by S. E. Hall
“Charlotte, I swear I’ll leave you here! Take a breath, you’re gonna scare the girl off!” my father yells again from the cab.
“Oh dear,” a hand flies to her throat, “I haven’t scared you off have I?” My mom’s face is suddenly riddled with worry.
“Not at all.” Whitley giggles and hugs her. “I think you’re wonderful and I will definitely see you soon. Night, Mr. Allen!”
“Good night, Whitley, very nice to meet you, honey,” my dad says, his voice going all soft—sucker.
When they finally pull away, I’m exhausted. I haven’t spoken in probably fifteen minutes, just hanging back and taking it all in. Dinner with my closest friends and family, everyone immersed in love, laughter, good food and healing, Angie happy and smiling, my mother smothering the greatest girl in the world… Yeah, it’s been a damn good, exhausting night.
Whitley, clearly not exhausted, jumps into my arms and I naturally, effortlessly, catch her. “I see why you’re so great. Your parents are amazing!”
“Yeah, they are.” I beam with pride. “But I’m not sure giving my mom your number was the best idea. She may drive you insane. She’s always wanted a daughter.”
Whitley bends back and I grab her waist tighter. “Spin me around,” she says, her voice airy and fascinated as she spreads out her arms and looks up at the sky.
So I spin her, slowly at first, then faster with each of her delighted squeals. When we’re both dizzy, I pull her up against my heaving chest, her cheeks flushed, hair wild and windblown. “Today has been the greatest day of my life,” she exhales in the sexiest voice. “Thank you, Evan, for choosing me and giving me everything I ever wanted.”
Mine too, because of you, God you’re amazing, never leave me…all said back to her in tongues.
“Are you okay?” I’m not feeling my best either, on the road early after spending a night asleep in the hay, Whitley wrapped in my arms. That part was heavenly, but hay bales? Not the most comfortable bed and my body is stiff as hell this morning. But how do you say no when that’s where you land, her lips not letting go… you just don’t.
“Fine, why?”
“I thought I heard your stomach growling or something. You sick?
You want me to stop and get you something to eat?”
“No, I’m fine. Just keep going. Maybe we should listen to some music?” She leans over to turn on the radio.
“I heard that Whitley! Are you in pain? Damn babe, I hear you whimpering too.” Panicked, I immediately find a spot to pull over. “What’s wrong, Whit, talk to me, where’s it hurt?” I’m running my hands all over her, searching, when another noise comes and I’m close enough this time to know it didn’t come from her. What the—
“Evan, I’m fine, really,” she pleads, “let’s just get back on the road and get home. And music! I am really in the mood for some loud jams to wake me up. I know, play my ringtone song for me!”
Who is she trying to play right now? Not this guy, and I’m so hoping I’m wrong right now.
As my head turns to look behind the seats, Whitley’s hand flies up to turn that same head back to her. “Kiss me, Evan, right now,” she demands, doing her best to sound sexy through her alarm.
Not falling for it, I lean up and over, lifting the blanket. And there, just as I realized moments ago there would be, is a baby piglet…staring up at me.
“Whitley Suzanne Thompson! You smuggled one of their pigs?”
“Smuggled is such a harsh word. I prefer acquired, and yes, I acquired this little piggy, who shall now be referred to as Tiny.”
“Tiny for a couple months,” I scoff, “then not so tiny. Whitley, you can’t keep this thing. It’s gonna get big. And messy.”
“I already thought of that.” She crosses her arms, chin rising in defiance. “When Tiny needs more room, I’ll rent a no kill zone from Parker and go for visits.”
That might actually work. Parker would never charge her, and if she asks, he’ll house his pig for her. And…what better way to spend her summer than back home with her pig, and me. I’m liking this ridiculous plan better and better every second.
It overwhelms me, that feeling inside that I can barely contain, screaming and making me want to scale buildings and fly. “Get over here,” I growl and reach for her. “You’re the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I just wanna eat you up.”
“Mmm. I’m gonna hold you to that.”
FULL CIRCLE
Life is good.
The Lady Eagles are 28-12 and the team’s free as birds Mother’s Day Sunday, so it’s time for me to go see my mom with Dane. Sam has started her pre-in vitro shots and my dad had a date with Rosemary, the receptionist at his work, last weekend!
And Evan, sweet and wonderful Evan, walks into Algebra every week with a smile on his face, a spring in his step, and a whistle on his lips. Seeing him happy sets my soul free and our friendship—I think it might just be okay.
First love? First love is so much about curiosity. I read that somewhere and agree. But what I’ve found, and what I think Evan may be discovering as well, is the only forever we were meant to be for each other is friends.
So when he asks me to take Whitley out for a girls’ night so he can set up a surprise for her, I readily agree.
“I need a while, like four or five hours. You have curfew?”
“No, conference play is over; we’re about done for the season.
But five hours? What the heck are you setting up?”
“Everything she missed as a kid, so as much time as you can buy me would be great.”
Look at Evan in his element—being a prince. It’s such a good look for him.
“Sounds major—you need help?”
“I got Sawyer and Zach helping me.”
“Well if I’ll be out at girls’ night, I’m sure Dane would be happy to help too. You want me to ask him?”
Me asking Dane to help Evan make magic for Whitley… I’d say we’ve just about come to the “growing up into bigger people” portion of the program. If there are 12 steps, we just scaled that shit like an anthill and built #13.
“Yeah, sure, that’s be great.” Evan’s smile, and his eyes, tell me he just had the same “whoa” realization I did.
“I’ll text him. Whitley’s at six on Saturday good?”
“Make it like 6:30; pad your time to get her gone.”
“Ev?”
He looks at me, raising his brows in question. “I’m glad we’re back.”
“Me too, Laney.” He winks, spreading his arms for me to walk into his hug.
Full circle.
Whitley, much like myself, is a lightweight. And the brighter color the drink, the quicker she seems to suck ‘em down. With all our men off working on “Operation Whitley,” we have Tate behind the bar, his eyes boring holes in us, and Brock breathing down our necks. But other than that, Whitley, Bennett, Avery, Kirby and I are on the loose…and it’s not pretty.
Fun as hell. Hilarious. But not pretty.
“Let’s dance!” Kirby pretends to ask us, slinking away, going trolling before anyone can ever answer.
I can’t put my finger on it yet, but something has changed with our catcher and not in a good way. Avery follows after her, but I’m good right where I am, perched on my stool with my fruitalikey, aka I don’t know what’s it’s called but it’s good, in a glass.
“I’m gonna go kiss Tate,” Bennett slurs, heading for her bartender.
“Thanks for inviting me, Laney. I’m having a great time,” Whitley gushes, slurping her cup dry. “Excuse me just a minute, though,” she pulls out her phone, “I have to check on Tiny. I don’t know that Evan will keep a close enough eye on him.”
“Who’s Tiny?” I ask her.
“My pet pig. I rescued him from Parker’s,” she announces proudly while texting.
I spew my drink in shock. “Parker gave you a pig? And you’re keeping it in your house? In town?”
“Stole, gave, whatever.�
� She shrugs. “But yes to the rest.”
“Damn, Whitley.” I smile, fascinated really. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad we became friends. You’ve got Evan home babysitting your stolen pig. You go, girl!” I offer her the high five she has certainly earned.
“Thanks!” She turns her cup upside down, then back over, as if she just can’t fathom why it’s empty.
“Um, Whit, do you want another drink?”
“Yes, do you?”
“Sure. Brock?!” I yell, the large man appearing instantly. “We need another drink. Would you prefer I go to the bar and get it or do you want to do it for us?”
Saves a lot of arguing if I give him choices. “Stay. I’ll get it.”
“Dane’s pretty protective of you, huh?” Whitley asks.
“Very,” I nod, “but I like it. It makes me feel important and safe. Just wait, Evan will be the same way with you. He’s a little sweeter about it, where Dane’s all caveman, but same theory.”
Brock sets our drinks in front of us. Added bonus of The K— we never wait for drinks. “Thanks, Brock,” we chorus, which he acknowledges with a grunt, then moves back to assume the façade that he’s giving me space.
“Ahhh!” Whitley presses her fingers into her forehead. “Brain freeze.”
Not that I have a reason now to keep from it, but I can’t help but like her. She’s like Bennett once you get to know her—just happy to be here. “So how’d you like Parker?” I ask. “How’d his mom seem?”
“Parker’s great and I love his fiancé, Hayden!”
Drink spewing again, this time accompanied with a fit of coughing. “Fiancé? Parker’s engaged?”
“Ohhhh, I thought you knew! Oh, Laney, I’m sorry. I know he’d want to tell you himself and I spoiled it for both of you.” She looks like she might actually cry.
And you know what endears me to her even further? Ten out of ten girls on the planet who are now involved with your ex, who know damn good and well that he still has more memories of you than them, would be insecure and spiteful, happy even that they just one- upped you by knowing a secret from “your” friends before you did. But Whitley? Nope, she’s sincerely worried about me and Parker.
“Whitley, relax,” I reach over and pat her hand, “I’m not upset at all. I’m just surprised. He’ll tell me and I’ll act shocked, okay?”
She nods, still looking unsure and apologetic.
“It’s fine, I swear. So tell me about Hayden; I only met her briefly. She’s nice?”
“She’s so nice, and pretty, and she loves Parker so much. I think you’ll really like her. She takes very good care of Parker and Angie and seems very down to Earth. She is definitely his gibbon!”
The girl has consumed her fair share of cocktails, and I know better, but I have to ask. “His what?”
“His gibbon,” she chirps (which I now think of affectionately as her signature sound and not as the parakeet of older days), “like Phoebe and the lobsters.”
Not surprisingly, as with most people on a drinking night…the more she talks, the less sense it makes. I roll my hand, enticing her to keep going. What can it hurt at this point?
“You know, the best Friends episode ever with Phoebe and her lobster thing?”
I have no idea, but nod and smile in the interest of time. “Google says it’s scientifically incorrect, that lobsters don’t mate for life. Yes, I looked it up. But, it does give you a list of animals that do.”
The polite thing to do here is ask for the list, right? Right. And honestly, I want to see if her drunk butt can pull it off. “So what animals made that list?”
Her fingers are already up, ready to count them off, and she couldn’t be more pleased I asked.
“Lovebirds, gibbons, swans, black vultures—I know, but ugly things need love too—French angelfish, wolves, albatrosses,” she smiles at me, “don’t worry, I don’t know what they are either. Termites,” she shivers, “prairie voles, which I looked up and still don’t know what they are exactly, and turtledoves.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. That is a whole lotta information. How do you remember it?”
She shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the whole world that she has that list on standby. “I had to be on the lookout for my gibbon or my swan since National Geographic crushed me and said my lobster was never coming.”
If this girl was any more perfect for Evan Allen, I’d fall right off my barstool. The hopeless romantic meets Mr. Tenderheart.
I miss Dane, really bad.
Laney: You guys about done? Need you.
“Hey, Whit, I’m about toast, gonna head out soon,” I say, watching my phone like a hawk. “We should talk soon, though. Maybe we should throw Hayden a shower or something.”
Parker’s one of my oldest and dearest friends. Who he loves, I know I’ll love, and something tells me Whitley could write a textbook on throwing a wedding shower.
Dane: Are you okay? On my way. Laney: Fine, just miss you.
Dane: Give me 15 minutes. I’ll make it up to you.
“That’d be wonderful! Oh my God, let’s do it!” she gushes. “Hayden will love it and I have some great ideas! Oh, Laney, thank you!”
“Idea away, chick. Parties are soooo not my thing, but I’ll help with everything else.” Let the record show she has been warned— Laney only offered her strengths. “Dane’s on his way, so I’m gonna go wait by the door. You staying or?”
“I’ll wait with you and call Evan.”
I catch Bennett’s eye as we make our way to the door and wave goodbye, then freeze in place, seeing red. Whitley, looking at her phone and unprepared, slams into my back with an “umpff.”
Seeing my demeanor, her eyes go wide. “What? What is it?”
Bennett caught it too and runs over, which actually means prances over as quick as she can on the toes of her killer heels. “Laney, what’s wrong?”
“Tell me I’m seeing things.” I point, feeling sick to my fucking stomach. Their eyes follow the end of my finger, searching, and two gasps echo each other when they find the object of my leer.
“What is she doing? Oh my God, Laney, what do we do?” Bennett’s on the verge of tears on the spot, hating the pain of others.
“Did they break up?” Whitley’s face is puzzled. “And doesn’t she feel a breeze? I mean, leave something for the imagination, please.”
“Baby,” warm breath on my nape instantly soothes me, “I’d know this ass anywhere.” I feel a hand squeezing the object of his recognition; I’d know his voice, his touch, anywhere. Part of me may have known the second he walked in. Dane.
“Did the other guys come with you?” I ask past the lump in my throat, distractingly excited for a moment.
“Zach and Evan did. Sawyer had a hookup waiting, why? Oh, Whitley,” he says, “Evan asked me to send you out. He’s parked right in front of the door waiting,” he gets caught up in a chuckle, “he didn’t think he should leave Tiny alone in the truck lest he face your wrath.”
“Laney, do you want me to stay? What are we gonna do?” Whitley asks desperately.
“I don’t know yet, but you go ahead, Evan’s waiting. Have a good night, Whit. Dane, can you walk her out?” I hug her, knowing whatever Evan has in store for her will be amazing, even though my thoughts are clouded by the bitch across the room and her treachery.
Whitley breaks our hug with a bonus squeeze and whispered thanks. “No, Dane, stay. I’m fine, he’s right outside the door.”
“Night, Whitley,” Bennett offers sadly and Dane looks back and forth between us all, confused and unsure if he’s to stay or go with her.
“What just happened here? Laney,” he turns me to face him, staring hard into my eyes while his are deciding between angry and scared, “talk to me, now.”
I turn again, leaning back into his chest, needing the connection.
I point again, and wait for it to click. “Fuckkk,” he mutters.
Kinda what I was thinking.
&
nbsp; “What do we do?” I ask him, praying that like always, he’ll have the right answer.
“Are we sure it’s her? She is a twin.”
Oh, I didn’t think of that! A spark of hope blossoms in my chest.
Bennett’s already shaking her head back and forth. “Not unless they switched clothes in the bathroom for some reason. That’s what Avery wore tonight.”
“I’m not sure then, but I know what’s not going to happen,” he growls, closer to my ear, “you are not getting in her face or kicking her ass, ‘cause I know you’re dying to do just that. I say we stand here until Zach finds us and let him see for himself.”
“You can check that box,” Zach interrupts from behind us. “I see.”
We all flip around at the sound of his voice, collectively flinching at the despair etched across his face.
“Don’t listen to him, Zach, I will absolutely go kick her ass if you want me to.”
He chokes out a chuckle. “I love you for offering, but no more things flying at your face for a while, huh? Let’s just go. I’ve seen enough.”
Oh, we’ve all seen enough. She’s wearing red panties tonight, but I shouldn’t know that…nor should half this bar.
“You sure, man? I could have the dude thrown out,” Dane offers.
“Why would I have him thrown out? He doesn’t know I exist, and he’s not the one who owed me any loyalty. She is.”
“And we’re positive it’s her?” Dane tries again, looking at me and Bennett. “It could very well be Kirby.”
Zach just stands there, staring, so we let him. The second there’s a break in the music, he screams, “Avery!”
The blonde pressed against the back wall, skirt hiked indecently and sucking the skin off some dude’s neck, breaks and looks out of reflex.
