Ridge

by Scott, S. L.

  As if Tulsa, the youngest Crow, can read my mind, he asks, “You workin’ out lately, Ridge?”

  “I’ve slacked the past week. I’ll be hitting it again tomorrow.”

  “Text me. I’ll meet up.”

  Nikki settles on his lap in the chair and touches his nose. “What if I have plans for you?”

  “You’ll be too tired tomorrow.”

  “From what?” she asks.

  “Tonight.”

  She laughs, but when he whispers in her ear, all traces of her smile disappear. “Promise?”

  “I can guaran-fuckin’-tee it, darlin’.”

  She kisses him, and then says, “I have no doubt.”

  Normally, I’d laugh or just ignore them. They’ve been married just over a year, so I get the hands all over bit, but today their intimacy is hitting a raw nerve with me. I stand, grabbing a cold bottle of beer while trashing my empty on the way out to the backyard.

  Hannah touches my hand as I walk by, causing me to look back, and asks, “You doing okay?”

  “No,” I grumble under my breath. Stella is coming inside when I walk out. Rivers strumming his guitar as the sun sets. “It’s cold tonight.”

  He looks up. “The fire’s warm.”

  I pick up an acoustic guitar from a chair and sit on the other side of the fire pit. After two long swallows of beer, I put the bottle on the ground next to my feet and start strumming along. He’s playing one of the newer songs we wrote around March, six months back. “That’s a sad fucking song, man.”

  He chuckles, and although he looks up, his fingers find every note. “You were a sad fucking man when you wrote it.” His hand goes palm flat against the strings. “So what’s going on with you, my single friend?” A smile creeps in as he mocks that the DJ didn’t called me out.

  “That’s a sad song for another day.”

  “Today’s the day, my man.” That’s something I’ve heard him say before. Losing his mom the way he did made him realize that you had to live every day as if it was the last. Today’s the day.

  “My mom’s sick. Dad’s giving me shit about not being home.”

  “Jet told me about your mom. Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “Sorry, man.”

  “Me too.”

  “And Meadow?”

  “What about Meadow?” His eyes stay steady on me, not giving me an inch of wiggle room when it comes to expecting an answer. I’m too tired to play this off. “What can I say, man? She’s in Austin. I’m here. I wanted more; she said she just wants to be friends. It’s just fucked.”

  “The song you wrote . . . You were shit then, and you’re even worse now.”

  “Our story is tragic. From lovers to friends to lovers to . . . nothin’.”

  This time, he scoffs and shakes his head. Looking me square in the eyes, he says, “I know tragic. You two not getting your shit together is stupid and stubborn. Not fucking tragic.”

  Fuck. Stella almost died. I remember the fear, the worry he went through. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

  Setting the guitar down, he stands. “You’re not an asshole, so stop acting like one. Either go after her or move the fuck on, but don’t waste your time caught in the middle. You’ll either make a move, or you won’t. You’re tired all the fucking time. Did you ever think it’s because you’re not actually dealing with all the shit on your mind?”

  Rivers is hard to piss off. Sure, he’s moody and more introverted than his brothers, but he’s steadfast and solid in character. He also may not have approved of Meadow and me in the beginning, or maybe it was more that he didn’t particularly like the idea of us, but he never stepped in the way of what was happening naturally.

  “All the damn time.”

  “You need to sort out your personal life. I’m not telling you how to go about it, but the more you let it poison your veins, the more it will damage you. Trust me, I know. I’ve been there. I suffered for too many damn years, considering I had the chance to change things all along.”

  His words settle in under my skin. If I think about it, really listen to what’s going on inside me, I can feel the truth. I feel more disconnected from Meadow than when she was halfway around the world.

  Hannah comes outside, and Rivers seems to calm, both of them sitting down around the fire pit.

  She holds her hands out to warm and watches the flames flicker. When her eyes are leaning toward gray, she has a lot on her mind.

  “What has you worried, Han? These Crow brothers annoying you?”

  Rivers snorts and gives me the bird. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

  When we’re alone, I keep my eyes down on the guitar as I pluck a few notes. She says, “You’re avoiding the question from earlier.”

  “See? Now that’s the issue. I’m not avoiding the question. I’m avoiding the topic you’re circling around.”

  “Meadow?”

  “Meadow.”

  “So you love/like her?”

  “There’s nothing left to say. She’s in Austin, focusing on school. I’m here or wherever the band needs me. You know better than anyone that sometimes the life of a professional musician isn’t conducive to building a life with someone else.”

  “I call bullshit. Something else is going on. I’m not saying she has to take the fame and love it. She’s not a groupie. Based on Stella, I feel like Meadow’s intentions are good. But you’re a great guy. There’s no reason for her not to want to try.”

  I lean forward, resting on my forearms. “Did you ever feel absorbed into Jet’s life? Like you lost yourself?”

  “I am absorbed into his life just as he is into mine. That’s love.”

  “Meadow says she wants to stand on her own two feet. So if she feels like she’s sacrificing herself to be with me, I’m willing to back off.” I meet her concerned grays again. “I did back off. We’re pausing things.” I told her I was done, but I know I’m not. Not yet.

  She sits up, her feet moving back to the ground. She taps my leg. “I just want you to be happy. If you’re meant to be, you’ll find your way back to each other. My romantic side reminds me she’s only twenty-one, Dave, but she’s not had it easy. But equally, she’s not someone who plays games, so to me, maybe she really does just need time to sort through some things. To stand on her own so she knows she can before being a partner to someone else.”

  “I’ll come back.” She came back . . . like she said. Time. She wants time . . . I’m giving her that. I say, “Guess we’ll see.”

  Following her inside, Stella tells us, “Jet’s reading to Violet and said he’ll put her to bed right after.”

  I hear the swoon in her voice, but then Tulsa says, “Bastard’s making us look bad.”

  Alfie’s eyes go wide as apple pies. “You owe me a dollar, Uncle Tulsa.”

  Nikki’s laughter carries from the kitchen. “Yes, pay up.”

  “What?” Tulsa exclaims. “Last week, it was fifty cents.”

  With a shrug, Alfie says, “Inflation, man.” He turns to me. “You owe me two dollars for the swear jar this morning, Ridge.”

  Little shit. “You snuck into my bedroom and scared the shit out of me. Fuck.” I roll my eyes and pull out my wallet. “I’m just going to give you a five and get a credit.”

  “Wise,” the kids says like he’s Don Corleone.

  Tulsa slaps a buck into his other hand. “C’mere. I want to tell you how you can turn that money into sweet, sweet honey.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Coming into the living room and settling on the arm of Tulsa’s chair, Nikki ruffles his hair. “Yes, Uncle Tulsa, what do you mean?”

  “So you know how I told you to kill ’em with kindness last week?”

  Alfie nods, complete attention focused on Tulsa, who says, “This week’s life advice is not about catching flies with honey, but catching honies by being fly. Get out your notebook. You’re gonna wanna take notes, Alfie, my man.”

  Hannah jumps from he
r seat near the fireplace, clapping her hands. “Okay, bedtime, Alfie.”

  I laugh with Nikki and Tulsa, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Stella in the kitchen and can’t help thinking about Meadow. Hannah’s right. They’re not the sort of women who play games.

  Hannah sneaks upstairs while I sit and watch this family who’s accepted me as one of their own. Thinking about what Rivers said and then what Hannah seemed to echo, and it seems for now I have to accept she’s not my girl. I’m not desperate to be married off like the guys, but I do want love in my future. I thought it was with Meadow, but maybe I was wrong.

  Next month, I’ll see Meadow at the wedding, and even though that seems too long away, maybe it’s the time we both need. I took her offer of a haven to heart, but now I need to find what will make me happy.

  16

  Meadow

  At some point, surely she’ll slow down. Darcy’s arms fly into the air, and she hops off the barstool. “I love this song.” Grabbing my arms, she says, “Let’s dance.”

  I’m dragged from the stool, landing on my feet, but as I’m pulled through the crowd, I resist. “No, Darce. I’m so tired. It’s after two, and I’m about to fall asleep.”

  She stops, and with a huge grin, she starts dancing around me. We didn’t even make it to the dance floor, but she’s oblivious. “Dance with me, Mead. Come on now.”

  I hold my arms up and give her jazz hands. She gets me back right and proper, as she would say, by ass bumping me so hard that I fly to the side and into the arms of a stranger. A strong, tall, dark, and very handsome stranger. “I, I’m sorry,” I stutter. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he says, helping me to right myself. He’s still touching me, the bare skin of my upper arms hot under his palms.

  “It’s your pleasure to catch me?”

  He has a rugged jaw, model sharp, light eyes, and a tailored jacket over a well-cut shirt. Everything about him should draw me in. It’s as if he was created from a dream I once had as a kid.

  I step back, willing his hands to leave my body, or if they stay, wishing they weren’t so soft, without calluses. “Absolutely.” He lowers his hands but holds one out to shake mine. “I’m Kenneth. What’s your name?”

  Looking into the crystalline blue of his eyes, they have no depth like the ever-moody hazels I prefer. “Thanks again.” I turn and with tight lips nod my head toward the exit.

  Darcy knows she pushed me to an extreme when I’m ready to leave. When I hit a wall, I crash into it head first. She quick steps to my side. “He was cute.”

  “Don’t.”

  Her arm comes around my shoulder. With three inches on me, I feel like a doll under her protective wing. “You’re right. He was an utter wanker.” She leans down, and asks, “Did you happen to get that plonker’s number by chance?”

  “You’re the worst.” I burst out laughing as I slide out from under her arm to give her a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I’m here too. I missed my Meadow and your sunshine.” Sunshine. I don’t allow my mind to drift far from this moment. I’ve been fighting to stay in the present since Dave told me we needed to go our own ways. Darcy. Darcy. I exhale. “Is that the car?” She looks down at her phone and points. “That’s it.”

  We hop in and head back to my sister’s house. Darcy’s been here for two days, and we’ve had a great time, but tonight was the last hurrah for us to go out in LA. “I can’t wait to go to Hawaii tomorrow.”

  “Fun. Sun. Hot surfers. Sex on the Beach . . . wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Yes and please. Bring it on.”

  Laughing, I add, “And my sister’s wedding, of course.”

  “And those hot rockers. If I get drunk and start hitting on them, let me.”

  That warrants another giggle, but then I remember that Crow Bro radio interview. Stella never said a word about it. Not to Rivers. Not to me. Just held it inside, taking her lumps. As much as the guys defended her and the relationship, it was another wake-up call for her, and for me, of what life with a celebrity is like.

  “Hey Darce, I know it’s all fun and games, but remember they’re all big time taken, and their wives may look sweet as pie, but they’re not afraid to fight for their men.”

  Her brown hair is wild and wonderful, so much like her. With her hand against her forehead dramatically, she says, “I would never hit on a married man. You know me better than that.”

  “It’s just a sensitive subject, and I don’t want it to be the cause of any undue stress for my sister right now.”

  “What? Me cause undue stress? You’re out of your bloody mind. I adore your sister, and I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  “I know you will. I just felt—”

  “You just felt the need to say it. That’s the responsible Meadow I know and love.” When she rests her head back, she rolls it to the side to face me. “Anyway, not all of them are taken, or Ridge has done a good job keeping his relationship under wraps.”

  My hackles rise.

  Mine.

  One.

  Breathe.

  Two.

  Breathe.

  He’s not mine.

  He never was, it seems.

  When we arrive home, we’re careful to sneak in, hoping we don’t wake Rivers or Stella, but by the gigglefest we’re having in the kitchen, that’s just not possible. Darcy tops off her glass of wine almost to the brim. “God, he’s so stuffy at work. Unfun.” And she’s back to talking about Carrig. This girl with alcohol . . .

  “Carrig was always stuffy from his clothes to his personality.”

  “Exactly. So why do I find him so incredibly sexy?” I don’t even know what to say, and my mouth is too busy hanging open anyway. She leans forward as if he’ll hear us talking about him, and adds, “I had sex with him.”

  “What? You can’t just say that like it’s nothing.”

  “Oh, it was something all right. He may be stuffy, but that’s the last thing he is between the sheets.”

  I’m in shock. My mind is replaying all the times he wanted to take me out, and the nice things he said to me. Coming to LA, which I still think was a ruse just to see me again. What about all those times? Clearly, I read that wrong. “You used to make fun of him.”

  “I still do.” She shrugs. “During the work hours, we still poke each other with insults. After hours, he pokes me with his—”

  “Ew! No. I don’t want the details.” Staring at her and seeing how wide she’s smiling from sharing her news, I add, “Fine. I want the details, but I don’t need all the details.”

  Spreading her arms apart, she says, “He’s huge.”

  “Okay. That would be one of the details I don’t need.” A boisterous laugh fills the kitchen, and I say, “Shhh.”

  “But for my vagina’s well-being, it’s an important detail. What happens if the next guy isn’t built as lovely as Carrig?”

  “First of all, why does everything sound posh in an English accent?”

  She wiggles her eyebrows, and says, “I’d drop my pants for a hot American, so I guess we’re even. Secondly?”

  “Secondly, did you just call Carrig’s penis lovely?”

  “I did. I really did. It is too, so lovely. When the parka comes down, it’s straight, not too veiny—”

  “Again. Ew.”

  “Except for the main vein of course.”

  “Okay, I think we’re done here.”

  She takes a gulp of her too full wine glass. “No, I’m not ready for bed. You must tell me everything about your love life. You must have one, considering you told that chap at the club to fuck off.”

  Raising my finger into the air, I correct her, “I did not tell him to fuck off. I told him thank you for catching me when you ass humped me right into him.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I miss laughing this much. I just miss this. She makes it easy to feel happy, but she also makes me miss London where I felt free from my everyday worries. The intern
ship seemed like a vacation compared to the school assignments I’ve been buried under this fall.

  Propping up on two hands, she cradles her chin, and eyes me up. “What are you hiding, Meadow Fellowes? I just realized I’ve been talking the whole time. Now it’s your turn. I want to hear about all the guys who have caught your eye and landed in your bed.”

  I hold up a circle with my hand. “That would be a big fat zero for me.”

  A gasp echoes it’s so loud. I shush her again, but then she says, “No one?”

  “I’m trying to graduate with honors. I’m sure you remember how intense senior year was.”

  Darcy is a few years older, and her ambition is really about marrying the right man over a career. From a rich family who supports her every whim, I’m thinking she doesn’t relate to working hard, but more working enough to get by for the time being.

  Her hands become flurries in the air. “So let me get this straight. You have had no one in your bed, and you’ve not been in anyone else’s bed since you’ve been back in America?”

  “Sadly, you’re correct.”

  “But wait, I’m not finished. Although I think you tried to trick me into believing otherwise, you didn’t actually have sex when you were in England. Am I right?”

  “With other people?”

  “Oh lord, child. That’s ten months. Ten months!” Darcy practically shouts in astonishment. “Has your vagina shriveled up and died?”

  “Okay,” I say, holding my hands up. “Stop with the dramatics.”

  Stella walks into the kitchen. “What are we talking about?”

  Oh, my God. I shoot Darcy a glare to shut the hell up, but it’s too late. “Meadow’s vagina has shriveled and died. We’re holding the funeral right now with a toast to the once and active role it played in her life.”

  I cover my face with my hands, mortified.

  My sister is a teacher by trade. A badass in so many ways, but kind-hearted and leans toward the classier side of Darcy’s obnoxious ways. When I spread my fingers to peek between, Stella’s eyes are as wide as a teacup saucer. “Meadow.”