He gave that unsettling smile again. “Something that will work for us both.”
I followed him out of the room, knowing damn well that whatever he had planned would likely get me into trouble.
“It’s so romantic!” Mama Dalton gushed, wrapping around Mr. Dalton and pulling him closer. “Don’t you think, Henry? It’s romantic?”
He leaned down to kiss her temple. “So romantic.”
Mama Dalton hollered, “Isn’t it romantic, Kate?”
Beau and I trailed behind his parents, walking the plowed paths of the Christmas tree farm. Carolers sang from the barn in the distance, and kids giggled on the snow-covered playground, engaged in an epic snowball fight.
For the first ten minutes, Beau joined them. I hung to the side. Kate skittered to the drink cart in the barn.
She now trailed behind me and Beau as we trailed behind Mr. and Mama Dalton. Kate sipped on a mug of mulled wine. It was her second—possibly her third.
Kate stayed silent.
Beau answered for her. “Kate prefers books to real-life experience, huh?”
She didn’t answer him either. Given she’d spent her childhood with her nose planted in a book or eyes to the sky daydreaming, it might not be so far-fetched that she preferred fiction to real life.
I wondered what those daydreams had been and whether she still had them. Not that it mattered. She’d never tell me, anyway.
Mama Dalton sighed, shaking her head. Mr. Dalton kissed her, squeezing and saying, “So romantic.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Kate had her eyes on the ground, shuffling her feet over the trail. At least she wasn’t wearing the dog shit boots she’d thrown at me.
I turned away, scanning the rows of trees and waiting for Mr. Dalton to escort us to the heart of the tree farm. He insisted the best trees were there—the special ones.
The Daltons took Christmas seriously and wouldn’t settle for a pre-cut and trimmed tree. No. They wanted to pick out the spiders and bugs themselves and risk thumbs and fingers to do it.
Mr. Dalton had a good quality electric hand saw in his garage but wouldn’t buck tradition. The rusty old farm-provided saw would do just fine.
Might take two hours to get a tree down, but that was part of the fun, I guess.
I glanced at Kate again. She quietly slurped her wine, licking her lips after each pass of the mug. It stained them purple. If she smiled today, I guessed her teeth would be purple, too.
I nudged Beau. “You think she’s okay?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t bother glancing at Kate, his hands coming to his mouth to blow on them. Though a frigid afternoon, it was fortunately dry, and more snow wouldn’t come for a few days.
Unfortunately, the shade of the mountains left the entire farm stinging with a shadowed chill, the ground still frozen. It wouldn’t thaw today.
“She’s fine. Just embarrassed.” Beau snickered. “I swear, I visit her in New York, and she’s this functional adult with a life and is surprisingly savvy. She comes home, and it’s like she regresses. It’s weird.”
I frowned, wondering if the shifting in my gut was guilt. “Yeah, last night was…”
Beau rubbed his hands harder. “Hilarious? Ridiculous?”
I mean, yes, but also, “Kind of sad,” I finished.
Kate had never been a woman of grace, not really. When we were kids, she was a little clumsy and awkward, reserved and quiet. Not that I blamed her. She probably had to be on guard for Beau, me, and any other friends he brought around.
But last night, she was a disaster. Tongue-tied and stiff. Her pretty brown eyes were glassy, and Jesus, if she didn’t sweat her way through her shirt.
And that was before she landed a dozen pint glasses worth of beer all over herself.
