Tragic

by Devney Perry

  I was lucky. The driver of the car sustained a concussion.

  I spent the next two hours in the emergency room, getting the cut cleaned up and assuring the doctor I hadn’t stepped into traffic on purpose.

  When I finally got home, Adam was upset I’d missed his calls. He was worried.

  I apologized for worrying him, then asked for a divorce.

  “It was a nasty cut and I have always been bad about picking at scabs.” I shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “My mom used to cover me in Band-Aids because it was the only way to keep me from picking at my skinned knees or elbows.”

  Kaine stepped closer, touching the shell of my left ear. “Why do you tuck your hair behind this ear but not this one?”

  “It’s silly.” I sighed. “My right ear is bigger than my left. I guess I got used to keeping it covered a long time ago.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s true.” I held my hair back so he could see both ears. “When I was a teenager, I never wore my hair up. I got over that eventually, but the tucking thing is just an old habit.”

  He looked from one ear to the other, then shook his head. “They’re the same size.”

  “No, they’re not. Trust me, I spent hours in the mirror as a teenager comparing the two.” That had been my favorite pastime as a seventeen-year-old learning to accept the things about her body she could not change.

  Kaine turned and walked over to the wall with all of the tool chests. He opened a drawer, pulled out a tape measure, then came stalking back.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded as he proceeded to extend the tape a few inches.

  “You’re really measuring my e—”

  “Shh.”

  I clamped my mouth shut, pulling my lips between my teeth to hold in a smile. Then I stood stoically still as the metal tape whispered across my ears and Kaine’s face narrowed in concentration.

  He didn’t just measure the height of my ears, he measured the width, the distance they were from my nose. It was a more detailed inspection than I would have expected from a plastic surgeon’s office.

  When he was done, he stepped back from my face with a smug grin and his tape measure. “Your right ear is an eighth of an inch smaller than your left.”

  “What?” I gasped. “No way!”

  He nodded. “It is.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “All this time you’ve been hiding the wrong ear, Dumbo.”

  “Hey!” I smacked him playfully on the shoulder, then broke out into hysterical laughter.

  To my surprise, he did too. Kaine’s laughter was deep and hoarse, almost like he hadn’t used it in so long that it needed to have the rust broken free.

  But it was beautiful as it filled the shop, making the already-bright space shimmer.

  And the sight of his smile, wide and white underneath those soft lips and between those dark bearded cheeks, was more breathtaking than even the ridge on our mountain.

  He was dashing.

  I refused to blink, not wanting to miss a moment of that rare laugh. And I vowed, then and there, to make him smile more often.

  A sense of pride filled my chest, squeezing out the pain from past memories. Knowing I was the cause of his smile and laugh was empowering. I did that. Me.

  I made Kaine smile.

  He made me forget.

  Now I had to make it three days without him. Three days. I’d force myself to wait those seventy-two hours because being around him was too good. It was too dangerous.

  Could I make it three days?

  With the way my heart was sprouting wings, I’d better try and make it four.

  Two days later, a fist knocked on the Airstream’s door, making me shoot out of bed. It was dark, and after a quick glance at my clock, I saw it was after midnight.

  My heart raced, my mind immediately imagining the worst. Was someone here to kill me? Would they feed my body to a bear? I grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1-1, ready to hit send, but I hesitated.

  As quietly as possible, I slipped out of bed and ducked low. Then I crouched, getting on my hands and knees to crawl out of the bedroom.

  Logan and Thea had bought this Airstream brand-new. Its finishes were light and airy, and it reminded me a little of the apartment I’d left behind in the city. I couldn’t have asked for a better temporary abode.

  But at this moment, all I really wanted was a door with a deadbolt.

  Why didn’t I own pepper spray? Or a gun? Not that I knew how to shoot either. But they were both sold at the sporting goods store in Kalispell. All I had to defend myself was my cast-iron skillet.

  I sucked at being a Montanan. I’d left all of my self-preservation tendencies on the subway in New York. If I was about to be murdered and fed to a bear, I had no one but myself to blame.

  I continued to crawl, making it past the bedroom and into the kitchen. I couldn’t reach for a knife without my murderer seeing me through the large front window.

  The knock came again and curiosity overruled judgment. Carefully, I rose up on my knees and peeked past the table to the door. A lock of dark hair caught my eye first, followed by an arm of familiar, bulky muscles.

  I sighed, breathing again as I slumped onto the wooden floor.

  It was my sexy neighbor.

  I pushed up off the floor, watching through the window as Kaine spotted me. His eyebrows came together, probably confused by what I’d been doing on the floor. I went right to the door, flipping the flimsy lock and opening up for him.

  “You scared me,” I hissed.

  He winced. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Come in.” It wasn’t like I’d be going back to sleep after that scare. My hand rubbed at my sternum, soothing my still-racing heart, as I stood back so he could climb the step.

  He reached behind him and closed the door.

  Then to my complete surprise, he pulled me into his arms. One of his hands pressed the back of my head so my cheek was resting against his heart. With the other, he trailed a light path up my bare arm.

  He was dressed in his Carhartt pants and smelled like wood varnish. He’d probably just come from the shop.

  I was in my pajamas, a thin tank top and silk sleep shorts with a ruffled edge. Both were a pink so pale they were nearly white.

  “What are you doing here?” I murmured into his shirt as I wound my hands around those narrow hips and tucked them into the back pockets of his pants.

  “Thought I’d see if you had any cake.”

  I laughed. “I’m all out.”

  “Damn. I need something sweet.” His arm left my hair, trailing down my back and to my ass. I didn’t have pockets for him to use, so instead he slipped those callused fingers into the waistband of my shorts and palmed my ass, skin to skin.

  A shiver broke across my shoulders and I tipped my head back. The moment I did, he captured my mouth in a desperate kiss.

  “Sweet,” he whispered against my lips before sweeping his tongue inside.

  It had been only two days since the night in his shop and my magic cake. A part of me was glad that I wasn’t the only one getting addicted. I wasn’t the only one here aching for another taste.

  The other part of me was disappointed because I’d been counting on Kaine to keep his distance.

  If he came over every two days, I was going to get attached.

  No. I wouldn’t let myself get attached to Kaine Reynolds. I wouldn’t let myself believe that I could heal his broken heart. Or that he could heal mine.

  One more night didn’t mean this was love.

  And next time, I’d go longer.

  Two weeks later, I was perched on a stool at the Lark Cove Bar with a paper boat of peanuts by one hand and a seasonal wheat beer by the other. Thea and Jackson were both working behind the bar, and I was here to hang out with them and Willa.

  “How much of a pain in the ass is it to clean up all these peanut shells?” I asked Thea as I shucked another and let the shell fall to the floor.


  She shrugged. “It’s not so bad. At first, I tried to sweep them up all the time. I was so used to Manhattan bars where fingerprints anywhere were a capital offense. It made me twitchy to see them pile up. But then I got used to it, and now I just wait and sweep them up after closing.”

  “I love it.” I popped the peanut into my mouth, crunching away. “It’s so . . . chill.”

  She smiled just as a man walked up to the bar to order a pitcher of beer.

  This entire place was relaxed. The Lark Cove Bar was maybe my favorite place in the entire town. It was unique because of its owners and their flair for charm.

  Compared to most bars in the city, it was actually kind of dingy—but in a good way. The bar itself ran in a long L along the back and side walls. The booths by the front windows had been beaten and battered from years of use. The pool table had been re-covered recently, but the legs showed where it had been kicked or scratched throughout the years. There was even a legitimate jukebox that played country music so twangy it was like stepping back in time forty years.

  The high ceilings were open, and the iron beams running from one side to the other were exposed. It had a rustic, industrial look, thanks to the scuffed wooden floors and the walls paneled to match. The barstools were all different, and the one I was sitting on wobbled slightly to the right.

  Shelves of liquor were loaded against a mirror that stretched along the back wall behind the bar. The footrail my purse was sitting on had visible grooves from people resting their feet in the same place, year after year.

  The walls were covered in neon and metal signs as well as numerous framed pictures. My first visit here, I’d spent almost thirty minutes inspecting them all. It was like staring at a living timeline, one that had been started by the original owners and continued by their daughter, Hazel, when she’d taken over the bar.

  And now, this place was run by Thea and Jackson—Hazel’s children for all intents and purposes. She wasn’t their biological mother, but she’d been their role model for so long, they looked to her like a parent. And though they weren’t related either, Thea and Jackson were basically siblings.

  At least, they argued like brother and sister.

  Being around them made me miss my own family, especially my younger brother Owen. The two of us had grown apart, like adult siblings do, but as a kid, he’d been my best friend.

  I made a mental note to call him tomorrow. Then I added my parents and grandparents to my call roster too. Maybe if I was better about calling my family, the physical distance between us would seem like less than thousands of miles.

  I’d go home to visit. Eventually. But not until Adam had more time to come to terms with our divorce.

  What would he think of this place? I laughed to myself, picturing his look of horror.

  Adam and I ran with a certain crowd of friends in New York, none of whom would be caught dead in the Lark Cove Bar. Our evenings out had always been spent in the same type of establishments. They were all clean and upscale. They were all on the cusp of the latest trends.

  We went to the bars and restaurants so Adam could be seen.

  But the Lark Cove Bar wasn’t about being seen. It was about seeing people and friends and neighbors. This place was as much of a cornerstone of this community as the Statue of Liberty was a symbol of America.

  Every time I came here, I noticed something new. That was just how much stuff was crammed into the nooks and crannies. My eyes snagged on a set of antlers in one far corner off to the side of a large flat-screen TV. A bunch of trucker hats hung from its horns and at the very back, I could make out a scrap of lace.

  “Oh my god.” I choked on my peanut, coughing and hacking. I grabbed a swig of my beer, chasing down the bite that had tried to murder me. My eyes were watering as I looked at Thea and then back at the antlers. “Is that a bra?”

  Thea and Jackson both laughed, then shared a look before Jackson jumped in to explain.

  “There was this woman in here about five or six years ago who was coming on to me,” Jackson said.

  “This should be enlightening,” Willa muttered from the stool at my side.

  “Come on, babe.” Jackson came down the bar, leaning across it to give her a soft kiss. “Don’t get jealous.”

  She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight her smile. With her delicate frame, striking blue eyes and long blond hair hanging in waves to her waist, Willa was more angel than human. Or maybe that was because of how Jackson looked at her.

  Thea had told me stories about Jackson, how he’d been a playboy for years. It wasn’t hard to believe since the man was as handsome as his wife was beautiful. He had eyes the color of a cloudless Montana sky and the frame of a star quarterback.

  His wicked grin and charismatic personality could have attracted any woman in this bar, but he was all Willa’s. The day he’d noticed the shy woman who’d always had a crush on him was the day all other women stopped existing in his life.

  She might grumble at old stories of women hitting on her husband, but we all knew exactly who owned his heart.

  Those two were making gaga eyes at each other, so Thea jumped in to continue the story of the bra.

  “So this woman was all handsy on Jackson. But he wasn’t paying her any attention.”

  Jackson shrugged, still leaning on the bar in front of Willa. “It was a busy night. She was too drunk.”

  “Drunk?” Thea scoffed. “That is putting it lightly. We cut her off but she didn’t leave. She just kept hanging around the end of the bar, waiting for Jackson to walk past. Every time he went to clear a table, she’d follow him around and try to grope his ass.”

  Sweet, gentle Willa let out a sound that could only be considered a rabid growl.

  Jackson just chuckled and leaned over to give her another kiss.

  “I can’t remember exactly what happened, but this woman . . .” Thea rolled her eyes. “She was relentless! She followed Jackson around all night like a little puppy, trying to nip at his heels and hump his leg.”

  Jackson’s face flushed as he shook his head. “What happened next was not my fault.”

  Thea laughed. “She was so sad that he wasn’t paying her any attention. So she decided to make a scene. She walked up to this group of guys who’d just ordered a pitcher. She swiped it off their table, shouted ‘Wet T-shirt contest, woohoo!’ then poured it over her head.”

  “Oh. My god.” I snorted, laughing along with Thea.

  Jackson groaned. “So I bring her one of the bar T-shirts we used to sell.”

  “Which happened to be white,” Thea added.

  “I get the shirt pulled over her head,” Jackson continued. “And I’m thinking she’ll take the opportunity to wise up. Or at the very least one of her friends, who’d been sitting in the corner booth, would intervene. But they didn’t. Those bitches just sat there laughing and watching as this drunk chick struggled out of the drenched tank top she was wearing underneath the T-shirt I’d just pulled over her head. She threw the tank top across the bar—”

  “And then came the bra.” Thea finished for him.

  “Landed right on the antlers Hazel’s dad had hung up there thirty years ago.”

  “Why didn’t you take it down?” I asked.

  Jackson hung his head again as Thea kept laughing. “Things got worse.”

  Willa giggled. “How?”

  “There was still another pitcher on the table.”

  My eyes widened. “Noooo!”

  “Oh yes!” Thea nodded. “And that’s why we don’t sell white T-shirts anymore.”

  We all laughed, even Jackson, causing a ruckus in the bar. None of the other patrons seemed to care, and a couple of the regulars were even listening in.

  “She came in the next day and apologized,” Jackson said. “I’ve never seen anyone that green before. I asked her if she wanted her shirt and bra back, but she said she never wanted to be reminded of that night again.”

  “Obviously, we never did take down the bra.”
Thea shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I like it up there. It reminds me of all the fun times we’ve had in this place.”

  Jackson moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “That was a fun night.”

  “Sure was.” She patted his stomach, then stepped away, going around the bar to check on some customers in the booths.

  Thea had told me that things were different at the Lark Cove Bar than they’d been years ago. It wasn’t just her and Jackson working as Hazel’s employees anymore. They’d bought her out a year ago, making sure she was set for retirement with her husband Xavier, the retired town sheriff. And because both Thea and Jackson had families, neither one of them wanted to be tied to the bar every night.

  They had another bartender who covered most of the later shifts. They put a heavier emphasis on food items, making it not only a bar but a full restaurant to rival the one other in town. They’d turned an old beer and whiskey joint into a must-stop attraction on the tourist route around Flathead Lake.

  Thea and Jackson had somehow turned a bar in the miniscule town of Lark Cove into a raving success.

  A huge part of that success was simply because it was fun. Pure, unbridled, laugh-until-your-sides-hurt fun.

  A lot of my moments in Montana had been fun.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t had good times in the city. But things were different here.

  There were no expectations to keep quiet. If I stood on my stool and did a happy dance, people would cheer me on. No one cared if you got too drunk and made a fool of yourself. A bra was left hanging on the antlers so patrons could share a laugh years later.

  Would Kaine like it here? Would he ever want to come down and split a pizza?

  He popped into my mind, like he often did.

  In the two weeks since he’d surprised me with his first late-night visit to my camper, we’d fallen into a routine. Every other day, he’d come over after dark. We’d have sex until the midnight hours and then he’d return home.

  Two days was as long as we’d go without seeing one another. Like clockwork, he’d knock on my camper door just before the forty-eight-hour timer would run out, shooting my three-day rule right to hell.