Wild Love

by Lauren Accardo

  A curious smile creeped across Karen’s face, and she rested her chin in her hand. “Hmm, okay,” she said in a singsong voice. “Any ideas on who I could set her up with? Or, in your opinion, is there no one good enough for Sydney?”

  “Karen Walsh,” he said. “What are you suggesting?”

  Karen shrugged, batting her eyelashes like a schoolgirl with a secret. “I don’t suggest. I call ’em like I see ’em. And if I didn’t admire the hell out of what you’re doing for Liv and Jay, I’d tell you to go up to my daughter right now and kiss her like I know you want to.”

  A red-hot blush filled Sam’s cheeks. Thank God the beard hid the worst of it. He’d always worried about how transparent he’d been, lusting over Sydney. Maybe he didn’t have to wonder anymore.

  “But my gut tells me you’re trying to make life less complicated for Liv,” Karen said. “I know it’s been over between the two of you for a long time, but I can’t imagine she’d enjoy knowing you’d fallen for somebody else. Seems like one of those situations that might have her running for the hooch, right?”

  “It’s not like that with me and Syd,” he said. The words didn’t sound convincing even to him. Karen was spot-on. Before he’d met Sydney, he couldn’t imagine a scenario that pulled his focus and dedication away from Liv and Jay. Now he was a rabbit in a trap, desperate for a way out. “We’re just friends. I’m . . . Liv and Jay are my priority.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Karen said, taking another sip of coffee. “I get it. You’ve made a commitment, and if Liv can be the kind of sober parent to Jay that you think she can be, then you’re a hero for helping ’em out, Sam Kirkland. And if staying away from pretty girls helps you do that, then more power to ya. But when Liv does show up again, try not to stare at Syd so much. That dopey look you get on your face when she’s in the room is a dead giveaway.”

  Karen stood up from the table, leaving Sam frozen in his chair.

  * * *

  • • •

  Does anybody have any threes?” Jorie’s eyes swam around the circle like half-dead tadpoles in a tepid pool.

  “Baby, that’s not how this works,” Matt said, peering over her shoulder at her cards. “And you have all the threes.”

  “No, only four of them!”

  “Man, I can’t play this game with her anymore.” Sam threw his cards in the middle of the dining table and leaned back in his chair. It was close to midnight, and most of the over-fifty crowd had gone to bed. Those remaining were either half in the bag or too annoyed with Jorie to continue the game.

  “I’ll get her a water,” Sydney said, pushing herself up from the table. Sam’s brain told him to stay put, but the perfectly rounded shape of her ass told a very different part of him to get up and go into the kitchen.

  He grabbed himself a cold beer from the fridge and handed her a bottle of water. When he stood upright and closed the fridge door, she remained next to him with an open palm. “And another beer, please.”

  “For you?”

  “Yes, for me.” Her lips curved into a smile.

  He knew this dance very well. Flirting. It began with banter, escalated with teasing, and culminated in her touching him in some way that made him hard and in need of an excuse to leave the room. It always happened at the end of the night. And it always left him desperate for more.

  “You sure?” he said.

  “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be my second drink of the night. I’m being so responsible.”

  He pursed his lips and took a long, slow drink of his own beer. She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe him.

  “I dunno,” he sang. They matched each other’s dopey grins, daring the other to break first. He hadn’t acted like a silly teenager in a long time, but she brought it out of him.

  “It’s almost midnight and we’re playing Go Fish. And Jorie just asked for a fifth three card. I need it.”

  “I’m inclined to say no, Syd.”

  She lowered her chin, deepened her gaze, and took a step toward him. Her breasts pressed against his crossed arms, her thighs brushed his, and he could feel the three buttons on her high-waisted jeans against his hardening cock. All the breath left his lungs.

  “That was easy.”

  She stepped back holding his beer bottle. He hadn’t even felt her snatch it. By the time he remembered that he had a brain and engaging said brain was necessary to form sentences, she was back in the dining room while he trailed after her.

  “What was easy?”

  The voice shattered the moment like a brick through a window. He spun over his shoulder, and standing in the front doorway, bringing with her a wave of icy air, was Liv.

  “What are you doing here?” he said. Her little pixie face crumpled as if he’d pinched her, and he immediately regretted his tone. She sucked at her cheeks, eyes dancing around the discarded napkins, empty beer bottles, and food-caked plates scattered around the room.

  She cleared her throat before she said, “I just got in. Thought it might be nice to spend Thanksgiving at home.”

  “Livvy!” Jorie bounded into the living room and crushed her friend in a hug. Liv’s eyes shut tight as she clutched Jorie’s swaying body.

  When Jorie finally pulled back, Liv grinned at the slurring, sloppy group that had tumbled into the living room to see what the commotion was. “Guess I missed all the fun, huh?”

  “Not all the fun,” Jorie’s brother said, holding up a half-empty bottle of tequila. “We’re gonna put Jorie to bed so the rest of us can keep having a good time.”

  “Yeah, we’re gonna play spin the bottle,” Jared said. His eyelids were at half-mast.

  “Like hell we are,” Sydney said.

  Sam’s blood pressure rose. Jared had been lurking around Sydney all night, and now he sat directly next to her, grinning like a kid with a crush every time she spoke. She didn’t appear engaged, but Sam couldn’t be sure enough to rest easy. He wanted his brother clear across the room from her.

  “Yeah, dude,” Matt said. “That’d be weird, since a lot of us are related.”

  Sydney rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna head out.”

  Sam’s feet were planted in place, unable to move toward Liv or away from where he stood rooted to the ground. He watched, helpless in his own skin, as Sydney hugged the group goodbye and asked Matt if he was sure he didn’t want her to take Jorie home. Matt assured her Jorie would be better off on the couch in case she puked, and Sydney gathered her coat and purse. She avoided Sam’s eyes completely.

  “Hi,” Liv said, approaching Sydney with an outstretched hand. “I’m Olivia. You must be Karen Walsh’s daughter.”

  “That’s right. Sydney.”

  “So nice to meet you,” Liv said. She dropped Sydney’s hand and twisted her purse strap between her bony fingers. “I’ll have to stop by your mom’s store soon. I heard you’ve been fixing it up.”

  “I’m trying.” The contrast between the two women was staggering. He’d always considered Liv well dressed, but Sydney’s style was effortless and expensive in a way Liv couldn’t touch.

  “I can’t wait to see it.” Liv worried the purse strap between her fingers, twisting until he feared she might snap it into two pieces. Uncertainty radiated out of her like a freshman standing in front of the head cheerleader.

  “We’re having a bunch of fun stuff at the store this weekend. You should come by. Tomorrow, actually, Dusty Rose Publishing is sending an author to do a signing, and we’re doing a huge giveaway with some books and swag that a publicist sent me.”

  “Sounds fantastic,” Liv said. “I love romance novels, so I’ll definitely have to swing by.”

  Sydney’s lips pressed into a smile, but this time, no teeth. “You definitely should.”

  She sent a cursory smile to Sam, waved vaguely at the group, and left.

  She took the warmth from the room with he
r. All at once, Sam needed to get out.

  He drove, slowly meandering around the slick mountain roads with Liv following, both of them driving toward the cabin they called home. He had a brief fantasy of sailing over the edge of the cliff and meeting his blissful end in a fiery crash below. But he didn’t want to die. He just wanted to be over all the heartache.

  As he entered the dark cabin, the medicinal scent of Liv’s flowery perfume stung his nostrils and turned his stomach. He flipped on the lamp near the door, and there, sitting neatly against the wall, was her little pink suitcase framed by a pair of pink Converse sneakers and a pink umbrella. On the dining table he found a child’s drawing. The surprisingly neat penmanship read, I miss you Sam! Love Jay.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, the tension headache thrumming against his skull. The kid was so smart, so talented. He deserved more than custody battles and a mother he was only allowed to see in photos. Liv’s sobriety record in the last year had been impeccable. She’d attended every AA meeting, showed up for Jay, and put her life in Pine Ridge on hold to make sure her kid had two physically, mentally, and emotionally present parents. For a single sad moment, he imagined his father having someone believe in him the way Sam believed in Liv. Maybe the old man would still be around.

  Liv entered the house behind him and quietly slipped off her wet boots. She’d done nothing wrong, and yet he wondered if there was any excuse believable enough to get him back out of the house.

  As he watched her strip off her coat, walk into the living room, and curl her feet underneath herself on the couch, waves of nostalgia pulled him back. She was like a diseased limb; he knew he had to have it amputated, but once it was gone, he’d spend the rest of his life with its ghost.

  “I didn’t know you were coming back tonight,” he said.

  She twirled a strand of white-blond hair around her finger and peered up at him with big doe eyes.

  “I wasn’t really welcome at Thanksgiving with Kevin’s family.” She jutted out her chin. “No matter what I do, they’re convinced I’m toxic. I mean, he’s my kid. How cruel do you have to be to keep a kid from his mother on Thanksgiving?”

  Sam remembered Kevin’s parents from their one and only brief meeting last year—conservative Christians who believed in an early bedtime, vegetables at every meal, and Bible study three times a week. They may not have been warm and welcoming to their grandson’s recovering alcoholic mother, but from what Sam could tell, they wanted the best for Jay.

  “What did they say?” he asked.

  “We got into an argument because I borrowed some money from them and haven’t paid it back yet. I’m paying through the nose for rent in Akron, plus the car payments, doctor’s appointments, and now that psychologist they’re making Jay go to. And the lawyer fees and all that. So when Kevin’s mom asked me when I could pay them back, I told her I didn’t know, and she said maybe it would be best if I didn’t come for Thanksgiving.”

  Sam took a deep breath as her eyes filled with tears. Before his mother passed away, she’d told him, “You can’t maintain a relationship on nostalgia alone.”

  Part of it was nostalgia—this tiny woman swimming in her oversize sweater with the same platinum-blond hair she’d had since high school—but his mother couldn’t have known how he was drowning when she died. How his heart stopped every time the phone rang because any day could be the call.

  And how Liv smoothed over that pain and fear by simply being there. Slipping his mother snacks, washing her hair, sneaking into the room during doctor’s visits to translate the complicated medical jargon that made Sam’s head spin.

  Liv hadn’t wanted anything from him then. And now she needed him for everything.

  “So anyway,” Liv said, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “I figured if they didn’t want me around, I’d come back here for a while.”

  Sam ran a hand over his face. He couldn’t bring himself to step into the living room. He didn’t want to touch her, didn’t want to discuss this with her. Part of him hated her. Part of him wanted to help her.

  “Jay’s not coming back with you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, collapsing her shoulders. “It seems like he’s happy there, and when I’m around, things just get messy. If I’m making my son’s life complicated, then I’ll go.”

  He scraped his fingers over his beard. Anger mixed with sympathy, creating a toxic cocktail inside his chest. Her poor kid.

  “You’re still going to meetings, though, right?” he said.

  “I hate those meetings.” Her eyes were bloodshot and wild. “I go, Sam, but I’m not like those degenerates. All kinds of sad, ugly people complaining about how their wives left them and they had their driver’s licenses taken away. I’m young. Lots of young people drink a lot. Look at Jorie’s parents’ house tonight. Everyone was hammered.”

  “You’re not like everyone else,” he said. His vision clouded with rage. The lines were straight out of a scene from his childhood. “Some people can get drunk one night and then they’re fine for weeks or months without having a drop. You have two beers and suddenly you’re closing down Utz’s and I have to drag your drunk ass home so you don’t choke on your own vomit and die.”

  Her bottom lip quivered, and he raked his hands through his hair. This was what she did to him. She pushed him just far enough to say something he regretted, and yet she hadn’t done anything particularly evil. His chest heaved. His head throbbed. She was trying. Didn’t that count for something?

  He knew sober Liv. The Liv who was her patients’ favorite nurse, the Liv who received flowers from the families as thanks for everything she did to make their loss less painful. The clear-eyed, grinning Liv who managed to avoid alcohol and stay present.

  But that Liv was temporary, only one drink away from torpedoing everything all over again. How could he trust something so delicate?

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I know I’m letting everyone down. I don’t deserve any sympathy from anyone.”

  The scene was textbook. Defensive, remorseful, a promise to change, rinse, repeat. Her emotions exhausted him, refused to release him from their tangled embrace. The judge said proving Liv had a stable homelife in Pine Ridge would help her case. If he gave up on helping to save Jay’s relationship with his mother, he’d never forgive himself. So he stuck it out.

  “I’m going to bed,” he said. “There’s not much in the fridge, but you can eat what’s there if you’re hungry.”

  “Thank you,” she said, sniffling. She wiped the tears from her dimpled chin. “Seriously, Sam. Everything you’ve done for us. Everything you’ve done for me. I know I treated you terribly when we were kids, and I don’t deserve any of this. But I truly can’t thank you enough.”

  He bit the inside of his lip, tamping down all the things he wanted to say to her.

  As the product of an alcoholic parent, he knew exactly what Jay was up against and would have to fight for the rest of his life. What Sam had never had was someone fighting for his parent’s sobriety the way he and Liv fought for hers. If she could hold herself together long enough to create and maintain a stable homelife, maybe Jay would have a fighting chance at normalcy. This version of Liv was weepy and misguided, but at least she was clean.

  Please, God, let her stay clean.

  Sam walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, savoring the inky darkness. Having Liv in the house again set him on edge and tested his nerves. She was a live wire, reminding him that his life was not his own. He’d accepted her as a friend after their messy breakup years ago, but now she occupied a much more tumultuous place in his world.

  A year ago, when she got into her car, drunk beyond reason and with her kid in the front seat, he lost faith in her. She’d spent the past twelve months working for her sobriety, reclaiming a solid place in Jay’s life, and regaining the trust her frie
nds and family once had in her. She’d gone from a lover to a friend to a burden, and Sam didn’t know how to reconcile that type of relationship. All he knew was that he’d agreed to it.

  He kicked off his boots, tugged off his clothes, and went to sleep.

  chapter fourteen

  Sydney’s mind wandered. Traffic in the store had been steady all weekend, and the book signing on Friday had been a smash. Tourists and locals alike had sought out the Loving Page after reading about the event on fliers scattered around town and posts on social media. They filled the store to capacity and had all but cleaned out the romance section. Most of the avid fans promised to return on December 15 for the first book-club meeting to discuss their first title, Years Ago.

  Sydney had slid headfirst into the world of romance novels, spurred by Jorie and fueled by the captivating worlds the authors created. Years Ago told the story of a career woman who foolishly gave it all up for love, only to find that the man truly worth her time wanted her success as much as she did. Sydney spent the night before Thanksgiving inhaling the novel and weeping through the final pages.

  But now the store was quiet, with most of the tourists having finished their shopping earlier in the afternoon. They were probably out at the bars or having dinner. And Sydney had time to dwell on Olivia.

  The reunion she’d witnessed between Liv and Sam had been less than romantic, but she’d barely heard from or seen him all weekend, and the distance left her rattled. All that had changed was Olivia’s presence in town. Whatever had pushed Sam away, it had to do with her. Sydney was sure of it.

  “Excuse me.” A fragile voice interrupted her thoughts. Sydney turned from her spot at the back of the store to face a tiny grinning old woman with a cloud of baby pink hair.

  “Hi there,” Sydney said brightly. The gorgeous coif begged to be touched. “How can I help you?”

  “I heard a rumor you’re starting a romance book club,” she said. Her eyes twinkled behind massive red glasses. “Is it true?”