Embracing Reckless

by Melanie Shawn

  “Oh, my word, was Stuart worried about this kid when we got the call from the hospital. I think he might’ve been in worse shape than me.

  “He loves Clay to death, you know. Like a son. And he never wanted him to get the bike. Oh, he never said anything because Clay’s an adult. But he printed out reams of research on how dangerous they are. He tortured himself with accident statistics. He’s even had dreams where Clay gets in a bad accident. So, today was kind of his worst nightmare come true.”

  Holy shit! I never knew any of that. From my perspective, Stuart had always been a pretty nice guy who married my mom, and was also relatively happy to have me around. I never thought that he actually cared about me or anything. Not enough to worry about me when I wasn’t there.

  But, thinking back, it kind of made sense. It was hard for the guy to show emotions about anything, no matter how trivial. It seemed like the deeper the feelings, the harder they were for him to get out.

  My mom had been the only exception. With her, he was relaxed. But with the rest of the world, he was awkward.

  And, even with her, he was far more likely to show his love by doing things for her that he knew she cared about. Getting gas in her car when it was running low. Fixing the porch step before she had to ask. Creating a research binder about the pros and cons of various breeds when she made an offhand comment that it might be nice to get a dog.

  So, if he loved me like a son, as my mom said he did, it made sense in kind of a twisted way that he’d express it through doing endless research on motorcycle safety instead of just, you know. Saying so.

  “I think I relate to Stuart on that count, too. When Sandy told me about the accident, I thought my whole world was falling apart.”

  “I know, sweetie. I could see it all over your face.”

  Their whispers stopped for a few moments, and in the warm silence, I almost drifted away, carried out on gentle waves of sleep and narcotics. Then, my mom’s whisper brought my consciousness back up to reality.

  “Brandy, can I tell you something?”

  “Sure. Please.”

  “I’ve never seen Clay as happy, and as settled, as he is with you.”

  “Really?” Her whisper sounded incredulous. “Settled? Because that’s been a big issue for me. I know he’s a wanderer. I’ve been afraid he’s just gonna bounce one day, without telling me. I mean, the road, it’s his home. He’ll start craving it, and then one day…poof! Gone. That’s part of what scared me. And I…”

  She trailed off, then took a deep breath and continued. “I didn’t want to lose you and Stuart over it. If the whole relationship thing went south. I love you guys so much already. I want us to be a family.”

  Shit! Had Brandy really been worried about that? I guessed it made sense, with all my joking early on about clingy girls, and the trail of broken hearts. But didn’t she know, couldn’t she tell, that things had changed so much since then?

  “Brandy,” my mother whispered, firmness evident even in the low, breathy sound. “First of all, you could never lose Stuart. Or me. It doesn’t matter what happens between you and Clay in the future. We’ll deal with it. We are a family. That just is.

  “As for Clay…well, honey, I don’t know what I can say that will put your mind at ease one hundred percent. But let me just tell you this. Clay’s father, well, he was a rolling stone. I’m sure he’s told you this. He rolled on out of our lives when Clay was just a little guy.

  “Then, after his dad was gone, Clay stepped up. Even though he was a little kid, he took it on himself to be the man of the house, and he was very serious about that responsibility. He took care of everything that he possibly could. He was such a good boy. So supportive.

  “Then, when I married Stuart, Clay didn’t need to be quite so responsible anymore. The wandering spirit that he inherited from his father was finally able to come out, and he went out on the road. He’s been out there for a long time now. But I’ve sensed that there’s something more behind it than just restlessness, sweetheart. I’ve always suspected he was looking for something. What, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think he really knew, either.

  “But, now, I think it was two things: love, and home. And, honey, I can see by the way he looks at you that he’s found both of them in you. You’re his home, now. Not the road. You.”

  I heard my mom’s footsteps as she circled to the other side of the bed, and the rustle of fabric that I was sure meant she and Brandy were hugging.

  Damn. She really said every single thing that was in my heart, but I hadn’t put into words. I was going to have to take less after Stuart and more after her in the big, emotional speech department, apparently.

  Because it was either that or have my mother come over and tell Brandy what I was thinking and feeling every time I had something on my heart that I wanted to say, and as much as I loved my mom, that sure as hell wasn’t gonna happen.

  Chapter 47

  Brandy

  “And, finally, let’s raise a glass to Brandy and Clay. Fate pushed you together, and day-to-day realities tried to pull you apart. Well, screw reality. Fate, for the win!”

  Sandy thrust her glass into the middle of the table after having made that very Sandy-esque toast, and the rest of us joined her to all clink glasses.

  On one side of the table, Clay and I sat holding hands. I didn’t think there was even a single moment of the evening that we hadn’t been touching in some way.

  In a very G-rated way, of course.

  Well, PG, at any rate.

  On the other side, Sandy and Hunter. It was a twin-style double date. Weirdly enough, the first one we’d ever had.

  Although Sandy and Hunter had been friends since childhood, their—inevitable, in my long-held view—relationship had only really gotten started during their spring break trip to Myrtle Beach, so they were also in the touchy “honeymoon” phase.

  If I’d been sitting at another table, observing the four of us from the outside, I’d have been completely sick to my stomach at all the PDA and lovey-eyes being thrown around. As it was, I was in the middle of it and thought it was awesome.

  I leaned back in my chair and considered Sandy and Hunter. “You know,” I said thoughtfully, “you two should really be thanking me.”

  Sandy rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. Here it comes. Anyway, I don’t even know what you’re going to say yet, but I do know that you’re wrong.”

  I laughed at the Sandy-logic. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. You both should be thanking me. Despite three of us at this table having truly quality fake IDs, all of us are drinking water in solidarity to Clay and his pain meds. So, basically, he gets to be buzzed and we don’t. So, yes, I do feel I’m owed a debt of gratitude.”

  Clay shrugged, grinning at her performance. “Hey, I told you at the beginning of the night, feel free to partake. I’m feeling no pain. Literally.”

  Sandy sighed, a drawn-out and long-suffering sound designed to give a dramatic end to her monologue. “No, no that’s all right. Don’t give it another thought.”

  Hunter slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss up against her cheek. I’d known that was coming, I’d seen the look on his face during the entire exchange. It was the “Oh, my God, she’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen” look that he’d sported—and Sandy had done her best to ignore—all through high school.

  They began sharing stories about their time in Myrtle Beach and some friends they’d made and with a start, I realized where else I’d seen the same look that Hunter had given Sandy lately—it was on Clay’s face when he looked at me.

  Tears stung the back of my eyes, although I absolutely refused to let the emotion show on my face. God. When I’d seen Hunter look at my twin that way when we were younger, I’d just assumed that no one would ever see me like that. After all, that was how guys looked at “adorable” girls. Girls who were funny, and bubbly, and didn’t have a care in the world because they had a twin sister in the background quietly
taking care of all of the stressful and messy parts of life.

  Well, maybe that last part wasn’t quite universal. But, still.

  If there were a real-life incarnation of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, Sandy would be it, and I always assumed that’s why Hunter—and guys in general—looked at her with that adoring “how are you even real?” expression.

  With me, guys didn’t wonder if I was even real; everything about me was painfully practical.

  Until Clay.

  Clay was the first guy I’d ever met who took one look at me and saw something wild underneath, something lurking that I hadn’t even known was there, begging to be unleashed.

  And, holymotherefffingcow had he unleashed it!

  I looked over at him, thinking that he’d be engrossed in the conversation and I’d get a chance to just enjoy his perfect profile for a few seconds, undetected. But, no. Even better. He wasn’t looking across the table when my eyes landed on his face. He was looking at me. And his expression said it all. I was the cutest thing he’d ever seen and he wondered how I was even real.

  And I wondered how I’d ever gotten so damn lucky.

  Sandy’s phone chimed, and she pulled it out of her purse and swiped the screen. A bright, happy smile lit up her whole face. “Okay, okay, okay. Forget everything I just said about refraining from alcohol. The roomies and Michelle just sent me this text: ‘Hey, Andy Girls, we are at the Plaza Pub getting drunk off our asses. Would your asses care to join? Then get them down here. Cat, Ev, and Mich.’ Dudes, we’re definitely going.”

  I laughed and looked over at Clay. “Are you game?”

  He kissed me. “For anything, as long as it’s with you.”

  Sandy stood. “Cool. I’m gonna go find our waiter and get the check.”

  She sped off, and Hunter stood and followed, saying, “And I’m gonna go along to make sure this doesn’t get out of hand.”

  When we were alone at the table, Clay looked at me, bemused. “I can’t get over how different you and Sandy are. You look exactly alike. But, damn. As soon as one of you opens her mouth, there’s no mistaking who it is. You guys are night and day.”

  Old insecurities flooded me. “I know. And…I mean…does meeting her make you feel like you got shortchanged with me? She’s, like, the perfect Manic Pixie Dream Girl.”

  He laughed and shook his head, then leaned over and kissed me with an intensity and passion that took my breath away. He drew back just enough to press his forehead to mine and look deeply into my eyes as he said, “Fuck ‘Manic Pixie.’ I’ll just take my ‘Dream Girl.’”

  Chapter 48

  Brandy

  Sandy pushed open the doors of the Plaza Pub, her arm threaded through Hunter’s, and strode in confidently, pulling him along with her. He looked happy to be going along for the ride. As soon as she spotted Cat and Evelyn across the room on barstools, she called out, “The party can start now, bitches. We’re here!”

  I turned to Clay. “She didn’t pre-game. I swear. This is her completely sober.”

  He laughed. “See? I’ll take a dryly sarcastic comment over a party yell any day.”

  Cat, Evelyn, and Michelle jumped down from their barstools and walked over to an empty table, motioning for us to join them.

  “Here,” Cat said as she pulled a few more empty chairs over so that we can all fit, “this way, Clay can sit comfortably.”

  “Thanks, Cat, that’s really thoughtful of you,” I said, giving her a quick hug.

  We plopped down in our seats, and Clay took my hand. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, creating a small bubble around us, sheltered and separated from the noise and rowdy energy of the rest of the bar. “Are you sure you want to be here?” he asked, concern for me all but spilling out of his pores. “I know that sitting around watching people getting drunk isn’t your idea of a good time. In fact, it might actually be kind of painful, like bringing up a bad subject.”

  I leaned forward and kissed him. “You have no idea how good it feels to have someone in my life who is actually concerned about me. Not about what they need from me, or what I can do for them. But just me.”

  He brushed my hair back behind my ears with a gentle touch, then let it rest against my cheek. “As long as I’m around, you’ll always have that.”

  I reached up and captured his hand in mine, wrapping my fingers around his strong palm and holding it there, against my face. “To answer your question, though—no, this doesn’t bother me. I’ve been watching these girls get drunk all year when we come down to the bar. It’s kind of our place to let loose, since we know the owner and Cat’s boyfriend also tends bar here. It’s tougher to get in anywhere else. And it’s not the same thing as watching my mom drink. Like, at all.”

  “College students blowing off steam and hard-core alcoholics have less in common than one might think they do, then?”

  “Precisely.”

  Just then Sandy slammed her palm into the middle of the table, causing all of the cork coasters and napkins sitting on the table to jump and dance on the surface. “Join the group, please, you two. I mean, Hunter and I are in a brand-new relationship, too, but you don’t see us spending the whole night in little whispery huddles.”

  “You should. It’s fun.”

  “Hardy har, Bran. Hardy freakin’ har.”

  Cat’s boyfriend Jace came out from behind the bar and walked over to our table. He and Clay exchanged the classic “guy” greeting of jutting their chins out to each other in turn. I looked at Clay, wondering what that was all about. I hadn’t even known he and Jace had met.

  I was distracted from that thought, though, when Jace leaned down and kissed Cat, and my heart skipped a little beat just seeing the look on their faces when their eyes lighted on each other. It was full of love, and light, and hope.

  I had to smile at myself, then. It was still so strange. I never used to be mushy or gushy before. If anything, seeing other people give each other “lover eyes” had turned my stomach a little, not given me an “awwww” heart flutter.

  Clay had turned me into a real, honest to God romantic.

  “It’s nice to be sitting at the same table as the bartender’s girlfriend. We get tableside service.” I grinned.

  “Yeah. It’s like having our own private cocktail waitress. But, Jace, you seriously need to shave your legs the next time you wear that tiny little cocktail waitress skirt.” Sandy laughed.

  Jace pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them on the table in front of me and Clay with a wink. “Actually, I came over here to tell Brandy and Clay that my old apartment above the bar is still empty. And since it’s going to be Clay’s—”

  “Thanks, man. That’s awesome,” Clay cut in before Jace could even fully get the words out, and I wondered again what was going on.

  “Hey! Hunter and I are in a new relationship, too! How come you didn’t offer us the use of your crash pad?” Sandy asked with a mock pout.

  Jace grinned. “Because Brandy doesn’t make cracks about my hairy legs.”

  Chapter 49

  Brandy

  I followed Clay up the stairs that led to the small apartment, empty right now, and my entire body lit with tingles of anticipation. My eyes were glued to his ass. The way his glutes shifted under the denim that covered them was damn poetry in motion, and I was getting more turned on by the second.

  My hands trembled, and my knees grew weaker as I watched him insert the key in the lock and open the door for us. I’d logged enough naked-time with Clay by this point that I knew how much pleasure was waiting for me on the other side of that door, and the knowledge of what was coming knocked me way off-balance and made my head spin.

  Probably not great considering I was at the top of a flight of stairs, but there it was just the same.

  I followed Clay into the apartment, with his good arm he grabbed me by the upper arm almost immediately, spinning me around to face him and kissing me urgently. Flames licked at my skin as his tongue invaded my mouth
and his strong hands moved me wherever he liked.

  One of my favorite things about Clay was his take-charge attitude, and now I was finding out that it was one of my biggest turn-ons, as well. I could feel pressure building in my lower belly that was quickly spreading down between my legs. I pressed my body closer to Clay, molding my soft curves to the hard planes of his muscles.

  It had been a matter of mere seconds since Clay had grabbed me and crushed me to him and the ache growing in my core was already nearly unbearable. I needed Clay to touch me there…whether that was with his hands, his mouth, or his body, I didn’t care. I only knew that he was what I needed to be satisfied and nothing else would do.

  “Clay, I want you so much,” I gasped, and then went immediately back to kissing him as if my life depended on it. Even the short seconds it had taken to deliver that breathless message were too long. I had to feel his lips on mine again, feel the hot pressure of our dueling tongues as we explored each other’s mouths.

  “It can’t be as much as I want you. Not possible,” he mumbled against my demanding mouth as his lips moved against mine and his hands ran possessively up and down my body.

  Mmmm…possessively.

  I liked that word as soon as it popped into my mind. It resonated with me deep inside, and fueled the flames of desire licking at my belly from the inside.

  I liked thinking about belonging to Clay. Being his. It felt right, and it felt hot.

  But, even more, I liked thinking about Clay taking possession of me, claiming me as his, putting his stamp on me and never letting go.

  Nothing about the future was certain, of course. In my mind, I knew it was foolish to let my emotions run away with me. But, just like I’d done with so many other things where Clay was concerned, I saw myself galloping ahead, ignoring all the potential consequences. It was almost like I was standing outside of myself, observing the wild and crazy girl surrender herself to love and passion, while the rational and careful part of me that I’d always thought of as my full self was totally powerless to stop any of it.