Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  Suddenly, I was desperate to know what he looked like underneath it.

  “Your axle is toast,” he announced. “After we’re done here, I’ll drive you home. I doubt you’ll be able to get AAA out here at this time of night.”

  I nodded and faced him across the counter, still unsure of what to say. I was still mad at him about this morning. The way he’d stood me up and then treated me like a stranger.

  “So what were you up to before you just ‘happened’ to crash in front of my driveway?” Will asked. His voice was awkward, like he was trying to be nice, but couldn’t quite manage it. I knew that sound. That sound was all guilt, couched in a passive-aggressive mask.

  I set my mug down on the counter. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can get off your egotistical high horse. I’m not stalking you.”

  Will pressed his mouth together and raised a brow in a way that told me he didn’t totally believe me.

  I scowled. “I’m not.”

  “All right, all right,” he said, almost like he wanted to laugh. “So what were you up to?”

  “I met up with some old friends for a bonfire. They actually showed up.”

  Will’s jaw tightened, and he set his mug down. “Okay. Okay, sure. I guess I owe you an apology.”

  “You guess?”

  He frowned. “It was just a suggestion to meet up for a ride. I told you, I decided to go hiking around Pend d’Oreille instead. You saw me on my way out, and I didn’t get back until just now. I couldn’t call you because I don’t have your number. Or a phone, for that matter.”

  I shook my head. “How do you not have a phone?”

  Will shrugged, but I could see him withdraw. Jeez, the guy really didn’t like questions about himself.

  “I don’t need one,” was all he said. “Listen, I’m—I’m sorry, okay? I am. I don’t have friends, Maggie, and to be honest, I wasn’t really looking for any. I didn’t think you would really care.”

  “You…” I trailed off. The guy was so much more than frustrating. “You are so full of shit.”

  “Come again?”

  We stared at each other for a minute over the counter, neither of us blinking. I didn’t believe him. Not that he didn’t have friends—that much was completely obvious. But he didn’t care? There had been moments with Will where I could have sworn he was dying for me to touch him. He had stopped traffic in the middle of the street just to stare at me for a full minute.

  The question wasn’t if he cared. It was how much. Because the guy certainly wasn’t indifferent.

  “What happened to you before you came here, Maggie?”

  I looked up, surprised. I thought I was the one doing the interrogating here. “What do you mean?”

  Will passed his mug back and forth between his big hands for a minute, then took a long drink. “That day we met,” he said. “You seemed really freaked out.”

  “You mean the day you were a complete asshole to the girl with the twisted ankle?”

  Will blushed. Full-on, red-faced blushed. It was adorable and made me want to hug him. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Will had made it very clear that we weren’t friends. That we were nothing.

  It would just be a lot easier to believe if he weren’t looking at me like we were a lot more than nothing.

  He chewed on his upper lip for a second. “No, it was something else. The biking, the swimming. You’re running from something. I recognize the signs.” His green eyes flickered. “Takes one to know one.”

  Again, that curious energy, an unnamable understanding, flamed between us.

  I swallowed and stared at my mug. “I…something happened in New York.”

  “I figured. What was it?”

  I turned the handle of the mug to the right, then to the left. “Bad breakup.”

  The air between us thickened. Why was I even divulging any of this? Wasn’t I trying to get away from the stigma of my mother’s behavior? All I needed was for the truth about Theo to get out. It would seal that legacy for good.

  But Will just waited for me to think, much more patient than I ever was, until he asked his next question. “What did he do?”

  “Why do you think he did anything?” My voice was much sharper than I wanted it to be.

  “Lily.”

  With the casual use of the pet name, the fissures cracked open. It was a reminder that, if only in one small way, this strange, distant man had made me his. We barely knew each other, and yet, clearly there was some kind of connection here, even if it confused both of us. I wasn’t Theo’s flower anymore. I was a grouchy hermit’s lily.

  Slowly, before I was even aware of it, a tear fell down my cheek. I sucked in a breath.

  “Hey.” Will’s voice was a low burr, a comfort that slid through my thoughts. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said. “But if you do, you can trust me, Lil. I promise you that.”

  “Like I trusted you to meet me for a ride?”

  This time he didn’t look away. His eyes met mine and didn’t waver, and I saw the true remorse I had been looking for since he picked me up, that I had begged for the entire time I was with Theo. Will might have his secrets—that much was clear—but right now, he was an open book.

  “I am sorry,” he said, his gaze unmoving. His hand squeezed mine. “I am.”

  I watched him for a few more seconds, but he never blinked, never looked away. The rest of the house faded, until finally, I sighed.

  “Forgiven,” I said simply. “You’ve rescued me three times now. I suppose that means we’re even. But I think I’ll divulge my life’s story another time.”

  “Fair enough.” Will’s mouth quirked, and more than ever I wanted to know what he looked like when he smiled. Actually, I wanted to know what he looked like period.

  “So what’s with the Dumbledore look you have going on here?” I said, gesturing up and down.

  Will blinked. “Dumbledore?”

  “The hair. The beard. You’re right out of Hogwarts. I can’t decide if you want to murder me or turn me into a toad.”

  Will snorted. “I was going more for Hagrid.” He paused with an uncertainty that was disarmingly adorable. “You think it looks that bad?”

  I cocked my head. “Do you care?”

  “No.” But then he answered again. “At least, I didn’t until now.” He cleared his throat. “So, your friends. It was a good time?”

  I frowned. This was weird. He was trying to take the attention off himself by making stupid small talk. I didn’t know Will very well, but I knew that wasn’t his style. And it certainly wasn’t mine.

  “Not really, if you want to know the truth,” I said frankly. “I sat around drinking water while they shotgunned Natty Ice like we were still seventeen. Then one of them basically called me a tap-dancing monkey, and another told me that I was a slut for wearing a short dress.”

  Will’s eyes immediately flared. “They said what?”

  I shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly like that. But…yeah. The insinuations were there. It’s about par for the course for this area.”

  “What the…” he sputtered, repeating himself again and again until he finally managed to string together a sentence. “Who was this racist motherfucker who called you a dancing monkey? To your face?”

  I flushed. It was my fault for bringing it up, but now that I had, I felt embarrassed by it. People said shit like that and didn’t really understand how it felt—little comments under which they could claim plausible deniability. I’m sure if I had confronted Lindsay point blank, she would have said she was talking about my age, or people from New York, or literally anything other than my ethnicity.

  Because if you did bring it up, you were either told to let it go, like Lucas told me to, or people went crazy, like Will. But there were always going to be Lindsays in the world—ignorant bitches who would never really understand how their words cut. Or maybe they did, and they didn’t care.

  “She was just jealous,” I muttered. “Because
the guy she liked flirted with me instead.”

  “This was your ex?”

  I looked up. “How did you know?”

  Will shrugged. “Lucas Forster. The way you talked about him. It’s kind of obvious.”

  I pressed my lips together before taking a sip of tea. “Well, yeah. He ended up making a move, but I wasn’t interested. I just…” I sighed, shoving a hand through my hair while I looked to the side, toward the trees brushing against the windows. Anywhere but the pair of intense green eyes staring holes through me. “I had to leave, but I didn’t want to go home. I already feel like I’m moving backward enough, you know? And Lucas…he was the one who mentioned my skirt.”

  “What did he say?”

  I stopped playing with my mug. “Who?”

  “Luke Skywalker. What did he say about your skirt?”

  I shied, but Will just waited. Seriously, the guy could probably get the Mona Lisa to talk if he stared long enough. It was even more annoying because he kept his own story locked up so tight.

  “He saw a picture and suggested that I was somewhat responsible for…certain things…because of clothes I wore.” My face was heating up. God, this was mortifying.

  “Dumb motherfucker.” Will’s voice was louder than a grumble, just barely.

  I looked up. “Excuse me?”

  Will’s brow rose. “You heard me.”

  I shook my head. “Lucas is not dumb. He’s actually great, and he’s doing a lot for me and my mom. He’s allowed to think a certain way if he wants to. He’s just looking out for me.”

  “He’s dumb as a fucking post,” Will said, “if he thinks for one second that covering up your legs would do a goddamn thing to hide how beautiful you are.”

  His words echoed around the room, and again through my mind. Beautiful. Will thought I was beautiful.

  Will thought I was beautiful?

  What?

  But before I could respond, he cleared his throat, polished off his tea, and stood back up. “Fuck ’em, Lil. You’re better off without people who make you feel like less than you are. Fuck them and their shitty beer.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand—”

  “I understand plenty. And I’m telling you, you don’t need that kind of bullshit.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t need them or you telling me anything!” I burst out, suddenly tired of having anything dictated to me whatsoever.

  Theo used to dictate my entire world. Mama spewed advice on my social life. Lucas on my wardrobe. And now Will was standing here telling me to write off people I had known forever. I just wanted everyone to keep their stupid opinions to themselves unless I asked for them.

  “Lily—”

  “Stop,” I said, pushing away from the counter. “I’ve had enough. Sure, Lucas pissed me off, and I left, but you don’t know him at all. He’s a good friend, and he’s been there for my mom even when I haven’t. Do you know what he’s doing right now? Basically all the major work on our property for a song because he knows we can’t afford it.”

  “And why do you think he’s doing that, Lil?” Will cut in. “Maybe to get under another skirt of yours?”

  “No, you asshole! Because that’s the way he is! Because real fucking people don’t lock themselves away in a cabin and pretend the world doesn’t exist! And the good ones actually try to make it better. They see a woman in need, and they stop to help without shouting at her. They fucking show up!”

  I seethed at him across the counter, but Will didn’t move a muscle. No quirk of the mouth. No stress lines over his forehead. No indicator that my outburst made any impact whatsoever.

  I pushed off the stool.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  I marched toward the door, and Will immediately grabbed his keys off the counter and followed.

  “Lily pad, wait.”

  I kept going. “I just want to go home,” I said as I reached for the doorknob.

  “Maggie.”

  I paused, still facing at the door. I didn’t dare look at him—I didn’t know what I’d find swimming in his deep green depths. Anger? Annoyance? Irritation? I felt all of that and more.

  Will’s hand drifted down, fitting naturally to my waist. His fingers were strong, holding me still. I wasn’t moving, but I knew if I tried, he wouldn’t let me. His intent vibrated clearly.

  “You could stay,” he said quietly.

  When I turned, he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes, instead, were fixed on the spot where his fingers rested over my hip. My shirt had risen a few inches, and his middle and index fingers rested directly against my skin. It was strange—he had touched so much more of me when he had pulled me out of the lake, or when he had picked me up from the road. But this touch, so incidental, so minor, had my heart racing. The entire room was a glowing ember.

  “You don’t have to go home if you don’t want, Lil,” Will said. “You’re safe here for the night.”

  It was only then his eyes rose to meet mine. They were wide and fathomless. All the bitterness I was accustomed to seeing there was gone. Instead, there was just frank understanding of someone who knew what it felt like to want to escape. And in that moment, I understood the offer for what it really was. Will had created a safe space for himself here—a sanctuary void of interaction with people. People whom, for whatever reason, he wanted to avoid. And now he was sharing that sanctuary with me.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed. I hardly knew the man, and who was I to say this weirdo with a giant beard wasn’t going to try to murder me in my sleep? But the house where I grew up was full of ghosts, alive and dead, just like the rest of this lake. I had fled one set of problems only to return to the old ones. But here, with this strange man, there was no judgment. No anger. With him, I was only me.

  I swallowed and covered the hand at my waist with my own. Then slowly, I nodded. “Okay.”

  10

  After a few hours of sleep on Will’s giant couch (spent mostly, to be honest, thinking about the fact that he was lying on a bed somewhere underneath me), I woke up early the next morning to rays of sunlight shining through the trees. I pushed up and peered out the picture windows that looked out on the lake. Will’s house was even nicer during the day than at night—the light glinted off the steel surfaces, refracting everywhere with peaceful brilliance.

  Footsteps sounded, and few moments later Will strode into the kitchen, fully kitted out in a pair of athletic shorts, some sneakers that had seen better days, and a ratty tank top that did nothing to take away from his biceps.

  Tying his hair into a messy knot on top of his head, he looked the same as every other time I’d seen him. Except for one thing.

  I sat up fully. “You trimmed your beard.”

  Will froze halfway to the kitchen, hands still full of wayward locks and a rubber band sticking out of his mouth. For a second I found it hard to breathe myself. His beard now only consisted of a thick stubble, and the inch of dark blond that was left did nothing to hide what turned out to be a formidably square jaw, a neck that had the same tension-locked muscles as the rest of his lean body, and cheekbones that could cut glass. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had seen the rest of him, after all. But nothing had prepared me for the beauty of Will Baker’s face without a giant golden mess obscuring the lower half.

  He finished tying up his hair. “Oh. Yeah, well, it was either that or carve a wizard’s staff, I guess.”

  I flopped over the back of the couch, following him as he ducked into the kitchen. “You totally cut your beard off for me.”

  “I absolutely did not.”

  “You one hundred percent did.” I pointed at him, wagging my finger around. “Yesterday, you were Nanook of the North. Today you look like a frickin’ Abercrombie model. If I tease you some more, will you clean my house for me? Maybe help my mom get sober? What if I called you Fabio? Would you cut your hair too?”

  I was pretty much lost in giggles at this point, but all I got i
n return was a dirty green look. I collapsed on the couch laughing.

  A few seconds later, Will appeared over me, still glowering, but with one brow arched and humor clear in his eyes. For a half second, I imagined pulling him down on top of me, then smothering that face with kisses until he smiled. Maybe even laughed. Suddenly, the disturbing fact that I really wanted to kiss Will Baker mattered a lot less than the desire to make him laugh. I wanted to make Will Baker laugh so badly that my chest hurt.

  “You done now, Lily pad?” he asked with a smirk.

  I cleared my throat. “For now.”

  “Good. Let’s have a bite, and then I owe you a run, if your ankle’s healed up, that is.”

  I nodded, and he extended a hand. I allowed him to pull me back up to sitting before he abruptly returned to the kitchen.

  “I like that sound,” he said as I took a seat at the bar.

  “What sound?”

  “Your laughter. You should do it more.” Will turned around and passed me a mug of tea that he’d miraculously conjured—this time, black. “Milk? Sugar? Honey?”

  “Just a bit of milk, please.”

  He nodded, then retrieved the milk and started whipping up a batch of scrambled eggs and toast just as quickly and efficiently as he’d made tea the night before.

  “Do you like your eggs wet or dry?” he asked as he whisked.

  “Um…w-wet.” My mouth was a little dry, and the way the movement was making his forearm flex was really distracting. “Really wet.”

  “You like your scrambled eggs really wet?”

  I blinked. “Oh—um, no. In the middle is fine. However.”

  Will poured the eggs onto a heated pan and turned around to grab our toast, which allowed me to ogle him from behind. Yeah. The man filled out athletic shorts really, really well. A few minutes later, he slid two plates over and took a seat next to me at the bar.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a bite. “This is good.”