by Amelia Wilde
I set my phone on the railing of the porch and turn up my music, and my mind wanders off as I scrape long sections of paint—what color was this even supposed to be?—and watch them drop to the ground. It was such a fucking struggle to get through college, and it didn’t help that when I got there I was still reeling from leaving Addison behind. That’s probably why everything about the Air Force ROTC program seemed so damn attractive. It was an anchor, and with Addison out of the picture, I needed one.
“Hey.”
Addison’s voice breaks me out of an extended thought sequence about her face, her eyes. I’m about to move down to the curve of her shoulders when she appears in my front yard.
“Hey,” I say, my smile probably larger and less badass than it would have been if I’d been prepared.
“Fixing up the house?”
“Starting with the outside.”
She’s still dressed in her work clothes, streamlined black slacks and a button-down that hugs her curves while still staying strictly fucking professional. Her hair is gathered on top of her head in a bun that’s just on the edge of looking fashionably messy. I want to take the hair tie out of her hair and watch it spill down over her shoulders.
I drag my eyes away from her to survey the work I’ve already done. If she’s going to linger in my yard, then I’m calling it a damn day and taking her inside to—
“Do you want to come in?”
Something flashes in her eyes. “Damn right I do.”
“Whoa...are you feeling feisty today?”
“What if I am?”
I’ve been keeping it light, but Addison’s tone is dead serious.
“Then we should do something about that. But first—I need to shower.” I look down at my sweat-soaked shirt and open the door, letting Addison go in first. “Give me five minutes?”
“Okay.”
“There are cookies on the kitchen counter.”
“Ha!”
She disappears into the kitchen, and I hustle into the bedroom, stripping off my shirt and dumping it into the hamper next to my dresser, pulling off my shorts and boxers and socks next, all of them flying to land on the shirt. My heart beats hard and fast thinking of Addison in my house. What does she want? She was in such a hurry to get out of here last night...maybe she regrets it.
I sure as hell do.
From the look in her eyes, it seems like she wants to start back up where we left off. My cock hardens and rises at the thought of it, but I take a deep breath. Don’t get yourself fucking carried away. She could just be interested in talking, even though I swear she was telling the damn honest truth when she said she might be feeling...
I turn on the water full blast, jumping in before it gets hot. The cold water makes my skin seize up in thousands of goose bumps and I grit my teeth, taking it while I scrub shampoo into my hair. My muscles work under the stream until it goes hot—almost on the verge of being too hot—and that’s when I hear Addison’s voice again.
“Brett?”
“You okay?”
My heart punches at my rib cage. If she’s in here for the reason I think she’s in here, then this is about to get a lot hotter. I reach behind me and twist the knob, lowering the temperature just slightly so it doesn’t scald her.
“Completely. Are you clean?”
“Are you afraid of getting dirty?”
“No.”
With that, she pulls back the curtain, and I get my first glimpse of Addison’s naked body in ten years. Holy fuck.
“Is there room in there for me? Wait—shit—”
There’s a tinny ringtone coming from the bedroom, and Addison drops the curtain and darts away. You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Hello? No, I’m—okay. All right. I’ll be there in five minutes.” The sounds of her scrambling to dress are muted by the rush of the water.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s work,” she calls, and then her voice comes closer. “Shit.” The curtain opens an inch, and she peers through, biting her lip, a bitter half smile on her face. “It’s a family—I can’t say more than that. But I have to go.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
“I’ll—I’ll text you, okay?”
I make a shooing motion with my hand, and she drops the curtain, her footsteps retreating out of the bathroom. The house shakes a moment later when she closes the front door behind her.
Well, fuck.
I stretch my hands over my head, torn between a sinking feeling and a warm pride spreading across my chest. That’s Addison, all right.
I turn myself back under the water and rinse off the rest of the soap.
It’s going to be a long evening.
Chapter Nineteen
Addison
The after-hours trip to help the family in crisis at the hospital turns into a three-day-long sprint at work, with person after person coming to sit across from me at my desk, tears welling up in their eyes or stony expressions cemented on their faces, as they tell me their names, circumstances, lack of options. I can hardly take a damn breath. Even if I could, I’d want it to be filled with Brett.
Instead, I have to settle for texting him, and things heat up fast.
I only wish it didn’t have to be in slow motion whenever I have two seconds free from work.
I’m getting in the shower...
:(
There’s plenty of room for you if you want to come
I’m at work
When will you be free?
At this rate, never
The weekend’s coming up
You’ll still have a shower, right?
You’ll still be damn gorgeous, right?
If I can help it
I’ll be waiting
Friday sneaks up on me, and I settle into my office with a thundercloud over my head. I haven’t seen Brett since Tuesday. I’ve been working so damn much that when I get home, I’m too exhausted to do anything but watch a few episodes of some stupid show on Netflix before I climb into bed and drop into a dead sleep. More than once, I’ve considered crossing our lawns in pajamas and knocking on his door, but by the time I’m done thinking about it, I’ve fallen asleep.
I love my job, but right now it’s a total pain in my relationship life’s ass.
And I still haven’t had a chance to work out the insane sexual energy that zips up and down my limbs every time I see Brett. His body, shining in the water from the shower, was unbelievable. He was always attractive, tall and muscular, but whatever he’s been doing for the last ten years has taken his physical attractiveness to another level. He’s somehow lean and built at the same time, and I’m absolutely dying to run my hands down his eight-pack abs.
My fingers twitch on the keyboard just thinking about it, but then my first appointment is knocking shyly on the metal doorframe and I have to push all of those dirty thoughts to the back of my mind. My heart twists when the woman, who looks not much older than me, keeps her jaw set when she tells me that her husband threw her out of the home they shared and she’s been so upset that searching online sends her into a panic.
After that, it’s a blur of faces and stories that doesn’t let up until noon. I don’t realize that the time has passed until there’s a longer lull than usual. I peer at my computer screen, wondering where the next appointment is, but then my stomach growls so loudly that I glance at the clock.
“Damn,” says a voice from the door. “You hungry?”
I smile even before I see him, and when our eyes lock, pure electricity jolts through my entire body, right down to the tips of my fingers.
“Starving.” For more than food.
He holds up a paper bag that’s bulging under the weight of what I hope is lunch. “It’s nice out.”
“Sold.”
I grab my phone from the desk and tuck it into my back pocket, leaving my purse in my desk drawer. I can practically feel the heads swiveling as I walk down the hall to the lobby side by side with Brett. His scent f
ills the hallway, spicy and clean, and he moves with a practiced grace underneath a fitted gray t-shirt and jeans.
We cross the street to a little park, taking a bench that’s positioned half in the shade, and he opens the bag with a flourish.
“Be still my heart—is that burritos?”
“You can bet your ass it’s burritos.”
The Dockside was our favorite place for breakfast, but after school, Brett and I liked to go to the burrito place. It’s changed names a few times since then, but no chain has ever come in from the outside to take it over. Not that they haven’t tried. I just assume Lockton’s city council has done what it’s always done—try to keep the chains out and preserve our “quirky” atmosphere.
When I unwrap the foil and lift the one free edge of the tortilla, I burst out laughing. “You remembered my order?”
He shrugs, one shoulder rising a few inches. “I figured you’d still like it, even after ten years.”
I take a bite. He’s totally right.
He bites into his, and for a few minutes we just sit, eating and listening to the birds chirping in the trees.
“Speaking of ten years…”
I can see his muscles tense, and I resolve not to push this too hard. There’s plenty of time, now that he’s back, to find out what happened to him. It’s just been on my mind, nagging at me, ever since I saw him at O’Malley’s.
“Where did you go after college?”
“The Air Force.”
His response comes out with a harsh edge, and again I let the silence lengthen while I eat my burrito. It’s damn good.
“How did it go?”
He lets out a short laugh at that. “If it had gone perfectly, I wouldn’t be back in Lockton.”
“No?”
“Not unless there was something here for me that—fuck, this is just going to make me sound like a total prick.”
“You’re kind of a prick. I wouldn’t say total prick, though.”
I let him see the smile in my eyes when he cuts his gaze over to me, and then he grins. “I’m not always the nicest guy, no.”
“So did they kick you out?”
Brett shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I didn’t reenlist.”
“Oh.”
“It’s my eyes.”
“Your eyes?” Brett has always had perfect vision. It’s something I envied back in high school when I had to either stick uncomfortable contacts in my eyes or have my glasses glare in every picture.
“They just—something went haywire after my first tour.” The way he says “tour” makes me think there’s something more insidious under the surface, and there are warning bells telling me to back the hell off before this conversation gets too heavy for a lunch date. “I couldn’t fly anymore.”
“You’re a pilot.” I’m impressed.
“Was.”
I pop the rest of my burrito into my mouth and enjoy the last shreds of it. “Well...” I say. When his eyes meet mine, I give him a wicked grin. “I think Lockton can make it up to you.”
Chapter Twenty
Brett
I’m still waiting for Addison to get home when there’s a thundering knock on my door—definitely not her.
“One sec,” I call from the living room, where I’ve been taping around the trim. I can paint inside in the evenings to get that shit over with.
There’s another barrage of pounding on the door. Jesus Christ.
I drop the blue tape to the ground and hustle over, yanking the door open with a scowl on my face.
It’s Andy, dressed in what are probably his finest going-out clothes—a button-down with the top two buttons undone and jeans that look like they came right out of some store at the mall in Riverside.
“Come on,” he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re going out.”
“Nah,” I say, holding both my hands up. “I’ve got—”
He steps forward and claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t be a piece of shit, man. You’ve been in town for a week and we haven’t even had a chance to catch up. The house will wait.”
Yeah, the house will wait—but Addison probably won’t. I was planning to see her when she got off work, but it’s seeming like it will be another late night for her at work. There’s plenty to follow up on from lunch today, damn it, and she wants it as much as I do—
“Let’s go!” Andy shouts, clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together. “It’s Friday night. Let’s get some food and then go to the bar. There will be women. So many women.”
“Lockton women.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
He has a point. And I am hungry.
“Let me get my jacket.”
Andy insists on going to the Roadhouse, which is his favorite place for a steak dinner. I get the same thing. Why the fuck not.
We both stick to one beer during dinner, and by the time we leave the Roadhouse, Andy, high off the anticipation of all the many women he’s going to meet at the bar, can hardly fucking contain himself.
He drives us to The Bar, which is one of those trendy places I wouldn’t have been caught dead in at eighteen—and mainly because they check IDs, that and it didn’t exist when we were in high school.
The moment we walk in the door, I wish we’d gone to O’Malley’s.
This place is sleek and dark and the music booming from the separate dance area is more electronic than rock, the kind of endless dance remix I can’t fucking stand.
Well, I’m not going to be a prissy douchebag about it. I’m just going to get drunk.
Andy slides into a booth and then abandons me there while he searches for women and drinks, returning ten minutes later with two women on his arms even while he clutches two rocks glasses filled almost to the brim. Whatever is in there is going to be deadly.
He introduces me to the two women, and the brunette slides in to sit beside me, her red lipstick shining in the dim flashing lights. This is really more of a club than a bar. I tend to avoid club women. All I really want is to be with Addison.
“Hey,” she says, her voice smoky and low.
“Hi.”
Andy’s going to have to field this one, because the thought of cozying up with anyone but Addison turns my stomach.
“How was your week?” she tries again, but I just take a sip of the drink Andy brought. It goes down easy. Too easy. I should take it slow, but it’s gone before I even fucking know it, the warmth of the alcohol spreading in my gut.
“It was fine,” I say, putting the glass down hard on the surface of the table.
“Shit, man!” Andy shouts above the music. “You’re not fucking around.”
“I never fuck around.”
Andy launches into a long and elaborate joke about something that happened “back in the day.” I can’t tell what day he’s talking about until I remember abruptly that he never went to college. Not out of town, anyway. It’s not until he drops the name of his degree that I know for sure he actually got one from the community college in the next town over.
My brunette date turns her attention toward him. Andy’s the kind of guy you just naturally want to talk to, and I’m being an asshole. Addison’s words echo in my mind. You’re kind of a prick. She’s right about that. But if she was my girlfriend, once and for all, I would never hurt her again. I would never—
I’m spinning off into melancholy when Andy snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Bro! Oh, my God. You need another drink! Ladies, hold the table for us. We need more drinks. What do you want? Anything you want, lovely ladies. Just let me know.”
The two of them—their names have already slipped my memory—giggle and call out their orders to him.
“Shit,” he says into my ear as we leave the table. “I can’t remember what they wanted. Two Cosmos it is.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“They know it. They’ll be happy with free drinks.”
We approach the bar, which is getting more c
rowded by the second, and Andy pushes his way through and orders another set of drinks, coming back a couple minutes later with four glasses tucked in his arms.
I pick up one of the rocks glasses and down the entire thing.
For the first time in ten years, it really doesn’t matter what the hell I do on a Friday night. There’s no command watching over me waiting to see if I fuck up.
The only problem is that I can already feel the edges of my control starting to slip. I’ve been wound so fucking tightly for ten years that it’s hard to relax—except now that I’ve started, I don’t know if I can pull myself back out of it.
“Shit, that’s good,” I shout at Andy, who laughs.
I just wish Addison was here.
Chapter Twenty-One
Addison
The moment after I lock my front door behind me, a voice from behind it shouts, “Wait! My hands are full!”
“Leah?”
I unlock the door and pull it open to reveal Leah standing on my porch, two garment bags in her arms.
“Oh, thank God, I thought you’d gone straight to the bathroom.”
“Why would I go straight to the bathroom? Never mind—why does that matter?”
“Because I wanted to get in here and put this stuff down.”
I eye the garment bags with a narrow gaze. “I’m not going out.”
“No. We’re going out.”
“Leah,” I plead, my voice almost hitching into a whine, “it has been an insane week at work, and I—”
“Who moved in next door?”
“What?”
“There’s shit all over the place next door—building stuff, I guess. And someone’s doing something to the siding. I saw it when I drove by earlier.”
“Are you stalking me?”
