It didn’t matter much. I’d made it through, and somehow, though alone, here I still stood.
Lane picked me up after shutting down the store, and, as per our usual habit these days, we headed for Carole’s. We’d only gone to the bar that once, and while we’d never discussed the experience I had a feeling he’d noticed my discomfort.
“It’s strange coming here for a date,” he commented after we’d ordered. I paused with my iced tea in hand, giving him a strange look.
“I see you here all the time,” I pointed out. “Lillian says you practically live here.”
“I work across the road from here and Carole and I went to school together,” he hastened to explain, grinning. “I love it here, don’t get me wrong. It’s just more a hangout or cafeteria for me than a date place.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him, tilting my head and grinning. “So I’m, what, not much of a date?”
Lane laughed and threw his arm over the back of my chair. “You’re a very real, very wanted date.”
I caught myself before I did more than flinch, easing my suddenly tense shoulders and tipping backwards into his loose embrace. He tightened his grip, and I leaned closer, firmly reminding myself whose arm it was.
Carole soon brought us our lunch, and I picked at my soup, eyeing his fries and wondering if I shouldn’t just steal some. He grinned when he caught my gaze and pushed the plate my way, giving me the silent go-ahead. If he insisted…
Carole tugged one of my curls in passing when she brought drinks to a nearby table. She winked at me when I shot her an exasperated look. She had a thing for my hair, and didn’t have a lot of restraint.
We finished eating then headed for my place to play some cribbage.
“You just want to win points with my cat,” I teased him, but gave in with good grace. I didn’t want the evening to end, either. As for my baiting, he didn’t deny it.
I offered him a drink while he set up the board.
“Tea, please. It’s too late for coffee.”
That was new for him, but instead of pointing it out I made us each a cup while he dealt the first hand. I liked seeing him there in my house, and I wasn’t going to chance driving him away by asking too many questions.
“This is the only decaf tea I have. I hope it’s fine.” It was a minty blend supposed to calm nerves, and I’d found it helpful at night. Despite burning his mouth on the first sip he assured me it was great, and we settled into the game.
We played a few rounds, Olive poking her head out once before taking off to hide again. Lane didn’t say much, which also wasn’t like him, but I chalked it up to a long day at work and figured it was better not to ask.
Everything was going fine, if a little stilted, until a car misfired and I froze, almost dropping my cards. It took a moment for me to realize what it was. I let out my breath slowly, shaking my head and reaching for my tea. I stopped mid-motion, noticing Lane watching me, a funny look on his face.
“What?” I asked, hesitating. The cards were dealt, Olive was long gone, and I had no idea what could have happened in the span of a few minutes to place that look on his face.
He pushed my drink towards me, and I picked it up slowly, keeping my eyes on him.
“Sometimes,” he started, his long pause letting me know that I probably wouldn’t like what I’d hear, “you flinch. Not a lot. Not obviously, just, it’s there. You pause when you hear a noise. If someone yells, you get a look on your face—even if it’s just some kids yelling and playing.”
Lane stopped, waiting for me to speak, but what was I supposed to say? That my ex beat me when I was lucky enough that he used his hands? Morgan had blamed me for his obsession with me, had blamed me so many times for manipulating his emotions that I’d almost started to believe him. He’d hurt me, make me scream and beg, then clean me up, help me to bed, and hold me through the dark hours of the night. I’d fall asleep to his whispered promises to keep me sane, promises that he wouldn’t let me be alone again.
I shut those thoughts down, not willing to go there. Lane wanted me to open up, but if I tried then it would probably all come pouring out of me. That situation was one I’d been trying not to face since this relationship had started.
“It was a car misfiring, Lane,” I told him sharply. There was steel in my voice despite the jelly of my stomach. “Forgive me for startling.”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
I did.
Lane’s bafflement held his tongue for a moment. He didn’t seem to be sure where he had been going with this, but it was too late for that. He tried to speak, but I cut him off. “I don’t want real connections anymore.”
A lie, but it would be better for both of us if I could make myself believe it. I needed to be fine being on the watch list, existing unsupported. No matter how much I wanted Lane, with his gentle smiles and heart-warming laughs, I couldn’t let myself forget what I was or what I’d been through.
He stared at me, his green eyes hurt. I swallowed past my own pain, holding firm. Prices were too high, and I couldn’t pay anymore. “I should go to bed. It’s late.” Then, because there was little else to say, “I’m sorry.”
The sound of the door closing behind him
****
There was a knock on the veranda door and when I looked into the reflection of the microwave I saw Lane’s large, heart-stopping profile outlined against the sunlight. Sighing, I headed out to see him.
It had been two days, and I hadn’t realized how much a part of my daily life he’d become until I stopped speaking to him. Being around him warmed me in a way I’d never experienced before, showing me what it must be like for regular mages who had nothing to really hide. Seeing him there was torture—he looked amazing, and here I was throwing it all away. To put salt on the wound, he flashed that dimpled, adorable smile at me through the screen when I moved to open it. “Thanks, Brett. I’m really sorry about the other night.”
His eagerness and regret were hard to face, but I nodded and leaned back against the interior doorway.
“Don’t worry about it, Lane,” I reassured him. I kept my voice level, not wanting to give him any openings to stay. Hold yourself firm, I reminded myself. Be strong.
“I really am sorry,” he repeated, too eager to let my stance get in his way. It was hard to hold firm in the face of what a really sweet guy he was. “I didn’t mean to push, and I get that you’re not ready to talk about everything. Hell, we did just meet not that long ago. I had no right to pressure you like that.”
“It isn’t your fault,” I offered lamely, softening inside. I wanted to break, to invite him in past the door and get him a drink, but I just didn’t have it in me. “This is all me.”
As if the reminder might help. Any sensible guy would have taken the offered out and been relieved doing it by this time. Not Lane.
“Maybe it can be both of us?” His tentative little offer, insensible as it was, made me feel warm. He was big and goofy, I was reminded again. He was hunched forward a bit, obviously trying to look apologetic and unthreatening.
“It really is me,” I assured him, fighting to keep from giving in. “This isn’t fair to you.”
He licked his bottom lip, and the face he gave me was heart-melting. “Please let me have another chance. I really like you, Brett. Just give me a chance to spend more time together. We’ll go at your pace.”
My pace involved having trouble not throwing myself at him, saying fuck Morgan and my closets of history, and testing just how much that screen door could hold. My pace was also hiding in my bedding, hunched up under the covers and shivering at every creak as the house settled. I wanted to cling to him, and I wanted that even more than I wanted to shove him away. I had to remember what I’d been through, and how he’d tried to drag it out of me.
“I’m not going to tell you about my past,” I told him bluntly. “I don’t even really know you, and I don’t even know if I can talk about it. I’ve made mistakes tr
usting fast, and if you expect me to just forget that—”
“No,” he interrupted hastily. “I’m sorry, honestly, I’m sorry. Please give me a chance to make it up.”
But it wasn’t really his fault. Anyone would want to know what they were getting in to, and maybe it was on me for not speaking up but I honestly wasn’t in a place where I could.
“I’m not a very pleasant guy to be around,” I offered weakly, and my voice was pretty much a giveaway that this was it for my resolve. He really did at least deserve that warning, since I really didn’t think he had managed to catch on yet. I felt an uncomfortable surety that he wasn’t picking up on that fact at all. Proof of the inkling came through when his face lit up and his shoulders straightened, all semblance of the harmless puppy routine swallowed with his overeager relief.
“You’re a wonderful guy,” he assured me. I wanted to laugh, or to hang my head and cry. He’d known me for too short a time and knew far too little about me to make that assumption.
“You really don’t deserve the kind of mess that I am,” I told him softly, but smiled to soften the bite. “If you really won’t take the warning, I guess there’s nothing else for it.” I really did want to see him again. “Supper tomorrow?”
“It’s a date!” He hesitated. “Sorry, is that too much?”
I shook my head, giving in. “Date.”
Olive snuck past him when he went to leave and our goodbye turned into a desperate chase to get the lady pinned and back in the house. By the time he’d cornered her in the bushes by the front step we were both grass-stained and out of breath. Still, I felt my already pounding heart ratchet up, and felt a cold hand curl over the back of my neck as he narrowed her escape. Towering there, big and strong and her so small.
“Well,” he chuckled, pinning her squirming form in his arms and ignoring her scratches. His eyes were all for her, his grin goofy and unaffected by her struggles. “Guess this probably sets back her getting used to me.”
I stared at the two of them, my heart hammering in my chest. She hurt him, yowled and squirmed, but he just stood there and took it. I desperately wanted to touch him, see if it was an act, but could only watch as he carried her back into the house and shut her in before she could take off a second time.
“Thank you,” I finally managed. He grinned that cocky, eager-puppy grin of his.
“Any time, Brett—hey, know our date?” He dragged the last word out, obviously enjoying saying it. I nodded, eyeing him. “How about we go sailing instead? The river’s still a bit high, but it’s beautiful this time of year. The bugs aren’t bad yet, and I bet you haven’t been down it yet?”
“I haven’t, no,” I told him. It did sound tempting. I’d never been in a boat before, and had felt envious watching the fishermen out back. “I’d like that,” I decided.
“Nice! I have Friday off, think you’ll be good then?”
“I will.” I hadn’t received any offers for an interview yet, so my schedule was wide open.
“Great!” He grinned. “Well, Da needs me at the store. I just wanted to drop by and make sure everything was okay with us.”
He gave me a quick kiss before heading for the truck, and I stared after him as he drove off, still a bit overrun by the quick change my life had just gone through in the last ten minutes.
I guessed we were good, then.
I stumbled back to my bed of blankets, sagging down into them and leaning back against the wall. Olive climbed into my lap, not the least bit ruffled from her mad dash. I pet her, scratching just the way she liked and fighting to stop myself from going over and over those last few minutes with Lane.
Opening the door had been the first mistake, but I couldn’t make myself accept it as one. How could I, when the kiss he’d just given me—quick as a flash, and as searing as the sun—melted every last reserve I’d been clinging to since I’d sent him away?
Curse me for a fool, but I slept better that night than I had in days.
Chapter Eight
We pushed out under the shadow of a bridge about a thirty-minute drive away. The day was hot and sunny, and the river was even more beautiful from the boat than it was from the banks. It was a glittering brown, and you could see the fuzzy face of the rocks beneath the clear surface.
“It’s high right now so it goes a bit fast,” Lane explained, “but I can manage it. I’ll just need a bit of help, but I’ll show you how." His easy mood made it hard to worry. It was fun, but I ended up with a burnt nose at the end of the trip. There were some other boats on our path, most sedentary. “Anchors,” Lane pointed out, showing me where the rope dropped from the end of one such boat. Their occupants were fishing, and their contentment made me wonder if it wasn't something I might enjoy, too.
I hadn’t been too sure about the boat when we first started. It was wooden. I think that bore quite a bit of consideration. I’d seen quite a few boats in my life, but never one like that—painted wood, varnished boards for seats, and all of it suspiciously homemade-looking. Seeing the others around us, most with the same type of boat, made me feel a lot better. Lane did work at a construction store, and it was a family business. If these people felt safe in theirs, why should I feel any worse in Lane’s?
“How are you liking town?”
I looked up from the dragonfly zipping around our boat and smiled. “It’s peaceful,” I told him. “I’d like it a lot more if those—what did you call them?—peepers would quiet down at night.”
He chuckled. “They will before long.”
I noticed a rock ahead, and he nodded, walking me through steering away from it. “The current can run us straight into it if we’re not careful. Or, if something is big enough, it can tug us back a bit when we get too close. When the water’s lower you have to be a lot more careful.”
It was nice and relaxing, the weather surprisingly warm and the faint breeze comfortable. The rumble of the water was a soothing backdrop to the beautiful day. Lane had brought lunch, and while we ate he told me stories from his childhood. Corey featured in them often, but Lane sounded just as bad.
“I grew up, thankfully,” he chuckled when I pointed that out. “Corey and I used to fight a lot.”
I could imagine. Corey had no filter, and Lane tried so hard to be good and respectable.
“Only used to?” I teased.
“Well, I mean really fight.”
I smiled, looked down at the water. “Geoff and I were all each of us had growing up,” I told Lane.
“No friends?” he asked, surprised.
I shook my head. “It was always just us. Gram, then Gramp, taught us.”
“That must have been lonely.” His full focus was on me, now, and I could tell he was trying hard not to spook me. I could hardly blame him. I never offered information. “Did you guys live, well,” he hesitated, then started again. “Did you have electricity? Was it—”
I cut him off there, amused. “We weren’t that isolated, I promise. We had power. A television. We just didn’t have a lot to do with anyone outside of ourselves.”
Not until Gramp died, anyway.
I hesitated, then set my sandwich down on my knee and reached over to touch his own empty hand. The nervous excitement that tangled around his content made me smile despite my nervous stomach. He stared, looking at me now and not the water. I smiled back at him, tightening my grip.
“Thank you,” I said to him.
He gave me a strange look, half-grin, half confusion. “For what?” He kept himself still as stone, all except for the thumb he stroked against the side of my hand.
“For inviting me here today. For coming back at all after the other night.”
We were coming up to the bend just before my house. Lane started to answer but broke off with a loud curse, totally unlike him. He jerked back around and threw his hand out with a yell. I started, twisting to try to see what he saw. Too late.
There came a rough jolt from the boat, and then it heaved backwards. His thrown energy mu
st have been stronger than he expected—the whole thing flipped on its backwards rush, sending us flying as the boat capsized.
It was fortunately shallow. I scrambled up but then tumbled back into the water, the rocks slick with unknown slime. Lane stood with only a little trouble, grabbing the boat before it could float away. I stared at him, wondering how he managed it.
We were both more shocked than hurt, fortunately. Now that the surprise was over I saw the rock he’d spotted.
“Probably should’ve just hit the thing,” he grumbled, then sighed. “You’re sure you’re all right, right?”
“I am.” I stood again, this time taking care on the slimy riverbed. I looked around us and realized it was too late to grab the rest of our stuff. My hat was floating downriver with our poles, and my sandals were nowhere to be seen. The quick step I took after my hat sent me sliding, and Lane caught my arm with his free hand, chuckling.
“I’ll get you a new one, my treat after this,” he grinned. “We’d better not draw attention blowing it back here. The poles are gone, too, but we’re just a few feet from Lillian and Joe’s. Their bank is pretty easy to climb. We can bring the boat in there.”
I helped him flip the boat, and we led it the rest of the way.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
“Don’t be,” he teased as we walked. “I say it was worth it. I should’ve been watching.”
I let it go, not wanting to bother arguing. It was hard enough staying upright as things stood, let alone while trying to have a conversation. When Lane caught on to how horrible I was walking on the rocks he steered us to the bank where it would be easier.
“It might deepen up around here anyway, better to be careful,” he chuckled. “Glad you didn't bring your phone now?”
“Very.” I gave his grinning face a suspicious look. Maybe it wasn’t all on me, then. “This happens a lot?”
“Not since I was a teenager. Seems today isn't our day!” He sighed. “More my fault, really. I wanted it to be perfect, and I guess I was too keyed up to think straight. Guess all my emotions went into that wind. Sorry, Brett.”
Upon the River Shore Page 7
