Clean Breaks

by Ruby Lang

  She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. “Look, Ian runs two restaurants. He knows food better than any of us.”

  “And hospitality,” Petra said. “That’s why he’s in charge of food, coordinating, and pretty much everything else. It turns out that Ian has a lot of opinions about his wedding. Plus, it’ll be fairly small. No bridesmaids, no maid of honor, no best man.”

  Petra pulled out a file and flicked it toward Sarah. “I thought you’d enjoy this. It’s color coded.”

  Helen’s eyes widened as she leaned over to take in Ian’s plans. “Ian’s almost as organized as Sarah.”

  Sarah flipped through the work and admired it dutifully. “I think I love him. What’s more, I think I understand him better than you ever will.”

  “He’s making me look bad,” Petra admitted cheerfully.

  “So why are we here?”

  “I do need to figure out something to wear—”

  “Don’t do the dress on the cheap,” Helen warned, remembering Petra’s predilection for bargain bins.

  “I promise I’ll make you look at so many dresses that you’ll dream in tulle. But there’s still time to think about it. Anyway, Sarah’s been sick. I’ve been busy. The other thing I thought we could talk about was a bachelorette party.”

  “Are you allowed to plan your own bachelorette party?” This was Helen. “I hate bachelorette parties.”

  “Well, we can do what we want with this one. It doesn’t even have to be a bachelorette. It can be a shower. Or a girls’ weekend. Or a space witch coven bonfire-slash-marshmallow roast.”

  “No 3D movies and no road tripping,” Sarah said.

  “Of course not,” Petra said solicitously.

  “You know, Petra, for a doctor, you sure have a lousy bedside manner. Stop treating me like I’m going to expire on this gigantic sofa. I take it back. Let’s drive across the whole damn state. We can stuff ourselves into a car and hit every hippie farm stand you want. I don’t need to be near life support at every moment. I am not dying.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want to go on a road trip with your grumpy ass.”

  “That is not the point. You’ve been pussyfooting around me since my diagnosis. It’s creeping me out.”

  “But you aren’t yourself, Sarah. I thought I’d have to hold you off from plunging straight back into work, but you’re only coming in a few times a week. You’ve been spacey. You disappear for long periods of time and come back with bracelets from Six Flags. That worries me.”

  “I don’t feel ready to get back to full time. I need to do this slowly.”

  “But you love work. And you wouldn’t cut down unless—”

  “I do love work. I’m just not . . . in the right head space.”

  Helen popped up. “In the right head space?” She felt Sarah’s forehead theatrically. “No fever. You must really be dying then, because I’ve never heard this much woo woo come out of your mouth.”

  Sarah laughed, but she also felt like crying. Sometimes, she and Helen butted heads, but right at this moment, she needed her friend’s ribbing.

  They did end up looking for dresses—online. For maybe three minutes. Then Petra got distracted by a text from her mother and ended up talking her down from a boyfriend crisis. Helen started playing a game on her phone. Ordinarily, Sarah would have been in there, putting together a Pinterest board. And she did pull together four dresses in styles that Petra would like and three pairs of sparkly shoes, and checked Petra’s online calendar, and set up an appointment at a bridal shop near their office. But then she simply sent the date and links to Petra and didn’t harass her friend about it. She didn’t feel like marshaling her friends to action today. By the time Sarah was ready to leave, it seemed like they’d planned nothing. And now that she had a block of free time, she slathered on more sunscreen, pulled on her hat, and took herself to the park.

  It was her favorite walk of late, but as she crossed under a line of trees, she saw, as if conjured from her thoughts, a familiar figure ambling up to her.

  Except he had a dog—an excited, floppy-eared, russet mutt who seemed happy to see her—and to see trees, and grass, and ants, and leaves, and rocks.

  It was a little too much for both Sarah and the dog to take in. “I didn’t know you lived in this neighborhood,” Sarah said, crossing her arms as Jake Li approached.

  He flashed that crinkly-eyed grin at her, and she found herself holding her breath. “I’m not far—just in Laurelhurst,” he said. “But I’ve been doing a thing lately where I go to different parks in Portland. It sounds a little weird, right?”

  “No, that sounds . . .” She’d thought about doing something similar—she was doing something similar.

  She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she bent down to the dog who immediately started sniffing and licking her fingers enthusiastically. Her special sunscreen blend was apparently delicious.

  “Her name is Mulder. Fox Mulder.”

  “You didn’t name her Scully?”

  “Well, she’s easily spooked, and I found her standing on top of the kitchen counter this morning. So I thought it would be more appropriate.”

  Tail wagging happily, Mulder was now investigating some unusual activity near the base of an oak.

  Sarah didn’t know why she suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. Jake wasn’t even looking at her. He was keeping his eye on the dog. But she wanted to pull her hat down and button the top button of her special UV protection shirt.

  “You didn’t mention that you had a dog.”

  “I got her from a shelter yesterday, so we’re still getting to know each other.”

  He sent a fond smile the dog’s way. They weren’t getting to know each other. He was already head over heels in love.

  It was cute, but noticing his attractiveness sent a zing of fear through her spine. Not again, she said to herself. Oh god, not again.

  Chapter Four

  Jake was surprised at how happy he was to see her. Mulder certainly was delighted too, given the way she’d almost pulled the leash out of his hands as they went to meet Sarah.

  Sarah seemed reserved, which was unlike her. Although it was probably the hat and the oversized shirt contributing to the sense of distance. She’d never been big to begin with, but she seemed almost to shrink inside this clothing.

  He found himself very much wanting to see her arms and shoulders bared, like they had been the first night he’d reconnected with her, her sharp elbows and delicate wrists.

  “I didn’t take you for an X-Files fan,” Sarah said.

  He could surprise her. That was a nice feeling. It had been a long time since he’d surprised anyone.

  “I like Scully,” he said.

  “Of course you do.”

  “No, I mean, I like Gillian Anderson, but I also like how the character thinks. I like her skepticism that hides this deep well of feeling and belief.”

  A deep well of feeling and belief? Ohh-kay. “So you’re Scully and your dog is Mulder. Except she’s more of a trust everyone sort.”

  “I’m not saying I’m like Scully.”

  “Maybe you are.”

  There was a pause.

  “I’m surprised you were allowed to watch The X-Files.”

  “I think you have set ideas of how my dad was.”

  “My parents were strict about some things,” Sarah said. “A lot of parents in Laketon were. Some were worse than mine, even.”

  He suddenly remembered that now. Winston always came over to Jake’s house to watch TV, even when the Soons were still pulling long hours at their hardware store. Jake’s father was the preacher, but in a way, his dad was looser, more inclined to forgive skipped classes and broken curfews. He was certainly easier than Sarah’s parents or his next-door neighbors, the Kheels. Jake’s father was perhaps more focused on inward behavior. Fun times.

  He was about to say something more when a tall, tan woman barreled between them.

  “It’s you—you’re real,” s
he said.

  Jake did not know how to respond to that.

  “I saw your picture on SnogAppeal, that dating app. I saved you on my wish list.”

  Sarah stepped out from behind the woman. “You’re on SnogAppeal?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Wow, my friends and I thought you were just some model they used to attract customers. Like, look at how diverse it is while still having hot dudes. Unless—you are really on the site, aren’t you?” The woman peered at him suspiciously.

  “No, I’m . . .” He glanced up at Sarah quickly. “I’m really on the site.”

  The woman followed his gaze to Sarah. “And this isn’t your girlfriend or wife?”

  “No, of course not,” Sarah replied for him, a trifle too quickly, he thought.

  The woman—she introduced herself as Ashton—went to pet Jake’s dog and moved a little closer.

  She was saying something, and Jake was trying not to be rude, but he could see Sarah was not going to stay. He was sneaking glances at Sarah while he absent-mindedly answered a few questions about Mulder. Sarah looked unhappy. With him? And he was torn about it, because he did feel guilty, almost as if he were betraying her. But he ought to get himself out there, at least for his mental health, right? Except he was regretting joining SnogAppeal right now. Above all, he really didn’t want to talk to Ashton at this moment, even though she was being nice to his dog. She was driving Sarah away.

  Jake began to tug on the leash, but Mulder was rolling around and enjoying the attention a little too much and Sarah had already waved perfunctorily and started to walk away, so finally, he picked up his dog—his heavy, squirmy dog—and went after her.

  “I’ll see you on the Internet, maybe?” the woman called.

  “Why’d you leave?” Sarah asked, whirling on him as soon as they got out of earshot. “You should’ve at least gotten her phone number.”

  “How do you know I didn’t?”

  Sarah stopped and looked skyward. She rubbed her arms as if she were cold. “She was one minute away from asking you out.”

  “I don’t want to go out with her.”

  “Why not? She’s got great legs and she liked your dog—and your dog loved her.”

  “My dog seems to love almost everyone and everything. Trees, people, grass, sky, sunshine, refrigerators, dead leaves, empty bottles—”

  “Tall, tanned brunettes who seem relatively okay.”

  “I am not my dog.”

  They stared at Mulder, who was delightedly sniffing a trash bin. “No, you’re not.”

  A beat.

  “I should go home,” she said.

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “It’s broad daylight and not far.”

  “I want to.”

  She said nothing to that but led him and a bouncy Mulder around another path, past the high school, then down a few leafy, quiet streets. Sarah asked him a few questions about the pet shelter and kept up a steady patter about Portland parks and neighborhoods. When they turned up to the small, well-kept house, she paused and said, almost reluctantly, “Well, this is me.”

  She still hadn’t looked at him, and her enormous hat shrouded her face. He couldn’t read her expression. “Let’s go through the gate,” he suggested, his voice a little creaky.

  It suddenly seemed important for her to let him into her space. Whatever Sarah once felt about him seemed to be changing, and half-formed instinct told him to seize this opportunity—but only if she was willing. He could have stepped over the gate without her answer. Hell, he could have just left her there, mysterious and untouchable under her layers. But he had always liked her from afar, and now she was here and within his reach, and he was not the awkward kid he had been. He was a person who could be with her. So he stood patiently, his stomach twisting and plunging as he waited for a response from underneath the brim of her damn hat. It was an effort not to lean his body toward hers, as he wanted to, to offer her shade, to test her warmth. Under the sun, he felt a bead of sweat on his forehead, and he suddenly wished that he’d thought to protect himself from exposure, too.

  And then she looked up at him, her eyes running over him so thoroughly and swiftly that he almost felt fingertips brushing his cheeks and shoulders. She gave a sharp nod, at odds with the soft confusion of her face. She opened the gate, and Mulder tumbled inside ahead of both of them and started rolling in a patch of clover.

  He let out a long breath and stepped inside, still nervous for some reason, trying to take everything in.

  “I bought it a couple of years ago,” she said hurriedly.

  He took another step and sniffed the air. “Mint,” he said.

  “Yeah, pots and pots of it.” She waved at a row of hodgepodge containers. “I should probably try and tend it or something. But it seems to do fine without me.”

  She went further along, heading toward the shadow of her porch, and he followed, taking in the yard in long sweeps. It was a little less neat than he’d expected it to be. A pile of stones sat in a corner, as if she’d planned on setting them on the path but had forgotten them. A small patch of pansies was to the side, near a low, fat bush.

  It was a mistake, he thought, to loop Mulder’s leash on the porch railing, because now his hands didn’t have anything to hold. Sarah had finally taken off her hat, and she stood on the porch, her eyes gleaming as she seemed to study him.

  He took a step up and she didn’t object. He would have bound up the rest of the way in victory, but she stopped him. “You know, there’s probably still time to catch up with Ashton. She looked like she was just getting ready to do a few circuits of the park.”

  He paused, temporarily confused that she’d stopped his forward momentum. “Wait, who’s Ashton?”

  “You know who she is,” she said impatiently. “The woman who recognized you from the dating app. The one with the legs.”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

  She groaned and thwacked him gently. The shock of contact—her hand, his shoulder— crackled up through his body and fizzed like a thousand bubbles. Sarah brought him alive. She always had.

  “You’re jealous,” he said, delighted.

  A pause. “You don’t have to look so happy about it.”

  She turned away, but with nimble fingers, he pulled off her hat, and she couldn’t hide her expressive face anymore.

  “Have you ever thought about it? About us?” he asked.

  “I—” She frowned fiercely. “I never let myself.”

  “Why not?”

  “You were my brother’s best friend, and I was trying to be cool and rebellious and you were—”

  “A dork?”

  That stung. But it had been true.

  “No, that wasn’t it.”

  “You don’t have to lie, Sarah. I was quiet, skinny, and spent a lot of time staring through telescopes.”

  “I don’t lie, especially not when it counts. You were not some ridiculous stereotyped shorthand. You were your own person, and I admired that. Maybe some stupid kids didn’t understand how much you were yourself. You always stood up for people and for your beliefs.”

  “Mostly,” he reminded her. “And it’s not like you didn’t do that, too.”

  “Mostly,” she said echoing his words—and oddly, his guilt. But she continued, “I took great comfort in having you around, in knowing you even though we weren’t best buddies. I remember teen dramatics and sometimes feeling alone, but then I’d see you there, observing—observing me, like you were really taking me in—and I’d think There’s someone who will always know me, no matter how close or far apart we were. So, I didn’t think about us, but I guess I did.”

  “What about now?” He took another step, and she came forward to him. Her eyes were level with his, her face, her lips. He wasn’t sure who leaned forward first, but quietly and suddenly, her warm breath mingled with his. Her soft, round cheek brushed his. Her mouth pressed firmly against his, and he slipped his fingers into
her dark, warm hair and pressed her even closer.

  He licked into her as she opened, and the trickle of arousal that had been there emerged in a full gush, filling his body, his abdomen, his groin. He felt it down to his heels. He pressed his hands down her body, down those small shoulder blades like butterfly wings, down her lithe back, down to the firmness of her ass, and he pulled her into him, closer and closer.

  Her mouth opened still wider into him, and her moan rose up through her throat and into his. Her breasts rubbed into him before she pulled away slightly and then slammed the full force of her rounded body against him once more and just . . . just dragged her perfect, small breasts and thighs and arms across him, causing all of his nerves to shrill and buzz and making him dig his fingers deeper into her bottom, bringing them down lower, under the curve of her cheeks, and lifting her against his hardness.

  It was his turn to moan as her sure hand slid under his t-shirt, her fingers splaying just under his belt. If they pulled each other any closer, they wouldn’t be able to breathe, not that either of them was doing too well on that front. Her panting filled his ear, and he felt another painful pulse of arousal along his cock as she dragged the vee of her thighs along it once more.

  “Dammit, Sarah,” he whispered.

  And that was what made her release him abruptly. She pulled away, swayed back into the shadow, still breathing heavily, as he gritted his teeth and willed his body to gentle and relax, as he forced himself to let her retreat. He dragged his fingers off her butt, a caress that came around nearly to her front, and let his hands drop slowly.

  She stared at his hands, too.

  When she finally spoke, her tone was firm. “We can’t do this. There’s too much between us already. Too much knowledge.”

  She said it as if it was final, but her tousled hair, her flushed face and darting eyes were anything but decided.

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “It means I know you well enough—I know me well enough—that even though there’s attraction that it’s a bad idea.”