Let It Breathe

by Tawna Fenske

  “Make me,” the guy snapped. “The bitch ain’t worth it and you know it.”

  Those were the last words Clay heard before his knuckles cracked bone.

  “This cheese really tastes amazing, don’t you think?”

  Reese smiled up at Wally and nodded. “It’s terrific. Pairs great with the Chardonnay from Firesteed, though I think their ’15 would have been an even better match than the ’14.”

  Wally shook his head and smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Sorry,” Reese said. “I didn’t mean to tempt you or anything.”

  “No, it’s totally fine. I do drink occasionally, just not tonight when I’m driving.”

  “You drink? But I thought—”

  “I’m not an alcoholic,” he said. “I just have a lot of acquaintances in recovery. My partner, my dad, several friends.”

  “Partner?”

  He grinned and plucked a piece of cheese off a passing tray. “Veterinary partner, not life partner. I’m single, in case you weren’t clear on that. And straight.”

  Reese felt her cheeks grow warm as she stopped to admire a large painting. “This one is really beautiful.”

  “Mmm,” Wally said, popping the cheese in his mouth as he looked up at the chaotic assembly of colorful brushstrokes. “It is. So are you. Really, I thought you were attractive out at the farm the other day, but seeing you dressed up like this—”

  “Thank you,” Reese said, flushing again. She caught sight of herself in the mirror by the door and made a mental note to thank Larissa. The simple black dress and tall boots gave her a streamlined, elegant look, while the French twist in her hair and the smoky liner around her eyes completed the ensemble. Her cousin might have her faults, but she also had some great clothes.

  “That’s quite a menagerie you have out at the vineyard,” Wally said. “Have you always been so interested in animals?”

  “Pretty much,” Reese said. “I got serious about it in college, though. Clay was always bringing me broken animals to fix, so I got certified to do the rehab thing through the Department of Fish and Wildlife.”

  “So Clay is someone you’ve known awhile?”

  Reese opened her mouth to say something, not sure how much to volunteer. She was saved the trouble of figuring it out when a male voice interrupted.

  “Hey, you’re Axl’s granddaughter!”

  Reese spun around to see a buxom woman with a towering silver beehive hairdo and a streak of bright-pink lipstick somewhere in the vicinity of her mouth. She smiled and held up a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

  “Um, hello—” Reese struggled to remember her name. “Frenchie?”

  “Francie,” she corrected. “Axl’s main squeeze. Hey, how’s he doing? I tried to go see him at the hospital, but they wouldn’t even confirm he was there. Privacy stuff, you know how it is.”

  “Hospital?”

  “Yeah, I thought we could have one of them conjugal visits like we did when he was in prison,” she said. “Figured the surgery didn’t sound too bad, and he could just lie there anyway while I did all the work.”

  Reese frowned, wondering what the hell she was missing. “Um, I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  Francie’s face darkened. “You mean Axl ain’t in the hospital?”

  Reese bit her lip. “You know, I haven’t seen him for a while,” she backpedaled. “We really aren’t that close, so maybe my mom forgot to tell me—”

  “Don’t give me none of that, I know your family’s tight. Axl is screwing around on me, right?”

  Reese closed her eyes, wondering if it was weirder to have her grandfather accused of screwing around, or weirder that it was probably true.

  “Um—” said Reese.

  “Hi,” Wally said, putting out one hand for Francie to shake as he slid the other around Reese’s shoulders. “Wow, these hors d’oeuvres look really great, what are they?”

  Francie frowned down at Wally’s hand, then at the platter. “I dunno. Probably shrimp or something.”

  “Mushrooms,” Reese said. “I think they’re mushrooms.”

  Wally nodded and touched Reese’s elbow. “Nothing like a good mushroom, eh?”

  Francie cast a confused look down at the platter. “Guess so.”

  Reese reached out to take one, then hesitated. “Actually, I’m allergic to peanuts. Would you mind checking with the caterer to see if these have any peanut oil in them?”

  “Peanut oil?”

  “Please? My throat will swell closed, and I’ll have a psychotic episode and probably end up destroying all these lovely paintings. Could you just check for me?”

  Francie gave her a dubious look, then swung her eyes toward a door at the back of the room. “I guess I could find out. But then I want to talk to you about this thing with Axl, okay?”

  “Right,” Reese said.

  Francie retreated and Reese looked up at Wally. “Any chance you’d want to grab dinner? Quickly? There’s a really great Thai restaurant a few blocks away.”

  “Thai? Doesn’t that have a lot of peanuts?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and opened her mouth to clarify that the peanut thing was just a ruse, but the ringing of her cell phone saved her. Reese reached into her handbag with an apologetic smile.

  “Sorry, I should get that.”

  “No problem.”

  Reese stared at the caller ID readout. She blinked, trying to bring the words into focus. Newberg Police Department?

  Reese looked up at Wally, hoping her shock didn’t show. “I’m sorry, I’m going to take this outside. If Francie comes back—”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  The phone rang again. Reese stepped toward the door, her hands shaking.

  “Is everything okay?” Wally asked.

  “Fine, fine—just give me a sec.”

  She ducked out onto the drizzly sidewalk and hit the button to take the call.

  “Hello?”

  There was a sniffle, followed by a choked sob. “Reese? It’s me. Oh, God, Reesey—something bad happened.”

  Reese felt her blood turn to ice. “Larissa? Where are you? Why does my phone say you’re calling from the police department?”

  “Because I am,” she sobbed. “I left my cell in my purse back at the bar when the police hauled Clay away, and now they’ve got him in a holding cell and—”

  Reese’s knees buckled and she grabbed the cold brick doorframe to keep herself upright. Larissa’s words slurred in her ears, and Reese leaned against the side of the building, not trusting her legs anymore.

  “Clay is in jail,” Reese repeated. “Are you okay? What happened? Do I need to come get you?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “Are you hurt, Larissa?”

  “No,” she sniffed. “But Clay might be.”

  Reese closed her eyes, hating the sick feeling in her gut almost as much as she hated the familiarity of it.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Reese clicked off the phone and hurried back inside, cursing herself for not driving her own car. Now she was going to have to ask Wally to take her to the police station on their first date.

  And this is why I’m single, she thought.

  Wally was standing by the door when she walked in, a frown making deep brackets around his mouth. “Is everything okay?”

  “No,” Reese said. “I hate to do this, but is there any chance you could take me to the police station?”

  “Police station?” He frowned, and Reese stood up a little straighter, braced for judgment.

  “I don’t know what’s happened, but my cousin is in trouble and my friend Clay—my old friend from college? He—he—”

  She stopped, not sure how much to say. Hel
l, she didn’t know much more than that, did she? “Please?”

  “Absolutely, let me get our coats. I’ll head off your grandfather’s friend if she comes back. Why don’t you wait right here?”

  Reese stood there in the doorway shivering until Wally brought the thin black trench coat she’d borrowed from Larissa. He set it over her shoulders, giving her a second to shrug her arms into it and cinch it around her waist before leading the way to his car.

  Wally was quiet on the drive there. Maybe he sensed her need for silence or maybe he was second-guessing the wisdom of dating a woman who’d had two brushes with illegal activity in the first twenty-four hours he’d known her.

  That was hardly Reese’s biggest concern at the moment. Her mind buzzed with questions. Was Larissa okay? Had Clay been drinking? Part of her was furious—he’d slipped off the wagon, she knew it, she knew it.

  Part of her just wanted to cry.

  This isn’t the first time you’ve bailed Clay out of jail, whispered a voice in her head.

  By the time they pulled up in front of the police station, tears were pricking the back of her eyes. Reese unbuckled her seat belt and threw open her door.

  “Do you want me to wait here or come in?” Wally asked.

  She hesitated, not sure what etiquette called for when making jail visits on a first date.

  “I’ll come in,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt. “You might need someone who’s not emotionally invested.”

  “Thank you,” Reese said as she hustled to the door.

  She pushed her way inside, blinking hard against the white walls and fluorescent lighting. A uniformed officer leaned against one wall writing something on a clipboard. Behind a glass wall, a woman spoke rapidly into a telephone receiver. The room smelled of stale coffee and unwashed bodies.

  On a bench across the room sat Larissa. She had mascara streaks running down her face, and her shirt was rumpled and beer stained.

  Reese hurried toward her and dropped to her knees in front of her cousin, brushing her hair back off her face. “Larissa, my God, are you okay?”

  “Oh, Reesey—thanks for coming.” She sniffed, looking up with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  Larissa shook her head and a tear slid down her cheek. “He tried to grab me and he wouldn’t stop and I said no, but he kept coming at me and—”

  “Clay? Clay tried to grab you?”

  Larissa reeled back as though struck. She blinked hard, then shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said he tried to grab you. Clay, you mean?”

  Larissa shook her head, a bewildered expression on her face. “Of course Clay didn’t hurt me. Clay’s the one who saved me.”

  “Saved you?”

  Larissa stared at her, confusion giving way to something darker. “Is that really how you see him?”

  The door beside the cop flew open and Clay walked through with another man behind him. They both froze when they saw Reese kneeling on the floor.

  “Reese,” Clay said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

  Reese blinked up at him, still trying to figure out what was happening. “Larissa called me. I heard there was trouble.”

  Clay nodded once, his expression steely. “It’s over.”

  “You’re not in jail?”

  “No.” He glanced at the other man, then back at her. “They brought me in for questioning because of my past arrest history and the alcohol clause in my probation, but no. I’m not in trouble.”

  “And he wasn’t drinking,” added the guy at Clay’s side, folding his tattooed arms over his chest. “I can vouch for that.”

  Clay nodded at the guy, then at Reese. “Patrick, this is Reese. Reese, this is Patrick. My sponsor.”

  She bit her lip and held out her hand, a little taken aback Clay was bothering with pleasantries like introductions.

  “Where’s Derek?” Larissa sniffed.

  Reese saw a muscle clench in Clay’s jaw. “Derek may be tied up awhile.”

  Patrick snorted. “They’re hauling his ass to the county jail in McMinnville. Guy already had an outstanding warrant for his arrest.”

  “Good!” Larissa snapped. “God, Clay, I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into that, and I’m sorry—”

  “Stop it,” Clay interrupted. “It’s not your fault he hurt you.”

  Reese felt her heart constrict and she grabbed Larissa’s knee. “Your date hurt you?”

  Larissa bit her lip. “Clay stopped him. It’s okay now.”

  Reese looked up at Clay, noticing for the first time that he had a tiny, flesh-colored butterfly bandage over one eye. She glanced at his hands, noticing the tightly clenched fists at his sides. His knuckles looked red and raw on his right hand, and he had another bandage there, too. She looked back up at his face. Her heart squeezed tighter in her chest, and she felt tears gathering at the edges of her eyes.

  “Did you get hurt?” she whispered.

  Clay shook his head and moved his hands behind his back. “No. I’m fine. The bartender jumped in before it got bad.”

  “Finnigan’s?” she asked, trying not to think about that night.

  He nodded but said nothing.

  “Derek had already been kicked out of the place twice before for fighting,” Larissa added, slurring her words enough to give Reese an idea of how much she’d probably had to drink. “I’m done with bad boys. I mean it. I’m dating chess players from now on.”

  Reese squeezed Larissa’s knee and stood up. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

  Behind her, Wally cleared his throat. “There should be room for all three of you in the backseat if you give me a second to get some of the stuff out.”

  Wally. Hell. Somehow, Reese had forgotten all about him. She gave him a weak smile as she offered Larissa a hand up. “Thank you. I know the evening hasn’t gone the way we’d planned.”

  “It’s fine, really,” he said, smiling a little. “It’s definitely one of the more interesting dates I’ve had.”

  “You’re on a date,” Clay said, his voice hollow. “That’s right. Reese, I’m sorry you got dragged down here. Look, I can take Larissa home. Patrick can run me back to Finnigan’s for my truck, and I’ll drive ’Riss from there. We don’t need to ruin anyone else’s evening with this mess.”

  Reese shook her head. “It’s okay,” she told him before turning back to Wally. “I’ve had a great time so far, but maybe we can do a rain check on dinner?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “No, really,” Clay insisted. “I’ve got my truck back at Finnigan’s. I need to get it anyway and I can take Larissa home from there. Go on, Reese—don’t give up your date on account of us.”

  Reese shook her head. “Larissa called me, I want to be here for her. ’Riss, you ready to go?”

  Larissa blinked up at Clay, then looked to Reese. “No, Clay’s right—I’m sorry I dragged you down here, Reesey. I wasn’t thinking when I called you. I knew about your date, but I got so worked up and forgot and—”

  “It’s fine, sweetie,” Reese insisted. “I don’t mind. I want to be here for you.”

  Larissa shook her head. “I’ll go with Clay. Really, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to go home alone and I panicked.”

  “Tell you what,” Wally said, reaching out to give Reese’s shoulder a small squeeze. “Why don’t I run Reese home right now, Patrick can take Clay and Larissa back to get Clay’s truck, and Clay can drive Larissa back to your place so she’s not alone tonight?”

  Reese looked up at him as the relief flooded through her body. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “Positive. You need to be with your family right now.”

  She nodded and turned back to her cousin. “That sound okay to you?”


  Larissa bit her lip, then nodded. “That would work,” she said, brightening a little. “That way you and Wally can be alone in the car to make out, and when I get to Reese’s, she can tell me all about it.”

  Reese rolled her eyes and pretended not to notice the way Wally’s face also brightened at that idea. “She’s drunk,” Reese told him. “But I like your idea about the driving. Clay? Is that okay with you?”

  Clay nodded, then looked at the cop. “We’re all free to go, right?”

  “Right.” The cop nodded at Larissa. “As long as that one’s not driving.”

  “Definitely not,” she said, reaching down to help her cousin to her feet. “You sure you’re okay, ’Riss?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you back at the house.”

  Reese nodded and looked at Clay. He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flashing beneath the fluorescent lights. “I’ll get her home safely.”

  “I know you will.” She swallowed. “Thank you for everything.”

  He held her gaze a few beats longer, then turned to Wally. “Sorry to kill your date, man.”

  “No sweat,” he said, reaching out to shake Clay’s hand. “Sounds like you did a good thing there.”

  Reese saw Clay grimace—from the words or the pressure of the grip on his hurt hand, she wasn’t sure.

  She turned and followed Wally out to the car. They buckled their seat belts in silence, neither of them saying a word until they were safely out on the road.

  “That really wasn’t how I pictured this date going,” Reese said.

  “It’s fine, it made for an interesting evening.” He laughed. “Why do I have a feeling there’s never a dull moment when you’re around?”

  Reese folded her hands in her lap and frowned down at them. “Actually, I am pretty dull. It’s my family that generates drama.”

  Wally touched the back of her hand. “I definitely don’t think you’re dull.”

  “Thanks, but trust me, I’m very dull. So dull I reread the same romance novels over and over again.”