by Hattie Hunt
“How old is his girl?”
“Six or seven. Name’s Babs. And she says ‘tooth’ just fine. Toot made sure of that.” Joe leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, head down. “Things really have gotten better here, Ripley. And I’ve missed you. I’m glad you came back.”
She almost groaned out loud. “I told you I’m not staying, Joe.”
“I wasn’t asking you to. But if I had to go through…” He waved his hand vaguely at the stream. “Whatever this disaster is, I’m glad it’s with you by my side.”
Ripley pinched down another snort of derision. She knew he wasn’t thinking straight. Regardless of what he was saying, her being back wasn’t a good thing. She. Had. Turned. His. Brother. In. And she had a feeling, that when he was thinking straight, whatever twin mojo the two of them had would probably clue him back into the reality of what she had done. Brett certainly wouldn’t forget it.
And besides, she couldn’t afford to let him in. Not in the way he wanted. For God’s sake. She was literally walking death.
Brett reached for her hand.
Despite herself, she didn’t pull away.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking.”
Did he? Because she almost didn’t.
“I’m not blind, Rip. And I know you well enough, despite your walls. So, you’re going to have to get over that.”
How was he suddenly the one consoling her? This man. His world was falling apart, and he was trying to fix her. Go fucking figure. “How can you say that? I practically put the death warrant on your brother’s head myself.”
He took in a deep breath. “You did what you had to.”
Ripley licked her lips not quite sure how to handle this. Of all the emotions she’d expected from him, understanding wasn’t one of them. “I’m sorry, Joe. For going to Chuck.”
He shrugged. “He would have found out one way or another. We have the witches. I know they are trying to help. But I don’t trust them.”
“You aren’t the only one. But we don’t have much of a choice.” Ripley stood up and stretched, overly conscious of the way her shirt lifted over her midriff. Which was a new one for her. Normally, she didn’t give a shit who saw what. She used it. But with Joe? They didn’t need that right then. Ripley didn’t need that. She was having a hard enough time keeping to her rules as it was.
“We should probably get back.” Joe stood up too, kicking a branch into the creek. “And Rip? Just promise me you won’t go anywhere. At least for tonight?”
Ripley flattened her lips, biting back the immediate retort. Be human. Don’t be… you. “I’ll try.” There. Close enough.
When they reached the cabin, Brett and Juliet had locked themselves in the single bedroom. Which, considering they were getting married soon, was logical. But that left little in the way of options for Ripley and Joe.
The cabin wasn’t anything special. Small. Practical. It did, at least, have running water. Ripley helped herself to a glass at the sink, trying to imagine what this place had been like when they first found it. Joe was a handyman. Good with wood, tools, and so on.
She could see his touches around the kitchen. The places where he worked and the places where Brett had worked. In one corner, a beam didn’t line up quite right. A nail bent over and had been pressed into the wood sideways. Opposite, each nail head had been pounded perfectly flush, and the angle of the beam lining up perfectly with the intersecting wall. Ripley smiled to herself. Joe. Clean, precise. Pure. How could purity mate with death?
A cabinet closed and Ripley looked up to find Joe coming towards her with a tower of blankets. “You can have the couch. Pick your poison.” He hefted the stack in emphasis of his question.
Ripley studied the stack, making a show of contemplation. The stack turned out to be four very thick, plaid blankets. Two red, one blue, one green. She set her water glass down and grabbed the bottom blanket of the stack, pulling it up and out.
The blankets on top toppled over Joe’s head.
“Oops.” She flashed him a sly grin and moved towards the couch. Kicking off her shoes, she stepped up onto the cushions and whipped the blanket out so that it fluttered down onto the floor. Then she grabbed the back pillows on the couch and, squatting down, arranged them into a backrest on the floor.
Joe untangled himself from the blankets Ripley had made a mess of, his eyes full of a fire that Ripley understood all too well, even if she was trying her damnedest to shut it down. She watched him, a smirk on her lips as he exhaled a breath into a heated smile.
“What are you doing?”
Ripley jumped off the couch and shrugged. “I’m used to sleeping on the ground. And the floor is big enough for two.” She extricated the green blanket out of the shambled stack now on the floor, and laid it on top of the one already on the ground. Then she took hold of one of the red ones and wrapped it around herself and settled down, leaning back against the couch. She raised an eyebrow, and Joe hesitated. Ripley could see the question in his eyes. The struggle between lust and honor. “We’re all adults here, Joe. It’s just sleep.”
“You’re funny, Ripley Kent.”
“And you’re a nice, warm bear, Joe Elliot.” Not to mention, if she really thought about it, she could use a little comfort. She knew he could. They were good together, even as friends. Which was all this could be. “Get over here.”
Chapter Sixteen
A phone buzzed somewhere close to Ripley’s ear. With a groan, she rolled over, wondering what rock she’d slept on. Even when she slept outdoors, she tried to pick a piece of dirt that wasn’t trying to kill her. She wasn’t saying she was getting old, but she sure wasn’t nearly as spry as she had once been, and the cabin floor wasn’t doing her any favors.
The movement took her away from the warmth she’d been curled next to. Joe. At the thought, a kind of peace settled over her.
A kind of peace she couldn’t afford to fall for. He was going through the worst days of his life and she wasn’t the kind of person who glued people back together after they’d lost everything. She was the type of person who tried to help them lose less, and then she left.
Her phone stopped buzzing. With a wince, she twisted away from Joe, sitting up, the red blanket falling to her lap. She rooted around her clothes piled next to her and found her phone. They may not have had sex, but damned if Ripley was going to sleep with all her clothes on. She didn’t sleep buck-assed naked, but fuck pants. And sleeves. Hell no.
Getting dressed, she grabbed her phone and stepped out onto the front porch, moving quietly on her bare feet.
Her battery had thirty-one percent left, which meant—oddly—that she’d start losing battery faster. Crap. Her charger was at Tuck’s in her backpack. She kicked around the idea of carrying a purse, but it didn’t even make a full spin around her mind before she kicked it back out again. Not having pockets was one atrocity of wearing women’s clothing. She wasn’t going to further insult herself by carrying a damned purse. She put her phone on power saving mode, which might help her until she got to her charger, or it might not.
Nah. She needed to get to her charger.
Her missed call had been Tuck. When he’d missed her, he’d sent her a text that showed up silently on her screen.
* * *
We’re burning Jib’s body. You coming?
* * *
Shit.
She leaned up against the wall. How had time slipped by so fast?
Did she even have to ask? Her hands were kind of full of bears. Three of them. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up sleeping in a den of bears. She never thought she’d see that happen. But there they were.
She shook herself and pushed off the wall.
The door opened and Joe stepped out, looking slightly disheveled. That was the wrong word. He only wore jeans and his hair was too short to be considered messy. His eyes were tired and his expression haggard. She wanted to reach up and touch his bare chest, offer the only kind of comfort she was
capable of. But he wasn’t ready for that.
Silly man.
She could respect that and respected him more because of it.
He let the door close behind him and just looked at her for a long moment.
Neither one of them were morning people. They didn’t like talking to anyone before mid-morning. It was one of the reasons they worked well together.
She dropped her gaze to her bare feet and then looked down the drive.
He twisted around to look at the old truck, then turned back to her with a frown.
She raised her eyebrows, hoping he’d remember that the sole reason for her returning was to put her uncle to rest.
He thought for a long time, and then understanding washed over his face. He leaned against the rail, gripping it on either side of his hips. He winced his lips, a frown furrowing his brow as he stared at her waist. He raised his gaze and met hers softly.
There were probably a lot of people who wouldn’t understand how a gaze could be soft, but he was just offering comfort and asking a question. Do you want me to come with you?
Yes. She did. But she shook her head. He had his own issues to deal with. She may not be an awesome human being when it came to helping other people with their own shit, but she didn’t need him dealing with hers while he was trying to save his twin. No. She wasn’t that big of a jerk.
He stared at her, his expression unmoving, willing her to change her mind. Or for her to just say what she really wanted.
That was the thing with non-communicative morning people. They were better at perceiving than a lot of folks gave them credit for. His silence didn’t mean he didn’t care. He did. But he also respected her wishes. Well, the ones she was allowing herself to voice anyway.
Ripley ducked back into the cabin before she changed her mind and laced up her boots before grabbing her jacket.
Joe was exactly where she’d left him when she came back outside. He turned as she approached the stair, not blocking her way completely, but making a point in his movement. If she wanted to, she could breeze right by him.
She didn’t want to, though.
He reached up and traced his hands down her arms.
She found herself reaching back, gripping her fingers against his taut biceps.
His hands settled at her elbows and he clunked his forehead lightly to hers.
That. That right there gave her more than any words or any sex could. Just standing there, sharing each other’s warmth in the chilly pre-dawn, heads together, breathing each other’s breath as they silently dealt with their own shit. She could have stayed there for days.
But she had a duty to Jib.
She took in a deep breath and stepped back.
“Tuck’s?” he asked, his voice gruff.
She nodded. “No trouble.”
He raised an eyebrow as if challenging to her to recall who she was talking to.
The drive to Tuck’s was longer than it felt. She knew it took nearly twenty-minutes, but she wasn’t ready. She might not have been super close to her uncle, but he was the only uncle she had left. Hers wasn’t a big family. Now, Aunt Myrtie and Sean were all she had left.
Fucking Sean. She’d probably have to deal with him today, too.
Awesome.
There were only two cars in front of Tuck’s cabin when she rumbled to a stop. The truck died with a gurgle, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter. She wanted to just sit there for a minute, build herself up.
Instead, she hopped out. She wasn’t a fighter, but she didn’t run from a fight either. She faced what she had to, even if she didn’t want to.
Tuck met her at the door with a steaming cup, then turned back to the dining room without making eye contact or speaking.
Myrtie sat at the table, sipping her coffee.
Ripley frowned at her cup, the smell of whiskey cooling her nerves. It might be in the coffee, but it was still whiskey. If she was honest, she might need caffeine to get through the day. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the taste of it. She just didn’t want to get addicted to it.
She took a chair and they all three sat there, staring at the table, drinking their cups of courage.
Finally, Myrtie set her cup down and stood. “Well, I figure it’s about time. Let’s get this over with.”
They’d built the pyre in a small meadow behind the cabin. Ripley plugged in her phone as they all filed out, not caring what calls she might miss.
The bushes rustled beside her as they all circled around the pyre. Ripley turned to look, but her nose told her who was there.
Joe. He’d walked there in partial bear form. He slipped his red flannel shirt over his now fully human chest.
She turned away, blinking tears she didn’t want to shed. He’d showed up even after she’d told him no. Damn jerk. Ripley pulled in a sharp breath. A jerk who knew her too well. Knew what she had really needed, despite her stubbornness. She refused to admit to the painful happiness his presence granted her.
Yet, the warmth of his hand at the small of her back filled her with strength.
Myrtie didn’t speak. She didn’t look to any of them to offer any words either. She just lit a handful of matches, and tossed them into the kindling. It took a while for the kindling to light, and they all watched in silence as the small flames finally crept forward, growing as they found the larger pieces of wood. Then, the fire spread, enveloping the sheet-wrapped body of Uncle Jib. It didn’t even smoke.
But it did smell, and Ripley wished her nose didn’t work as well as it did.
Myrtie reached into her back pocket and pulled out the folded paper that had been only partially tucked there. She raised it with a flick, her eyebrows high. “Jib’s will.”
She read it aloud. He’d left the house to Myrtie and the bar to Ripley.
Make a home for yourself here, he’d said in his statement. That seemed like a lot for him to ask of her. Then again, he didn’t really know her anymore. Ripley glanced at Joe from the corner of her eye. Maybe he knew her better than she thought. With a shudder, Ripley pushed the thought away. Where the hell had it even come from? She didn’t belong there.
They stayed until the fire died down to meek lobs of orange and yellow. It would take longer for the body to burn fully, especially out in the open. Myrtie said she’d stay with her brother until he was ashes. She nodded at Ripley and Joe. “Go. You two get out of here.”
It was late afternoon by the time they made it back to the truck. Joe leaned his back against the front end, his elbows perched back on the hood. He crossed his legs casually and looked up at Ripley. “What do you want to do?”
Ripley frowned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him there, didn’t enjoy him being there. She did. But… “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like, with your brother?”
“On his wedding day?” He clamped his lips tight and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think I want to be there for that.”
He had a point. “Well, I was thinking of heading into town and checking out the bar.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
She really didn’t. Shrugging, Ripley waved him into the cab.
“Are you okay?” he asked, once they’d made it to the end of the driveway.
No. She wasn’t. And she couldn’t decide if it made her happy or if it pissed her off. She hadn’t known Jib that well, so she felt little grief. Yet, she felt the need to grieve. Didn’t that mean she wasn’t a complete asshole?
Nah. It took a lot more to be an asshole than apathy towards others, and she checked a lot of those other boxes with ease.
It just meant that she was human.
“Are you thinking of staying?” His question bounced off the windshield.
Would she want to have a conversation with someone who wasn’t talking back? Probably not. So, she gave in. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought of it.”
“Until now.”
“Not even now. I just I don’t know.”
He nodded onc
e. “What would make you change your mind?”
A small voice in the back of her heart whispered, You. She quelled that one quickly. Ripley Kent didn’t need a man in her life. She was just fine without one.
Still, she had to admit that it might be nice to have Joe around. He wasn’t a man. He was Joe.
He raised his eyebrows and tightened his lips. Leaning his elbow on the window, he clenched his hand into a fist behind his head.
He was frustrated. She could guess why. “I don’t know.” They hit a hole in the road and Ripley was sure she had almost hit the roof.
Joe groaned at the bump, but didn’t say anything.
“I guess…” She let the statement fall off, wishing she was better at talking. “I guess if it felt like home here, like I wasn’t an outsider.”
“You make yourself an outsider, Rip.”
“No. Not really. I just react to what people dish out.” Which is what she had been telling herself for years. The thing was, at the moment, she didn’t quite believe it.
They rode in silence the rest of the way to the Fox Hole, and Ripley pulled into one of the three open parking spots.
Joe put his hand on the door, but turned to her, his eyes narrowed. His lips parted briefly, then he pinched them shut, shaking his head.
Ripley knew he was going say she was full of shit. She had even prepared a rebuttal. But, without a word, he turned away and got out of the truck.
Ripley gripped the ancient, skinny, wide-diameter steering wheel.
And then said the things he hadn’t said to her own damned self.
You bring it on. You goad people into treating you like shit. It’s almost as if you enjoy it.
She hated it when he was right, even when he didn’t actually say the things he was right about. Sometimes, it sucked being an introvert. Even more so, being capable of reading other’s thoughts without them saying a damned word.
She slid out of the truck and pocketed the keys, immediately aware of the way they jabbed her in the upper thigh. She really needed to start buying her pants in the men’s section. She needed real pockets, not these don’t-make-my-butt-look-big atrocities.
