by J. Daniels
“You make everything better,” she admitted softly, running her tongue over her lips to wet them while coming up on her toes and getting closer, further admitting, “You make my entire world better.”
My hands, fitted around her waist, tightened. Warmth spread out from the center of my chest.
I dropped my head until it touched hers and closed my eyes, holding her and breathing easy, concentrating on every part of Wild’s body I could feel against mine and the sound of her living—shallow heartbeats and expanding lungs pushing life through her.
Best thing I’d ever felt.
Best thing I’d ever held.
Best girl period.
“Like hearing you say that,” I murmured, opening my eyes.
Her hands gave my neck a squeeze.
“Like saying it,” she whispered back.
I smiled, then pulled away but only because a phone started ringing and it wasn’t mine.
Sliding her hands down and off me slowly, Syd spun around and picked up her phone off the counter by the sink, looked at the screen with a curious tilt of her head, mumbled something about not knowing the number, then pressed a button, answering it and bringing it to her ear.
“Hello?” Her shoulders pulled back and her eyes lit up with alertness. “Yes it is. Oh, yes, hi, how are you?”
I watched and listened with interest, noting the mood this call was putting my girl in and appreciating whoever it was on the other line.
Syd answered a few yes and no questions, speaking quickly the way she did when she was excited about something, while she moved along the counter back and forth, finger twirling a lock of red and anxious eyes capturing mine every few steps. This only lasted a couple of minutes, then she was telling the caller to hold on so she could open a drawer and pull out a piece of paper and a pen, telling them to continue when she was done and jotting something down while pinching the phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Great! No, that works perfect. I can absolutely do Monday morning,” she said, straightening and holding on to the phone again. “Yes. Okay. Thank you so much.” She disconnected the call, set the phone down, and turned her head, smiling big as she walked over. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“That was the job I applied for at NHC. The one that had been open for eight months and I thought for sure was filled already. They want me to interview for it.”
“That’s great. You can get back into x-ray.” I picked up the lock of hair she’d been twirling and I tucked it behind her ear, watching her mouth twist into a pout. “You want that, right?”
She hesitated, then answered, “Yeah, I do, I just…I love Whitecaps,” she replied, pressing her hands to my chest. “And I don’t want to short-staff Nate. He’s got so much going on. I’d like to keep working there if I can.” She looked down for a minute to think, sucked on her bottom lip, then looked back up to add, “Once I find out the hours on Monday, I can see if something is manageable.”
Grabbing her hips, I told her, “If it isn’t, if your hours at the hospital don’t allow for you to keep helping out at Whitecaps, you don’t need to worry over it. Nate will understand. Knew it was a possibility you’d be leaving.”
Syd lifted her chin.
“I won’t worry over it,” she whispered.
“Good.” I pulled at the tie on her apron. “Take this off. Wanna take you out to celebrate you getting a new job. This calls for Italian.”
She obliged me and slipped the apron over her head, doing it wearing a look of confusion.
“I didn’t get it yet,” she corrected, tossing the apron on the counter.
“You got it, babe. They’d be stupid not to hire you.”
Syd’s cheeks pinked up again and she gave me that, letting me see it before turning around, grabbing that same paper she’d written on, and quickly jotting something else down.
“Want to make sure Tori doesn’t eat that potpie,” she said while her hand scrawled. “She’ll be home soon from the hair salon and I doubt she’s had dinner.”
I thought Syd was in the clear with Tori leaving that potpie alone, but I kept my mouth shut.
I loved her sass but I wanted to hold on to her sweet right now.
Chapter Sixteen
SYDNEY
Licking peanut butter sauce off my lip, I dug my spoon into the giant sundae glass in front of me while I sat across from Brian in a booth at Friendly’s.
He’d remembered. Coming here after dinner at La Tavola was his idea.
My boy was amazing.
I took another spoonful of vanilla with hot fudge melting into my mouth and moaned with my eyes closed.
Brian chuckled. It was a beautiful sound.
He wasn’t eating anything. Just watching me enjoy every bite, and I was definitely enjoying.
Any minute now I was certain I’d hear a “I’ll have what she’s having” from someone close by.
I blinked my eyes open and smiled, dipped the spoon for another heaping taste, this time mixing ice cream with the whipped topping and also getting chunks of peanut butter cup along with the gooey sauce, making this bite the best bite ever, raised the spoon, and held it out across the table.
“Never shared one of these with anybody,” I confessed through a bat of my lashes. “Wanna be my first?”
I watched Brian’s eyes go soft and absorbing, liking what I’d just said, then I watched him lean forward and take the bite, his full lips pulling slow across the silver and removing every drop, swallowing it after a short savor.
Is it possible to be jealous of cutlery?
Yes. Absolutely.
“Good?”
He nodded, sucking vanilla off his lip.
“Yep.”
“Sure you don’t wanna get something? I don’t mind sharing, but they have other good choices too. Look.” I dropped my spoon into the glass and grabbed the dessert menu, opening it on the table and pointing at it. “Sometimes Barrett would get the Jim Dandy. That’s sorta like a banana split. He didn’t like it as much as the peanut butter cup but he liked changing it up sometimes.”
Brian nudged my foot underneath the table.
I lifted my eyes.
“Wish I could’ve met him,” he said gently.
My belly dipped.
God…
I wished that, too. So much. I wanted to share Brian with everyone who meant something to me. Brag. Gloat. Even show him off to my mother, who I currently wasn’t speaking to.
But Barrett…that would’ve been amazing.
“Me, too,” I replied softly, reaching out and taking the hand he had resting on the table. “Barrett would’ve liked you.”
Brian smiled, twisted his wrist so he could hold my fingers in his palm, and questioned, “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“’Cause you’re trouble and he was a badass, just like me. He would’ve appreciated that.”
Brian laughed deep in his chest.
“And ’cause you make me the happiest I think I’ve ever been,” I added. “I think he would’ve appreciated that, too.”
His grip that was already holding firm grew firmer, putting pressure on the bones in my fingers, but nothing I couldn’t stand so I held back and stared, letting him see my happiness and taking his for my own, admiring his warm, contented smile until it was fading and he didn’t have it anymore, not even a shadow of it because his eyes had left mine and were now focusing hard on something behind me.
He grew taller in the booth. His shoulders and arms tensing with flexed muscle and his chest moving air more powerfully.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, starting to turn my head when his grip went from tolerable pressure to unbearable stress and I gasped, struggling to pull away when my fingers started aching.
“Brian,” I urged through a tight voice.
“Get up. We gotta go,” he grated, sounding urgent.
He released my hand and stood quickly, pulled some cash out of his wallet and tossed it on the table, then moved beside me,
grabbed underneath my arm, and yanked me out of the booth.
“Brian!” I yelped, startled, gripping his bicep for balance. “What—”
“Now, babe. Move.”
He spun me around and then his strong arm was pulling me close and hurrying us through the restaurant toward the door.
“What’s going on?” I asked as my feet struggled to keep up, looking from his unyielding profile to the room ahead and searching for understanding, some mad person wreaking havoc because Brian was panicked, that was clear.
There was nothing unusual about the scene in front of me. No one being held at gunpoint. No hysteria.
Families sat eating at tables or booths, the waitstaff tended to their duties, and as we made it to the front of the restaurant, I saw the hostess who seated us standing at the podium, greeting what appeared to be a family waiting to be seated.
A husband and wife and their young child, a sweet-looking boy with messy blond hair and anxious ice cream eyes that roamed the room.
His father’s hands were holding the grips on the wheelchair he sat in.
“Brian,” I tried once more over my shoulder when the arm around me became nothing more than a cold push at my lower back, urging me without affection faster to the door.
He said nothing. His hand on my spine trembled as we moved closer to the podium and the sweet-looking boy, the hostess, and the mother and father, whose head turned and eyes noticed our escape, finding not my own face but the man beside and slightly behind me.
It was not an unfamiliar glance or a passing scan your eyes did out of reflex. The fleeting meet of gazes in a crowded room, that wasn’t this. Not even close.
The man saw Brian and recognized him, the shadow of familiarity passing over his face and holding there.
Those eyes of his widened. He knew Brian.
Maybe not well and maybe not enough to be friendly, but my boy was no stranger. That was certain.
Brian didn’t slow or acknowledge this man or his family. He didn’t even glance in their direction, not once, and then they were behind us and we were leaving.
I was too confused to speak.
What the hell was happening?
With unyielding fingers pressing to the right of my spine, Brian steered me left and farther forward, shoving the front door open with his other hand and then forcing me outside and into the night.
“Brian, stop! What’s going on?” I yelled, finally finding my voice, twisting away but being captured in his arms again, arms so strong they lifted me without effort and carried me when my spine went rigid with protest and my feet started dragging gravel.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked, trying to see behind me.
“Get us out of here. Then I’ll explain,” he grumbled against my hair, crossing the parking lot in quick strides with his long legs while I stayed pressed against his body.
I struggled in his grasp.
“Syd,” he said in warning, tightening his hold.
“I don’t understand. What happened? Why are you acting like this? Was it that man?”
I asked that last question but I already knew the answer.
My boy was scared. He was scared and he was running.
“Talk to me,” I pleaded, hearing my own voice shake with worry.
We reached the Jeep before another word was said, then the passenger door was opened, and because he must’ve known there was no way I was climbing up willingly without hearing an explanation first, my choice was eliminated for me and I was put in that seat like some helpless child.
“Brian, please. You’re scaring me.”
I felt tears sting my eyes and the rattle of my whispered words battering my throat.
He paused at the door, ready to shut it, then his eyes lifted to mine and I saw the panic there in his wide irises, but I didn’t know if it was because of whatever he was taking us away from or because of what I’d just said.
I didn’t have a chance to ask.
Brian leaned inside the car and reached for me, sliding his hand to the base of my neck and gripping me there, then gently tugging me forward until he was so close I could count his lashes.
If he’d been in a trance before, he was out of it now. If he’d been too focused on his own trepidation and leaving to hear my voice or feel my struggle, I was now the only thing that existed to him.
“Don’t be scared of me,” he urged in a stressed voice, putting a firm but calming pressure on my neck. “Don’t ever be scared of me, Syd. I’d die before hurting you.”
I swallowed his words and locked them inside my heart.
He would. Brian wasn’t lying. He’d never hurt me. I knew that.
“I know,” I whispered, curling my fingers around his arm. “I just need to know what’s going on. I need you to talk to me.”
“I will,” he promised. “Let me get us outta here and I will.”
“Okay.”
He heard my reply but he waited before letting go, keeping hold of me and looking into my eyes while taking his other hand and brushing his thumb across my cheek.
It was a soothing gesture. This was Brian taking the time to make sure my okay really meant okay. That I wasn’t just saying it to get answers. That I wasn’t scared.
I wasn’t. Not of him.
Of what he might tell me? Yes, but I was good at hiding that.
He let me go.
I buckled my seat belt and watched through the windshield as Brian hurried around the front of the car. He climbed inside, started it up, and pulled out onto the main road.
My hands stayed tangled together on my lap as I waited for Brian to start talking, willing my anxious breaths to stay quiet so I wouldn’t miss even the slightest sound from his direction. I didn’t know how far he needed to take us before I could get any answers, but I promised myself I’d be okay with however far that needed to be, that I could wait until he was ready because he would be ready. He promised me he’d talk and I believed him.
Five miles felt like five hours. My foot tapped restlessly against the floorboard and I cursed red lights like I hated their very existence and whoever the bastard was who invented them.
So much for patience. I was ready to crawl out of my skin and scream into the night. My palms stung from the bite of my nails and my stomach twisted.
Then it was over and the only thing I felt was relief.
I didn’t know if it was coincidence that made Brian pull over at the exact moment I contemplated throwing the gear into neutral and forcing him to stall, or if he had meant to drive us here, to this exact spot.
Brian shifted out of gear and cut the engine.
Seconds passed. The silence in the car threatened to swallow me up.
I unbuckled and turned in my seat, hoping to tempt conversation.
Brian’s chest heaved with slow, filling breaths and his shoulders pulled back while he stared ahead out the windshield, clenching his hands nervously in his lap.
I sucked on my lip and waited. He didn’t make me wait long.
“Got hit hard in February with snow this year,” he began in a low voice. “Don’t know what it was like in Raleigh, but I’m assuming it was the same as it was here. Seemed like every week we were getting slammed with another storm. Sun would come out during the day and melt it, making the roads a fuckin’ mess; then at night temps would drop and that shit would freeze.”
“It was the same in Raleigh,” I told him, remembering back to last winter. “I was scared to drive in it.”
“I wasn’t,” he mumbled tightly. “Had a truck before I got this. Made getting around easy, especially in bad conditions. I always went out. Didn’t even mind sliding a little.”
I swallowed uncomfortably before saying, “That can be terrifying.”
“I was fuckin’ stupid,” he hissed, turning to look at me then. “Had no business being out on the roads when they were like that but I wanted the rush. That feeling of nearly losing all control, the one that terrifies you, babe, I fuckin’ loved that. I chas
ed it. It’s why I surfed. Which is why I can say without a doubt that I would’ve been driving in that last storm no matter what.”
I knew what storm Brian was talking about. It was the very one that kept me at work because of the warning of black ice. The ER was slammed that night from accidents.
My stomach knotted.
“Brian…”
He turned away with a cold laugh and resumed looking out the windshield again.
“You’re feeling sorry for me already and you have no idea what I’ve done.”
“I love you. I’ll love you no matter what it is,” I confessed, watching his eyes pinch shut as if hearing that caused him pain. “It’s true.”
“You won’t,” he said quietly. “Not like this. It’ll be different.” He looked at me once more and whispered slowly through a thick voice, “I don’t wanna tell you.”
Tears fell onto my cheeks.
Brian was afraid. He was afraid hearing this would change how I felt about him, that this would change us.
This was the bad in his life he held on to, the bad he never spoke about.
The bad I was healing him from.
I reached across the console and grabbed his hand, squeezing it between both of mine.
“Tell me right now so I can tell you I love you,” I pleaded. “Just like this. Just like how I do now. Tell me.”
He held my eyes for a long second, smiled a little, and said, “You’re really fuckin’ pretty when you lie, Wild.”
I leaned closer.
“I’m not lying.”
“How much do you love me right now?” he asked, face deadly serious. “Scale of one to ten.”
“Eleven.”
“That man back there at Friendly’s, you saw him looking at me?”
I nodded.
“I’m the reason his son is in that wheelchair. How much do you love me now?”
I sucked in a breath and blinked.
“Twelve,” I whispered with a broken heart.
“Liar,” he whispered back through a smirk, reaching out and running his thumb across my cheek. “So pretty, babe. You should’ve been a lawyer.” He turned away and looked ahead, breathing deep like he was trying to calm himself.