Only Ever Us

by J. H. Croix

  “Get out of my head, Rowan,” I said to the ceiling.

  The ceiling had nothing to say in return.

  Chapter Six

  Rowan

  “Colbie, are you okay?” I asked.

  Colbie let out a very deep sigh, but then my sixteen-year-old sister was the master of sighs, usually dramatic and overblown. “Yes, I'm okay. Why are you asking?”

  “Why do you think I'm asking?” I returned, tapping the credit card screen at the gas station as I held the phone in one hand and waited for the receipt to print for the gas I’d just gotten.

  Another sigh filtered through the phone line. “Because Mom and Dad don't like my new boyfriend.”

  She was spot-on. Our mother had, in fact, shared her worries about my sister's new boyfriend with me just the other day. That wasn't the only reason I was calling my sister, but part of it. I wasn't going to tell her she was right, though. “Why don't they like your new boyfriend?” Even though I knew what my parents thought, I wanted to hear my sister’s perception of the situation.

  “Dad thinks he's controlling, and Mom had a talk with me the other night.”

  I chuckled because I, too, had been subjected to my mother's talks when I was a teenager. I didn’t miss those even though I adored my mother. “What was this talk about? Fill me in.”

  Even though I was also worried about my sister's new boyfriend because my parents weren't stupid, I was going to stay connected to her because it wouldn't help a thing to alienate her from all of us.

  “She talked to me about birth control and scheduled an appointment with my doctor. She wants to make sure I'm on the pill or something.” The affront in Colbie’s tone rang through the line.

  I had to grit my teeth at that. Obviously, with my sister being sixteen years old, it was possible she was sexually active, but I fucking did not want to think about that. Nor did I want to think about any guy who wanted to have sex with her because I might have to punch him right in the face. I suppose it was good I was in Alaska and over four thousand miles away from Stolen Hearts Valley. I took a breath, marshaling my composure as I tucked the receipt in my pocket and climbed in my SUV.

  “Okay, she had the birth control talk. I'm familiar with that,” I said, keeping my tone level and casual even though I didn't feel that way at all inside. “What else?”

  “Oh, Lord, she talked to me about consent and my body and loving myself and gave me this whole talk about red flags in relationships. Larry is not an asshole. He just really likes me. I'm special. That's what he told me. He’s the first guy who ever told me that.”

  Alarms were blaring in my brain. “Tell me what he said. Exactly. And, of course, you’re special.”

  “Yeah, I'm your little sister. Jesus. Plus, I was an accident way after Mom thought she couldn't have kids anymore, so you’re too old to be annoyed with me.”

  I laughed softly. “True story. Anyway, back to Larry. What did he say?”

  “He said he can't help himself. I’m really special to him, so he has to make sure I'm okay. That's why Dad thinks he's controlling. He likes me to share my location with him, so we're on that app.”

  Anger rolled through me. My spidey sense was tingling, big time. “Oh, yeah? What app?”

  “You know, the one we share. I tracked your drive all the way to Alaska.”

  Oh, thank fuck. It was the same app, and we were already connected.

  “All right, what else?”

  “He worries about my friends because he doesn't want anyone to take advantage of me.”

  “Like your girlfriends?”

  “No, my guy friends,” Colbie explained.

  “Even Trent?” I prompted. Trent was one of Colbie’s best friends and had been since they were little. They were practically brother and sister, and I'd seen them together many times. There was no there there. They were truly just friends.

  “Jealousy can be weird, so be careful about that,” I added, trying to keep my tone casual. Jesus, who the fuck was Larry, and what was I going to do about him? He was new to town. Even my mother admitted he was handsome.

  Colbie sighed. Again. “I know. It's not jealousy. He's just protective.”

  “What does Trent think of him?” I asked. I hoped that might elicit some sort of reaction from my sister.

  “I don't know,” she said, her tone careful.

  “You still hanging out with Trent?”

  “Uh, some.”

  Ah, fuck. I was not feeling good about this, but there was nothing for me to do, even if I was there. It wasn't like I could barge in and tell my sister who she could and couldn't date.

  “You just remember someone who really cares about you also cares about the people who matter to you,” I finally said, thinking that was pretty lame, but it was all I could think of.

  My sister called me out. “Nice try, Rowan. Obviously, I know that. Anyway, what's up with you? How's Alaska?”

  “It's good. I like it so far.”

  “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?” she asked as I drove toward home. Thanksgiving was weeks away.

  “I'm not sure. It's either Thanksgiving or Christmas. I need to talk to my boss about which holiday I can take off, but I'll talk to Mom and Dad first. How's that sound?”

  “Good. I miss you,” she said.

  “I miss you too. So, tell me. How's Mom?”

  My sister went quiet for a moment, her voice soft when she replied, “I think she's okay. You know, they don't talk to me about her medical stuff. I just know when she's had chemo because she's exhausted afterward.”

  My stomach twisted, and worry churned. “All right. Stay in touch now. Okay?”

  “Always,” she retorted.

  “Mom around?”

  “Yeah, she's cooking dinner. You called me on my cell,” she pointed out.

  “I don't suppose you’d hand it over to her,” I countered dryly.

  “No, I have other things to do with my phone, and I’m all the way upstairs. Call the house phone.”

  I chuckled. “Love ya, sis. Talk soon.”

  I waited to call my parents’ house number until I pulled into my driveway. Even though both of my parents used cell phones, they still relied on the house phone for regular calls. I could picture it mounted on the kitchen wall in my mind's eye. It rang twice before my mother answered while I walked up the stairs to my apartment.

  “Hey, Rowan.”

  “Hey, Mom. How's it going?”

  “Good, good. You?”

  “I’m fine. I talked to Colbie. I don't have a good feeling about this guy.” I tucked the phone against one shoulder as I walked into my apartment and closed the door behind me, immediately crossing the room to check the thermostat.

  My mother clucked. “That's why your father mentioned him to you. I don't know what to do. I know if we forbid her from seeing him, it’s not going to go well.”

  “Of course not. Just keep an eye on her.”

  “Please keep calling her.”

  “Of course, Mom. I call her anyway.”

  “I know. She listens to you in a way she doesn’t with your father and me.”

  “I get it.” I paused and took a breath. “So, what's up with the big C?”

  “I'm fine,” my mother replied, almost too quickly. She preferred to gloss over her medical concerns. She hated anyone worrying about her.

  “Are you really?” I pressed.

  My mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She had an initial round of treatment years ago, and they’d declared her cancer-free only to have it return six years later.

  “I am fine.”

  “Would you tell me if you weren't, Mom?”

  “I would. You know I would,” she insisted.

  “If you need me to come home—” I began.

  “No,” my mother said sharply. “We are thrilled you're out in Alaska. Keep sending pictures, and we're going to come visit when I get through this.”

  “All right, Mom. Just know I’ll come home in
a second if you need me.”

  “I know you will. I love you,” she said firmly.

  “Love you too. Also, I'm going to talk to my boss and figure out if I'll be there for Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

  “Either one works for us. We just want to see your face and give you a big hug.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I tapped to end the call. After setting my phone on the coffee table, I crossed my small apartment and leaned my hands on the windowsill to look out.

  Delilah Taylor hailed from my hometown, Stolen Hearts Valley, North Carolina, just as Remy did. Delilah and her fiancé had offered me the garage apartment until I found a better place. It was a nice place with a large open living room, an efficiency kitchen, a full bath, and an actual bedroom. Like most of Alaska, it also had a sweet view of the mountains.

  Snow had begun to fall this afternoon and was picking up its pace. We were working on over a foot. Alex had already plowed the driveway once by the time I got home.

  My mind spun to Mae. She was always waiting along the edges of my thoughts. I couldn't seem to go more than a day without seeing her somewhere in town, and she always looked flustered and cute. I wanted the chance to have more of a conversation with her. Hell, I wanted a chance with her. She had an edge to her that hadn’t been there before. She felt like a wild animal about to bolt whenever I encountered her.

  Glancing at my watch, I strode to the kitchen to check my food options. Our crew had four days off, so I might as well stock up. I snagged my wallet and my down jacket and headed out again. I should’ve thought to check this morning, but it wasn’t too late yet. I had only discovered a few days ago that Mae lived just down the street from me. When I commented on it to Alex, he’d mentioned she’d inherited her grandmother's house. I had wanted to ask Alex so many more questions about Mae, but I didn't feel right about it. He knew her since childhood whereas I'd known her for only a few years. We’d been close our first three years of college together, and that was it. That span of time loomed large in my memory and packed a punch.

  After I began driving, I slowed when I saw a figure shoveling Mae’s driveway. I slowed and pulled over. “Mae!” I called through the snow.

  She turned, trudging through the snow to stop beside my open window. “Yeah?”

  “You're gonna shovel that whole driveway?”

  My eyes bounced to her car where it sat parked at the end, roughly a quarter mile from the road. She shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “You're joking, right?”

  “No,” she countered, her tone prickly.

  “I'm plowing your driveway, Mae.” I looked toward the end of the driveway to see an old truck with a big plow mounted on the front. “Is your plow truck broken?”

  She let out a put-upon sigh. “It won't start.”

  “Get in,” I said. “Just put your shovel on the back seat.”

  I was surprised when she didn’t argue and climbed in. When I turned into her driveway, she asked, “Are you just driving through this?”

  “It's not that bad. I have plenty of clearance with four-wheel drive. Why don't you just call someone to plow? Or I can borrow Alex’s plow if you need help.”

  “I can shovel,” she muttered.

  I decided against pointing out how quickly she’d hopped in my SUV. “Do you mind if I try to start your truck? Is that your truck anyway?”

  “Well, it's my grandmother's old truck. I haven't switched over the registration, but all I’m planning to do with it is plow.”

  “You probably don't need to change the registration if you’re not driving it off your property. Let me see if I can start it for you. Have you ever plowed a driveway?”

  Mae’s silence gave me the answer. “I'll take that as a no. Will you let me plow it for you if I can start the truck? If not, I can borrow Alex’s.”

  She crossed her arms. “Fine.” I tried not to chuckle, but I couldn't help it. “What's so funny?”

  “Nothing, really.”

  “Well then, why did you laugh?” she pressed.

  “Because you're kind of stubborn sometimes,” I replied honestly.

  Her response was something between a snort and a growl. I came to a stop at the end of the driveway. The plow truck was parked in a small parking area off to the side.

  “You can wait here, or go in the house while I check it out.”

  “Well, I need to get my car.”

  I glanced at her car where the snow was piled up behind it. “Give me your keys, and I'll get your car.”

  Mae started to protest, “Rowan, I can—”

  I cut in, “Do you really want to sit here and argue with me about this? I can take care of it, probably in a few minutes, if I can start the truck.”

  “All right, all right,” she muttered.

  Chapter Seven

  Rowan

  Mae handed me her keys, and I waited while she went inside. I was pretty handy with mechanics. While my dad wasn’t a mechanic by trade, he took care of most of his own car maintenance and enjoyed refurbishing old vehicles. I'd learned all the basics from him. It only took a minute to deduce all this ancient truck needed was a jumpstart. After getting it running, I plowed the drive inside of a few minutes and moved my vehicle to park beside the plow truck before I made sure to clear the area right behind Mae’s car.

  When I walked to her door, it swung open just as I lifted my hand to knock. I didn't realize I was cold until she commented, “Get in here. You're shivering.”

  I wasn't going to argue because I would take any chance to spend time with Mae. I looked around once I got inside. “Nice place,” I said when my eyes made their way back to hers.

  Mae’s lips twitched at the corners. “It's okay, you can say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “It's like entering a time warp. There's still shag carpet on the floor and look at that furniture.” She swung her arm in an arc.

  There was, in fact, bright green shag carpet in the living room, and the furniture did look straight out of the seventies, all bright colors and boxy shapes. I shrugged when my eyes met hers again. “Hey, it's got character.”

  “I made some hot chocolate for you.”

  “You did?” This surprised me.

  “Yes. We're friends, right?”

  I looked into her ginger eyes, and it felt as if sparks began to shimmer in the air around us, heating the space. “Yeah, you said we were fine. Fine is never good.”

  Mae looked away. Her gaze dipped to the ground and then back up. “Here.” She pointed at a coat rack by the door. “You can hang your coat up and take your boots off. I'll give you some hot chocolate, but I'm not gonna let you tromp snow all over the place.”

  I followed her instructions, toeing my boots off by the door and hanging my jacket up, smiling at the bright painted wooden daisy atop the coat rack. I followed her through an archway to the side of the living room that led into a dining area and another archway that led into the kitchen. Despite the dated furnishings, the house was cute. My mom would have said it had good bones—everything was well maintained and tidy.

  Mae gestured to a round table by the windows, and I took a seat. She filled two mugs and walked over. After she set the mugs down, she moved to sit down across from me before she jumped up. “Do you want something in that?”

  “What’s something?” I prompted.

  She pressed her lips together. “I don't know, a dash of chocolate vodka or some mint liqueur.”

  “Well, I'll never say no to that. Both sound good,” I returned.

  She fetched a bottle out of the cabinet, pouring a generous dollop in both mugs before sitting down. I didn't know what she'd been wearing before, but now she looked absolutely adorable. She was wearing a fluffy pink sweater with fitted leggings and pink socks to match. Her hair was pulled up in a bun with loose tendrils framing her face. As I looked over at her, my eyes lingered on her pink cheeks. There was something almost innocent about her, but not really. Somehow, she was wholesome and sensual at the
same time.

  “Thank you for fixing the truck and plowing my driveway,” she said after she took a swallow of her hot chocolate.

  “Happy to help. It was just a dead battery.”

  “Now, you can plow me out anytime,” she said, her lips twitching at the corners.

  “Just ask, and I’ll be here,” I said, meaning that on more levels than I guessed she’d suspect.

  I paused to take a swallow of the hot chocolate. “Oh, this is good,” I said as I lowered the mug. There was the smooth burn of minty liqueur mingling with the rich chocolate. “Not too sweet.”

  “I don't like mine too sweet.”

  “You make your own?”

  Mae nodded. “I do.” When my brows hitched in surprise, she added, “All you need is actual cocoa and some sugar and milk.”

  “It’s definitely better than the kind in the little packets that I use.” I took another swallow. “How are you?” I asked a moment later.

  Mae lifted her shoulder in an elegant shrug. “I'm fine.”

  Ah, there we were with fine. I decided to press ahead. “So, you came home because your grandmother passed away?”

  Her shoulders rose when she took a breath and let it out quickly. “Yes.”

  “I'm sorry about that.”

  “Again, thank you. She lived a good life. I miss her, but it wasn't unexpected. She'd been sick.”

  “How old was she?”

  Mae drummed her fingertips on the table and took another swallow of hot chocolate. “Eighty-two, I think.”

  “Well, that's a good long life.”

  Her smile was quick, and my heart warmed. “It definitely was. So, how did you end up here?”

  “Didn’t I tell you Remy told me about the job?”

  “Oh, that's right! You did. The world is weirdly small, isn't it?” Her tone was bright with a touch of force to it.

  “I never thought I'd see you again,” I said, deciding to be direct.

  “No, I don't suppose you did.”