by Joanna Wylde
“He also told me we broke up right before it happened. I don’t remember any of this.”
I reached for a tissue, wiping at my eyes.
“Let’s not talk about that right now.”
“No,” he said, and while his voice was weak, his gaze on my face was strong. “Tell me. I need to know what happened. Nobody will tell me anything. They’re all trying to protect me, but I really need to know what I did.”
I sighed, then nodded my head.
“We were at the party, you know that much,’’ I started. “You’d had a lot to drink. Everyone was just hanging out and after a while I lost track of you. Finally I went into the trees with Shanda to pee. On the way back we found you and Allie having sex.”
Saying the words hurt.
“When you came back, I broke up with you and left the party. Colby said you kept drinking more, then you and Allie left in Greg Krafft’s truck and crashed it. Greg said he tried to stop you but you wouldn’t listen.”
Farell’s eyes blinked rapidly, turning red.
“I’m so sorry,’’ he whispered. “I don’t know what happened, Darcy. They say I probably won’t ever remember that night. I never meant to hurt Allie—I didn’t even know her that well. And I can’t think of any reason that I’d want to cheat on you. I love you.”
The words hung heavy between us—what was he expecting from me?
“I slept with Riley Boone,” I blurted out suddenly, feeling my stomach clench. “After you and I fought, we went off and had sex.”
Farell’s eyes widened, and I saw a flash of hurt.
“I guess I don’t get to complain about that,” he whispered. “Does . . . does this mean it’s done between us?”
I felt a bittersweet pang. I’d loved him, or I thought I had.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Boonie, either.
“I don’t know,’’ I said finally. “Boonie left for basic training. He says he wants to stay in touch.”
Farell grimaced. “Where does that leave us?’’
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I guess we just take things one day at a time.”
“I love you, Darcy. However this works out, I want you to know that wasn’t a lie. I fucked up, and I have no idea why I did it. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to Allie.”
“Were you sleeping with her all along?” I asked. Farell met my gaze head on, his face anguished. The silence hung between us, punctuated only by the hum of the machines surrounding him.
“No,” he said finally. “It’s always been you, Darcy. You’re the one I love. But right now I’m really fucking scared.”
He tried to shift his arm to take my hand, a tear running down his face. Leaning over, I wrapped my fingers around his.
“They’re taking good care of you,’’ I whispered.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, his voice breaking. “The doctor said I’ll probably never walk again. It’s over, Darce. All of it. My whole life is over. I don’t even have you anymore—I’ve lost everything.”
His expression was so sad, so desperate. I couldn’t leave him like this—so what if we weren’t together anymore. I could be his friend, right? Taking a deep breath, I smiled at him.
“It’s not over, Farell—I still care about you. So things have changed and that’s hard, but you can’t give up, okay? It’s not time to give up.”
He squeezed my hand.
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
_______
July 20
Dear Boonie，
I’m glad to hear training is going well. Things are weird here in Callup. Everyone looks at me and whispers . . . I’d forgotten how they used to do that, before Farell and I started dating. Now they don’t know what to make of the situation. Everything went crazy that night and it’s still not right. Maybe it never will be.
As for me, I think about our time together a lot. I’m sort of embarrassed to write this, but I hope you know what I mean when I say I wish you were here.
One thing I need to tell you—Renee Evans asked me to come by sometimes and help out once Farell comes home. It looks like he’ll be on house arrest or probation for a long time (they’re still talking to the prosecutors) but the judge is a family friend, so he’s probably not looking at jail time. I think they figure he already paid for what he did, since he’s paralyzed (and you know how this stuff goes in the valley anyway). I heard they gave Allie’s family a lot of money but nobody knows for sure. I hope you are okay.
Take care,
Darcy
_______
October 1
Dear Boonie，
I hope you’re feeling better now. Sucks that you got sick, but at least you still managed to graduate training. I was so disappointed you couldn’t make it up to Callup on leave, tho. So far senior year isn’t bad. Renee hired me to come after school and help take care of Farell, officially. Now that school started I couldn’t help and still work, so this was a good solution for everyone. We got official word—he’s not looking at jail time. Lots of probation, community service, all that. He’s doing better now, too. Up and moving around in the wheelchair. They’ve been renovating the house to make everything work.
I still think about you a lot, and I’m sorry that when you tried to call the phone didn’t work. They turned it off after Dad ran up the bill. Mom and Dad had a huge fight over it. I guess I’m out of luck, unless you want to call me at Farell’s house. That might be kind of weird because I told him about us.
Have you found out yet whether you’ll have leave at Christmas? I know you aren’t real close with your mom, but I’d really like to see you.
Hang in there，
Darcy
_______
January 15
Dear Boonie,
I hope your holiday was good. I feel sort of stupid saying this, but are you getting my letters? Did I do something to make you mad? Maybe I was reading too much into that night together . . . I really thought you’d stay in touch.
Now I feel stupid for even writing this. Obviously you’re choosing not to reply and I know you must’ve had some kind of leave by now. I heard your mom’s back in Montana, so maybe you went there?
I hope your Christmas was good. Mom and Dad gave me a gift card to buy some clothes, although I’ve got no idea where the money came from. Things are still tight here since Mom’s hours were cut. I’m chipping in to pay the bills now—it takes most of what I earn.
Unless I hear from you again, I’m going to stop writing. It’s been nearly three months without a letter. I still have some dignity left.
Your friend (or at least I thought I was),
Darcy
_______
November 10
Dear Boonie，
I really debated about writing this, but I wanted to let you know I’m getting married. You’ll probably think I’m crazy. Here’s the thing—Farell has changed a lot this past year and a half. He’s quieter now, and he doesn’t take life for granted the same way.
Back in high school I loved him, but then he cheated on me and . . . well, you know. We both learned a lot since then, and like Renee says, you can’t judge a man on just one action. Anyway, I know he’ll never cheat on me again—at least, he can’t cheat on me like he did with Allie. I probably shouldn’t go into details, you don’t want to hear them and it’s embarrassing.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that what we have is different than I expected from my life, but it’s good. I’m happy. I hope you can be happy for me.
And yes, I know you probably won’t even read this. That’s okay, because I’m not writing it for you, really. I just need to put this part of my life behind me.
Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy,
Darcy
Chapter Three
COEUR D’ALENE, IDAHO
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
DARCY
“You up for a walk-in?” Kelly asked, popping her head into the
break room. I glanced up from my cup of noodles, hoping I didn’t have one hanging off my chin. “He’s hot as hell. Lori’s got an opening but he asked for you by name. Said he got a referral. Wants an eighty-minute massage.”
I ran the math mentally—a longer session would throw my schedule off, because theoretically it would take up two full slots . . . but that was only if I had two clients to fill them. Right now I didn’t.
“Sure, I can take him,” I said, wiping off my face and studying my soup mournfully. I hadn’t had time to eat much, but it’s not like ramen technically qualified as food anyway. “He look like a big tipper?”
She shrugged.
“He looks like a sex god and you get to touch him all over. Who cares how he tips?”
I sighed. Kelly and I might be the same age, but I felt like I was decades older than her sometimes. Of course, she still lived in her mom’s basement and went dancing every weekend. She was fond of pointing out that pretty girls don’t need money to party—that’s what men are for. Buying drinks. Well, buying drinks and occasionally killing spiders.
These days I preferred paying my own way, thank you very much. (I could kill my own spiders, too.)
“Give me five and I’ll come get him,” I said. “Let me check the room first.”
“Sounds good,” she said with a wink. “That’ll be enough time to get his number out of him. Maybe he’s free to come out tonight with us? You’re meeting me at ten, down at the Ironhorse. No excuses this time.”
It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. Five minutes later I’d checked my room, straightened the sheets on the massage table, and turned on the built-in warmer. A small fountain bubbled happily on my supply cabinet and a candle flickered on a shelf in the corner.
Ready.
I pasted on a professional smile and walked down the hall to the reception area—then I stopped dead in my tracks. Riley Boone sat on a chair in the waiting room, one muscular leg propped up casually across his knee and a smug grin on his big stupid sexy face.
Absolutely no fucking way.
“Long time, no see,’’ he drawled. “How’s it goin’, Darce? I hear you have good hands. Nice and strong, never too tired to finish . . .”
“Uh uh,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “Kelly, he’s all yours. I don’t need this shit today.”
“Oh, I think you do,” he said, eyes hard. He stood up slowly and walked toward me, dominating the room. “We got unfinished business.”
I swallowed, eyes darting toward the leather vest he wore. Boonie had joined the Silver Bastards motorcycle club right after he got out of the Marines. He’d never been an easygoing guy, but his time in the service made him tougher. Meaner. Mix that with his club affiliation and suddenly you had some real potential for ugliness . . .
Did Farell owe the MC money? Probably.
Shit.
“Okay, let’s go,’’ I said, my voice shaking. Once upon a time he hadn’t scared me. Times change. “C’mon through. Room three.”
Kelly cleared her throat nervously.
“I’ll be out here. Just let me know if you need anything, Darcy. Sign says we reserve the right to refuse service.” She glared at Boonie, reminding me why I loved her so much. Was Boonie hot? Absolutely. But Kelly would always put a friend ahead of a pretty face. Not that he was pretty, exactly . . . he was a little too rugged for that. Even more rugged since he’d broken his nose.
Don’t pay attention to what he looks like! Been there, done that. It didn’t end well, remember?
“It’s all good,” I told her, although I wasn’t exactly confident. “He’ll behave, won’t you Boonie?”
He gave me a chin lift and I knew he had no intention of behaving. I had a pretty good idea why he was waiting for me today—it had nothing to do with therapeutic massage. Shit. How long would Farell’s baggage weigh me down?
“Come on back,’’ I told him. “Third room on the left.”
Holding the waiting room door open, I gestured for him to walk through. I hadn’t seen him for three months at least. We’d run into each other occasionally in Callup, but I’d been avoiding town since I left Farell.
My new life was here in Coeur d’Alene and I liked it that way.
Boonie stepped through the door and started down the hall. I didn’t deliberately look at his ass, I swear. But as he strolled past me I couldn’t help myself. His jeans hugged his heavy thighs, cradling a world class butt I’d never gotten to fully explore. Tight and muscular, not big but not flat, either. Throw in the broad shoulders and aura of control, and there wasn’t a woman on earth who wouldn’t spontaneously ovulate when she saw him.
Unfortunately, covering that strong, broad back of his was a leather vest with a miner’s skull and the words “Silver Bastards MC,” branding him as someone I should avoid at all costs.
Everyone knew the Silver Bastards were into some shady shit—I’d learned growing up that when they came to the trailer park for a “talk” with someone, it was best to go inside and pretend you hadn’t seen anything. If you left them alone, they wouldn’t bother you. If Boonie said we had unfinished business, that could only mean one thing.
My soon-to-be ex-husband must owe them a lot more money than I realized.
I shouldn’t be surprised. He spent most of his days gambling, and not even Renee could keep making excuses after they repossessed the car. He’d been lying to them as much as he lied to me. When his folks finally cut him off—after I left, for the record—he’d panicked.
For the first time in his life, Farell Evans was having to take full responsibility for himself and he didn’t like it one bit.
Not that I cared. I was over his shit—now I just needed to convince the club that I had nothing to offer them. Boonie had been a friend, once upon a time. Maybe I could persuade him to show me mercy?
He stepped into my tiny massage room and I followed, closing the door silently behind us. His oversized presence filled the entire space. Seeing him here was unnatural and out of place—Boonie belonged in the wild, or at the very least in the kind of establishment that could erupt into a bar fight at any time. Not in a small, dim room with a massage table and aromatherapy candles.
Best to face him straight up.
“How much does he owe?” I asked, crossing my arms. Boonie cocked his head, studying me. Silence filled the air and I swallowed. “Whatever Farell borrowed from the club, it’s his problem. I moved out three months ago. We may not be divorced yet, but it’s definitely over and I have nothing to do with his finances. We never even had a joint checking account and my name’s not on anything.”
“What makes you think I’m here to collect money?”
I snorted. “Right, you’re here for a massage? Come off it, Boonie. If the club wants cash from Farell, great. Go talk to him about it. I’ve got nothing—I didn’t even take my engagement ring when I left. He’s probably pawned it by now.’’
Boonie shook his head, all leashed tension and predatory menace.
“I’m not here to talk to you about money. But you bring up a good point.”
“What’s that?” I asked. The room really felt too small. I was used to my clients lying down on the table—I liked it that way. I was in control, powerful. Boonie was way too tall, and he was definitely using up more than his fair share of the oxygen in here.
“I’d already heard you left him.”
“Right . . .” I replied, confused.
“Why?”
“Because he’s an asshole and I’m done eating his shit.”
“What happened to taking care of him?” he asked, mocking me. “I thought that was your job?”
Crap. He wasn’t playing fair.
“I was just a kid,” I said slowly. “I thought he needed me, that he loved me. Maybe he did, in his own way, but that was a long time ago. Now all he does is drink and gamble. At this rate he’ll be dead in a few years anyway, because he ignores his doctors. I guess I woke up one morning and realized I’d married my dad. S
ooner or later we all have to grow up.”
He studied me, those dark eyes of his impossible to read as ever.
“I had to hear about it in a bar,” he said finally, his voice tight.
“What?”
“I learned you left your husband” —he spat, turning the word into a curse— “in a bar. Jake Preston and Chad Gunn were talking about how much they wanted to tap your ass now that it was on the market again.”
I swallowed, feeling a little sick to my stomach. Callup never changed, apparently. Good thing I lived in Coeur d’Alene now.
“That’s . . . flattering,’’ I managed to say. “But I’m not quite sure what that has to do with you being here.”
Boonie gave me a tight smile that never quite reached his eyes.
“Now you’re just being difficult,” he said, his voice low and rough. A spark of tension raced down my spine, settling low between my legs. Thank God my arms were crossed, because I was pretty sure my nipples had gotten hard. So what if I wanted Boonie? That wasn’t a big deal—so did every other woman who met him.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
No, but you’ve got a fantasy, my traitorous brain whispered. Right, because that’d turned out so well last time.
“So that’s really how you’re gonna play it? Fine. Tell me about the massage,’’ he said abruptly. I blinked, caught off guard.
“Well, treatment depends on what kind of issues you’re having. We can do everything from deep tissue to simple relaxation.” I swallowed, frowning. “Boonie, I don’t think this is a good idea. If Farell doesn’t owe you money then you shouldn’t be in here.”
“Why not?” he taunted. “Do you have a problem touching me? If that’s the case, lay it out for me. How is rubbing your hands all over my body a problem for you? ’Cause it sure as fuck isn’t one for me.”
Hearing those words should really piss me off, because this wasn’t some cheap massage parlor where women offered men happy endings. Unfortunately, hearing him talk like that was a turn on, which seemed deeply unfair.
He was the last man I should be attracted to.
