by Keary Taylor
If I weren’t drunk, my aim would have been true. I wouldn’t have only clipped him on the cheek. All the same, he stumbles back, his hand rising to his face. Feet scuffle and everyone’s attention goes to us.
“You bitch,” he says with a chuckle. “That how you like to play it? I can go for rough and dirty. Should have known that’s how you like it. Just look at you.”
My expression hardens and my fingers roll into fists again.
“She said she wasn’t interested.”
I look to the left and see Lake on his feet, taking a step toward us.
Damn, he’s huge. This asshole in front of me has to be at least six feet, and Lake still makes him look like a kid.
“You her boyfriend?” biker guy challenges, facing Lake.
“This isn’t your business, Lake,” I say, taking a step toward him, placing myself between the two.
“Drop it, or take this outside!” Bennett yells at us from across the bar.
I look around to see every single eye on us. Kyle is on his feet too, halfway between our table and the scene that we’re making. His eyes are livid.
“How about we all get some fresh air?” Lake suggests.
“I wasn’t done with my drink,” biker guy says, taking another step closer. He’s so close behind me, I can smell the musky scent of him. “And I was just getting to know this pretty young thing.”
He takes another step forward, and rubs his pelvis against my backside.
Lake is around me in a fraction of a second. I nearly knock myself over as I hazily try to get out of the way and whip around to see Lake, his hand full of biker guy’s T-shirt, pinning him against the wall.
“There are some lowlifes in this country who need to learn what a little respect means,” Lake says, even and low, his face just inches from biker guys. “She might be drunk, but that doesn’t mean you can try to take advantage of her. When she says no, that means no.”
“Let go of me,” biker guy hisses.
“Alright!” Bennett shouts, his voice loud and booming. “I’m going to give y’all one last warning. Get your tabs paid and your rear ends out of my bar, or I’m calling Sheriff Akins.”
That’s all it takes for everyone to start dropping money and moving out the door.
Lake stares at biker guy, long and hard, and finally, lets him go. He pulls some cash out of his pocket and drops it on the bar. Without waiting for me to form a coherent thought, Lake grabs my wrist and starts for the door.
My group calls a goodbye and then I’m outside, the fresh air hitting me cold and damp. Instantly, I feel slightly more alert.
“I’m sorry,” I say without thinking. Lake lets go of my wrist and opens the passenger door to my truck for me. I climb inside without a word. When he closes my door, I hear him softly swear as he walks around to the driver’s side.
I hand him the keys as he closes the door behind him.
The glass feels good as I lean my forehead against it. My stomach is a bit sick. I hold a lot of beer and it’s hard to get me truly and deeply drunk, but I’m not far from it tonight.
Lake doesn’t say a word as he starts back for the ranch. But I can feel his anger building in the cab. It’s thick and heavy and tangible. I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep, but somehow, I’m pretty sure I’m not fooling him.
Lake pulls into the garage and slams his door hard when he gets out. He walks out behind the truck and I hear him pacing. Knowing I haven’t succeeded in making him think I was passed out, I sit up and look out the back window.
He walks back and forth, his motions jerky and quick. His hands are on his hips, his lips moving ever so slightly.
Lake isn’t one much for words, but he’s got plenty to say right now.
My movements slow, I open the door and climb out. I close the door behind me, avoiding Lake’s eyes. My boots crunch over the gravel as I walk out toward Lake.
I don’t look up as I stand in front of him. Lake stills, facing me. I can feel his eyes on me.
“Just say whatever you’ve got to say,” I tell him quietly.
I hear him take two long breaths through his nose. He kicks his toe into the gravel twice. “I don’t really know how to.”
Finally, I look up at him. My blood boils hot and fast. “You just open your mouth and words come out,” I say, harsh and insolently. “It’s pretty simple.”
“Fine,” he says, his nostrils flaring, his eyes dark. “I know you’re mad about shit lately and things seem pretty bad, whatever they are. But what were you thinking, going to that bar tonight?”
I take a step closer to him, getting up in his face. “I was thinking that for once, I’d like to have a good time.”
“That’s your idea of having a good time?” he asks as his eyes narrow. And it’s like I’m seeing all the layers being peeled back in Lake. His eyes come alive. His whole body does.
So this is Lake McCain.
“Getting wasted and having guys with no honor leering at you while you put on a show for them?” He’s got one hand on his hip, the other extending out in the direction of town.
“I was not putting on a show,” I spit back at him. There’s something like shame rearing its ugly head, and I don’t want it there inside of me.
“Yes you were, and you know it,” he says, giving me disgusted look. “You knew exactly how you looked when you were on that bull.”
“And just how exactly did I look, Lake?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Like you wanted any guy in your pants and the whole bar watching,” he nearly yells. Realizing how loud he’s getting, he puts his hands on his hips and takes another long breath through his nose.
“How dare you,” I breathe.
“Damn it, Riley,” he says, his eyes dropping from mine as he shakes his head. “I know you love Cal, and you miss him, but you’re a human being. And I get that every once in a while we just have to act on those feelings. But not like that. I know you’re better than that. And I wish you knew that, too.”
Emotion swims in my eyes, betraying how unaffected I want to feel right now. My insides start to shake and quiver.
“Why do you care?” I whisper.
Lake’s eyes are bright and serious and suddenly seem unsure. His hands tighten at his hips, and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other.
“Because you’re the most amazing damn woman I’ve ever met, Riley,” he finally says. His voice is soft and quiet. But it’s calm and sure. “Because the thought of any other man touching you makes my stomach sick. But the sight of you treating yourself like less than you are, the way you did tonight, that was about as damn bad as watching my best friend get blown to pieces.”
My throat feels tight and tears threaten to fall down my face.
“Why?” I say. The word comes out broken and strangled. “Why would you tell me this? You know…” my voice cuts out as one single tear falls down my cheek. “You know, and Cal… And then you go and say something like that.”
Lake takes a step closer to me. He holds my eyes the whole time, firm and steady. There’s been a wall up in Lake, keeping me and everyone in the world out, and it just got blown to high noon.
“I do feel like a traitor,” he says quietly. “I know it’s wrong, and it will never be okay, falling for the woman my best friend was going to marry. But I’m also tired of feeling like I’m drowning. Every damn day. And because I’m tired of watching you drown, too. I wanna breathe again, Riley. And I don’t want you to suffocate either.”
There is no thought or evaluation behind it. There is only my rush forward and my lips on his.
There is only my hand on his chest, my other on his back, crushing myself into him.
His lips are surprised at first. And then they relax.
They’re intense and hungry and consuming and fire.
For just one second.
Before he gently pushes me away. “Not like this,” he says, shaking his head.
“What?” I say in a near pan
t. My heart is racing and my nerves are exploding like fireworks on the fourth of July.
“Not like this,” he says again, shaking his head. Just then, the first drops of rain fall from the sky. “Not because you’re half drunk. Not because you just realized that there is someone who cares about you and believes in you, Riley. Not like this.”
My eyes well harder and my head spins slightly. I’m not sure if it’s because of the alcohol in my system or the bomb that’s just been dropped on me.
Another tear leaks onto my face as the rain picks up. Without a word, I turn and walk back to the house.
I’m completely soaked by the time I reach the porch. As I open the door, I look back at Lake.
He’s still standing there in the driveway. He’s completely soaked through, his T-shirt sticking to his huge frame. He holds my eyes, firm, but scared.
And it’s obvious that something has changed between us, and it can never be put back the way it was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I don’t wake Sunday morning until it’s nearly noon. The second my eyes open, it feels as though my head is going to split in two. Very carefully, I sit up and try not to immediately vomit. With my eyes squeezed closed, I brace my hands on the bed, just trying to steady myself.
Something crinkles under my left hand, and I squint one eye open.
And all my insides disappear.
My fingers close around the now wrinkled picture.
It’s Lake and me. From last night. My arms are wrapped around him, his around me. Our lips are together, and I swear there’s fire ignited in my belly just looking at the two of us.
But even more present, is the terror.
Because there’s a big, red X drawn over Lake.
My hands shake and I flip it over. Sloppy handwriting in the same red marker fills the back of it.
Careful who you find yourself in the company of. Wouldn’t want anyone to come between us.
--Call the cops, and bad things will happen to him.--
A shaky breath works its way out of my chest. My hands tremble so much the picture falls to the ground.
Just two weeks after Cal left on his last tour, I helped out at a 4H show. I’d been working with this girl McKayla’s horse, and she wanted me to come to her show. So I went. It was a long, hot day.
There was this guy there, Travis Malone. I barely remembered him the next day, but we’d talked during one of the barrel racing events for all of three minutes. He’d seemed friendly enough, but I hadn’t thought too much more about it. I was engaged, and there wasn’t anything to it other than talking to someone about horses.
But the next day he called me. How he found my number, I never knew. I kept trying to figure out what it was he was calling about, but it seemed he just wanted to chat.
And somehow I kept bumping into him whenever I went out to run errands.
Over the next few weeks, it became obvious he wasn’t just trying to be friendly and make friends. Not when he kept trying to touch me whenever we talked. Not when he kept sending me gifts. Not when he tried to kiss me and slip his hand into my pants while at the back of the feed store in town.
I’d slapped him in the store, I threatened him. And immediately left. I told him to stay away from me. I talked to Sheriff Akins. And for four weeks he left me alone.
And then apparently Mom intercepted that phone call after Cal died. She’d tried to protect me. Until the money ran out.
And now he’s back.
He’s stalking me again.
The phone calls. The necklace. The chocolates. The flowers.
Travis is back.
My stomach gives a lurch. I dart into the bathroom and lose everything in my stomach into the toilet.
“Hello?” someone calls from downstairs.
It’s not Lake.
I sprint back into my bedroom and grab my handgun from my nightstand. Quietly, I creep back to my door and peer downstairs.
“Riley, you home?” they call.
I can’t see anything, so one step at a time, I make my way downstairs.
“I can hear you sneaking around,” he calls. “If you’re naked or something, don’t worry, I’ve already seen your nips and ass many, many times before.”
And all the adrenaline in my veins suddenly seeps out of me.
Cause I know that voice.
I hide the gun at the top of the stairs, just as Kyle rounds the corner.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his brows furrowed together.
I know how wide my eyes must look, how my skin must be pasty white and I can feel sweat on my brow. “Nothing,” I say, my voice annoyed and shaky as I move past him and into the kitchen.
Eating is the last thing my stomach wants to do, but it’s also the thing that will help me to start feeling better. I set to making myself some oatmeal. For a few quiet moments, Kyle simply watches me.
“You don’t look so good,” Kyle eventually says bluntly as he watches me.
I sit at the table and glare at him. “Right back at you,” I say through a mouthful of mush. He’s got bags under his eyes and his complexion is opaque.
A little smile crooks on his face. “Yeah. Last night was a bad idea. I was so hung over this morning, I didn’t even go in to church.”
“Sinner,” I say before taking a long pull of some orange juice. My stomach roils against it, but I mentally tell my stupid, freaked out body to keep it down.
Kyle chuckles. “Something like that. But I wanted to come check on you. Make sure you got home okay last night. That guy kind of hauled you out of there in a hurry.”
“I’m fine,” I say with a shrug. It’s a total and complete lie. I’ve hardly met his eye this whole time.
Kyle crosses the kitchen and starts rummaging through the cabinets for food. He settles on a slice of homemade bread. It’s not great. Mine is nothing like my mom’s. But it’s okay. He butters it, and then slathers raspberry jam from the winter stores.
Food in hand, he sits at the table across from me.
“I noticed what’s-his-name isn’t around,” Kyle says through a mouthful of bread. “This isn’t Raelynn’s, is it?”
I glare at him, even though I’m smiling. “It’s mine. And what’s-his-name’s name is Lake.”
“That’s right. Did your drunken self scare him off last night?”
My eyes go toward the barn and his apartment, but of course I can’t see through walls. “Didn’t know he was gone. Maybe.”
Shit.
I have to wonder for a moment, if Lake had been here, would Travis still have gotten into my house? Into my bedroom?
I can feel Kyle’s eyes on me, hard and serious. Yep. That’s exactly what they are when I meet them again.
“What happened?” he asks. He sets his slice down. His entire body tenses up.
“It’s not like that,” I say with a shake of my head. There’s no way I’m telling Kyle about Travis. He’ll do something stupid and land himself in jail. So instead, I’ll ignore that and focus on what I can admit.
I scoop my last bite into my mouth, taking my time. Finally, I set my spoon down and look back up at Kyle. “After he took me home last night, he chewed me out pretty hard for the way I acted.”
“That wasn’t really you last night,” Kyle says, his eyes softening. We haven’t been together in nearly a decade now, but he’s still protective. “It was kind of surprising.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “Anyway, after the reprimand, he told me that he has feelings for me. That he feels guilty about them, because of Cal. They were best friends. Did you know that?”
Kyle shakes his head. “I knew they had a connection, but not the best friend part.”
“Uh huh,” I continue. I close my eyes, pressing my palms into them. My head is on the verge of exploding. Stupid hangover. Stupid life. “He felt guilty, but he said he was tired of us both being miserable.”
“And then what happened?” I hear Kyle take another bite.
“I went and kis
sed him,” I say, dropping my hands and staring at the table.
Kyle apparently inhales his food, because he starts coughing—hard. “Excuse me?” he wheezes.
“I know,” I say, shaking my head. “It was stupid, and I was drunk. But then he pushed me away and said ‘not like this.’”
“Oh,” Kyle says, his whole body calming down. “Guess that means he’s a good guy or something, right? Not letting drunk girls kiss him?”
I chuckle and shake my head at him. “What am I supposed to do about this, Kyle? This changes everything. And if he hasn’t left, I can’t make him leave. I need his help too much and he’s really good at his job.”
Kyle polishes off his breakfast. Or lunch. Or whatever it is at this point. He brushes the crumbs off his hands onto his plate and finally looks back up at me. “I think you need to figure out how you feel about him first. Do you want a relationship with him?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can. I’m not over Cal, and I don’t know that I ever will be. And to be honest, it kind of feels like we only have any sort of connection because of Cal. We’re both hurting.”
And who knows what Travis will do to Lake if I cross that line? It’s something I can’t risk.
“He thinks you should be hurting together?”
It takes me a moment to analyze that. “I don’t know if it’s exactly like that. I think he thinks there’s something genuinely there. But pain has a way of blinding you.”
“So, none of it’s real?” Kyle asks, leaning forward and folding his forearms on the table. “You think it’s just residual feelings?”
“I think so,” I say with another shrug. “When you’re feeling the same kind of hurt, it’s easy to mistake it as a false connection.”
Kyle looks at me for a long moment. He studies my eyes. Moves to my hair. My lips. But it’s an evaluating look. He’s been looking at me for a long time. Despite all the hurt in our past, he knows me well.
“I don’t know if that’s true or not, but you’ve always had good instincts in the past,” he finally says. “You’ll know what the right thing to do is.” He reaches across the table and places a hand over mine.
It’s comforting. And that’s nice knowing despite our past, Kyle supports me.