by J. B. McGee
He grins. “I’ve never crashed a wedding.”
I pull him back toward me. “And we’re not going to start tonight, right?”
“I was kidding, Sam.” He points to the sign above one of the restaurants. “They may be having a reception over there, but this place is open for business.” He opens the door and holds it for me to walk through it. “Let’s just sit at the bar.”
“I don’t think I’m gonna drink tonight.” My mind wanders back to the limo ride here, to the amount of alcohol I’d consumed—mainly because Joe had told me not to. When I’m around him, he is commanding, and I’d never really noticed how easily he makes it for me to go along with whatever he wants until the ghost tour. It scares me how much I submit to him. How much I want to submit to him. “I think I had enough on the way.”
I sit on the stool at the bar. Ryan flags down the bartender. “I’ll have a Jack and Coke. She’ll just have a Coke.”
“Actually, a Diet Coke, please.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Sorry about that.”
I smile.
A year into dating, and he doesn’t even know I drink Diet Coke? Even more disarming about Joe is the way he knows what I need when I need it. How my body betrays me in his presence. That’s not changed since the last time we were together. He knew I’d had too much to drink on the way, but what he may not have known is I needed every bit of it to dull the aching inside of me from seeing him with Rebecca, from having to sit next to him for three hours, for having to have his accidental touches on my body.
Distance and time didn’t diminish any of it like I’d thought. Like I’d planned. Several weeks ago, I saw a quote on a plaque in a gift shop that said something like distance between two hearts is not an obstacle, but rather a beautiful reminder of the strength of true love. Somehow, my hands had picked it up. My feet walked me to the register. And my hands pulled my credit card out and paid for it. It was robotic. I’d brought it home and hid it in a drawer.
Ryan nudges me. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“A lot on my mind.”
“Like what?” He puts his hand on my leg.
“It’s not important. I don’t wanna talk about it tonight.” But I’m beginning to realize we’re going to have to discuss it. I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. Keep this charade up.
Both of us were tired, so we ate and headed back to the inn. Ryan’s sprawled on the bed, watching a football game. “Hey, baby. I’m gonna go see if Gabby wants to hang out for a bit.”
He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure Gabby is otherwise engaged.”
“Stop. They’ve had plenty of time to do their thing.” I don’t want to admit it’s just that I need air and time away from him to think. “I’ll be back shortly, okay?”
“Okay. Have fun.”
I roll my eyes. “You too.” We are on a romantic trip. My sister and brother-in-law are probably getting it on. Joe and Rebecca are probably, too, but that makes my skin crawl at the mere thought. And my boyfriend is watching football. We’re not even married. After the car conversation, I’m not sure we ever will be. And is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? Being ignored for sports? My lips part, and I’m about to tell him how I feel, but instead I pull the knob and let the door slam on my way out.
My feet make their way to Gabby’s room. My knuckles are about to meet the wood of the door when I hear them. Eww. I turn to walk away, and a steely body pushes me until I’m against the wall, then boxes me in with his arms. My nostrils are filled with the scent of leather, rum, and vanilla. My eyes dance up his chest and wander into his velvety brown eyes. His hair is a mess, spiked and in disarray. I gulp down my pulse that feels like it’s about to beat out of my throat. “What are you doing?”
His lips nearly brush mine, but our mouths never touch. Instead, he brings a finger to them and says, “Shh.” The smell of alcohol envelops me.
“You’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’ve had some drinks to dull”—he glances around us like there’s something there other than air—“whatever this is. But I’m not drunk, Samantha.”
When he calls me that, my knees buckle. No one ever calls me by my whole name, and I’ve never liked it until him. “What do you want?”
“You.” He closes his eyes. “I mean, I miss you. Our friendship.” Like we can ever go back to being what we were, as if I even know the definition of what we had.
I grimace. “It was your ultimatum.”
“I didn’t think you’d choose him.” His forehead rests on mine. “Why’d you choose him?”
“Do you think it’s possible for us to just be friends? You said—”
“Being nothing isn’t an option.” He tilts his head slightly.
“Okay,” I whisper, releasing a sigh.
His face turns pale.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Where’s my brother? Watching football?”
“Yeah.” A small laugh escapes. “How’d you ever guess?”
Joe shakes his head and mutters something.
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing.”
I nudge him. “What did you say?”
“I said he’s a fucking moronic idiot.”
“You did not. I would have been able to decipher that.”
He smirks. “Well, he is.”
“I know you think that.”
“Sam. He is in a romantic B and B with the most beautiful girl on the planet and he’s watching a fuckin’ football game.”
My breath whooshes out. “You’re in a romantic B and B with Barbie and you’re out here calling your brother’s girlfriend the most beautiful girl on the planet. Are you any better?”
He looks away. “No. I’m a bastard.” I cringe. “Let me walk you back to your room.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“I’m just sayin’”
“C’mon.”
Words aren’t spoken, but they aren’t necessary. There are so many unspoken things being conveyed, but they are in a different language, and for the life of me I can’t decipher how to interpret any of them. But with every second that has passed today, I can’t kick the overwhelming feeling that I may have made the biggest mistake of my life on that trip to Charleston.
The silence is more than I can take as we climb the stairs that lead to the floor where our rooms are located. “So you’re going to pretend like Charleston never happened?”
He stops on the stair above the one I’m on, and I nearly run into him. He stares at me, his jaw ticking. “I am going to try to pretend Charleston didn’t happen.” He balls his fists. “I wish you’d quit bringing that weekend up to me. That was one of my best and worst nights of my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looks over the railing of the steps. “Me too.” He turns and walks up the rest of the flight of stairs, and I follow. My eyes are level with his butt. The way it flexes as his legs move up and down stirs the butterflies within me. I shake my head and move my eyes higher, and the muscles of his back are sculpted against his black T-shirt. Deep breaths. If I stay with Ryan, do I spend the rest of my life at family dinners and trips gazing at his brother while being ignored for a football game?
All this time, I’ve tried to protect Ryan’s heart, but it appears at the expense of my own. And Joe’s. In October, I went with what my brain told me to do, but the heart doesn’t care what the brain wants because the brain is nothing without a heart pumping blood to it. And if the heart is broken, the brain is incapable of doing its job. I’m talking to myself in circles.
When we reach the top of the stairs, Joe’s steps come to a screeching halt, and he puts his hand out, blocking me from moving another inch. In fact, he backs us up. “Wh—”
“Shh.”
I can hear Ryan’s muffled voice. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I was stupid back then
. I’m ashamed of the guy you described.” Who is he talking to? My eyes bulge. Joe’s face has grown even paler than it already was.
“It’s okay. Do you love her?” Rebecca the Barbie?
“Yeah. I think so. Before we got to Bradley’s, she was talking kids and marriage. I’m not ready for any of that. I don’t even know if I want those things at all.”
Beads of sweat pop up on Joe’s forehead. I stand on my tippy toes and swipe away the perspiration. “Are you okay?” I whisper, not even caring that my boyfriend’s talking to Joe’s whatever she is to him about the fact that Ryan and I apparently want different things. I’ve not even told my sister about that conversation. So what that he loves me. If he can’t give me what I want, what does it matter? “Answer me, dammit. Are you okay?”
I peep past Joe, sneaking my nose just through the entry, hoping they don’t see me. Rebecca takes a step closer to Ryan. Too close. “If you could change anything between us, would you?”
Joe rests his forehead on mine. “Fuck.” He closes his eyes, and I swear I feel his knees buckle. I’m supporting way too much of his weight.
“How much did you have to drink?”
“Not enough.”
“Right.” I push him back against the wall.
“Seriously. I’ve been really tired lately.” His voice is breathy. He’s winded. His words are barely audible. “I think I’ve done too much today.”
I frown. He’s not being straight with me. He’s not old enough to have done too much this early in the night. He owns a freakin’ nightclub. He’s an owl. I shake my head. Is the pained expression on his face because he loves her? Is he pale because he’s just realized his girlfriend is something to his brother? Is this the universe saying, “Fuck you, Sam.”? This is one hell of a situation. Please, God, don’t let it be too late.
“Say something, Sam.”
“I’m thinking. What do we do?”
“I need to sit somewhere.”
“I don’t wanna leave. It’s like a train wreck I can’t turn away from. Don’t you want to know what they do next? Don’t you want to see if they cheat on us?”
He turns his head. “Fuck no. I don’t care what they do.” He pushes off the wall, holds the railing, and slowly walks down a few steps and sits.
I follow him and sit beside him. “I’m so confused.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Joe leans back on the step behind him. “I just want to sleep.”
“Well, here’s probably not a great place.”
“I know. I’d go back to my room, but I’m waiting a bit. I don’t want to walk into their awkward reunion.”
“Why not?”
“Because, frankly, I’m too damned tired to deal with it tonight.”
“Maybe you’re getting sick.” I put my hand to his forehead. “You’re clammy, but no fever.”
“I could have told you I don’t have a fever without you touching me.”
“Are you complaining that I touched you after the stunt you pulled a few minutes ago in the hall where you almost kissed me?”
“I didn’t almost kiss you.”
“Yes. You did.”
He looks away. “How do you think Rebecca and Ryan know each other?”
“I have no idea. I really don’t think I care, either. They clearly have feelings for each other.”
“Why do you assume that?” He flashes his brown eyes back to mine. His lids are droopy. He looks like shit, but even so, he’s still ruggedly handsome. “Because she asked if he would change anything between them?”
“Well, obviously.” I swallow. “And when we got to Bradley’s, Ryan said it was nice to see her again.”
“Yeah, he’s met her before. With me. But clearly there’s a past.” He leans a little closer. “Maybe they were friends, she wanted more, and he shut her down.” His nose touches mine, and I turn my head, allowing him room to come nearer. What are you doing, Sam? “Or maybe they were lovers who had the timing all wrong? Or maybe that’s all they were…were lovers…and she told him she couldn’t grow another day older without him saying yes to giving her more.” He darts his tongue out and wets his lips. “And knowing my brother and how selfish he can be, he probably broke her heart.”
“You’re not talking about them, are you?”
He stands up. “I think I’m feeling better. I’m going to bed.”
“Joe.”
“Sam.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Don’t go.” I grab the railing and pull myself up.
“I can’t do this with you right now.”
“But what about being friends?”
“Just what I said.” His eyes turn cold.
“Screw you.” A tear trickles down my cheek. “You said it best a few minutes ago. You’re a fuckin’ bastard.” I push past him and wipe my face before I get to the top. I glare back over my shoulder. “Was this a game to you tonight?”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I could ask you the same.”
“You were never a game to me. You’ll never be something I toy with.”
“Ha. Are you actually serious?”
“I tried to do the right thing for all of us.”
He takes a step up and closes the distance between us. “Do you honestly believe that?” His face is level with mine. “That you did what was best for us?”
“I said all of us.”
“The hell with my brother. I’m asking you, do you think you did what was best for”—he fingers between our bodies— “me and you? For us?”
I look away.
“Dammit, don’t look away from me. Look me in the eyes and tell me if you think you did the right thing for us?”
I stare into his brown eyes, but words fail me. This can’t happen. “Goodnight, Joe.” I turn to walk back to my room.
“Sam.” His voice cracks. “Please don’t leave me again.”
I peer over my shoulder, and his hands are tangled in his hair. “I’m sorry.”
When I get to my room, the door’s closed, and I say a silent prayer that Rebecca isn’t in my bed screwing my boyfriend.
“What time did you come in last night?” Ryan asks.
Last night when I opened the door and walked in to find him sleeping alone in our bed, I blew out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Rebecca wasn’t in our room, and I didn’t have to actually talk, kiss, or make love to him myself. Even though my body responds to Joe in ways I wish it didn’t, I’ve never acted on any of it, and it would totally disgust me to think Ryan couldn’t pay me the same respect. If he doesn’t want to be with me, I’m fine with it at this point. But he should end it with me before putting his dick in someone else. “I didn’t look at the time, but I was surprised you were asleep.”
“I guess I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”
My gut plummets. Is it possible they had a quickie and she’d already left by the time I got back to the room? Did she wear him out? Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow it back. Given the situation with Joe, I feel like a hypocrite for caring. I rush to the bathroom, start the shower, and toss my clothes to the floor. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
Ryan peeks his head around the curtain. “Want some company?”
I shake my head. “I’m not feeling well today. Think I may be coming down with something.” I try to cough. “You don’t want to catch this.”
The lines on his forehead crumple. “How was your talk with Gabby last night?”
“Good. Really good.” Shit. I’ve never lied to him like this. What am I doing?
Ryan eyes me speculatively. “Enjoy your shower. Save me some hot water, please.”
I smile. “Okay.” Relief washes over me as the steam billows from the shower. Once I have some privacy, I reflect back on that night with Joe, and I finally accept what I realized on the stairs last night.
“So. You’ve lived in Charleston your entire life and never been on a ghost tour?” Joe asks
.
“Pretty much.” We are walking to the ticket booth to get our reservations.
“That’s a damn shame.”
“Eh. It’s only appealing to you because you’re not from here.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve always loved listening to ghost stories.”
I sneak a peek at him. He’s looking straight ahead. “You believe in ghosts?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Spirits, yeah.”
“You do not.” That seems so odd to me that this beautiful, tough, rugged man would admit that to me. He sways back into me, and when I fall to the side, I miss the heat of his body against mine for that brief second.
“What’s wrong with believing in spirits?”
“I don’t know.” There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ve never told anyone, but I’ve felt my mom. Strange things have happened. I’ve never even told Gabby. “Based on what Ryan said at the house, I just figured—”
“Ryan’s my brother, and he’s super smart, but he’s an idiot.”
“Ha.” I furrow my brows. “You’re just saying that because he’s your brother.”
“It’s true. Have you listened to some of the moronic statements to leave his mouth? Sometimes he doesn’t even have to say a word.” He peers down at me. “Like when he laughed at Gabby. I thought Bradley was going to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.”
“His fuse is very short where she’s concerned. I was proud of his display of self-control.” I laugh, and it makes me realize it’s been a while since laughing felt like this, but Joe’s right. When I’m not fighting the feelings, this is easy.
“So…” He leans into me again. “Do you believe in spirits?”
“Yes.”
“Seriously?” His eyes widen. The smile that’s been plastered to his face since I agreed to go on the ghost tour with him spreads.
“Yeah. My mom…”
“Oh. Wow.” He stops and takes a step toward me. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. That’s deeply personal.”
“I haven’t told anyone. Not even Gabby.”
