Tectonic (Double Blind Study Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “How come you never wanted to fix me?”

  Greta's mouth fell open slightly at his question. She licked her lips as she looked up into his soft expression. “I don't understand.”

  His eyes dropped to her mouth and then his hand moved from her chin to the side of her neck where he gave a tender squeeze. “I'm only putting this out there once, and I'm not gonna repeat it.” His eyes went back to hers. “This thing with Shane goes bad? I'm right there.”

  Greta took in a slow breath. “What does that mean?”

  Brady chuckled lightly and then dipped his head to her ear. “It means that if you weren't in this crazy limbo with Shane, right now I'd be kissing you breathless.” Then he pressed his lips to her temple. He stepped back, letting her go and unblocking her. “See you later, beautiful.” He turned around and walked casually to his Subaru.

  Greta took a couple of deep breaths and then climbed into her Jeep, slamming it closed behind her. Her tired muscles protested, specifically her front right deltoid, as she reached over to buckle her seat belt.

  She pushed a CD into the player and rested her head back against the seat. Disc one of The Red Hot Chili Peppers' Stadium Arcadium seemed to not only be the right choice, but the only choice for her head at the moment. The drum intro to “Dani California” filled the cabin and she started the car.

  Good music could cure all ailments. Or so she had spent the past four years believing.

  “Balls,” she muttered to herself as she put the Wrangler in reverse.

  She hadn't made her rules for no reason. The rules were in place to protect herself and anyone else who thought they liked what they saw. They usually didn't. That wasn't entirely true. They liked what they saw, but they didn't like the insides.

  Greta was a little like an unfinished cake. All beautiful, decorative frosting on the outside, uncooked, raw eggs on the inside.

  It wasn't good.

  So the rules were made. She didn't date. She didn't kiss guys. She never let anything progress past flirting. Maybe dancing. That was it. No relationships. No boyfriends.

  Not since Boston.

  Brady knew the rules. Hell, they all knew the rules. So what the blazes was that all about in the parking lot just now? Brady could not have been serious. He was probably still juiced from his workout and feeling cocky. Even though cocky wasn't his thing. That was more Bo's thing. But still.

  Greta decided to shake it off. She had misunderstood and Brady was probably laughing his ass off right now.

  When she pulled into the driveway, she saw Harrison's Volvo parked out front. That meant Clarke was home and they were probably all looking for food. Greta sagged back against the seat again as she killed the engine. She didn't have the energy left to cook. Oh well, she took a deep breath and resolved to make the best of it.

  “Garbo! Babe!” Clarke came rushing out into the entryway and hugged her neck. “You made it just in time! I've been trying to call you but it kept going to voicemail.”

  “Yeah, I turned it off.” Greta frowned at her usually subdued friend. “What's going on?”

  “We got pizza! Oh my gosh! I had the best day today! I had no idea Mike and Harrison were such a blast.” She tugged Greta into the kitchen where pizza boxes were open and Harrison was getting plates out of the cupboard.

  “She makes us sound cooler than we are,” Mike said with amusement. “I just think she hasn't been out in a while.”

  Greta smiled at Clarke's happy face. The stresses that had been weighing her down more and more everyday seemed to have evaporated completely. And that made Greta extra happy too.

  “Well, dish me up, I'm starving.” Greta took her bag off of her shoulder and tossed in the corner. “I'll shower later.”

  They congregated on the back patio and proceeded to fill Greta in on what they had done that day. Harrison was animated as he talked about the music he and Mike were working on. She loved it when he talked about his music. He really loved his job.

  And Mike... well, Greta had known Mike a long time, and she hadn't seen him this easy-going since they were all kids.

  Mike and Clarke.

  Greta couldn't stop watching them. They weren't being flirty or coy. They were silly and ridiculous. Joking around and laughing at one another.

  Clarke's sense of humor was always a little dark, but Mike dug it and they egged each other on. It was like they'd been friends forever. The fit was seamless.

  I knew it.

  Greta wanted to give herself a gold star.

  ***

  “You want another beer, man?” Adam asked Shane from the kitchen, the refrigerator door hanging open.

  Shane shook his head once in a negative and then looked back to his phone again. He had tried to call Greta a couple of times but it had gone straight to voicemail. It was off. She was obviously avoiding him. He probably deserved that.

  “She's at home.”

  Shane looked up at Brady sitting in the armchair across from him, still in his sweats from his workout. It made his stomach twist with the reminder that Brady had pretty much spent the entire day with Greta while Shane had spent that time knowing how epically he'd screwed up.

  He was in deep. Too deep. He knew Greta was a bad idea. But after last night and how he'd behaved this morning, he was more aware of how bad of an idea she was. He should cut his losses now and get the heck out of this thing.

  But then her sweet, trusting face, tired, adorable voice, and her warm soft body pressed against his entered his head.

  Shit. He was totally sandbagged.

  “You figure her out yet?” Adam asked as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Shane and put the mouth of his fresh beer to his lips.

  Shane looked from Brady to Adam, his eyes sliding through Bo and Kip who were sitting in game chairs in the center of Adam's media room, playing Call of Duty. They'd been there for hours. Brady had shown up about an hour ago and filled them all in on his exciting day. Which, in turn, led to the guys ribbing Shane about ditching Greta and letting Brady swoop in for the rescue. Something, Shane noticed, Brady seemed to enjoy thoroughly.

  “As fun as it would be to play Deconstructing Greta all night long, I'd rather not,” Shane muttered tersely.

  “Why not? Aren't you a little curious as to what makes her tick?” Adam asked through a chuckle.

  “Not really,” Shane lied. “Some things that tick tend to explode.”

  That was received with another chuckle from Adam and a grin from Brady.

  “That's the kind of explosion most men would give their fortunes to witness,” Brady said cryptically.

  Shane narrowed his eyes on his friend. “Something you wanna tell me?”

  Brady's grin faded and his eyes went soft as he ran a hand through his now very short hair. Hair that Greta had cut for him earlier that day.

  “She's home. Right now. We're leaving in ten minutes. If you want to talk to her, get off your ass and get over there.”

  Shane held his gaze for a minute before nodding in agreement. Brady took a breath, glanced across the rest of the guys, and then settled his eyes back on Shane. He had more to say but he would say it later. Shane could live with that.

  They said their goodbyes and Shane went out to the driveway, beeping the locks on the Mercedes. Brady waited for Steve and Bo to load themselves into the Subaru, then he made his approach.

  “I told Greta tonight, and now I'm telling you, that if this thing with you goes south, I'm movin' in.”

  Shane tightened his stomach as he stared at his friend. So he hadn't imagined it.

  “I like Greta. In a lot of ways. She's sweet, gorgeous and frickin' funny as hell. I'm hoping that's not lost on you. She's not interested in me. Not yet.” Brady slid his hands into his pockets and sighed. “You've been nursing that broken heart for long enough. It's time to wake up, Shane. We get it, you weren't the one for Lucy. But did it ever cross your mind that maybe she wasn't the one for you?”

  Shane took a deep breath
and clenched his jaw. He kind of wanted to punch Brady in the face, but decided that probably wouldn't go over too well.

  “'Cause, swear to God Shane, I couldn't dream up a better girl for you than Greta freaking O'Neil. Lucy was nice. But that was it. She was nice. She didn't challenge you, she didn't argue with you, she just let you do whatever you wanted.”

  “You about done?” Shane asked with a growl.

  Brady closed his eyes and tipped his head back like he was looking to the sky for answers. He came back to Shane's stare. “Just hang out with her. That's all I ask.”

  Shane stepped to the side without answering and opened his car door.

  ***

  Greta's bedroom door flew open and since she was standing there in only a towel, she grabbed a heavy-handled hairbrush off her dresser and hurled it at the open door. Clarke dodged it and flopped belly first into Greta's bed.

  “You're lucky you're you, and not one of the boys. I about knocked Steve cold one day,” Greta said, turning back to her closet and continued her rummaging.

  Clarke chuckled and rolled over onto her back.

  “I had no idea that I needed a vacation this badly.”

  “I did.” Greta grinned over her shoulder. “That's why I was willing to fight Shane to get you some time off.”

  Silence.

  Then Clarke asked, “How is that going with Shane?”

  Greta had no idea. She had allowed the pizza, and watching Mike and Clarke's interaction, to distract her from her confused thoughts, but now they were back full force. “Eh. He took off this morning before I even woke up. I think it's going a lot faster than I had anticipated. I'm going to try to get a couple drawings in this week before I have to pull the plug.”

  Clarke craned her neck around to look at her towel wrapped friend. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  Greta gave her an eye roll. “You know better than to ask that question. Shane is a complicated, gorgeous mess but he's not my type.”

  “What's your type?” Clarke asked mischievously. Greta threw the towel at her, covering her head so she couldn't see while she got dressed.

  “You know I'm saving myself for Dave Grohl,” she answered lightheartedly. And it wasn't a lie. All rules would go out the window if Dave were to enter her life.

  “Oh, that's right. Perfection defined,” Clarke remarked, voice muffled by the towel over her head.

  Greta tugged on her black yoga pants and slipped a white tank top on over her sky blue bra. “It's the beard. If Shane could grow a beard like that, we'd have a problem.” Greta yanked the towel off of Clarke's head, revealing her now dressed state. “But what I think the world really wants to know is, does Mike wear boxers or briefs?” Greta's eyebrows waggled as she hung the damp towel on the hook behind her door.

  “Oh geez, it's not like that. I didn't have any clothes to wear so I borrowed his. And for the record, it's boxer briefs.” Clarke sat up, folding her legs. She looked down at the men's pair of Levi's that she was still wearing. “He doesn't have a lot of clothes. I should probably get his stuff back to him soon.”

  “You gonna return the skivvies?” Greta sat next to her on the bed with a smirk.

  “No, I'm keeping them.” Clarke laughed. “I have no idea if he even knows I took them. I'll have to get him some new ones. And possibly a couple more pairs for myself.”

  “You have a glow, Clarke.” Greta reached over and brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Vacation agrees with you.”

  “Did you know Mike had so many tattoos?” Clarke asked, slightly changing the subject, but not entirely.

  “Yeah, he and Blake started getting them back when the band first formed and never really stopped. I think it was a kind of competition for a while. Not sure about now. Why? Did they freak you out?”

  “No.” Clarke shook her head to protest. “Nothing like that. I just had no idea he had so many.” She bit the inside of her lower lip. “I don't know, maybe I'll get one.”

  “Clarke Matthews!” Greta's eyes went wide with amused shock. “What would your father say?”

  “Probably that it's about time.” Clarke chuckled and flopped backwards again on to the bed. Greta followed suit and they stared up at the ceiling together.

  “You gonna hang out with them again tomorrow?” Greta asked quietly.

  “I sure hope so. They said they'd pick me up in the morning.” Clarke breathed in and then out again. She was so relaxed that Greta wanted to jump for joy. But she lay there quietly, not wanting to spoil the moment. “What about Shane?”

  “I'm not sure what to do about him, in all honesty. I might avoid him for a few days,” Greta confessed, and she felt Clarke's head twist to look at her.

  “What do you mean?” Clarke asked softly, obviously picking up on the undertones in Greta's words.

  “He bugs me. He makes me mad so fast. I mean, I've had people push my buttons before, but it's like he knows where every single one of them is, and he keeps pushing them. But at the same time, I see how broken he is and all I want is to help him be whole again. And holy crap, that body. It's all I can do to keep my hands off of it.” She scrunched her face into a frown and felt Clarke's body shake with suppressed laughter. “He can be such an ass. He makes it so hard to get past that solid wall of ice he's got built up. The girl he ends up with should really get me something nice for all the bullshit I have to get through to fix this guy.”

  “I feel like I should point out that Shane has always been an ass. I've worked for the man for years, and you know his reputation. What if that's who he is? There might not be much to fix.”

  “I hear what you're saying, but I can't agree.” Greta shook her head stubbornly. “I'm not giving up yet.”

  “I love how you always see the good in people, no matter who they are,” Clarke said gently, and Greta finally looked over at her.

  “I love how happy you are today. I saw this girl in you a long time ago. Who knew hanging out with rock stars while in men's underwear was the key to your happiness?” Greta felt the need to share. Clarke was her long-term fixer-upper. And things were finally moving along.

  Clarke snickered and sat up. “I better get some sleep and leave you to prepare for Shane's demise.” She looked down at her friend. “Don't make me worry about you.”

  Greta flashed her a grin. “I promise to behave.”

  After Clarke left, Greta stared up at her ceiling for a long time. She made no preparations, no plans. She had almost no thoughts at all. But sleep seemed further away that usual.

  She looked over at the clock on the wall that she'd gotten for her eleventh birthday. Harrison had made it in wood shop as a project. He'd painted it New England Patriots' colors and wrapped it up expertly. It matched absolutely nothing in her room, but she loved it anyway. A piece of home that she looked at daily.

  It was almost midnight. She sat up and went to the closet, pulling out her sketchpad and a few pencils. She grabbed her phone, a set of ear buds, and a heavy sweatshirt, and headed down to the back patio. She settled into one of the wicker chairs, crossing her legs underneath her, and plugged her music in.

  Greta had specific habits. Certain moods would trigger certain reactions. She was currently confused. And kind of sad. So sketching while listening to Springsteen was the only thing that could possibly help.

  She was deep into shading the angles and plains on the face of the waitress from the diner. She had no idea why her face had floated into her head, but it had, and Greta decided to draw it up. Bruce's deep, raspy, throaty voice was purring in her ears the words to “Brilliant Disguise.”

  She jumped when a warm hand slid across her upper back. She jerked her head to look over her shoulder and was shocked to see Shane. He gave her small smile, but his eyes were unreadable. He moved to the chair opposite her and sank his long torso down. She slowly took out her ear buds.

  “Hey.”

  “You're avoiding me,” Shane stated plainly.

  Greta didn't answer. She had prom
ised not to lie to him. So she figured not saying anything at all would about do it. Shane sighed and looked up at the sky before his eyes came back to her.

  “How did you get in?” Greta asked tightly.

  “I was over at Adam's when Brady came over to get Steve and Bo.”

  Greta looked over her shoulder and through the glass doors that led into the dining room. Brady and Steve were definitely home. All the lights were on in the lower level. She saw Brady stop on his way to the kitchen and he gave her a slight chin lift. She swung her eyes back to Shane and saw that his face had gone hard watching her and Brady's interaction. She wondered if Brady had told him what he had told her earlier. Damn, she hoped not.

  “Why are you here, Shane?” she asked, wanting to get back to her drawing. She wasn't anywhere near being able to relax yet.

  “What are you listening to?” he asked instead, ignoring her question.

  “Springsteen.” Her answer was automatic even though his avoidance of her question irked her. His eyes got hazy and his face softened again.

  “I'm figuring you out, Greta,” he declared quietly. She rolled her eyes and he continued, “Matt Nathanson when you cook. Incubus and 311 when you dance, Springsteen when you draw.”

  “Don't forget the Chili Peppers when I drive,” she interjected. She couldn't help it. Shane brought out a snarkiness in her that was hard to curb.

  His mouth curled slightly on one side at that addition. “Your music choices reflect your emotions.”

  So he had her figured out. That was unfortunate. She held eye contact for as long as she dared. “I'm sad.” His eyes turned worried but he didn't interrupt. “I don't want to talk about why. I just want to listen to Bruce, and draw until I feel better.”

  She didn't wait for a reply, she tucked her earbuds back in, restarted her music, and flipped to a new page in her sketchbook.

  Shane's face began to take shape on the page. She sank into her task, not even realizing that Shane didn't move. He stayed perfectly still and watched her work. Song bled into song, and her charcoal began to wear away; her fingers were black and the sketch was breathtaking.