Nora ponders this for a second. “You know how people age? Like wrinkles and beer bellies?”
“Unfortunately.” Without thinking, my fingers pat at the crow’s feet lining the corners of my eyes.
“Well, Machlan doesn’t,” she says easily. “I have no idea how he’s still single with the women who throw themselves his way every night at Crave. I tell him one night I’m going to have to stage a diversion just so he can get home unscathed.” Pausing to shoo away a dog yapping at the edge of a lawn, she turns to me again. “They’ve all aged well, Kallie.”
I try to remain unaffected, to pretend like discussing our old group of friends is no big deal. It wouldn’t be if we could stop with Machlan, Walker, and Lance Gibson and their cousins, Vincent and Peck, but we won’t. It’ll also include Cross Jacobs, and I’m not ready to do that quite yet.
“If Mach’s still single, maybe you should hook up with him,” I suggest. I know she’ll shoot it down and she does—promptly.
“What?” she barks. “Are you kidding me?”
Laughing, I bump her with my shoulder. “It’s not the craziest suggestion in the world. You’ve known him forever. He’s freaking gorgeous. You like him.”
“All of that’s true, but I didn’t say I was attracted to him.” She makes a face like she’s just bitten into a lemon. “He’s like a brother to me now…sort of.”
“Remember that time…” The sentence trails off as I catch myself, the rest of the words hiccupping in my throat. “Never mind.”
“I know what you were going to say.”
Peering up at her, I try to force the corners of my lips to turn up, but they refuse. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. When is the last time you talked to Cross?” The hesitation in Nora’s tone only feeds the anxiety bubbling inside me, and hearing his name doesn’t help either.
I’ve spent the last three years trying to forget Cross Jacobs. Trying is the operative word.
I don’t have to ask if he still looks the same. I know the creases in his forehead that developed over the last year and a half like the back of my hand. I’ve watched through social media as he started to wear his inky black hair just a little longer than the buzz cut he used to sport, have noticed how he still gets it cut the first Monday of every month, like his father taught him to do. The playfulness I remember seeing in his jade-colored eyes has dimmed, replaced with something more stern. His shoulders are more broad, his body stockier than the man I used to curl up next to every night.
What I don’t know these days is the sound of his voice at two in the morning or if he wears the same woodsy cologne, a scent that stops me in my tracks whenever I get close to someone wearing anything remotely similar. I wonder if he still favors basketball shorts to sleep in and who is there to time his boxing rounds like I used to do when he was training for a match.
My heart wrestles in my chest as I look at my friend, trying desperately to get myself in check. “When was the last time I talked to Cross?” I stop walking and glance up at the antique sign over our head that reads CRAVE. “The last time I stood here. That’s the last time I talked to him.”
I wait for Nora to push, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tosses me a slight smile. “I need to run into the bar really quick and see if Machlan has my check ready. I don’t work tonight and don’t want to have to come all the way back to town later.”
“Is it even open?” I ask, looking at the unlit open sign.
“It doesn’t open for another two hours, but Machlan will be here. He practically lives here.” The door swings free with a simple tug, the cool, salty bar air rushing out onto the sidewalk. “Come on. He’ll be happy to see you.”
Following her inside, my eyes adjust to the dim light. Alcohol ads glow from various positions on the walls, and strings of Christmas lights outline the mirror behind the bar and drape along a set of bulletin boards as I walk by.
All of that is hard to focus on with Machlan Gibson sitting at the bar. He leans back in the chair, dropping the remote for the television hanging in the corner onto the countertop with a flourish.
“Kallie Welch,” he says, folding his arms over his chest as a smirk pulls at his lips. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“How are ya, Mach?” I grin.
He gets to his feet, a wide smile splitting his cheeks. “It’s been a long time.” Enveloping me in his arms, he gives me a warm hug. He’s thicker, his back more muscled than the goodbye embrace he gave me before I left town in my little Honda Civic. “You home for long?”
“Yeah, actually,” I say, pulling back. “The attorney I was working for in Indy got into some legal trouble of his own, and Mom’s here alone now that Skylar moved to Wisconsin with her boyfriend.”
“That explains why I haven’t seen her around lately,” he says. “Someone said she met a guy in Chicago, but you never know what to believe.”
“She did. He’s a nice guy. His family is from up there so Skylar moved up to be with him, which left Mom on her own, and I feel guilty about that.”
“Because you’re a good girl.”
Nora clears her throat. “Now that’s over with, you got my check ready?”
There’s something Machlan wants to say as he processes Nora’s question. He watches me carefully, like he’s connecting some invisible dots scattered over my face. “Yeah, I got your check. Be right back.”
He moves easily through the bar with such command that I imagine if people were standing in his way, they’d move. It’s amazing to see him in this light. I knew he’d bought the bar, but seeing him as a legitimate business owner and not the immature party boy I knew before is almost unbelievable.
Turning toward the bulletin boards, I sigh. A warmth I haven’t felt in so long causes the stress in my shoulders to melt away. Maybe it was the friendly hug from Mach, or maybe it’s being back home in Linton.
“Want to get something to eat?” I ask Nora, scanning the boards.
“Sure. We could run to Peaches. They have great fajitas.”
“It’s still weird that a place called Peaches serves Mexican food,” I say with a laugh. Running my finger across a set of papers advertising handymen services, I chuckle at one particular set of ‘services’ offered on a napkin. “This is ridiculous.”
Nora laughs. “We take the really bad ones down—you should see some of them after a rowdy Friday night.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I can imagine a lot of things.” The shock of the deep, husky voice behind me causes me to jump, but as the timbre of the tone settles, the familiarity washes across my heart.
I suck in a breath, capturing a gasp, though I’m not sure if it’s is mine or Nora’s. Inhaling the rich, almost velvety scent from behind me doesn’t help the shakiness in my hands as I bring one to my throat.
One of my unknowns is answered: Cross wears the same cologne he used to.
Three
Cross
If Nora weren’t standing beside her giving me that look, I’d swear to God I was seeing things.
The swallow I force down my throat is hot and heavy, as if it were laced with a shot of whiskey. It burns as it barrels its way to my stomach, but I don’t register the drop into the pit of acid churning in my gut.
I can’t do anything but stare at the back of Kallie Welch.
Her hair is pulled into a ponytail. I used to bury my face in the crook of her neck and kiss the top of her shoulder. She loved it. She loved me.
My stomach sinks as I take her in, fighting with myself not to reach for her. It’s almost impossible to keep my hands to myself as I see the woman I think about every fucking day standing in front of me.
Nora looks my way before dropping her gaze and slinking to the side. The sound of her shoes against the floor as she makes her way to the back of the bar is barely heard over the white noise coursing through my veins.
I take a half-step back as I wait for her to turn around. She sighs, lets her hand fall to her s
ides, but doesn’t move.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is rougher than I intended.
“Nora is picking up her check.” Her voice is just a whisper, quieter than I expected.
“That’s not what I mean.”
She brings a hand up to the side of her face, the simple diamond stud in her ear catching a ray of sun streaming through the windows. As my lungs fill with air and refuse to let it go, I drag my gaze down her slender neck, over her dainty shoulders, and down her arm until it rests on her left hand.
My jaw sets, my teeth grinding so hard I can nearly hear the squeal of enamel scraping against itself. It takes everything I have not to lurch forward and jerk her hand toward me so I can see if she’s sporting a wedding band. She keeps it angled so I can’t see it; whether it’s on purpose or not doesn’t matter. Whether it’s ridiculous of me to get pissed about something like that doesn’t matter either. Just when I’m ready to pounce, she moves her wrist just enough so I can see her finger is bare.
“I, um, I’m moving back—I moved back,” she corrects, nodding her head once.
I don’t say another word. I don’t move a muscle. I just stand in place and listen to my heart beat so hard, like it’s chanting her name so she’ll turn around and look at me.
Her shoulders pull back as she pivots, turning her body so she’s facing me. Finally.
Remaining impassive is impossible as I take in the girl I once thought I’d marry. She’s more beautiful than ever with her porcelain skin, full lips, and intense brown eyes. I look ridiculous standing in front of her, not saying a word, but all I can do is fight every instinct shuffling inside me.
“How are you?” I finally ask, shoving my hands in my pockets as a security measure.
“Good. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.” She flinches as she says the words, a throwback to the fight that finally ended things between us for good. She takes a step toward me, her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Cross…”
Her eyes flood with a mix of emotions swirling so hard I can’t separate them out. I could do what people do—pick out the one I want to see and roll with it—but I’m not most people, and I’m not a pussy.
“You look good, Cross,” she whispers, quieter this time, studying me.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
She shakes her head, running those ring-free fingers through her hair. “That’s a nice thing to say. Total lie, but nice, anyway.” She laughs.
“Why is that a lie?”
“Look at me.”
“From where I’m standing, time couldn’t have been any sweeter to you, Kallie girl.” A smile tickles my lips as her cheeks flush. This is the girl I remember and, if I’m not careful, the one I’ll once again be jacked up over in a heartbeat.
“Look at you being all charming.”
“It’s a new trick I picked up while you were gone. I figured I needed to round out my game a little.”
“How’s that working out for you?” She tries to play her question off like it’s routine banter, but I know her too well. She’s digging, prying, asking what I’ve been up to without having to ask.
“Win some, lose some,” I say, looking her in the eye. Rocking back on my heel, I narrow my eyes. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Am I winning or losing right now?” My mouth fights the twitch of a smile crawling up my lips.
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’d say if we’re taking into consideration the previous rounds, it’s a split decision. This round doesn’t look bad, but the ones before it weren’t too pretty.”
Trying to hide my amusement at this girl using, of all things, a boxing metaphor on me to describe our relationship, I shrug. “I don’t think all the previous rounds were bad. I distinctly remember winning a couple of them. Hell, I thought I had the thing won a couple of rounds ago.”
“You almost did,” she says carefully, her voice steady now. “But that slip in the last round cost you the whole fight.”
“I didn’t slip,” I insist, taking a step toward her. “I had a bad game plan.”
“I can only score it as I see it.”
There’s a blip of pain in her eyes as her uncertainty fails to mask the wavering in her voice. The sound batters my heart, just like it did when she and I were together and I’d see a similar look on her face. I hate it.
We stand in the middle of Crave and don’t say a word. The only sound is the shaky breaths escaping her sweet, full lips. A part of me wants to fight with her, tell her how stupid she was for walking out of my life and destroying everything I had planned for our future. Another part of me wants to toss her to the floor and fuck her so deeply, so completely that she remembers the connection and chemistry only we have together. Yet, there’s another piece of me that wants to grab her and wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close if for nothing but to make sure she’s all right.
“You said it’s a split decision,” I say, standing so close to her, our chests are almost touching. She smells of vanilla and the shampoo she always uses, the one in the red bottle. I fill my lungs with the scent of her and blow it out slowly. “Does that mean there’s still a fight?”
She tucks another strand of hair behind her ear. “The bell rang on this fight a long time ago, Cross.”
“Maybe the scorekeeper was wrong.”
“Maybe—” She’s cut off by the sound of Nora and Machlan behind me. She looks at the floor and takes a step back, like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t.
Looking over my shoulder, I shoot a glare at my best friend. “What’s up, Machlan?”
“I hate to bother you two, but I gotta get this place ready to open. You can use my office, if you want.”
“I think we’re ready to go,” Kallie says, peering around me. “You ready, Nora?”
“If you are.”
“Kallie, wait.” There’s no denying the eagerness in my voice, but I’m too focused on not letting her out of here without some sort of commitment to worry about it.
She keeps her sights set on Nora. “What, Cross?”
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask. “Or tomorrow night?” My mind races through my calendar, trying to figure out on the fly how I’ll rearrange my appointments if she takes me up on one of my offers.
“I’m pretty busy…”
“Oh, you are not.” Machlan smirks, leaning against the bar.
“Stay out of this,” she says, flashing him a look. “This has nothing to do with you, Mach.”
“Everything that happens inside my bar has something to do with me,” he teases. “So, let’s cut the shit: you really have nothing to do but you’re still pissed off about something that happened years ago. Sound about right?”
“Enough,” I say, firing a warning shot at him.
He laughs. “Fine. Just thought I’d help you two get to the point. See you tomorrow, Nora?”
“Yup,” she says before looking between Kallie and me. “I’ll be outside.”
My eyes lock with Kallie’s as the door latches behind Nora. “Name the place and time and I’ll make it happen.”
“Make what happen?” She sighs.
“Coffee. Dinner. A fucking slice of watermelon from Dave’s Farmstand, if that’s what you want,” I joke…kind of.
“Is that still open?” Her eyes sparkle, the easygoing Kallie I remember starting to come back. “How many watermelons did we eat from there over the years?”
“I think the two of us kept him busy.”
“Do you remember when Peck tried to make his own watermelon moonshine?” She laughs. “He was sick for a week, and then you all were trying to find a nurse to check him out so you didn’t have to tell his mom.”
“I forgot about that.” I chuckle. “He was sick as hell. Lance finally found a nurse somewhere.”
“Leave it to Lance.” She giggles, wiping a tear from her eye.
“We loaded Peck in the back of Walker’s truck and met her at the Four-Way Bridge to get checked out. What a mess that was.”
“Does Walker still have Daisy?” she asks, alluding to the big black pickup Walker has driven since his senior year of high school.
“I think Walker will drive Daisy until he dies. He loves that truck,” I say, shaking my head. “But back to the watermelon—Dave closed it down a while back. His wife got put in a nursing home and she passed away not too long ago.”
Kallie’s face falls. “She was so sweet. That makes me sad.”
“I see Dave sometimes over at Crank,” I say, referring to Walker’s car repair shop. “Ran into him at Goodman’s gas station a couple of days ago too. He asked about you.”
“Why would people ask you about me now?” She considers this for a long moment. “Doesn’t that seem strange?”
“Maybe it seems perfectly normal.” Unable to resist any longer, I cut the distance between us in half. With a calculated move, I raise a hand and touch the side of her face. She sucks in a breath, her skin warm and smooth under my calloused palm. “This seems perfectly normal too.”
“Cross…” She pulls her cheek away, her chin dipping to her chest. “I can’t with this.”
“You’re right,” I say, stepping back. Her gaze shoots to mine, surprised etched on her pretty features. “This isn’t the place. Meet me at the gym tonight at six. We’ll grab something to eat and take a ride or go for a walk or sit on the mats and shoot the shit.”
Before she can decline, I head for the door.
“Cross! I didn’t say—”
The door shutting behind me as I walk outside cuts off the end of her sentence. Nora is waiting.
“Kallie giving you a hard time?” she laughs.
“Never.” I chuckle, shaking my head.
“I think she’s a little shocked.”
“One question,” I say, turning around and walking backward toward my truck, the sun warming my face. “Did you know I was here?”
“Well, I knew Machlan wouldn’t have my check until Monday, and I also know you drive the silver Dodge Ram parked right over there, so you figure out what I did and didn’t know.”
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