by Sierra Hill
Nodding, I motion us over to the edge of the bar where someone just vacated. “I’m going to grab a beer. Can I get you something to drink?”
I’ve only been drunk with Logan once before. It was our last summer together – before we lost our virginities to each other. Back then, as a student athlete, I avoided hard alcohol and always stuck with beer. But that night, when our friend came back with a bottle of Canadian whiskey and marshmallows to roast, we all got trashed. Wound up puking our guts out down by the lake well into the night. To this day, if I get a whiff of that sweet marshmallow scent, I gag.
“Oh, thanks,” she pauses for a second, tapping her index finger against her lips. The action draws my attention to the glistening moisture lining her heart-shaped mouth. I swallow and flag down the bartender.
“How about a Long Island Iced tea?” She says.
“You got it.”
We stand quietly next to each other as a wiry, handlebar-mustached hipster saunters over to us and takes our order. When his eyes remain on Logan a moment too long, I want to reach over and snap the stupid suspenders he’s wearing. He leaves with our order and I turn toward Logan, who’s forced to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me due to the crowd I can see she’s not wearing any make-up to hide her unflawed complexion.
We lapse into silence. It’s weighted with so many questions. Accusations. Guilt.
We open our mouths to speak at the same time.
I laugh, gesturing for her to go ahead.
“What are you doing here?” It’s with genuine surprise and interest that she asks this. Said in a way that sounds like she’s pleased to see an old friend versus bitter or irritated that I’m here. I take this as a good sign to proceed.
The bar noise and music overhead make it difficult to speak in a normal tone. So unless I want to shout at her, I have to lean down to speak directly into her ear.
I’m suddenly enveloped in her scent. Warmth travels the length of my body and I inhale a deep intoxicating breath.
“I’m staying the weekend with Joel Davis. He’s a friend of mine from high school.”
I point behind her where the group is congregated and Joel is slamming a shot with the others at the table.
“Small world. Joel and my roommate, Ali, used to hang out a lot. She bartends here and that’s where they met. He’s a nice guy. Smart, too.”
I nod. “Yeah, the fucker’s a good guy. But doesn’t know his limits.” I give her the universal sign of drinking, tipping my hand up to my mouth. “But he is smart, I’ll give him that. I wish I had that brain of his.”
She takes a sip of her drink that was just delivered, giving me a sidelong glance. “I don’t know, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I mean, look at you. You could’ve drafted early and never finished school, but you stuck it out and got your degree. That says you’re smart enough to consider your future and have something to fall back on later in life. That’s admirable.”
I’m stunned by her compliment. It’s unexpected, considering she could hate me for ruining her life.
Which makes me wonder about her life since...well, over the last four years. All I know is she’s a dental assistant. Does she have a boyfriend? She mentioned already that Ali’s her roommate, so that tells me she doesn’t live with a guy.
“What made you decide to become a dental technician? Or assistant. Or whatever you call what you do.” I feel dumb because I don’t know exactly what she does.
Logan chuckles, a smile curving her lips that are currently wrapped around a straw. My dick starts to perk up at the enticing picture. It’s pretty hot, and she’d probably smack me if she knew what I was thinking about doing with those lips.
“Dental Assistant,” she corrects me sweetly. “I didn’t go to a traditional four-year college...I got certified through a community college program.”
I swallow my drink. “What? I thought you were going to attend Western U? You’d already submitted your application and everything that summer. You were so excited about it.”
Her fingers toy with the straw, swirling it around the glass, avoiding my gaze. I realize my mistake as soon as I see the flash in her eyes. Logan is a year younger than me, at least in school years. She was about to start her senior year when I started college. And that’s when...shit. I’m an asshole.
“Fuck me...I’m sorry, Lo. I wasn’t thinking.”
I place my hand on the back of her head, her silky hair slipping through my fingers, as I drop my forehead to touch hers. It’s intimate and comforting. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it...changed your plans for college.”
She pulls away from me, sharply turning her ahead and sucking down the rest of her drink.
The easy connection we just had is now lost.
“It’s okay, Carver. The world didn’t end just because I didn’t go to college. I made a career for myself. I’m good. And I can always go back at some point to get a sociology degree. I’m in no hurry.”
There’s more to the story that she’s not telling me. I just know it. But it’s obvious she doesn’t want to go into the details, so I let it slide for now. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the truce between us, and just being in her presence.
It’s both familiar yet new and different. There’s so much I remember about the younger version of Logan, and so many things I don’t know about her as a woman.
The party seems to be picking up speed, as I hear someone call for another round of shots. I raise an eyebrow at Logan to see if she’s going to partake. She just shakes her head and smiles.
And then I say the stupidest thing. I can’t control it – the words just slip out of my mouth unbidden.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Her eyes grow wide with skepticism.
“I mean, maybe head over to 13 Coins for pancakes? I haven’t been there for years.”
The smile she gives me is radiant, like a hundred-watt bulb, and it makes me feel like a lottery winner. Her smile is every loser’s lucky day.
“That’s a nice idea, but I really should stay and celebrate Ali’s birthday. You only turn twenty-three once, right?” She flicks her thumb back toward the group.
“Oh, sure. Yeah, you’re right.”
Shit, I’ve already forgotten the reason I’m here tonight. I’ve been so wrapped up in our conversation. In being around her, that I didn’t want that to end. My hopes of spending more time with her are dashed when she turns back to the group and sighs.
She’s about to say something else, but then stops. The chewing of her lip resumes. I wonder if she’s nervous.
Nah, not Logan. She’s one badass girl. Was always tough and handled everything that came at her like a prize fighter.
“But maybe...” She hesitates, her hands clasping and unclasping in front of her. “Do you have plans for the weekend?”
Well, fuck me up the river. I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I’m in. Whatever she has in mind, I’m on board one-hundred percent.
I give her a noncommittal shrug.
“Nothing that I can’t change. What’d you have in mind?”
She speaks with more confidence now. “This weekend the National Parks are free for day hikers. I’m already planning a hike in the Cascades with Ali, but my guess is the birthday girl isn’t going to be feeling up to the trek after tonight’s activities. So...um...would you want to go with me?”
I’ve never been at a loss for words. I’m the epitome of cool under pressure. But Logan’s invite has me almost tongue-tied. But there’s no fucking way I’d ever turn down her request.
I try to joke, even though excitement hits me in the pit of my stomach. “You asking me out, Lo?”
I give my one-dimpled smirk.
The affect is funny. Exactly how I knew she’d respond.
“Fuck you, Edwards.”
She slaps me hard on the chest, but I’m quick and grab her wrist, tugging her into me.
“Just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date
.”
Our faces are an inch apart, our bodies pressed together to barely allow space to breathe. I brush my thumb over the pressure point on the soft underside of her wrist. I can feel the rapid heart rate beating under the skin.
Her gasp is loud and quick and it makes me insanely hot. I want to hear that same gasp when I bury myself deep inside her again someday.
“I’m just messing with you, Lo. I’d love to go hiking with you. It’s been a long time since I’ve done something outdoors just for the fun of it.”
I kiss the tip of her nose for good measure.
Tomorrow morning can’t come soon enough.
Chapter 9
Logan
What the hell was I thinking inviting Carver Edwards, the man I had no intention of ever seeing again, to join me on an all-day hike? In an isolated area in the Cascades?
Was I that drunk after one Long Island?
I’m kicking myself over my absolute stupidity, and over the fact that I actually enjoyed myself with him last night. He’s even funnier than I remember, and is an extreme flirt.
And let’s not forget incredibly gorgeous. Every single woman in that bar had him in her sights.
Carver and I continued talking and joking with the rest of the group for another hour after I opened my big mouth and offered up the invitation to hike. A highly inadvisable decision, but something I couldn’t take back once I said it. Now as I drive through the steep hills of Seattle toward Joel’s Green Lake rental house, I consider a thousand different excuses for cancelling on him last minute.
Emergency appendectomy? Nah, he might come to the hospital to visit me.
Flat tire? Nope, he’d come to my rescue and figure out a way to get it fixed.
Twenty-four-hour flu bug? Hm. That one’s no good, either, because then I’d have to stay at home all day and pretend to be sick. And the point of today was to get out and stretch my legs.
Despite my discomfort, I couldn’t get up the nerve to lie to him. Maybe we can use this time together today to find some resolution and tie up the history between us in a nice, tidy package. Perhaps even forgive each other for the hurt and damage we caused – intentional or otherwise.
Even if none of that happened, at least we’d enjoy a beautiful day out in the North Cascades. And there’s nothing more beautiful and serene as that.
Because being out in the great outdoors with Carver, surrounded by mountains and lakes, won’t do anything, whatsoever, to bring back the memories of our summers together.
Did I mention how stupid I am?
I make a right turn at the corner and drive slowly down the tree and car-lined street, looking for the address Carver had texted me last night. Out of nowhere, he materializes in front of me before I can even notice the house number from the street.
Carver is waiting out front, two coffee cups in hand, dressed in comfortable hiking attire.
And damn, he looks fine.
Carver Edwards has only grown more handsome. And holy Lord – filled out.
Although he’s wearing a light jacket, the long Lycra sleeves hug against his clearly defined biceps. Like the rolling hills of the farm country where I grew up – his muscles are beautiful. I see tufts of his golden-brown hair peeking out from under his baseball cap. Such a guy move – wake up and throw on a hat and still look sexy.
Although, I can’t condemn him, since I only pulled my hair up into a messy bun the moment I got out of the shower. While the temps are tricky in the mountains this time of year, a lot cooler than the city, you can work up a good sweat while hiking. I like to keep my hair off my neck so I don’t get all sticky and sweaty from the excursion. Dressing in layers is a necessity, because an hour in, I start shedding clothes.
Pulling up to the curb, I lean over and open the door to a way-too-chipper Carver, who drops his ass into the bucket seat of my Volvo with a flop, holding the cups in front of him – being careful not to the spill the hot liquid.
“Morning,” he chirps, handing me a steaming cup of liquid fortification.
I accept the gift and place it in the cup holder between us. “Thanks.”
When I glance back up at him, his brows are creased in a frown.
“What?” I ask with skepticism. I run a hand over my mouth, in case I have a glob of toothpaste still on my lips. “Do I have something on my face?”
He shuts his eyes for a second, a disgruntled chuckle leaving his throat. He opens them again and stares at me with an intensity that draws a wave of heat up my chest. I look away to avoid the penetrating gaze.
“No, you’re good. I just realized that after all these years, I have no idea if you even drink coffee.”
A laugh escapes my lips. Here I thought it was something more serious than that.
“I’m a Seattleite, doofus. Have you been away from home so long that you’ve forgotten we can’t breathe without the comforts of our hot liquid addiction?”
He mumbles his response before taking a long sip from his cup. “It feels like I’ve been gone an eternity.”
There’s something there that I don’t want to delve into, so I let it go.
“I guess hot coffee isn’t a basic life necessity in Arizona.”
“Nope.”
We drive in silence as I merge onto I-5 and head north, the start of our hour-long drive up to the mountains. I grew up in the shadow of the Cascades. The Skagit Valley countryside, complete with tulip fields, dairy farms and orchards. My dad’s farm was small and he worked hard, with the help of family, to make a living – but it never seemed to get us out of poverty. There were times I recall during the harsh, unproductive winters that we relied on foodbanks for staples to keep us fed.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been near my hometown. My dad died two years ago, and I only heard from my brother Leo. They didn’t have a service for him, so I stayed put. I didn’t miss my brothers and they didn’t care to see me.
But I did miss the area. I craved being outside – surrounded by the beauty of the Sound and the mountain ranges. To the west is the Olympics, and the north and east, the Cascade Range. It doesn’t get any more beautiful than this.
That’s why the scholarship to camp those three summers was so important to me. It gave me a tiny respite from the hard labor I endured the rest of the season at home.
I never understood the appeal for Carver and how he ended up in Whistler, when he could’ve been off gallivanting in Switzerland or Peru.
“Out of curiosity, how did you end up at Camp Cheakamus?”
I keep my gaze set on the road, but I can feel Carver’s eyes staring at me. It feels good, but also slightly unnerving.
“Really? That’s what you want to know after all this time? That’s the question you’re going to ask me to start this reunion discussion?”
It’s not derisive, per se. But there’s a sting in his response.
I give him a sidelong glance. “You got a better question?”
He scoffs. “Yeah. I have lots.”
Without warning, the atmosphere in the car shifts and it fills with the weight of all that was left unsaid between us. Tension seeps in and curls between us, grabbing my heart in a tight fist.
“Lots, huh?” I unintentionally press down on the accelerator so the car’s speedometer spikes up to just under eighty-miles-per-hour. Racing just like my thoughts.
“Well, let’s hear them.”
“Hmm. Okay...how about ‘why’?”
“Why, what?”
His gaze shifts forward to stare out the front window. Cars pass. The scenery changes. But we’re still stuck in the past. Unable to move forward.
“Why didn’t you ever respond back to me?”
I dare a glance at him. The truth is in his eyes. He’s hurt. But I don’t know why.
“What do you mean? When?”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “Come on, Lo. Don’t play dumb. I emailed you at least a dozen times after I found out...you never responded.”
My gasp can probably be
heard all the way up to the Canadian border. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. I’m filled with both a distinct sadness and shock.
“Carver, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I shut down that email account after...well, after I’d met up with your dad. He, um...he suggested that it would be the best thing for everybody.”
The sound of his hand hitting the dashboard startles me. “That motherfucker.” He spews so vehemently that I flinch.
I’m just as angry. That memory is so clear in my mind – like it was just yesterday. The day I met his dad. After he’d responded to my email, he offered me money to have an abortion. When I declined and told him I was going to have the baby, he gave me the name and number of an attorney that he’d pay for and who’d help me with the adoption.
And then there was the gut-wrenching heartbreak I endured when Mr. Edwards told me that Carver never wanted to hear from me again, so I should just cut the ties and move on.
Maybe that wasn’t the case after all. Maybe both Carver and I are victims in this story.
I reach out and place a calming hand on Carver’s bicep and I feel the muscles relax against my touch.
“My father,” Carver says with harsh distain, “Interfered where he didn’t belong. He made decisions about our baby without my consent. I didn’t know. Had I known, Logan...”
He pauses and my brain begins to click backward in time. To when I first contacted Carver about my predicament.
“Oh my God. So, what you’re saying is...”
He interrupts. “Yeah. I never got any of your emails and I didn’t know you were pregnant. Not in the beginning. My dad monitored all my email and social media accounts as a means of keeping track of me and keeping me out of trouble. He wanted me to focus on school and basketball, in that order, and nothing else. No other distractions. So he intercepted my emails, met with you and never told me anything. I was none the wiser.”
This changes everything. Well, almost everything.
All these years, I thought Carver didn’t want anything to do with me. I was just the white-trash, knocked up girlfriend who was now tarnished and damaged goods. Carver had a bright future ahead of him and didn’t want a girlfriend and baby to screw up his good times. I always assumed he asked his dad to handle it on his behalf. The way kids in seventh grade handle break-ups. Using someone else to do their dirty work.
