Relent

by Rachel Schurig

  “God, you miss them,” Karen muttered. “You should see your face.”

  I feel my expression tighten. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

  “Okay, so let’s forget about them for a minute,” she says, turning on the log so that she’s facing me as she pulls a leg up under her. “What about the job?”

  “The lodge? I told you, it’s fine—”

  She’s shaking her head. “No, Levi. Not the lodge. The job you’re supposed to have.” I get the sense she can read from my expression that she’s treading on thin ice because she hurries to continue. “You worked your ass off, for years, to get that band to where they are. You were good at your job. Really good. And I know it made you happy.” She leans in a little closer, her brown eyes wide and intent on mine. “And it was making you happy way before Daisy ever came back.”

  I turn away, her words hitting some nerve I tried to pretend wasn’t there. I want to tell her that she’s wrong, that working here is just as fulfilling. I want to tell her that none of it ever meant that much to me, that it was just a cool job that beat the hell out of going to college or working in a cubicle somewhere. After all, that’s what I’d been telling myself for months.

  But somehow, I can’t bring myself to repeat the line to Karen. Her gaze is too intense on me, her eyes too knowing. Unlike all the friends and co-workers I’d met on this mountain, Karen knows exactly what I gave up in leaving the band. Because Karen was there with me. Karen could see what it all meant.

  A memory flashes through my mind before I can stop it. A stormy night on the first headlining tour, long before Daisy and her friends showed up. The guys were playing back-to-back shows in Los Angeles and San Francisco, and a combination of factors—Reed getting food poisoning, a flat tire on the crew bus, and the highway shutting down for an accident—had us hopelessly late for the second show. By the time we arrived, so had the thunderstorm that had been threatening all afternoon, the heavens opening up in a steady torrent of rain and wind. Everyone was stressed, no one more than me, the guy in charge of getting the equipment in and the stage set. Cash and Daltrey wanted to cancel the show, which pissed off Reed, which caused yet another fight between the brothers.

  That’s when I decided Ransom was playing no matter what. I convinced the guys we could get the venue loaded with their help, then led the band and the road crew back and forth through the rain, getting all the equipment inside, getting the stage set. Sound check happened twenty minutes before the doors opened. Daltrey’s hair was still wet from the rain when he took to his mic.

  And somehow, despite the disaster of the day, it had turned out to be one of their best shows ever. As the wind howled outside, the crowd screamed and sang along in the venue, in tune with the band in that way I had only witnessed a handful of times. The album had dropped weeks before, the guys only just starting to pick up traction on the radio. And they were on that night, as good as they had ever been, and the crowd was into it, the energy bouncing back and forth between them and the stage until it felt like a fever pitch. I knew in that moment that Ransom was about to explode into something much bigger than I had ever let myself imagine.

  And I had something to do with it. Standing there in the dark of the wings, far outside the spotlight that shone on my friends, I knew that if it wasn’t for me, that show wouldn’t have happened. The thrill of that knowledge, of knowing that I had done my best, of knowing that I contributed to the amazing conversation between band and fans taking place on the stage, filled me with a kind of pride unfamiliar to me. It gave me goosebumps.

  Why in the hell did I have to think about that now? Why can I still feel the shadow of goosebumps on my arms just from the memory? Why can I still remember the sound of the crowd, the excited, heady expression on the guys’ faces, the warm feeling in my belly when the tour manager, Dan, thanked me for getting it done…

  And now I’m pissed—pissed at this girl for showing up to my lodge, showing up in my new life and messing with the carefully constructed stories I’ve been telling myself for months.

  “What about you?” I can hear the heat in my voice, the anger. Karen leans away from me ever so slightly, and her acknowledgment of my over reaction only makes me angrier. “Are you happy, Karen? Are you doing exactly what you always dreamed of?” My face twists into a sneer. “I seem to remember plenty of conversations on tour about how much you were dreading going into business. Bet you’re pretty excited to get that degree next year, huh?”

  Her eyes widen, and for one moment, I think her face might crumble. But then something like fire comes to her eyes, and she straightens her shoulders. “I might not know exactly what I want to do with my life, Levi, but at least I’m not hiding.”

  Just like that, all the anger goes out of me. I deflate, my shoulders hunching. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… You’ve been nothing but nice to me. I shouldn’t have gotten mad.”

  I expect another angry retort—that when I look up, I’ll still see that fire in her eyes. So I’m pretty surprised when she reaches over and takes my gloved hand in hers. My eyes snap up to her face. There’s no pity there, to my great relief. She merely looks…calm.

  “I know, Levi.” She grins a little. “What’d you say at the bar? We have more in common than we realized, right?”

  Her words make me feel better and worse at the same time. Better, because I think she really does understand what I’m feeling. And worse, much worse, because her acknowledgment of my feelings somehow makes them so much harder to hide from myself.

  We sit in silence for a long moment, my hand still in hers. I feel like a wave of emotion is threatening to take me down. I’ve been hiding behind my anger at Daltrey for a long, long time. And now…

  “I’m tired of feeling lonely,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. From the corner of my eye, I see Karen freeze in the act of moving hair away from her face, her eyes wide and intent on me. I draw in a deep breath of the icy air. “And I’m so fucking tired of pretending that I’m not.”

  I don’t know what I expect from her—sympathy, maybe? More commiseration? What I certainly don’t expect is for her to lean forward and kiss me.

  I freeze for just a moment, confused as hell. But then, my body is acting for me, apparently not caring if my brain is caught up or not, and I’m kissing her back, pulling her closer, one hand immediately going to her back while the other touches her face.

  She sinks into my chest, and a little voice in the back of my head whispers a wish that we both weren’t wearing such puffy coats. The rest of my mind is still busy marveling at this unexpected turn of events. I’m kissing Karen.

  She and I had spent a lot of time working together on tour, along with Paige, but I had never gotten even the slightest impression that she was interested in me in any way other than friendship. Of course, I’d been pretty preoccupied by Daisy, but even I hadn’t been too obsessed to notice that her friend from school was totally hot. In fact, it was generally admitted by most members of the crew that Karen was the most gorgeous girl any of us had ever seen in real life. Tall and blonde, insane figure, basically the perfect representation of an all-American beauty. Add to that a wicked sense of humor and a take-no-shit attitude, and Karen Simpson was a women we all recognized as way out of any of our leagues.

  But here I am on a frozen log in the middle of nowhere, and she’s kissing me—really kissing me. Her mouth warm and insistent on mine, her gloved fingers tight around my neck. And then her mouth is opening slightly under mine, and I stop wondering how we got to this point. I stop wondering anything, my mind almost entirely blank with pleasure, only one thought repeating again and again.

  I want more.

  Chapter Three

  Karen

  I don’t know why I kissed him.

  Okay, that’s not entirely true. I’m sure the whiskey had something to do with it. And the fact that I was feeling so completely rejected after everything that had happened with him back in Tennessee. Those were both
pretty good reasons to kiss a cute boy in the dark under a moonlit sky.

  But, if I’m honest with myself, neither of those reasons was really the real reason. The real reason had a lot more to do with the look on his face when he talked about his old life. He was disappointed and frustrated and sad and bitter, and I swear to God it was like looking in the mirror. Like he, out of everyone else in the world, would understand exactly what had been bothering me for months.

  He lashed out at me when I pushed him to examine that sadness and bitterness. He had every right to. I was sticking my nose where it had no business. Of course he got pissed—that didn’t surprise me at all. What did surprise me, right down to my core, was that he apologized after. It was like catching a glimpse of the old Levi, the Levi that I knew from tour, the guy who put everyone else first, the guy who was, if nothing else, genuinely nice and decent.

  How long had it been since I’d spent time with a guy that was nice and decent?

  When he confessed to me that he was tired of being lonely, tired of pretending, something in me snapped. Because in those two sentences, it was like he had peeked through a window at my heart and described exactly how I felt but was too ashamed to admit.

  And that’s why I kissed him.

  Levi makes a noise in the back of his throat that’s practically a moan, and my heart rate picks up another notch. Levi is a fantastic kisser, I think to myself, grinning a little against his mouth. Add that to the list of entirely surprising things to happen tonight.

  His hand is cradling my face, and I wish he would take off his gloves. I want, more than anything, to feel the skin of his fingers against my cheek. I try to press closer to him, wanting to feel how good and solid he is without the impediment of our winter clothes. He brings his hand down from my face to join the other one at my waist, pulling me close, and I gasp a little, surprised by his strength. Before I can think about ways to put that strength to good use, a loud cheer from across the hill breaks through the bubble I’m currently existing in.

  I pull away, breathing heavily. It takes a long moment for me to realize that the cheer was coming from our friends at the top of the hill. Stace is laughing while one of Levi’s friends—Marcus, I think—is wolf whistling. And they’re all watching us.

  I feel a momentary flash of panic, a remembrance of other times I’ve been ashamed to be caught doing something like this, immediately followed by anger at myself for still carrying that guilt. But Levi, true to character, makes everything easier on me. He smiles, rolling his eyes a little bit at our friends, before pushing a strand of my hair off my face.

  “Well.” His brown eyes are steady on mine, twinkling under the stars. The desire is still there, strong and clear, and my stomach dips a little bit. “Thank you for that.”

  I snort. “I think I should thank you.”

  “Are you two going to make out all night?” Jess calls. “Or are you going to come and sled with us?”

  “What do you say?” he asks, his smile growing. “I think I’m feeling sufficiently warm enough to go sledding now.”

  Holy shit, Levi is flirting. And he’s good at it. I can actually feel myself flush a little bit, and I never blush over boys. His grin is infectious, and I find myself smiling back. “Sledding sounds great.”

  He doesn’t hold my hand as we walk to the top of the hill. He doesn’t ask me about the kiss, either, for which I’m grateful. I suddenly feel like we’ve done enough talking for the night. I’m tired of feeling sad, tired of thinking about my mistakes and my regrets. I have a feeling Levi is right there with me.

  “It’s about time,” Stace says, giggling, when we join them. “I thought you guys were going to have to get a room.”

  “Hey, Stace,” I say brightly, holding up my middle finger. “Shut up.”

  Mellie pushes our friend toward her sled. “Go on,” she says. “Leave her alone.”

  Stace and Logan are still sharing a sled, and we watch as they sit down, Mellie and Marcus in a sled next to them. The boys count down, and then they take off together. Apparently, they started racing while we were gone.

  “Us against you?” Curtis asks. Levi looks at me, eyebrows raised.

  “What the hell,” I agree.

  I’m feeling a little wobbly, either from the kiss or from the Jack Daniels, but I manage to get onto the sled without falling over. I feel Levi climb in behind me, and then his arms are around me, pulling me back against his chest. Pressed against the hardness of his chest, I’m once again struck with the impression of his strength, even through our winter coats. I think of him hauling all that equipment on tour, and I shiver a little.

  But then, he’s pushing us off, and my stomach drops as we clear the crest of the hill. We’re moving fast, much faster than it appeared when we watched our friends do it. The snow and the ice and the silent trees are flying past in a blur, and I wonder how on earth we’ll ever stop at the bottom. But Levi is steady behind me, his arms around my middle, holding me in place while the world rushes past.

  “Hold on!” he cries as we near the bottom. One of his hands disappears from my waist to go out into the snow, the drag slowing us down. Maybe we’re going too fast, or maybe he overdid it with the drag, but suddenly, I feel the sled start to tip to the side, and then we’re spinning around, completely out of control.

  “We need to make a jump for it,” Levi shouts into my ear. He doesn’t sound scared, which I can’t understand. This is terrifying. I close my eyes tight, clutching the arm around my waist, and then he’s pulling me off the crazily tilting sled.

  We tumble down into the snow, and I feel a thrill of fear. What if we can’t stop, what if we hit our heads, what if—but then I feel Levi’s arms tighten around me, strong and steady, pulling me to a stop before I can roll any farther.

  “Careful, there,” he says, his voice close to my ear. He sounds out of breath, and I wonder if he actually was as scared as I was. Now that I’ve stopped rolling, I open my eyes, and the world rights itself around me. We’re lying in a snow bank a few feet from the tree line. I’m covered in snow and freezing. And Levi is lying half on top of me.

  “I should have guessed,” I half whisper, more to myself than to him.

  He gazes down at me, his face close enough to count the dark lashes around his eyes. How did I ever think the brown of them was average? There are specks of gold and dark ebony in the rich brown, and though it could be the whiskey talking, I think they might be the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “Should have guessed what?”

  “That you would catch me.”

  His eyes seem to dance with laughter. “Why would you guess that?”

  I shake my head, wondering if he doesn’t get how completely reliable he’s always been. How comforting. How rare that is. “Because you’re Levi.”

  His eyes darken a little, the last thing I see before he’s kissing me again.

  I don’t care that our friends are on the top of the hill. Don’t care that they’re whistling and cat-calling. The only thing I care about is the way Levi is making me feel. How can he turn my blood to fire when we’re lying in snow and ice?

  “Come back to my room,” he whispers in my ear, his voice so full of desire, it makes me shudder.

  “Yes.”

  He kisses me again, stealing whatever breath remained in my lungs. I can feel his lips turn up into a smile against my mouth. “Is this really happening?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  He laughs, kissing my neck. “But you’re Karen. How did you get here? How did we get here?”

  “This doesn’t have to be a big deal,” I tell him, and even I can hear how husky and hopeful my voice sounds against his ear. I squeeze my eyes shut, overcome with wanting, acutely aware of how fast he’s breathing. “Can’t we just…God, Levi. I just want to have fun tonight.”

  He looks down at me, those clear brown eyes intense and flashing. He looks almost apprehensive as he searches my face, as if he’s afraid I’m going to change my m
ind.

  Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

  His face seems to clear, as if he found whatever he was looking for in my eyes. “Fun sounds great,” he says, grabbing my gloved hands and pulling me to my feet. “In fact, fun sounds perfect.”

  ***

  I’m barely aware of the trip to Levi’s room. He keeps stopping to kiss me, pressing me up against whatever surface he can find—the trunks of trees, the sides of storage sheds—keeping my head spinning so it’s difficult to be sure of my surroundings. The staff apartments are located in a smaller building behind the main lodge. From the little glimpses I catch between kisses on our way up the stairs, this building is even shabbier than the one the girls and I are staying in.

  But it’s difficult to care about that, to care about anything, with Levi’s lips on my skin.

  He struggles with the keys for several unbearably long minutes. I suppose I’m not making it easier on him with the way I keep kissing his neck. He drops the keychain three times before he finally manages to get the door open.

  I have a fleeting glance of a small and thoroughly depressing studio apartment before he’s pressing me back into the closed front door, attacking the zipper on my thick down coat.

  “Winter is the worst,” he mutters, pulling his gloves off with his teeth. I giggle—he’s pretty cute when he’s frustrated—and he meets my eyes with a grin. “Seriously. Take that thing off.”

  “What about you?” I tug on the sleeves of his thick Carhart jacket. “I’m not the only one with barriers to the evening’s activities.”

  He immediately abandons my zipper for his own. I pull my thick coat off, pausing, distracted, when he manages to get both his jacket and his t-shirt off, leaving him wearing only his thick white thermal undershirt. It’s not a look I’m normally all that attracted to, but damn if he doesn’t look like a lumberjack in that thing. It’s insanely appealing.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asks, pulling off his hat to reveal brown hair plastered down against his forehead. I let out a snort. “What?”