A Moment of Madness (Boston Alibi)

by Brooklyn Skye

  “Right there.” She pointed and squeezed past the woman. “I’ll just…go over there.”

  Denim scratched her skin as she crossed the room, and she tugged again at the waistband that was slowly waddling its way up her torso. Jordan shoved a chip piled high with salsa into his mouth and glanced up and smiled at her just as she gave the hem of her skirt a heavy jerk.

  “Dumb thing won’t stay down.”

  “Looks good up there,” he mumbled around the chip. A not-so-tiny piece of it stuck to the side of his bottom lip, and suddenly, the feeling that her feet wanted to about-face shot through her.

  She ground her heels into the wooden sole of her wedges and cringed against it. Yes, she left her dying father. And, yes, karma’s retribution could’ve been so much worse. She’d take this discomfort. Accept it and live with the understanding that she’d brought it upon herself.

  Ignoring Jordan’s comment, she sat on the stool beside him and dug into the chips. Maybe food would help the nauseous roil budding in her stomach.

  “I have to say,” Jordan said, wiping his mouth with his hand, “I’m surprised you actually called.”

  “Because…?”

  He twisted on his stool, propping his elbow on the counter. “I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me for the whole stealing-you-off-to-California ordeal.”

  Her skin started to itch as flashes of that time played like a glitched-out YouTube video in her mind. The dingy house. The lack of any friends except for the parade of buyers who would park under the rickety carport until a deal was made with Jordan. The pinched feeling that slowly grew each day she stood on the porch, brown paint peeling up around her feet, that her father would be so disappointed in her.

  Her father…

  She missed him so much. And more than that, she just wished she could hug him and tell him sorry for all the bull she’d put him through. Sorry that she ever left in the first place.

  She opened her mouth to tell Jordan it wasn’t his fault for what happened in California, even though she knew deep in her heart her life would’ve ended up a lot different if she hadn’t ever met him. When he glanced over her shoulder toward the door, eyes widening.

  And then she heard it. Her name. In his voice.

  Quickly, she turned, straining the barstool’s swivel as far as it would to the left. Her wooden wedge held against the metal foot rail, keeping her from spinning back around, as Ryan stalked straight toward her. A rusty-colored shirt stretched tightly over his upper half, hanging just low enough to cover the waistline of his dark jeans. The picture of a bearded man stared at her from the center of his shirt, some saying about beards and awesomeness that all started to blur together the closer he came.

  “Don’t say anything until you hear me out,” he said when he was still halfway across the room. Low and guttural, hitting her square in the chest as if his words had the physical power to do so. And then his scent followed.

  No, no, no. She didn’t want to see him. Or hear him. Definitely didn’t want to smell him. Because it was a dangerous place to be—in the same room as Ryan Edwards when he had that determined look on his face, and her body knew it all too well.

  Shaking her head, she narrowed her eyes at him. “How did you know I was here?”

  He stopped just in front of her, his gaze flicking once over her shoulder at Jordan before reconnecting with hers. Those pools of blue… Nope, she wasn’t going to let herself get caught up in them, no matter how gorgeous they were sparkling in the light like that. No way. No how. Nuh-uh.

  She tried moving her gaze to his forehead, seemed like a safe zone. But even with her focus there, she could see that instead of a freshly shaven jaw, his was covered with a short layer of stubble.

  What? When had he decided to grow his beard back? Had it really been that long since she’d seen him? She blinked, tried to peel her eyes away from anything that was Ryan’s face, but she failed miserably. Stubble, beyond doubt, was her favorite look on him—more than the beard, more than without it.

  While you’re analyzing things, Sail, why don’t you ask your brain why it suddenly switched into dumb-girl mode? Don’t you remember what he did?

  Of course she did. Which made the fact that she didn’t back away or run away even worse.

  Lifting a hand slowly but with purpose, he gently pressed a finger to her lips. At the same time, his expression softened. “Leave it to you to do exactly what I ask not to.”

  Oh no, even his hands smelled good. Like soap. It clouded her mind and made her think touching his face would be perfectly acceptable right now.

  Maybe my hands on his chest?

  Around his waist?

  Space, she needed space. She leaned away, and the metal backrest jammed into her spine. “Well?” she asked, keeping her voice as stiff as her body.

  The softness around his eyes disappeared, replaced with a toughness that only came with disappointment. “I followed you from Above the Stem.”

  She would’ve called any other person following her “creeper.” But she had to admit, angry at Ryan or not, it intrigued her the tiniest bit. Still… “I asked you not to call me.”

  Calling was bad. It led to talking. Talking led to forgiving, and 99 percent of her body wasn’t ready for that yet.

  “And I asked you to hear me out.”

  That other one percent—the one that sat dead center in her chest—pressed into her like the weight of an entire building. Heavy enough to steal the simplicity of breathing.

  Jordan cleared his throat. “Jenny, you know this guy?”

  Jenny.

  Jordan’s voice.

  Ryan and that stupidly protective look he was giving her…

  It was too much. She shifted, but the movement sent the wedge of her heel slipping off the foot rail and the chair suddenly jerked her to the right, toward Jordan. Ryan caught the backrest. Held it, and her, facing him. Biceps flexed as he leaned in—close enough the salsa remnants in her mouth lingered like the humid breath of a preacher. Arms caged her in. “Please.”

  The weight of that single word echoed around the room. Unfortunately, they hadn’t beaten the lunch crowd, because with him so close, her first instinct was to open her mouth and breathe on him.

  His gaze intensified, the color darkening with less light. “Sailor, you can’t scare me with the smell of onions. Or the ex you ate them with. I know I was an asshole. And I know I hurt you, but if you would just listen—”

  “I can’t.” Because he had hurt her. More than any man had. Ever. And that kind of hurt wasn’t easily fixed with a gallant sweep into a Mexican restaurant, gorgeous stubble or not.

  She squirmed out of the arm cage, straightened her skirt, and faced Jordan. The light in the room did nothing for his dull-brown eyes. Nothing for the pale wash of his skin, either.

  “You wanna leave?” he asked, pinging his gaze to the half-full basket of chips for longer than a full second.

  Something in her stomach turned over, and then Ryan’s deep voice warmed her ear. “Like hell you’re leaving with him.”

  Sailor straightened, stepping away from the both of them. Ryan was right. She wasn’t going anywhere with Jordan. Meeting him here had been a mistake. Sure, it’d been nice to see he’d started to pull his life together, but just because they’d both returned to Boston didn’t mean anything for their future.

  “I’m not leaving with either of you,” she said. With her back to Ryan, which made it much easier to think clearly, she said to Jordan. “But I can’t stay for lunch, either. I’m sorry.”

  Jordan shoved a chip into his mouth and shrugged, obviously trying to play it cool in front of Ryan. “I’ll call you.”

  Her stomach did a full three-sixty just then. She shook her head. “Please don’t. This whole thing”—she waved her hand in front of her, not pointing directly at either man, but encompassing the entire room—“is making my brain hurt, and I just need time to think.”

  Another chip crunched. There was a time she would�
�ve cringed at Jordan’s indifference, but right now, she was thankful for it. Stealing a breath, she spun to face Ryan.

  He stared down at her with narrowed eyes. Hard edges lined his jaw, slicing lines up through his cheeks. Quickly, she clasped her hands behind her. No touching the stubble!

  Nails bit into her skin. Right, touching would be bad. Very, very bad. Especially since she was so upset with him. But…what if she leaned in a little, let her nose and her lips rub against them? She just wanted to see what it felt like.

  Or maybe she just wanted the weight of his arms around her and to feel what they’d shared before everything had fallen apart.

  But that didn’t exist anymore.

  Because he would always have an image of her old self somewhere in his mind.

  She looked up into his eyes, trying not to say the words like they were laced with sour pickle juice. “Please don’t follow me.” And then she scooted toward the door, her stupid jean skirt riding higher and higher with each step.

  Marissa met her at the apartment’s front door, standing tall and poised in her business suit and heels. Sailor pointed, climbing the last few steps. “What’s with the fancy clothes? You trade dog boarding for banking without telling me?”

  The afternoon sun beat against her back, and heat flushed up the nape of her neck. Or maybe that was the lingering aftereffects of the way her body had reacted after seeing Ryan. It stung like a third-degree sunburn.

  Marissa stuck her foot out and waggled it. “No banker would wear Louboutins. That’s a disgrace to all fashionable women out there.” She dropped her foot and whirled in a circle. “I interviewed with the city for an animal cruelty investigating position. I think I nailed it, too.” Her heavily glossed lips spread into a wide grin.

  Sailor unlocked the door and swung it open, hands ready for the little pup who would fling himself into her arms the moment she stepped inside. “Investigator? That’s big time, Riss.”

  Drexie sprung up, tongue out and ready for licking.

  “Punishing bad pet parents—my ultimate dream job.” Marissa laughed and kicked off her shoes. Sailor buried her head into her dog’s fur, giggling against his excited squirming. “Speaking of outfits, what’s with the skirt?”

  Hiding behind the adorable face of her dog, she cringed with the words, “I had lunch with Jordan.”

  “You what?”

  “Before you get all in a tizzy”—she lowered Drexel, keeping him tight against her chest—“just know nothing happened. Well, other than Ryan interrupted and no lunch was actually ordered or eaten and then I told Jordan not to call me.”

  “Sail, that’s not ‘nothing.’” She straightened and flattened her hands along her thighs. “Start from the beginning and tell me everything.”

  So Sailor sat cross-legged in the middle of the room and did, not even leaving out the part about Ryan’s stubble and stretchy shirt, and when she finished, Marissa sat impeccably still, grinning. “It’s like the perfect ending to a fairy tale.”

  Sailor frowned, stretching out her legs. “What fairy tale ends with everyone alone?”

  “You may be alone, like physically right in this moment, but it sounds to me like you’ve already made your decision.”

  “Did I mention I told Ryan not to contact me, too?”

  “From what I’ve seen, Ryan’s a smart guy. And if you said it in the same wishy-washy way you told me, he won’t believe you for a second.”

  Chills trickled up her body, from her toes to her fingers and to the tippy top of her head. At the same time, the walls of her tiny living room pressed in on her. She wanted Ryan to believe her, didn’t she?

  Suddenly, she didn’t know.

  That night, after Marissa had gone home and Sailor had finished getting ready for bed, the phone on her bedside table started barking. Still feeling disoriented from her cousin’s words and not really in the mood for a doggie laugh, she pulled her covers over her legs and zoned out on the TV.

  And then it barked again. And again. And on the fourth time, she sat up. Geez, Doggie Shamers for Life having a party tonight?

  She reached for her phone, ready to blindly skim through the pictures when something on the screen caught her eye. Okay, three somethings.

  Blue-green eyes. A gorgeous chiseled face. And stubble.

  What in the world?

  She blinked several times, sure the stress of the day had her seeing Ryan’s beautiful face on her favorite dog website. In front of his chest, he held a piece of paper with words neatly scrawled in the middle. I didn’t trust the girl I was falling for.

  Nine words that, had she not been sitting, would’ve knocked her knees out from under her. Falling for… The words jammed her brain with images of the last few weeks. The tender way he looked at her, the brightness of his expression as they laughed together…

  But he was right. He hadn’t trusted her. And hurt like that didn’t repair easily.

  Hugging her legs to her chest, she rested her chin atop them and swallowed against the thickness growing in her throat. Then she swiped to the next picture.

  Those eyes stared at her, piercing so hard they may as well have been spears, gouging directly into her soul. Two papers this time, different words but the same tight handwriting. She told me not to follow her, so I didn’t. Her body tingled, and she could still feel the burning on her backside from the way he’d watched her earlier, the scent of fried tortillas and onions searing the memory into her brain. Had she wanted him to follow her? Would she have allowed him to?

  Suddenly, she didn’t know. She read the second paper.

  I was a dick to her ex-boyfriend.

  And I decked him for making inappropriate comments about her body after she’d left.

  No. The corners of her mouth cracked her cheeks. Not that she’d ever wished harm on anyone, but the thought of Ryan defending her thawed the sheet of ice surrounding her heart just a tiny little itty-witty bit.

  She swiped again, and the last picture appeared. This time his expression softer, set with the hint of a smile. I will stand on her front porch every night until she forgives me.

  Front porch? Wait…like now?

  Slowly, she climbed out of bed and padded out into the living room, carpet squishing through her bare toes and Drexie close by on her heels. Darkness cast a bluish glow about the room, glinting off the metal vase near the window as she tiptoed to the door and peered out the peephole.

  On her porch, sitting on the top step with his knees up and his head lowered, was Ryan. Muscles in his back flexed and rolled with the movement of his arms, and for a moment, she just stood and watched, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. One arm fell to his side, a marker between his fingers, and then he turned.

  Faced the door.

  Stared right at her.

  And smiled.

  Sailor fell back onto her heels as if the door had pushed her away, but instead of the plushness of carpet, the bottom of her foot squished a doggy paw.

  Drexel yelped. Sailor yelped and stumbled and ninja rolled to the ground, landing flat on her back. “Oh, Drexie, are you okay?” she whispered. She gently stroked his foot, and in return, he licked the back of her hand. At the same time, a knock sounded on the door, resonating into the dark, empty room.

  “Sailor? Is everything all right?”

  She looked to the dog, not angry at all at his adorable puppy face. “You made Mommy blow her cover.” But inside, she already knew she would have opened the door anyway.

  “I’m fine,” she called out to Ryan, not so stealthily shifting to her feet. “Just practicing how to trip over my dog.” She untwisted the waistband of her night shorts and smoothed her hair. “It’s a necessary skill to have these days.”

  Ryan chuckled halfheartedly, the kind of laugh someone made when they had a hundred things on their mind all whizzing and twirling at once. Silence beat through the air, and that spot below her collarbone began to ache. A hundred things cluttered her mind, too, every single one of them
concerning the word starting with R and ending with N.

  Standing and waiting at her front door, clearly, he was here to apologize. But why? And why was he going through so much trouble to do it?

  The whole thing was a misunderstanding.

  If you would just listen.

  His voice echoed through the door again. “Um, Sailor, are you still there?”

  “Yes.” Her breath bounced off the door and warmed her face. She was there. She just didn’t know why.

  “Do you think maybe you could open the door?”

  Two options—open it or not—and her brain had already made its decision. Cold metal against her palm, she twisted her wrist and pulled. She hadn’t heard an apology, but something about those images—Ryan holding his words for her to see… Perhaps now she was ready to hear one.

  Brisk night air washed over her legs as the door swung wide, and immediately Ryan rushed forward, planting one foot on the threshold of the door, his face visibly relaxing with a sigh.

  “Jesus, Sailor, I swear on everything holy you will not regret this.” He reached for her, but she stopped him with a hand extended just inches from his chest.

  “Wait,” she said. “I opened the door to hear you out. Not do other”—she glanced down at her half-dressed body, her cotton shorts riding high, tank cut low—“uh, things.”

  “That’s all I’m asking for.” Bracing his arms against the doorjamb, biceps flexed near her face. “Though I’m not taking any chances that you’ll slam me out of your life until I’m finished.”

  “Okay,” she let out, lowering her hand to her side and tucking her fingers beneath the hem of her shorts.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” he began without a breath or a beat in between. “But there’s something you need to know about me. My life has been a very long string of people abandoning and betraying me. From my parents when I was younger, to your father when he got sick, to Micah when he got married and left the Alibi… And after a bit of soul searching—”

  Hold on. “Soul searching?”

  “You can thank Micah. The guy is fucking huge, but his emotional side is even bigger.” A breeze picked up, blowing the tips of his hair to the side. Such a small detail, but with him so close, the fresh-soap smell of his hands tickling her nose, it was impossible not to notice everything. Including the way the edges of her vision fizzled from the outside in, blocking out all but him and the intensity of his gaze. “But thanks to him,” he continued, “I realized my biggest fear is being abandoned again by someone I really care about… Which is where you come into the picture. When we first met, I swore not to let your charm and quirkiness break through my wall. I fought it and resisted because you reminded me so much of the people I’d loved and lost.”