Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  “You picked me in that you were a chatty fucking monkey, yes. But I made the first move.”

  “Well, you were sluttier, dear. But if I hadn’t pushed, you would have spent that whole flight scrunching your neck pillow into a ball against the window.”

  “In peace.”

  “Peace, schmeace. There was no way I was getting off that plane without your number, graduation or no.”

  “My dad was so pissed, especially since I gave them the lamest excuses ever for disappearing that entire weekend.” I grinned, remembering how I’d made excuses why I couldn’t possibly stay another minute at Robert’s graduation celebration before blowing off the after-party. Hey, no one told him to go all the way to USC.

  “It was worth it. I knew from the moment I spilled that Coke on your tray table and you said—”

  “Watch it, you freaking klutz.”

  “Exactly. And I knew then,” he continued dramatically, “that we were meant to be.”

  I chuckled. “You’re a fool, you know that?”

  “It didn’t hurt that you had those dreamy hazel eyes and ridiculously long lashes. And an ass to shoot dice off of.”

  My face was a little red. “Does Peyton know you talk to strangers like this?”

  He laughed. “Peyton’s right here. He can admire a work of art like your ass. And he’s very secure.”

  As if on its own, my hand migrated to the nightstand drawer. I glanced over, seeing all manner of items I wouldn’t need tonight—my meloxicam, a pack of gum, my safety pack of Newports, a lighter… condoms. Lube. Certainly wouldn’t need those tonight. I grimaced, releasing the silver knob, and the drawer slid shut. Habit was all it was. Talking to Nick brought me back to a damned good place, a place where we could talk for hours and smoke one or five.

  That was then. Listening to Nick wax on about Peyton reminded me, more than anything else, that this was now. I reached back in and tossed my Newports in the bedside trash can.

  “We never thought we’d be B and B owners. It’s a lot of work but totally worth it. It’s really amazing in the wintertime, and you should see the deer….” He trailed off and then laughed self-consciously. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

  “No,” I said, meaning it. “I haven’t heard your voice in forever. I missed this. I missed… you.”

  “Well, why didn’t you call? I left the relationship, Mac. I didn’t leave you.”

  I sighed. “I know that. Now. There was so much anger between us… from me,” I corrected at his automatic protest. “I was pissed because of the accident, pissed that I couldn’t be a cop anymore… scared at the new changes in our life. Mine. Yours. Especially yours.” I was silent for a moment before forging on. “Do you think I don’t believe in love? Drew said I pick relationships that are destined to fail, as if to prove that love is a joke. Doesn’t exist.”

  I flopped onto my stomach, burying my face between the pillows. All I needed to complete the picture was to swing my legs back and forth while twirling a long phone cord. (Sorry, I’m old.) My ramblings nearly blinded me to the fact that Nick hadn’t answered my question for several minutes.

  “Do you think that’s true?” I prodded.

  I could almost see his shrug. “Probably.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Well, do you want me to lie?”

  Yes. “No,” I said, begrudgingly. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Jesus, Mackenzie, should I pull out the psychiatric couch?”

  “If you need one to answer a simple question,” I shot back.

  “Like this is a simple question.” He sighed. Gustily. “Probably because of what your mom did. I know I would be hurt. Pissed. Down on love. So even though you say you are looking for love in your many… many relationships—”

  “Watch it.”

  “You feel like it will never happen for you. And then you seek out people to prove you’re right.”

  “Like you?”

  “We weren’t right for each other. But I wanted you so much I couldn’t see that for a while. And once I did, I was so in love with you I didn’t care. And there was the accident.”

  We’d been driving home from a baseball game, laughing and talking and being silly. Then there were headlights coming at Nick from the wrong side. A truck ran a red and plowed into his door. Then there was nothingness.

  “It was quiet after the accident. You asked if I was okay. And I said—”

  “I’ve been better.”

  I remembered. It had been dark and rainy, droplets spattering up from the pavement and into the truck as we hung, wedged in the upside-down cabin. My emotions vaulted from relief that we were okay, to wanting to know exactly how okay we were.

  “When I found out about your injuries, you know what I was thinking? I thought, he’s going to dump me now. This is just the reason he’s been looking for.”

  “Christ, Nick.”

  “Just… just listen, okay?”

  I nodded, and even though he couldn’t see me, he went on anyway.

  “I realized then that our stories were twined together, for better or worse, because of the magnitude of what we’d gone through. That you would stay with me until the end, if that’s what I wanted. But you’d never love me the way I loved you.”

  Hearing it again, this time from the horse’s mouth, made my head bow under the strain. “I’m sorry.”

  “Mac, I’m good. We’re… good. I love Peyton, and he loves me the way I deserve. If it hadn’t been for our relationship, I would never have met him.” He tried to lighten the mood. “You would know that if you’d come to visit me sometime.”

  “I will.” My hand tightened on the phone. I needed to see for myself that he was okay. “You’ve been a good friend to me.”

  “Oh Lord, he’s gone and got melancholy on me.”

  “Shut up. I love you, you asshole.”

  He laughed. “I love you too. But then you already knew that. So when are you coming up?”

  “I have two weeks of vacation coming up pretty soon. Spending it at a bed-and-breakfast sounds much better than bumming around the house.”

  “You should. And don’t feel weird about bringing this Jordan person you’re seeing either.”

  My mouth fell open. I hadn’t told him about…. Drew. Urgh.

  Nick took my silence to mean I wasn’t sure. “Seriously. All of us will have a really good time. Besides, the bed-and-breakfast is good for any weary traveler, but the suite I’m putting you in is made for lovers. Trust me, when you see that fireplace and Jacuzzi tub, you’ll wish you had someone to share it with.”

  I grimaced. Yeaaaah, about that…. I just couldn’t tell him that Jordan and I were already done. Especially after the conversation we’d just had.

  “I’ll ask,” I promised. “But I haven’t even decided yet.”

  “Come on,” Nick groaned. “You’ll love it. Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to see if I was okay?”

  My protest was for token’s sake and because I was born ornery. “I don’t really need to see you and Peyton feeding each other little bites at the dinner table to know you’re okay.”

  “Stupid,” he said, his tone warm with amusement. “We save that for the breakfast show. We like to start the day off right.”

  “Now that you mention it, I do seem to remember you liking to start the day eating sausage.” I grinned at his groan. Man, I forgot how fun it was to torture Nick. “Long, hard saus—”

  “Okay, enough!” He groaned. “For Pete’s sake—”

  “What, Peyton doesn’t know you like sausage? What do you do up there in Vermont?”

  I was so busy chortling from Nick’s fake death sounds, I almost didn’t hear the knock at my door. Polite and light at first and then a little more insistent. I scowled. “Nick, I gotta go. Someone at the door.”

  “Okay,” he said obligingly. “Call me later.”

  I hung up on him singing “booty call” in my ear and pushed off the bed, tossing my phone
on the dresser as I passed.

  “Yeah,” I said loudly to hopefully staunch the knocking. “I’m coming.”

  I padded to the door, uncaring of my dishabille. You come to my door at one in the morning, you get what you get. Sweatpants and no shirt was too good for the likes of—

  “Jordan.” I whispered his name to the peephole like he could answer me back. Then louder, “Jordan?”

  “Yeah.” The morphed Jordan figure looked directly at the peephole. The convex glass made his blue eyes look huge and alien as he peered at the hole. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “Y-yeah. Of course,” I shook off my reservations and undid the bolt and the locks in a series of click, click, clickety-clicks that made me seem a little psycho about security. I swung the door open, and the object of my unrest suddenly filled my doorway. I squinted up at him, haloed in the light of my miniporch. I hadn’t realized until then how tall he was. Or how gorgeous. Okay, that was a lie. I’d always noticed that part.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  He used a finger to adjust his glasses, and I smiled a little. “You’re wearing your glasses.”

  “My contacts were getting scratchy. I strained my eyes a bit at the movie.” His voice faltered, and suddenly the elephant in the room had sat his big butt down. The movies. His date. My date.

  “Can I come in?”

  I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” No, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. “Why are you here?” My voice gained strength and sharpness. “And how the hell am I supposed to get over you if you won’t go away?”

  His throat worked. “Maybe I don’t want you to get over me.”

  “That’s pretty selfish,” I snapped. “All things considered.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I didn’t particularly enjoy seeing you at Rachel’s house the other night. Or the night after that.”

  “I didn’t sleep with Rachel. I slept on her couch,” he admitted. “I had an early hearing, and she lives closer to the office. Besides, I knew… I knew you would probably be watching.”

  Well, if he’d wanted me to be just jealous, he’d failed. Devastated? Questioning all my relationships since the beginning of time? Check and check.

  I sneered. “Nice.”

  Those pretty eyes narrowed at me, and I knew he was getting mad. “You didn’t exactly call me, Mac.”

  “Was I supposed to? Don’t phones work both ways nowadays?”

  “So what, was this date—punishment? To make me watch you and your boyfriend give each other mouth-to-mouth?” His voice was raw. “Because I don’t think I deserved that.”

  I felt guilty enough, and I winced. Guilt made my acerbic tongue even saltier. “Yes, Jordan, we waited around the iPic theater, forty-five minutes away from my house, making out until you eventually showed up. Three weeks was a long time, but with Chapstick and a Gatorade IV, we made it through. That was the master plan. You got us.”

  He stared at me for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” He spun on his heel. “I made a mistake coming here.”

  Watching him walk away made my chest feel funny. Tight. Dizzy. Like I was the one making a huge mistake. I knew what it had taken for him to come here. Did I really want to let him walk away?

  I had a feeling if he walked away, he wouldn’t be coming back again. Good, my inner lonely girl said. We don’t need him. By the by, where’s your afghan?

  “I didn’t exactly enjoy seeing you with Rachel,” I blurted.

  What are you doing? The inner voice was angry. He’s slowing down. Dammit, he’s coming back!

  “Shut up,” I hissed, and the inner voice flounced away.

  I hope you can find your dog for comfort before he dumps your ass, bitch, she snapped. You’re on your own.

  He stopped closer this time. Close enough to touch. “You didn’t look like it bothered you at all.”

  “Well, it did. I wanted to claw her eyes out,” I admitted.

  He rewarded my hypothetical violence with a half smile. “That was just… just….” His shoulders slumped. “That wasn’t real. That was me doing something I used to do because I thought I wanted to be that guy again.”

  “Before you met me,” I said evenly.

  “Yes. No! Before things were confusing. Before I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Obsessing about you.”

  Go on.

  “Hell, I don’t even care about the investigation anymore. It doesn’t really matter if she’s into someone else. I know that anything I thought I felt for her is nothing compared… compared—”

  I didn’t make him finish the comparison. “I’m glad you don’t care about the investigation, at least. Because, well, let’s just say it’s a good thing.”

  He shrugged and then cocked his head. “Wait. What?”

  “I thought you didn’t care.”

  “I don’t, but a guy has his pride. Sheesh.” He looked flummoxed for a minute and then shook his head. “Just as well. I guess I can’t exactly throw stones.”

  “Yeaaah, there’s a lot of glass in this proverbial house.” I shrugged. “But you’re still paying me, yeah?”

  “Opportunist.”

  I shrugged. “Hey, this is just business. Do you know how many gaskets I blew tailing that woman?”

  “Was it ‘just business’ when you were giving me head on your desk?”

  And just like that I was half hard, an instantaneous rerouting of blood to my southern regions. “Darlin’, that was pure pleasure.”

  Great, Darcy’s use of darlin’ had officially rubbed off on me.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “God, I missed you.”

  And that was enough. Talking to Nick had only enforced that he and Peyton were right for each other. He practically glowed over the phone when talking about the guy. There was nothing there. I was tired of being the “if it wasn’t for our fucked-up relationship, I wouldn’t have met so-and-so” guy. If it hadn’t been for me, he wouldn’t have Peyton. And Trevor wouldn’t have Laura. I kind of liked being the “God, I missed you” guy.

  I opened the door wider and sighed. “Get in here.”

  We attacked each other right there in the doorway, our mouths, tongues, and teeth meeting with urgency—nipping, soothing, stroking, merging. A moan vibrated against my lips as his tongue surged into my mouth, and suddenly it was like the first damned time again. Every time. Every time was like the first damned time.

  “What the hell took you so long?” I muttered against his ear as his mouth slid down my neck, nipping and licking a path that made me shiver deliciously.

  “I was afraid you might not be alone. Thought you might be still on your date with tall, red, and handsome.”

  “He’s not you.”

  “So I stack up against the muscle-bound stud?” He sounded ridiculously pleased. “Awesome.”

  “I didn’t say all that. You’re going to have to prove yourself.”

  “You do owe me a weekend,” he reminded me.

  I did. And I didn’t welsh on an offer. Especially when that offer might have Jordan balls deep inside my ass, being pounded within an inch of my life into my mattress. I pushed him away a bit, making a show of inspecting his person. “I don’t see any bag, but you’re welcome to go naked. We at Chez Mackenzie don’t mind. We encourage it, in fact.”

  He smiled a little. “I really didn’t bring any clothes or essentials.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t think you’d let me in. Besides, you have no food.”

  “You’re really thinking about food right now? I must have lost my touch.”

  “I will be after,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And I don’t plan on eating olives and mustard.”

  “The olives are gone, darlin’.” Och, damn that Darcy. “Just mustard from now on.”

  “Urgh. Your accommodations are decidedly second-rate.”

  “Maybe you should go get a few thing
s. Come back,” I suggested with a shrug. “Whatever you need for the rest of the weekend.”

  I ignored his hesitation and looked at him expectantly. I wasn’t going to chain him to the bed and make him stay. Either he wanted to be here or he didn’t.

  I worked my apartment key off the ring and handed it to him. “Let yourself in.” I held it out with a raised brow, hoping my casualness covered the fact that I hadn’t breathed in over a minute.

  He narrowed his eyes at me and plucked the key from my fingers. “I’ll be back,” he said darkly.

  I waggled my fingers and turned to close the door.

  “Oh, and, Mac?”

  I let out an involuntary squeak as he circled my wrist with his hand and turned me back around. He pressed me to the door and took my mouth roughly, his mouth slanting over mine in a hungry, possessive manner that was exciting and confusing all at once. I slid my hands into his hair, gripping his face in place as if he would dissolve if I let go. His touch was exploratory as his hands roved down the curvature of my spine to grip my ass. And then he smacked it, ending the kiss regretfully.

  “I never back away from a challenge.”

  I swallowed, looking after him bemusedly as he disappeared in the darkness. I was counting on it.

  HANDS ON my skin brought me to life, cold on my warm, sleep-scented skin. I didn’t even mind when the hands removed the covers to expose the rest of my skin to the cool air. I had chucked my sweatpants before climbing into bed, and feeling those hands run from my feet to my calves and grip my behind, I knew it had been a good decision.

  The hands made their way over my shoulders as I pressed my face into the pillow, unwilling to open my eyes wide enough to identify my dream lover. As long as he didn’t stop, he could be a burglar at this point. Hell, a massage this good certainly deserved a TV on his way out. Long, deft fingers worked their way into my muscles, and I betrayed myself with a groan.