Hurrying out of the room before whoever is at the door has a chance to press the doorbell a third time, I make a mad dash to pull it open—and am unexpectedly met with a six-foot-three, blue-eyed Mike.
“You’re not Harper.”
He grins. “No, I am not.”
Mike is what I would call country-boy cute with a wink of Texas charm. He’s every woman’s cowboy fantasy. Tall and lean with sun-bronzed dark hair that curls slightly at the ends and looks incredible tucked under a Stetson. He used to wear a black one to school. I look down at his feet to see a clean pair of Nikes. Guess he ditched the cowboy boots at some point.
I lean a shoulder against the doorjamb. “I don’t start work until Wednesday.”
A tiny divot appears in his right cheek when his grin stretches to a full-on smile.
“Jordan called. I come bearing gifts.”
He gestures behind him at his crew cab long bed truck. I know it’s his because it’s the same black one he drove in high school.
I peer over his shoulder. “Is he with you?” Which is a dumb question since Jordan’s Jeep isn’t here.
“He texted me with what to grab at Harry’s Hardware and told me to bring it right over when I was done.”
Dammit, Jordan. As sweet and considerate the gesture is, I don’t want him to spend money to fix my problems.
Barefoot, I step out onto the porch and close the door behind me.
“Have you heard from him since then?”
Mike stops smiling. “No. Why? Something happen?”
“Amelia was here.”
Chapter 41
The sun-warmed blades of grass sift easily through my fingers as I take in the scenic, serene view of the glistening waters of Lake Buckley. Mike, Chase, and I used to come out here all the time in high school. It’s where Grandpa Jack taught me how to fish as a little boy and how to wakeboard when I was thirteen. It’s where Mom would bring me every July fourth because the flat landscape and scattering of trees offered the best unobstructed view of the fireworks from both Woodspire and Hopper Springs. Unfortunately, it’s also where Amelia and I would sneak off to in the middle of the night for a skinny dip and a quick fuck. I hate how almost every place in Woodspire carries a memory of her. How am I going to be able to build a future with Douglass in a town where everything around us is a reminder of the past?
I don’t look over my shoulder when I hear the swish of footsteps approaching. I know who it is because I called him and asked if he could meet me here.
Chase’s brown Dock Martens stop beside me. “I haven’t been out here in forever. It looks exactly the same.”
He lowers to the ground and takes a seat, arms draped over knees bent to his chest. I rip a dandelion by the roots and watch the tiny seeds fly off the head like miniature parachutes of fluff.
“Thanks for coming.”
Chase turns his head my way, his countenance suspicious and wary. He looks like hell. Then again, Amelia has a way of sucking the life right out of you.
“Full disclosure, I almost didn’t. I’ve had a shit couple of days and don’t feel like being threatened again, so if this is about me and Douglass, save your breath. We’re friends, Jordan. Just friends. I don’t have any of those anymore, so the one I do have, I’m not giving up. I don’t give a shit if you like it or not.”
“Are you finished?” I ask with more calm than I feel.
The stuff with Amelia, listening to Douglass give Natalie a condensed version of the abuse she endured growing up, and sitting next to my ex-best friend who hurt me in the most painful of ways have me on a razor-thin line, ready to lash out at the next person who pisses me off. It’s why I had to leave Nat’s house and get some air and some distance. Douglass has been through enough and doesn’t need to see me lose it on top of everything else.
Chase rubs his hands through his neatly trimmed hair, messing it up. “Sorry. Just dealing with a lot right now.”
I toss the bare dandelion stem into the lake. “Douglass told me.”
He drops his head to his knees and groans. “Is that why you suddenly wanted to talk? Because I’ll have to tell you in the nicest way possible that it’s none of your goddamn business.”
I push down the angry retort I want to say. Part of me dislikes that things are the way they are between us, but then again, he’s the one who majorly fucked up. My justifications for hating his guts are valid. I’m not someone to hold grudges, but I do when it comes to Chase and Amelia and what they did.
“Look. I didn’t ask you to meet me here to throw strictures and told-you-so’s. I wanted to give you some unsolicited advice because Douglass is worried about you.”
