by Misti Murphy
She turns and rests her hip against the counter, two cups in hand, and I set down the cleaver I was using to joint the chicken to take the mug she offers.
“I talked to her.” After Summer rang and told me the news about Mandy’s grandmother, and how they hadn’t been able to find her because she wasn’t answering her phone, all I wanted was to get the hell out of the kitchen and search for her. Claire was willing to let me go too, but for some reason Mandy answered the first time I rang. It was almost immediate, and her voice soothed the tightness that had filled my chest until it rattled each time I took a breath. “She’s okay. A little shocked. She’s on her way here.”
“Good.” Claire shifts to put her cup in the sink and then comes back to touch my bicep with a sympathetic smile. “And you’re all right too?”
“Yup.” I exhale, the release of tension leaving my muscles lethargic and heavy. As good as I’ll ever be.
“Tell her I’m sorry for her loss, and that if she needs anything to let me know,” Claire says.
“Will do.”
She leaves me alone in the kitchen to wait, and I get back to work, routinely glancing at the kitchen door and waiting for Mandy to burst through it, recalling earlier when I held her trapped against the blue wood and she asked me what scares me, like she cares, and I couldn’t tell her. Wanting her horrifies me. The possibility I could feel something more for her scares the fucking shit out of me. But having her care for me?
I push both fists against the marble, one still wrapped around the handle of the cleaver. Juliette assails me. Her laughter. Her smile. The way she stared up at me while her hands gripped my ass. The lust in her eyes and the sounds that came from her throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, try to block out the images I’ve long learned come no matter what. Awful, horrific flashes from my past that are so vivid even now. Maybe it’s because of the way she died that I can’t get past these memories that haunt me.
It was an accident, they said.
There was no culpability.
Still, it doesn’t help. Doesn’t make it any less my fault. Didn’t make either of us any less drunk, or her any less stoned, or me any less rough.
“Are you okay?”
I open my eyes to find Mandy closing the door and hanging her bag on one of the hooks beside it. She drops her keys in the front pocket before traipsing across the kitchen to me.
“Yeah. Sure.” I let go of the cleaver and face her. She’s ashen. Her green eyes excessively sparkly. Her bottom lip is slightly swollen. The shit thing is I knew where she was when she answered her phone. I knew it, and it was just the way things were. She was with Sam Sweets. The guy who makes sense. But seeing his mark on her, seeing that slight imprint of teeth on her lip, the subtle red of stubble rash kills me.
I suck in a breath and let it out slowly. I shouldn’t be pissy about Mandy spending time with him, but I can barely stand the idea of him touching her. Even though eventually that’s what’s going to happen. She’ll win over her man, and I’ll leave Reverence. She’ll have a happy ever after, and I’ll try not to drown in my misery.
Mandy deserves everything she wants. She deserves the best. That isn’t me. It can’t be me. “We were all worried about you. That’s all.”
“I had my phone on do not disturb,” she says, grabbing my arms and pulling them around her. “You were the exception, because I knew you were going to call me at some point, and I knew I’d want to talk to you.”
I press my nose to her hair, breathe in her scent. When did we become so close that she doesn’t think twice about making me hold her? That I’m on the top of her list of people she thinks of when she needs someone in her corner? “You wanted to talk to me about all of this?”
“Uh-huh.” She tilts her head back and kisses my jaw.
It’s a simple peck. It’s not sexual in the slightest, though these days my body betrays me at the smallest touch from her. It doesn’t even matter that she’s been kissing him, and doing God knows what else with him, my chest feels like an armful of helium balloons have been let loose inside me. I want her lips on mine. Her mouth under mine. I want so many things.
“Will you take me?”
“Take you?” She brings me back to earth so quickly, conjuring images of her bare body bent over the counter, her legs slightly apart. And instead of those pink shorts, a sliver of her rosy pussy, all pretty and untouched peeks from between her legs, waiting to be stretched and filled. But not by me, not by my stupid fucking dick. I haven’t as much as touched another woman since Juliette. Haven’t given my cock more than a few minutes with my own hand, and that’s only happened since I met Mandy, because she makes it impossible to ignore my attraction to her. But getting that close to her isn’t something I can do.
“Will you come with me to my grandmother’s? I haven’t stepped foot in the house in five years. I don’t want to go alone.”
“Absolutely.” I squeeze her waist. “When do you want to go?”
***
Mandy stands at the edge of the grave. Instead of her usual happy pink, she’s dressed in sombre black. The only brightness is a thin, blush-colored belt around her waist. She takes a handful of dirt from the bucket and whispers something to the casket that not five minutes ago was lowered into the ground. Slowly, she lets the dirt sieve through her fingers into the hole, and then she brushes her palms together until there’s no more dirt to shake off. When she turns around, her green eyes sparkle, but she doesn’t cry. She’s been crying all week while we sorted through her grandmother’s things. Now she’s just reserved.
Arms folded, she rubs at goose bumps that have erupted despite the stifling heat as she makes her way back to me. There are only a handful of us gathered. A few of her grandmother’s friends, Summer and her boys, Claire and Razer, and me. Sam showed up at the house to help with the packing, but he’s stayed clear today. I don’t know whether to be pissed for her sake, or grateful for mine.
“Okay?” I put my arm around her waist as we cross the grass and walk to the car.
She puts her head on my shoulder. “I’m officially on my own.”
“No, never. You’ve got me. You’ve got your friends.” I kiss the top of her head. Summer catches me and it’s a kind of awkward moment of eye contact. No doubt she thinks her friend can do better, perhaps even imagines that her brother is the right guy, the same way Mandy does. But I don’t believe it. Can’t shake my unfailing certainty that he’s not the one for her.
I open the door of my truck for her to climb in. She puts her seatbelt on while I jog around and climb in behind the wheel. There’s a moment of silence where she stares out the window toward where her grandmother rests while I gun the engine and pull away from the curb.
“Sam’s helping me look for my biological parents,” she tells me on our way to the house for the wake. “What do you think they’d be like?”
“I don’t know.” Her announcement throws me. Sam Sweets, jerk and pain in the fucking ass is actually doing something pretty damn nice. Which is good, even if it makes me wish I had thought of it myself. “If they’re anything like you they’ll say the craziest things and be a little obsessive about pink.”
“I doubt it.” She pushes my elbow, but for the first time today she smiles. Then she shakes her head. “We might not find out who they are.” She draws her bangs behind one ear and curls her legs up on the seat. “Even if we do find names, we might never locate them. Or they could be dead.”
I reach out to squeeze her thigh. “You’re going to find them.”
“Maybe,” she says. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
“And Sam?” We haven’t talked about what happened the day she showed up with his marks on her. This week was hard enough on her as it is, plus I’m not sure that I want to know things are progressing between them. It was always going to happen. Nobody could withstand Mandy Pearce and what she wants.
“We kissed.” She puts her fingers to her lips, probably remembering how it felt. “We were in
bed, and—”
“I don’t need details,” I croak, my throat closing up over the idea of her and him together. The two of them in bed, doing what? Were his hands all over her? Were they naked? Did she wrap her hand around his dick? Did he touch her between her legs? Put his mouth there? His—
“Nothing happened.” She sighs. “You kind of ruined it with your phone call. He got my shorts undone and kissed my panties. Didn’t even get them down my legs. That’s as far as it went. He’s a sweetheart. Didn’t want to take advantage of me.”
“Good. That’s good.” I pull the truck into the driveway and park it. My heart is pounding, my stomach squeezed tight. I don’t know how I am going to handle the next time she’s alone with him. They can only get closer. With less clothes. Fuck. It should be a relief, but it’s anything but. I try to muster some enthusiasm, but there’s none. “Means he probably respects you and actually likes you.”
“This plan of ours is working.” She slides from the car.
What am I supposed to do? Tell her that I feel something for her? Pretend I don’t? There’s too much at stake for me to stay in Reverence. There’s too much in my past I can’t let go of for there to be any kind of future for us. Let’s face it. Sam Sweets is the better choice.
Chapter Fifteen
MANDY
Cas is in a mood. He’s been quietly thunderous for almost two weeks now. Sure, he’s been careful not to yell at me, but I can tell he’s grouchy. I just don’t know why. A couple times I caught him staring at me, and the look on his face was enough to make me want to fly into his arms, but even if I wasn’t getting close to Sam I couldn’t. Cas made it obvious he doesn’t actually want me. He doesn’t want anybody getting that close.
Right now though, I need something from him, and he’s always helpful so I march out to the yard where he’s putting Soldier through his paces. I want to ask the history of the horse. Why he’s so well trained, and how he learned to dance like that, but any time I try to get Cas to talk about it he shuts down hard. Only yesterday, I’d asked how long he’d been into horses and he scowled at me and stormed away to the other end of the yard without a word. When I approached Claire, she’d told me Cas was the only one who should tell his story.
God, I hope he’s in a better mood today. Because I need a huge favor.
Soldier’s ears prick and swivel as he picks up the sound of me coming at the same time Cas lifts his head. His gaze is like warm chocolate running over my bare skin. “Mandy.”
I pop one pink cowboy boot on the bottom railing and start my climb to the top. He never takes his eyes off me. I can feel his attention like static electricity over my calves and up my thighs. Across the white Daisy Dukes I picked out in the hopes he would be mollified by them. He roams his gaze higher, giving me belly flutters that remind me of the first time I stood on this fence and watched him. I thought I’d only get butterflies for Sam because he’s meant to be my Mister Right, but Cas is the one who really makes me nervous and tingly. My nipples pebble inside my Rainbow Brite cropped T-shirt. By the time he gets to my face I’m blushing from head to toe, my insides burning and clenching over what I’m about to do. “Could I talk to you?”
“Yep.”
He doesn’t make a move to come closer, so I swing one leg over the fence and then the other. Holding onto the top rail, I turn and drop down in the yard. “Are you mad at me or something?”
“Nope.” He scratches Soldier’s neck, giving his attention to the horse.
I’ve seen him a time or two without his shirt on, but he’s always been too far away for me to see his tattoos. His whole side is covered from his front to his spine. There’s a mess of things; horses up on two legs in a line, a girl in a top hat, landmarks, dates. I touch his shoulder blade and he hisses like I’ve hurt him.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never seen them up close. They’re beautiful.”
“They’re scars,” he says.
“Scars?” I stare at them, run my hands over his skin that ripples as his muscles contract underneath, but the skin is smooth and unmarred beneath the patchwork. “Do you mean they cover scars? Is this something to do with why you’re always worried about accidents?”
He shrugs as he turns around. “What do you need?”
Here we go. Deep breath. “I need you to have sex with me.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he laughs. “Okay then.”
“Phew.” I exhale and grin. “That was much easier than I thought it was going to be.”
“Wait, what? You’re serious?” He gapes.
“Yes.”
“No way.” He glowers at me before turning away and stomping across the yard.
I hurry after him, rushing my words. If I don’t get them out now I may not be able to. “Sam asked me to dinner. That has to mean he’s finally opening up to the idea of us being together. But I lied to him and told him I wasn’t a virgin.”
“You told him you weren’t?” He slows down for a step, but doesn’t stop.
“He told me I was too young and innocent, remember?”
“Did you ever think maybe you are?” He whirls around and I almost crash into his chest, which jerks up and down with each breath he takes.
“Why are you being mean, Cas?” He’s always been the first person to tell me I can have what I want. What I set my mind to. And now he’s telling me the opposite?
“Why are you being ridiculous?”
“Oh come on, Cas. You know it’s not a big deal, right? It’s just sex.” I plant my hands on my hips, my feet in the dirt. Only sex with one of the hottest, sweetest guys I’ve ever been attracted to. And yes, it’s probably a stupid idea given how close we’ve gotten, but then isn’t that a good reason he should be the one? He should definitely be the one.
“It’s a huge deal. Massive.”
“As big as your cock?” Because I can see the hard outline of his erection pressed between his thigh and tight denim, and it’s scary big. Almost enough for me to tell him to forget about my virginity because if I’m snug around my vibrator there is no way he’s going to fit.
He stares at me as all the color leaches from his skin. His face, his hands, his magnificent torso all pale. “Yup.” He carves tracks in his dark hair with his fingers. “That’s exactly how big.”
Then he pivots on his heel and heads straight for Soldier.
“Wait up,” I plead, following after him. “Please explain it to me?”
“Nope.” Swinging onto the horse’s back he barks a command and… the horse doesn’t move.
I cant my head to the side and try to comprehend what’s happening. Man and beast have always been in sync until now. This is the first time his horse hasn’t done exactly what he’s told it to do.
“Come on, you stubborn ass.” Cas smacks the stallion’s flank with his palm. It shifts from hoof to hoof but doesn’t move an inch forward.
“Please talk to me.” I sidle up to the two of them. “I don’t understand how this can be such a big deal.”
“You wouldn’t.” He pushes the heel of his boots into Soldier’s side. The horse still refuses to move.
I reach out and stroke my hand down its smooth neck, which is rougher under my palm than I expected. This is the closest I’ve gotten to the four-legged beast. The closest Cas has ever let me get. “Is it because it’s me? You don’t want to have sex with me?”
“Fucking hell,” he swears softly under his breath. That deep pain that sometimes takes over his face is etched on it now. His shoulders slump and he reaches for me. “Come on then.”
I slip my hand into his, and he grips it tight, pulling me up behind him. Soldier moves forward a few steps and Cas brings my hands around his waist, lacing them over his lap. “Hold on.”
Resting my cheek against his sundrenched shoulder, I tighten my grip while Soldier takes off into the field beyond the yard.
I can’t believe I’m twenty-three years old and this is the first time I’ve ever ridden a horse. I should have done this a lon
g time ago. Soldier flies through the field, the powerful equine moving with animalistic grace, and Cas feels like a part of the animal with how well he rides, despite my clinging to him. I scream when he spurs Soldier on and we fly over a low fence, a fallen tree. I shut my eyes when we duck to avoid a broken branch. We don’t slow down until the open field is so far behind us I can’t see it. And in front of us is forest. Trees and rocks and scraggy landscape that veers sharply up on one side of us. At that point we slow, swaying together with each step as Soldier picks his way along a dry creek bed.
Cas’s skin is damp against my own from the heat, and several flies land on his shoulders. I brush them away and his muscles jump under my hand, then he eases into my touch. So I don’t stop. I explore the hard muscles of his shoulders, the bumps of his spine, the pictures that wind their way down his side. A grapevine, a ring, a knife; everything tumbling and falling and melting into one of those huge pots he likes to use in the kitchen. “These are figurative, aren’t they? Your scars?”
“A roadmap,” he grumbles. “Of where I’ve been. I didn’t always think of them as scars. They were the moments. The important ones. The highlights. Things I never wanted to forget.”
“Is this Soldier?” I trace the gray dappled stallion.
“Yup.”
“And this?” I point to the knife.
“The first time I got my own set of chef’s knives.”
“And the four stars in a line?” I press my fingertip to each one.
“Michelin stars.” He straightens up. I can practically tell from the way he shifts that he’s proud of them.
“What about the girl?” I bite my lip. She has a story hidden in that top hat, I’m sure. The idea of someone being as close to Cas as I’ve gotten over the summer doesn’t sit right. I don’t know why. Soon I’ll be happily dating Sam, and I want Cas to be happy. He’s one of the nicest people I know when he’s not grouching. He’s my very best friend these days. Of course I want him to be happy with somebody else. Don’t I?
