Nowhere but Here

by Katie McGarry

  Oh, holy hell, he’s warm and solid and I enjoy being pressed up against him too much.

  “Did you burn yourself?”

  Does he think he’s that warm? “What?”

  “You cried out. Did you burn yourself on the exhaust pipe?”

  “No.” Probably. I step back and Oz lowers his arms. “I’m fine.”

  I suck in a surprised breath at the view. “Wow. This is what you call a pond?”

  Oz

  THE PURE JOY on Emily’s face brightens my mood and creates a surge of pride. I’ve put a ton of hours into this place. I helped Dad hang the rope from the old oak tree, nailed in over half of the shingles on the small cabin and stood waist deep in the water as we sank in the posts for the dock. The property belongs to Cyrus, but it’s a part of me.

  Emily walks onto the dock and shields her eyes from the glare of the sun hitting the water. “It’s really pretty.”

  “I like it,” I respond. With her back to me, I unfasten the holster holding the gun Eli gave me and hide it in the saddlebag, then join her on the dock.

  “What you did for Olivia today...her nails. Thanks for that. She has diminished strength in that side and it’s hard for her...” To accept the repercussions of the stroke that started this nightmare. The ache in my chest steals my breath.

  Emily’s gaze flickers in my direction then it jumps to the water. “It was no problem.”

  “Did you fix her coffee for her?” Because Olivia is left-handed and doing things with her right side has been challenging.

  “Ponds are large holes,” she says. “This is a small lake.”

  That’d be a yes, but as Emily suggested before, she won’t lie. My respect for her grows.

  Now would be the traditional moment when we strip. Emily does slip off her boots, but remains clothed as she settles on the end of the dock. Fuck it. I peel off my shirt and toss it behind Emily. “You know it’s a million degrees, right?”

  Emily looks up at me and her focus wanders down. Crimson races across her cheeks and she immediately redirects her attention to the water. “Um...yeah.”

  “Are you coming in?”

  I flick the button of my jeans and undo the zipper. My lips twitch when Emily’s head lifts with the sound. Is she also remembering that kiss a few weeks back? Because I am. Standing behind Emily as she sits painfully straight, I reposition a part of myself and then slide off my jeans.

  Three steps and I cannonball it in. The rush of cold water is exactly what’s called for and when I kick up from the bottom, I tie my swim trunks. Emerging naked in front of Emily isn’t what either of us need. I surface and shake the water out of my hair.

  Emily throws her arm up as the droplets land on her. “Oh my God, you’re half dog.”

  I chuckle. “If you only knew the truth. Jump in.”

  A bead of sweat rolls down her neck from her hairline. Wearing jeans is required when riding with me and she’s suffering for it. Jeans won’t protect her from everything, but they can help keep her legs safe from burns, road debris or if I screw up and we take a fall.

  “What does that mean?” she asks. “About the truth?”

  It means she’s not the first girl I’ve kissed. “Nothing. Come in or I’m coming out to throw you in. You’re not going to die of heatstroke on my watch.”

  Emily’s legs nervously swing. “This isn’t my swimsuit.”

  “So?”

  “So...it’s not mine...and...this...shows a lot more...than I’m used to.”

  I cough to cover the laugh. Even with the Nashville shopping trip, she’s been rocking Violet’s clothes and there’s a part of me that’s considered writing Violet a thank-you note. Especially for those cut-offs from yesterday. Jesus, Emily’s sweet ass was practically hanging out.

  “It’s just us and if you’re scared I’m going to cop a second-base feel, don’t worry. What happened at the Lanesville clubhouse was a onetime deal.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Emily sheds her shirt then shimmies out of the jeans to expose the blue bikini. She frees her hair from its bun and it spills like water around her shoulders. My lungs constrict so damn tight I have to force in air.

  Emily’s beautiful. Gorgeous. She’s got curves a guy could spend hours worshipping. Swimming was a bad idea. An evil one and I’m wondering what the hell Olivia was thinking. Emily wraps her arms around her bare stomach. She’s uncomfortable and I’m horny as hell.

  “I’ll race you,” I suggest quickly.

  “Where to?” she asks.

  Chevy, Razor and I have swum across the pond easily enough, but it wore our asses out and that’s what I need—to be so damn tired that I tumble into a coma tonight and keep my hands off her body. “If you’re a good enough swimmer then let’s race to the other side.”

  Emily’s lips slant up. “I swim in the ocean with my dad. This could be very bad for you.”

  Competitive. Gotta say I like it. “I don’t listen to talk. Only action. Jump in and quit running your mouth.”

  With her arms stretched over her head, Emily dives in.

  Emily

  MY MUSCLES MELT into the wood of the warm dock. With my eyes closed, I flip over onto my stomach. Even with the sunscreen and the afternoon shade of the oak tree, odds are I’ll burn. Oz and I have spent too much time here, but swimming and being lazy has been fun.

  Won’t lie—I also enjoy having won the race.

  A huge breeze slams across the water and little waves lap against the dock. I pop up onto my elbows when the dock gently drifts with the current. Lying a foot from me, Oz opens his eyes. “We should get going. A severe storm is supposed to come through this evening.”

  Not a fan of storms, I snag my shirt. “Then let’s go. It’s gotta be, what? Five o’clock?”

  “Seven-thirty,” Oz answers.

  My head whips toward him. “Seven-thirty?”

  He slowly sits up and rests his arms on his bent knees. “You dozed for a few hours.”

  I blink. Rapidly. Yeah, I fell asleep, but I didn’t think it was for that long. “You should have woken me.”

  “Why? You were under shade and we don’t have anywhere to be.”

  My pulse pounds rapidly as I take in the fading light. The thick woods surrounding us have lost their friendly glow and now possess a foreboding shadow.

  It’s toward the end of June. The sun will set late. Between eight and nine and it’s already seven-thirty. It only took a few minutes to get here, but I still need to hunt down the tree. Dang it, how could I forget this? It’s the whole reason I’m here.

  I fumble with the shirt, drop it, and when I try to pick it up again, my hands shake. We’ll make it. We’ll definitely reach Olivia’s before the sunset and I won’t be left behind, smothered by darkness and woods. But Oz said a storm is coming. Sure enough, massive clouds race across the sky. A storm will mean losing daylight faster and I scramble to my feet.

  “We have time before the storm hits,” he says.

  “I know.” And while nervous adrenaline engulfs me, I can’t help but notice how the muscles in Oz’s abdomen ripple as he stands. “The time surprised me.”

  “So are you ready for the rope swing?” Oz asks.

  My head inclines to the side. “I’m sorry?”

  “The rope swing. It’s tradition. Everyone who swims in the lake has to jump into the water using the swing. Then you carve your name on one of the trees.”

  “Well...” I assess the rope. It dangles over the water and it’s attached to the aging tree. The one I’m assuming Olivia wanted me to find. Off to the side of the swing, in the water, are several large rocks and in the middle is a deep pool. It appears safe enough, but I don’t have time.

  I can’t be caught out here. Not in the woods. Not with the darkness. “I’m okay with being th
e exception.”

  Oz crosses his arms over his chest. “Classic Emily.”

  “What?”

  “Backing out of things. You engage just enough and then you skulk back into your shell.”

  Uh... “It was me that kissed you.”

  “Yeah, and you stopped before it got good. Think about it. You’ve been here for a month, and tell me what you’ve learned about any of us.”

  “Plenty.”

  “What type of cancer does Olivia have?”

  Oz swears when I don’t answer.

  “No one’s mentioned what type,” I whisper.

  “And you’ve never asked. Day after day your body is here, you play nice, talk to your parents and then you go to bed. Like today, you spend the day with me and then I give you an opportunity to be a part of the bigger picture, part of a family tradition, and you rein yourself back in where it’s nice and safe.”

  His words sting. Very much so, but how dare he throw anything in my face. “I have shared. I told you about how I’m scared of upsetting my dad by being curious about Eli.”

  “And then you crawled back into your hole—proving my point.”

  “Like you’ve tried so hard to get to know me?”

  Oz tosses his arms out. “Why should I try? Olivia’s been busting her ass asking you question after question and you sit around giving her half-truths. Eli’s been doing this dance with you for the past seven years. Why the hell would I want to play monkey for someone who doesn’t respect anyone else?”

  “Oh my God!” I shriek. “I don’t ask about you because there’s nothing to know. You graduated from high school and your job is to follow me around. I have ears. I listen. Especially when everyone thinks I’m not. Following me around is your job for some stupid reason and you are perfectly okay with that. What type of life is this? Olivia says do something, you do it. Eli calls or texts and you’re immediately on your feet. Nope, you don’t play monkey for me because you’re already doing it for everyone else!”

  Oz towers over me. “You have no idea what the club means!”

  A voice tells me to stop, but I can’t. A raging flood has taken over my thoughts and my emotions are being carried away by the rapid current. “And when you aren’t busy doing what everyone wants you obsess over Olivia.”

  “She’s dying!”

  “But at least she’s living. Can you say the same?”

  “Like you know anything about living. You never take a risk!”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “But not fully engaged. When the hell are you going to step outside of yourself and experience what’s going on around you? You have a huge family I would kill to be blood-related to and you can’t appreciate it to save your life!”

  “Take me back to Olivia’s.”

  Oz lowers his tone and those blue eyes freeze into ice. “Not until you jump off that rope.”

  He wants me to cower. He wants me to boohoo and do what he demands, but that’s not going to happen. I step into his personal space. “Can’t make me.”

  His eyebrows shoot behind his hair. “I can’t?”

  “You. Can’t.”

  Oz stoops and before I can ask what he’s doing, his shoulder connects with my stomach and then I’m off the ground. A squeal leaves my mouth and my hair dangles over my face. I kick and Oz wraps both of his arms over my legs and locks them to him.

  “Put me down!” I yell.

  Oz’s response is to walk off the dock onto the grass, and he stalks around the edge of the lake toward the rope.

  “I mean it! Put me down!”

  He moves swiftly. Stealthily. As if my weight was nothing more than a helium balloon.

  “You’ll have to put me down in order for me to grab on to the rope and I won’t do it! This is stupid.”

  “You won’t have to,” Oz says. Some of the pressure releases from my legs and I wiggle for escape, but he still has a firm grip on me. “Because I’ll hold it for you.”

  In less than a second, I slip down. My chest sliding against his until I’m face-to-face, nose-to-nose, lips near lips with Oz. His arm snakes around my waist and his strong hold squeezes us closer together until there’s no space left. I become aware. Very aware, and this awareness creates a warm tingle in my lower belly.

  “Let me go,” I whisper, but there’s absolutely no conviction in my voice.

  “I wish I could,” he mumbles. “But for some reason I can’t.”

  Both of our chests rise and fall and my fingers curl into the hair near the base of his neck. My mouth dries out and I swear my blood vibrates with the beat of my heart.

  The thick twined rope is by my head and Oz fists the cord in his hand. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me and I’ll let you go. I’m an asshole, but I’m not that bad of a person.”

  “Will we leave after?” My eyes frantically search his face. “As soon as we jump into the water can we leave?”

  Oz’s forehead wrinkles. “You’re not scared of the rope, are you?”

  I shake my head and try to swallow the large lump forming in my throat.

  “What are you scared of?” Oz glides his thumb across the bare skin of my back. The same type of caress he gave me weeks ago when he was trying to comfort me at the motel. Goose bumps spread rapidly along my arms and it’s a pleasurable sensation.

  You. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Emily—”

  “Tell me what to do!”

  “Hold on to me and when I tell you, you let go.”

  I nod while wrapping my arms around his neck. I’ve accomplished this feat before—jumping from a rope swing—but I’ve never done it with another person. I could inform Oz of this. I could tell him I’m brave enough to do this on my own, but I like how my body presses to his. I like too much how his arm holds me tight.

  Oz nuzzles my hair and his warm breath tickles the skin behind my ear. My knees weaken and I lean completely into him.

  With a push off the ground, wind blows through my hair as the two of us defy gravity. My stomach performs summersaults as we coast up into the air, dip down and then swing high over the grass. We repeat the loop, three times. Each swing causing us to go higher in the air.

  “On this one,” Oz says. “When we’re over the water—jump.”

  The trees blur into green as we race past, then there is sparkling blue.

  “Jump!” Oz shouts.

  I do. Releasing Oz. Falling backward. Letting my arms and legs stretch. The sun blinds me, the air warm on my back and then cold. A splash and the muffling sound of my ears filling with water. Pain slams into my leg and a cry leaves my throat.

  My body convulses with the intake of water into my mouth, my nose. My hair spreads around me, strangling me, and my lungs burn for oxygen. My feet immediately kick for the surface. Fast. But not fast enough. I need air. Need air. I break through the water and my gasp is audible. The coughs rack my body.

  “Emily!”

  My head snaps to the right and with perfect form, Oz swims to me. I wipe the water from my eyes as I choke. Oz sweeps an arm around my waist and draws me into him. “Are you okay?”

  I cough repeatedly, the spasms rocking my body. My arms go for Oz’s neck, but he ducks and turns me, supporting my back with his chest. His fingers splay over my stomach and he tips me so that my body is floating and my head rests on his shoulder.

  The coughs keep coming and Oz is talking. Low. Softly. Words that I cling to like a life preserver about how everything is okay. I suck in my first real breath and the clean intake of air feels good. A few more breaths and I flinch with the throb on my shin. I lift my leg out of the water and a stream of blood flows like an oil slick.

  Oz shifts so that he’s facing me. His eyes are wide. Wild even. “Shit. How bad is it?”
/>
  I blink, several times. “I don’t know.”

  “Can you swim?”

  “Yes.” But I don’t move. Instead, I sort of lock up as Oz treads water for both of us.

  He smooths some strands of hair stuck to my face away and cradles my jaw. It’s an intimate gesture. One that I like, but am too dazed to fully appreciate. “I got you. Okay?”

  Oz kicks hard for dry land, dragging me with him. “You jumped toward the rocks. You scared the shit out of me.”

  The rocks. A quick snap of my gaze over my shoulder and chills run through me so quickly that I shake. Razor-sharp rocks less than a foot from me. I must have hit the real deadly ones. The quiet danger that you can’t see below the surface.

  “Isn’t it always the things that you can’t see that hurt you?” I mumble.

  Oz says nothing as he pulls both of us out of the water. He immediately eases down to my leg and blood steadily flows from the long wound.

  “That’s a nice gash.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s not deep, but the son of a bitch is going to bleed. Don’t move. I need to make sure your leg’s not broken before you try to walk, but first we need to stop the bleeding.”

  Oz strides over to the small shack of a cabin and undoes a combination lock. He disappears inside then returns with a first-aid kit. A curse leaves his mouth when he opens the kit and only finds an ACE bandage. He works it over my leg and I watch as a wet dark line soaks through the material.

  Oz pokes and prods my leg, asking if this or that hurts, and after a few minutes declares that he doesn’t believe the bone is broken.

  “How do you know how to do this?” I ask.

  Oz closes the now empty kit. “My mom’s a nurse and she taught me first aid because of my jobs. I used to lifeguard at the local pool and you know I referee peewee football. She’ll be pissed when she hears that no one has refreshed the supplies. There’s been talk of bad bacteria in the lakes. When we get back to Olivia’s pour some antiseptic over it.”