But why?
I was leaving. More importantly, I was divorced—and freshly so. It was like trying to cut into a wound that hadn’t yet scabbed a new skin. I was dipping a sharp blade into warm blood, and I didn’t have any concept of how crazy that made me.
Frustration finally won over, and I kicked the covers off. Rev skittered off the bed and ran down the stairs as I padded to the bathroom. I thought through my bathing suit options with tubing in mind as I went through my normal morning routine, tying my hair into a high ponytail before reaching for my makeup bag.
I paused, eyes meeting my reflection.
I tried to remember a day when I hadn’t worn makeup, tried to recall even a single day in the past several years. My head tilted, eyes squinting, reaching back for a day I wasn’t sure existed. Even when I was sick, I’d never wanted to miss work, and that meant putting on a full face of makeup.
But I did remember one Sunday—Keith and I didn’t have plans, which never happened, and I’d had no reason to put on makeup. I’d woken up that morning and baked us an entire sheet of cinnamon rolls before settling in on the couch with a book. I didn’t even like to read, but I had nothing to do, and it felt like the right way to spend a lazy Sunday.
When Keith woke up, he’d walked over to kiss me and had paused, his brows furrowed as he looked down at me. You look different, he’d said. And when I’d asked him if it was a good or bad kind of different, he’d simply stared at me, as if he were seeing me for the first time and wasn’t sure if he liked what he saw.
He’d responded with only two words, but they were enough to make me abandon my book and reach for my concealer.
Just different.
Later, when we would sit down in front of our marriage counselor, I’d learned that Keith said things like that on purpose, because that was how he communicated. He was passive aggressive, hinting to what he desired rather than asking for it. He’d even admitted to not responding to my I love you when he would leave for work before me, my penance because he was upset about something I’d done, but he didn’t want to verbally tell me. It was a game to him, and I’d played it for years without even knowing the rules.
For so long, I’d tried to decipher what I needed to do to make him happy, all while forgetting to ask myself the same.
I’d always taken my makeup off one side of my face at a time, but after that day with Keith, I’d paid even more attention to the differences. Looking back on our relationship now, it was like finding Easter eggs—remembering all the tiny moments like that one, hidden in the tall grass of the good times. I’d never seen them, but I think I’d always known they were there.
It was like a mosaic: none of the pieces made sense individually, but when I took ten steps back and saw them all together, they painted a crystal-clear picture of the truth.
My hand gripped the makeup bag, fingers brushing the zipper, but I didn’t open it.
Anderson said he’d liked the bare side of my face better, and as I stared at it in the mirror I couldn’t fathom why. The skin under my eyes was dark, sunken in, and even with a resting expression, there were slight lines on my forehead, at the corner of my eyes, and around my mouth. I hadn’t really noticed how my age was starting to show until my twenty-seventh birthday, and ever since then, I seemed to notice something new every day.
Still, there was no reason to put on makeup to float down a river. My eyes would be hidden behind sunglasses, wouldn’t they? And I’d need lip balm on my lips to protect them from the sun, right?
I laughed to myself, shaking my head as I shoved my makeup bag away. I took one last look in the mirror, tilted my chin to each side, and then, for the first time since I could remember, I turned and walked out of the bathroom without a single ounce of product on my face.
As I descended the stairs, I already felt lighter.
I spent the rest of the morning lazily drinking my coffee and pouring through the latest editions of the magazines I’d had delivered to the cabin. Tucker, Davie, Yvette, and Sarah were picking me up to head to the river around noon when the sun would be hot and high in the sky and we would only be slightly crazy jumping into the river. I’d dipped a toe in on the third day I was at the cabin and cursed out loud—the water was freezing. Still, everyone assured me I’d get used to it as long as the day was hot enough.
And here we were, the first ninety-degree day of the summer.
I had just grabbed my oversized hat and slipped my sunglasses on when I spotted Anderson walking up the drive with a large trash bag slung over his shoulder. He wore a simple, black V-neck and distressed jeans, an outfit way too dark and hot for the heat. A light sheen of sweat gathered on his neck as he made his way toward my cabin, his eyes hidden behind all-black sunglasses.
“Change your mind?” I asked, not even fighting the grin on my face as I walked outside and leaned against the banister.
Anderson squinted up at me, his boots heavy as they hit each stair. “About?”
“Tubing?” I asked. That was why he was here, right?
“Oh.” He shook his head as he hit the top stair, shrugging the bag off his shoulders to hold it by the neck in one fist. “No, I have somewhere to be...” His voice trailed off, and even through the tinted shades of his glasses I felt his eyes on my chest. I’d strapped on my favorite boho print bathing suit and paired it with a dainty gold chain that wrapped around my neck once before dipping between my chest and crossing over my ribs.
He sniffed, holding the bag out toward me. “I just came to drop these off. My clothes. Well, the ones that could probably use a little TLC.”
My eyes lit up and I reached for the bag, but Anderson snatched it back, brows shooting up into his forehead.
“No frills, Wren.”
I threw my hands up in surrender. “I promise.”
He smirked, just slightly, and handed the bag over, tucking his hands in his front pockets.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I asked, peering into the bag at my project before setting it just inside the cabin and locking the door behind me.
“I can’t,” he said, lips pressed together. He was tense, the muscles on his forearms tight as he glanced around at pretty much everything but me.
I opened my mouth to ask why but was cut off by the sound of a truck flying into my drive, tires sliding against the gravel.
Tucker was in the driver’s seat with Davie in the passenger. Sarah and Yvette sat in the back, laughing with their hands up as the truck skidded to a stop. They were both sprawled out on a pile of tubes, wearing bathing suit tops and tiny shorts.
All of their faces froze when they saw Anderson.
“Hey, you ready, Wren?” Tucker asked warily, his eyes moving from where Anderson stood in front of me, to me, and back again.
“Yeah, one sec!” I called back.
I turned to Anderson, but his eyes were hard on Tucker, jaw ticking under his skin. When he faced me once more, an anchor fell from my throat into the pit of my stomach, immobilizing me completely. Because even though I ‘d tried to convince myself I was wrong, I recognized the look in his eyes.
Possession.
And when his nose flared and he took one big step toward me, our chests brushing, his hand reaching out to rest almost imperceptibly on my hip, the anchor in my stomach exploded into flames, burning a desire so fierce I inhaled a toxic breath and didn’t let it go.
“Be careful, okay?” His eyes locked on mine just before he leaned in and swiftly kissed my cheek.
He turned on his heel and jogged down the stairs and past the truck. Sarah called his name, but he didn’t acknowledge her, just kept his gaze forward until he’d disappeared from view.
And then everyone looked at me.
My legs were lead, but I managed to drag them down the steps and into the back of the truck with the girls. The skin on my cheek still tingled as Yvette slid up next to me.
“What was that about?” she whispered as Tucker threw the truck in reverse.
Inside I quivered, but outside I forced a smile and shrugged it off. “He was just dropping off some clothes I’m going to take a look at to repay him for helping around the cabin. No big deal.”
“Ah,” she said, as if she understood, but her puzzled expression told me she had a thousand more questions where the one she’d voiced had come from.
Sarah watched me, too, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place. She eyed the body chain I wore with a quirked brow and I blushed, realizing it might not have been the smartest choice for tubing down the river.
I shifted on the tubes, clearing my throat and unclasping the chain as Tucker finally backed the truck up onto the road. Momma Von pulled in behind us with a few others and everyone started hollering out directions and playful banter.
As the laughter replaced the awkward silence, I relaxed a bit. Excitement started to buzz, and it seemed my exchange with Anderson was forgotten.
At least for the moment.
It didn’t take me long to decide that it didn’t matter if it was thirty or one-hundred degrees outside, the river was too fucking cold.
Period.
Even with the cloudless sky and the sun burning hot, goosebumps had permanently risen on my thighs and arms, and my teeth chattered as we floated along. Tucker had tied our tubes together before we’d gotten in and was helping me navigate, careful to avoid rocks, which I was pretty sure I’d have hit if I were on my own.
The water was freezing and the rocks bumped our butts from time to time, but I was having a blast. Momma Von had packed a cooler full of beer, and it floated down behind us, the water keeping the cans cool as we polished them off one by one.
The views almost made up for the icy water, too. We floated down the clear river between cabins set in the mountains, trees green and tall all around us, the smell of pine thick and fresh. In the distance, the mountains that would be powdered with snow in the winter were bright and green, too. I inhaled a long, slow breath, breathing in what I imagined a new beginning would smell like if it had a scent. It reminded me of the first day on the back porch with Abdiel, that feeling I’d had—like I belonged here.
“I can’t believe I’m floating down the river with Wren Ballard,” Julie said, giggling a little as she let her head rest back against her tube.
Her big, unruly blonde curls were piled in a wiry bun on top of her head and her sunglasses covered half her face. She was one of only two out of the crew without a beer in her hand, the other one being her boyfriend Zeek, who was floating a few tubes behind us.
I’d just met Julie that morning, and I already decided I liked her. She was sassy, just like the teenager she was, but also spoke like a young woman—with poise and thought. She held onto my tube with one hand while the other lazily dripped water on her chest.
“Wait,” I started, head snapping toward her before glancing back at Tucker to see if he was listening. He had his hand hooked to Davie’s tube and they were talking about football, so I focused my attention back on Julie. “You know who I am?”
She lifted her sunglasses from her eyes long enough to give me a pointed look. “Are you kidding? I’m a sixteen-year-old girl who grew up right outside of Seattle, of course I know who you are. I’ve been wearing your clothes since I had boobs big enough to fill them out.”
At that I laughed. “I’ll be damned. I think you’re the only one here who recognizes me.”
“Like that’s a surprise. You’ve seen how everyone dresses in Gold Bar, haven’t you?” She smirked, tapping her toes on the top of the water. She was a tiny thing, feet barely reaching the river from where her knees hooked over the tube. “When Momma Von told me a girl named Wren who was a fashion designer was staying in town, I thought, ‘Nah, there’s no way.’ But then I saw you a couple weeks ago at Yvette’s bonfire and almost died. I had a hard time not fangirling and asking you for your autograph.”
I barked out a laugh. “It’s not worth much.”
“It is to me,” she said, leaning up a little. “I saw you once when I was at the boutique. I’d just walked out of the dressing room and was showing my mom the dress I had on when you popped out from the back. You told me I looked cute and I nearly fainted.”
I shook my head. “That’s crazy! I’m just like you.”
“Maybe, but you’re also a fashion genius. Your clothes are the only ones that make me not look like a boy. My curves are so nonexistent I practically have valleys for tits.”
I chuckled, cheersing my beer in the air. “Welcome to my entire life, sweetie.”
“That’s what I’m saying. You get it. I hope you never stop designing, or I’m going to have to start stuffing my bra.”
She giggled, glancing behind her toward Zeek. They mouthed something to each other and she stuck her tongue out as I watched them, half paying attention and half wondering how many girls I would let down now that I was broken.
I hadn’t sketched anything of worth since I left Keith. Every cell in my body told me I was a failure, that I’d only been successful because I’d been comfortable. Now that my comfort was gone, so was my passion.
I didn’t know if it’d ever come back.
“How long have you two been together?” I asked, choosing to ignore the anxiety planting roots deep in my psyche.
Julie smiled wide, revealing the gap between her two oversized front teeth. She reminded me of one of my favorite models based out of London. “Our five-month anniversary was yesterday.”
I couldn’t help but smile, remembering when time together was measured in months instead of years. Keith and I had been the same way, and I supposed every high school couple was. It was a miracle to survive the drama of football games and illegal drinking and stick it out with just one person in the midst of it all.
“He told me he loved me last night,” she whispered, cheeks pink.
“Did you say it back?”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “But don’t tell Momma Von. She’ll tell my mom and then she’ll tell my dad and it’ll be a big mess.”
“Your dad doesn’t like him?” I asked, holding my beer lazily in the water so the can would stay cold.
“Not at all. No one is good enough for his baby girl, you know?” She rolled her eyes. “Like he’s the best one to decide what makes a good boyfriend.”
My brows tugged inward and I tried to ask her what she meant but I was cut off.
“Butts up!” Tucker yelled.
We all laughed, letting go of each other’s tubes and using our elbows and legs to prop ourselves up as we rolled over a shallow part in the river. Tucker’s tube stuck on a rock, and Julie floated past us, Zeek not too far behind her. By the time Tucker kicked us loose, we’d fallen to the back of the group, and it was just the two of us.
“Having fun?” Tucker asked, checking the rope around our tubes before dipping his sunglasses in the water to wipe off a little sunscreen.
“I am,” I answered honestly. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Such a city girl,” he teased, popping his sunglasses back on with a wide smile. “You going hiking while you’re here at all?”
“Yes, actually. Anderson told me about a few beginner hikes around here—he’s supposed to take me on one next weekend.”
Tucker pursed his lips, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the can and tucking it into the backpack resting in his lap. “He’s been with you a lot lately, huh?”
A small cloud moved in front of the sun, cutting off the one source of warmth, and I shivered. “He’s helping me fix up the cabin a little, mostly just the things I need for the summer. You know, like a floor that doesn’t give out when I walk across it.”
I chuckled, but Tucker’s lips barely hit a half smile before they flattened again. He’d tucked a few extra beers in his backpack when Momma Von had passed them around, and he pulled the last one out, offering it to me first. I shook my head, and he cracked it open, taking one long pull as I took in the cabins behind him. Each one was different,
with its own unique style. I wondered what Anderson’s looked like and made a mental note to ask him to show me.
“He talk to you about Dani?” Tucker asked, crossing his ankles where they hung off the tube.
“A little. He doesn’t really talk much, you know?” Again, I tried to lighten the mood, but Tucker was stoic.
“Did he tell you she was my girlfriend?”
The sun peeked behind the clouds once more, but I was still covered in chills as my eyes found Tucker’s.
“He didn’t.”
I swallowed, not sure what else to say. I’m sorry felt cheap, and other than that, I had no idea what to offer.
Tucker nodded. “She was beautiful, funny.” He smiled. “Smart as hell. And believe it or not, Anderson and I were pretty close friends, too. The three of us used to hang out almost every day at their place. Of course that all changed after she died,” he added, squinting against the sun. “Everything changed.”
Saying anything still felt wrong, so I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his wrist to squeeze it lightly.
“We had plans to get out of here, you know? Go to college together, get married, live in Europe for a while before coming back home to Seattle. She was the first girl I loved.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “The only girl.”
“I’m so sorry,” I finally said, unable to hold it back any longer. It may have been cliché, but it was true—I was sorry. For his loss, for his suffering, because although I had no idea what it was like to have the love of my life die, I knew what it was like to mourn the loss of a dream, of a life planned out, of a love that seemed unbreakable.
“Thank you,” he said, his free hand crossing over his chest so he could cover mine. He squeezed where my fingers rested on his forearm and smiled. “You know there’s a pretty great diner not too far into town, about a twenty-minute drive or so. You should let me take you there sometime. I mean, can you really say you lived a summer in Gold Bar without trying the pie at the Mountain View Diner?”
I laughed, pulling my hand back and tucking a strand of fallen hair behind my ear. “How can I say no to pie?”
Summer Romance Box Set: 3 Bestselling Stand-Alone Romances: Weightless, Revelry, and On the Way to You Page 41
