608 Alpha Ave

by Adriana Locke

Love is a scary thing.

  Out of all of the things that Kaylee said, this is the one that echoes in my brain.

  Love is terrifying, I bet. I wish I knew. Despite wanting desperately to find love, to fall blissfully into it—to have the kind of love that I read about and want to write about someday—I’ve never experienced it.

  All of the dates I go on—all the guys I have half-assed relationships with—they haven’t been love. Even if I pretend it is or gush about them to Kaylee or write my first name with their last name on napkins just to see what it would look like—that’s me wishing. Hoping. Maybe I’m even trying to make love happen.

  But do I know what it feels like? No. Have I ever been in love? Nada.

  I’m sure of that. But I also am fully, acutely aware that what I feel in my gut about Grayson—the way I get overwhelmed with a mixture of excitement and calm, chaos and comfort—is nothing like I’ve ever felt for another man before.

  It’s lust, and naturally, that’s no stranger to me. But it’s different.

  It’s natural. It’s steady. It’s so organic that if I had the courage to think about it, I might wonder if this was the beginning of a love story.

  If I’m writing them all wrong.

  If it’s not the hero’s voice that I’m confused about, but rather what love feels like … for me. And I wonder if I’ll ever know.

  “Whoa,” I say, getting to my feet. “You’re going to need to stop this crap and keep firmly planted in reality.”

  I begin picking up from our lunch and try to keep my mind focused on the present. But in the back of my head, in the dark recesses that don’t fear things like heartbreak and humiliation, I ponder if this could be the earliest stages of something real.

  That Grayson could be the man—not the book hero—who I’ve been after all along.

  Nine

  Grayson

  Clink. Clank. Boom!

  I leap to my feet and inspect my hand. Fire licks up my fingers, over my palm, and into my forearm.

  “Shit,” I grumble and give a swift kick to the perpetrator. The tractor doesn’t budge, which adds salt to the already painful wound.

  I head to the shop’s sink and turn on the tap. The water is icy against the inflamed skin. I roll my hand side to side to check for swelling. Much to my dismay, there is none.

  That just annoys me more.

  A bruise or bulge would be satisfying, like a physical manifestation of the stress that’s built inside me all evening. I’m quietly boiling, a cauldron threatening to explode.

  I knew it would be like this, though. I fucking knew it.

  The fact that this exact situation, this sensation, would transpire if I crossed the line with Haley is the whole reason it hasn’t happened before. Of course, it would be one of the best days of my life. Look at her. And every day that it didn’t happen only added to the mystique, which, in turn, led to it being even more memorable when it did take place.

  Because a part of me always felt like it would, no matter how hard I fought against it.

  But I slipped and gave in. I didn’t back out. I let myself go to that ridiculous hike, knowing that the outcome was pretty damn decent that we hiked back out with a change in our relationship.

  Now what?

  I flip off the tap as if it’s to blame for my mood and grab a handful of shop towels. Either the pain in my hand has decreased or it’s taken a back seat to the riot in my head. I dry off my hand and take in the tractor. The part I was trying to remove is now essentially broken, making the matter I came to the shop at eleven at night to fix even worse.

  “I should’ve just left her alone,” I grumble, my voice thick with frustration as I toss the towels in the trash can.

  “Left who alone?”

  I spin around to see Garret leaning against the door to the offices. I didn’t hear him come in, but it’s probably hard to hear anything over the sound of my own voice inside my head.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, firing him a look to warn him that I’m in no mood for his bullshit.

  He smirks. “I don’t know. Want me to tell you the truth or lie to protect your feelings?”

  I let my look linger because apparently, he didn’t get the memo. Back the fuck off.

  He shoves off the door, unmoved by my glare, and moseys my way. “I can tell you that I had a stack of paperwork to do—which is true. Or,” he says, stopping a few feet away from me, “I could tell you that a little birdie told me that you were seen in the parking lot by the ranger’s office with your favorite bartender.”

  His voice lifts at the end, making a point—he knows I was with Haley. He’s put that fact together with the alert he got when I shut off the security system this late at the shop and concluded that something is amiss.

  Fuck.

  I turn away without admitting it. It’s pointless.

  “I thought that was an interesting development,” he says casually. “I mean, I’ve known you had a thing for her for a while—”

  “I don’t have a thing for her. Let it be.”

  My heart begins to pound, and I grit my teeth.

  “Cool. Awesome. Then I’ll tell you something else I heard,” he says.

  “I don’t give a shit what you heard,” I say, facing the tractor as if I’m actually going to work on it again.

  “Oh, I’m sure you won’t, especially since you don’t have a thing for Haley.”

  He stops there, some sort of a dickish cliffhanger created to piss me off. I just hope he’s ready for pissed-off me. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from instinctively swinging on him.

  “Word has it that she and Dane McDaniels were in Cherry Pie Pizza having dinner,” he says smugly. “I guess Haley decided to start getting some personal training sessions with him, if you know what I mean. It’s created quite the buzz—”

  I whirl around on my heel. The motion gets him to stop talking.

  The top of my head fills with pressure, and I think it might pop off.

  She was with Dane?

  After today?

  What the actual fuck?

  My mind reels as I try to process what the hell is going on, my fists clenching against my thighs, when a hint of a smile licks against my brother’s lips.

  My shoulders drop. “This is not the day to fuck with me, Garret.”

  “It’s always the day to fuck with you,” he says with a grin.

  I unwrap my hands slowly. Blood pours back into them.

  “I hate that I have to lie to you to figure out what’s going on,” he says. “But you make it that way.”

  “Or you could just mind your own business.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” He stands next to me and pretends to look at the tractor too. “I’m confused.”

  “I tore off the shield, and it broke. We’ll have to order one tomorrow.”

  “Not about the tractor. About you.”

  I don’t answer him. I don’t think he expects me to.

  “You see, if I just banged Haley—”

  “Careful …”

  I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He grins but still doesn’t look at me.

  “I wouldn’t be all pissed off,” Garret says. “I’ll just say that.”

  “There’d be no reason to.”

  I blow out a breath and head to the computer. I punch some random keys, and it comes to life.

  Of course, he’d not be pissed off if he hooked up with Haley. Garret’s a nice guy. He’s young and smart, and he takes after our mother—he’s built for love and marriage.

  Garret would eat up family dinners and dates to Kissme Bay. He knows what to do and what to say and, more importantly, he likes that shit. He’d play games at the Holidaze Arcade and win those giant stuffed animals.

  He’s great with prizes.

  I am not.

  My shoulder slumps, and I shift my weight to try to hide it because I don’t have the energy to stand tall again.

  “I don’t poke around
in your personal life much,” he says.

  “Which is smart.”

  I think he chuckles, but I don’t turn around to confirm it—for both our benefit.

  “But I’ve been waiting for this,” he says, apparently feeling ballsy. “I’ve been waiting for the two of you to act on the thing you have between you.”

  “We don’t have a thing between us. What are you? A woman?”

  “If that means observant, then yes. I guess I am.”

  This makes me smile and, I’m glad I’m not facing him so he doesn’t see it.

  “It’s finally happened. Obviously,” he says. “And now you’re acting like someone stole your girl when it’s you who—”

  “Enough,” I say, my voice booming over his. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  I can’t take it. I can’t listen to this anymore.

  He squares his shoulders to mine. “And I don’t give a fuck.”

  The room heats, the walls are waiting to see if we come to blows for the first time in our lives. It’s never happened—minus a few small skirmishes growing up. But Garret, Grant, and I have never physically gone at it.

  Today, though, may change history.

  “I’m your brother,” he says. “You can trust me.”

  “I know that.”

  We stare at each other, the stand-off continuing. He doesn’t back down. He won’t.

  I finally acquiesce, mostly because I’m too tired of fighting tonight. I’ve fought myself for hours.

  I blow out a breath and look at the ceiling. “Something happened, and that’s it. It’s over. It's not happening again.”

  “Was it bad?”

  I settle my gaze on him again. “No.”

  “Then … why not?”

  “Because it’s fucking Haley, that’s why.”

  “I thought we just established that you fucked Haley.”

  It’s a joke. I get it. But the thought of him dismissing it like that—you fucked Haley—incenses me.

  My blood boils, my fingers itching to crank a wrench or hit a bag or do something to rid my body of the anger building inside it.

  It’s true, though. I did just fuck her. And that’s what it’ll be construed as to everyone.

  To her.

  Not that I give a shit about what anyone else in town thinks, but I do care about how she internalizes this. We can’t be together again—for her own good—but then she will naturally think I just used her. A one-and-done. A one-night stand.

  That she’s just like the rest of the women who I’ve been with. But she deserves so much more than that. She deserves the world.

  I close my eyes and try to center myself before I spin completely in a circle.

  “Okay …” Garret says.

  “Fine. You want to know what’s going on?” I say, the words roaring out of my mouth. “I did—I fucked her. Okay? I broke my own rules when it comes to her because I’m fucking weak. Because I’m a hedonist—I don’t know. But I did it, and now I have to deal with the fallout.”

  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “Are ya happy now?” I ask, my voice echoing through the shop.

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Garret,” I mutter and turn away.

  “I don’t get it. You were with the girl who you obviously care a lot about—”

  “Don’t put that on me.” I look at him over my shoulder. “Don’t even go there.”

  “Go where?” He throws his hands up in the air. “You like her, do you not? Because if you stand there and tell me I’ve fabricated this entire thing myself, I’m going to call you what you are—a liar.”

  Steam rises from my head as I face him again. I don’t know what to say to him. He’s not wrong. But if I can put a damper on it from the start—nip it in the bud—then maybe it’ll make things easier going forward.

  But I don’t know how to do that.

  “Gray, listen, man—I know this is, like, not what you usually do. I get it. But this is not a bad thing.”

  “Oh, okay,” I snarl. “Do you think that she—Haley Morgan, Miss Sunshine—is going to be my little fuck buddy? Do you think she will buy into—that she should buy into—some fucked-up friends-with-benefits thing with me of all people? Come on, Garret.”

  “No. I don’t think she should because I think the two of you should try being together, actually.”

  I scoff.

  He’s undeterred. He’s delusional.

  “But if she wants to be friends with benefits, then, yeah. Why not?” He holds his hands at his sides. “Women do that these days, you know. Sometimes they choose that, and they’re allowed to. It’s a cool new thing.”

  I glare at him. “Haley isn’t a friends-with-benefits girl.”

  “And you know that because you’ve asked her? Awesome. I didn’t know that.”

  “I’m not asking her that. I’m not …” I press a swallow down my throat. “I’m not doing that.”

  “Oh, okay. So you’re just going to fuck her once and then be a dick to her? Because that’s not cool, Grayson.”

  I run my hand over my head.

  He’s not wrong. And that’s why I never deserved to touch her, to taste her, to know what she sounds like when she comes.

  I. Don’t. Deserve. That.

  He gives me a second to get myself together—going as far as to take a step back to give me some room. I’m not sure if it was intentional or not, but I appreciate it. A lot.

  My brain is filled with so many thoughts that I feel like they’re going to spill out over the shop floor. My skull aches with the intensity. So, I do the only thing I can do: trust my brother.

  My breath rattles as I pull it into my lungs.

  “You’re right,” I tell him, the words wobbling and uncertain. “I like her.”

  He nods.

  “But, Garret …” I sigh. “I’m no good for her.”

  “How do you mean? Have you killed a goat lately? Married someone I don’t know about? Worn Crocs?” He grins. “You’re the best guy I know. How are you no good for her?”

  His words hit me in the chest. I pause, allowing them to settle over me.

  “This could be a nice thing. A great thing, even,” he says. “Give it a chance.”

  “You realize I’m ten years older than her, right?” I ask, my voice without the edge from before. “She should be out tearing it up, having fun. Making mistakes. With a guy who she can take her time with and grow old together. That’s what she wants. She wants that life, and I’m not … I’m not good for that.”

  He laughs a loud, full-bellied laugh. “You’re not eighty!”

  “No, but there’s a big difference in thirty-one and twenty-one.”

  “Um, no. Not really.” He leans against the computer table. “Besides, she’s not asking you to marry her. She’s not asking you for jack shit, I don’t think. She just likes you, and you’re telling her you’re unlikeable.” He raises a brow. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. You’re going to play that card, and she’s going to call bullshit. Then, naturally, she’s going to look for the real truth, and she’ll think it’s her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’ll think that you must be covering for the fact that she’s not good enough for you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  He shrugs. “I agree. But that’s what’s going to happen. Mark my words. And, because you like her, care about her feelings, I can’t imagine that you’d want her thinking that about herself.”

  I clench my jaw.

  “She’s an amazing girl, Gray. Don’t smother that sunshine you spoke of.” He lifts a brow as if he just defeated me. “Now I’m going to go home and get some rest so I can be here early in the morning. I’d recommend the same to you.”

  I point at him in some gesture of a goodbye and turn back to the tractor. The door closes soon after.

  I’m too worked up to stand still, too bothered to think about the piece of equipment in front of me.
>
  I pull over a bucket and flip it over. I plop down on top of it.

  My head rests in my hands as I mull over my options.

  Could this be a great thing?

  Is Garret right?

  I wasn’t lying to Haley when I said that I like my independence, the freedom to hike, drink, and work out whenever I want to. That’s not selfishness. It’s fact, and up until this moment, I’ve never seen the necessity to even consider making any changes. But now …

  It’s like I’m a perpetual wallflower. And if by some grace of God they do spy me as I’m blending into my surroundings, I’m just a … a speed bump they haul ass over as they get to whatever destination they’re aiming toward. And that end point is never me. Ever.

  Haley was so fucking wrong about herself. She’s no wallflower. She’s no speed bump. She’s the end point.

  She could be my end point.

  I’m not sure. But when I quiet my brain and sit still for a few minutes, I know the truth: I’m not going to be able to get the taste of, and desire for, Haley Morgan out of me.

  And even though I know it’s a rotten idea, I don’t want to.

  Ten

  Haley

  “You need any help?” Corbin asks, coming up behind me.

  “Nope.” I flash him a smile that I hope he reads as friendly. “I’m good.”

  Music pulses through the bar thanks to the bachelorette party that came in a few hours ago. It’s all upbeat and happy. Coupled with their laughter and antics that have amused our other patrons to no end, it’s very festive inside Fireside.

  But not inside me.

  My eyes have bounced from Grayson’s empty chair, to the door, and back again all night.

  He never doesn’t come in.

  He’s here like clockwork.

  Except tonight.

  “Are you all right?” Corbin asks. “You seem … off.”

  “I’m good. Just tired, I think.”

  He gives me a puzzled look but refrains from asking more. Thankfully.

  “Can you grab me some cranberry juice out of the back?” I ask him. “The party back there is sucking down cosmos left and right.”

  “Got it.”

  Corbin disappears into the back.