Between the Girls (The Basin Lake Series Book 3)

by Stephanie Vercier

“She’s all ready for you,” she says cheerily. “You’ve been talking about bingo all day, haven’t you, Miss Margaret?”

  “Yes,” Margaret says in a weakened voice, though her eyes are beaming.

  “Is your hubby coming today?” I ask like I always do, McKenzie walking alongside me as I push the wheelchair.

  “Golfing… I think,” Margaret replies in a raspier than usual voice, then asks, “Claire, how long did it take you to get here?”

  “A little over an hour, Margaret.”

  This is one of her favorite questions, and I answer pretty much the same every time, unless there’s traffic, which Margaret isn’t a fan of.

  Her husband pops in once we’re settled, and he’s glad to see me, says he’d forgotten it was my Saturday already. I reintroduce him to McKenzie, and then he heads out to do some fall cleanup he says he’s been meaning to get to.

  Margaret doesn’t win any rounds of bingo this time, but I’d thought ahead and asked McKenzie to stop off at a convenience store just in case so Margaret’s husband won’t have to miss out on his bar of chocolate. Then we help clean up and push Margaret the long way around to show her all of the fall decorations that are up in the facility.

  “I didn’t see your boyfriend. He’s not sick is he?” Margaret asks me when we get closer to her room.

  I’m a little surprised she remembers him, only because her short-term memory isn’t always the best. But with her mention of Tyler comes a raw emotion that I can almost feel wanting to break out of me. I dam it up as best I can—I don’t want to make Margaret sad.

  “He had to help his dad around their property,” I lie. “I think they had a couple of trees blow down during that last storm.”

  “Oh, really? Is everyone all right?” Margaret looks genuinely concerned, and I’m already feeling bad for the small untruth.

  “They’re great actually,” McKenzie says, swooping in with a save she seems to know that I need. “He just texted us, and everything got cleaned up.” She even takes her phone out for effect.

  Margaret relaxes. “That’s a relief.”

  “Are you ready to go back to bed, Margaret?” It’s a different nursing assistant who meets us outside the door of her room, but she’s friendly and not totally harried, so I’m guessing they’re actually fully staffed today.

  “I’m ready,” Margaret says with a smile.

  “Well, I guess we should go then.” I hate to leave, but I don’t want to keep McKenzie here too much longer.

  Margaret looks briefly sad, even pouts a little—for effect I think—but then I remind her that her husband will be by soon, and that brings the smile right back to her face.

  I give her a giant hug. “I’ll see you in a month, Margaret. It’s going to be Christmas time before you know it.”

  “I know!” Margaret shakes her head and laughs, her voice clearer than it had been earlier in our visit. “I’ll see you then.”

  I’m halfway down the hall and turn to see the nursing assistant pushing Margaret into her room. I’m sad to leave her and perhaps have always seen in her something of my dad, of someone who is sick but is still full of life, of someone you want to do all you can for. I hadn’t ever been able to do much for dad, but I’m grateful I can do a very little something for this woman who means a great deal to me.

  “I can tell you’re upset,” McKenzie says once we’re back on the freeway and heading home. “You shouldn’t keep volunteering there if it makes you this sad.”

  “It’s not just that. I mean, maybe part of it, but it’s Tyler. I fucking miss him.” I feel his absence so suddenly and so heavily that I burst into tears that I don’t feel capable of stopping.

  McKenzie takes the next exit, pulls into a space at a gas station and wraps her arms around me. “I know it hurts. I know…”

  “How can I fix it?” She’s blurry when I look at her because of the tears, and I’m such a wreck. It’s like the last two weeks are finally catching up with me, and I’m terrified of really losing my chance with him.

  “Call him… or text him… or just show up. Make it clear you aren’t done fighting for him.”

  “But what if he doesn’t want me?”

  “Then you know. Then you move on, just like you asked Austin to do with you.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to do that.” It’s the truest thing I can say because just the idea of moving on from something that was just getting off the ground hurts.

  “It’s the only choice you have,” McKenzie says, stroking my hair. “You just have to get over this hump and see where it takes you.”

  Through the tears, there is at least a little clarity given with the words she’s offering me. She’s right. I have to face whatever this is with Tyler head on and force him to tell me how he really feels. Without that, I’m going to be getting a lot more B’s and a lot fewer A’s.

  TYLER

  Claire’s text rolled in late yesterday. She was asking to meet up and talk, and I knew that I couldn’t put her off any longer. I’d been calm and cool with her for the last two weeks, not rude but not receptive to talking about what happened at the dance—I’m sure she thinks I’m a total dick. I should have taken Sam’s advice and just talked to her, but after I’d listened to her voicemail half a dozen times, I somehow convinced myself the tone of her voice was dismissive and that she meant the complete opposite of what she was saying, which was basically that she was sorry about Austin and that she wanted to talk.

  The fact that I couldn’t face whatever she had to say in person makes me think Dad might have been right, that I’m not ready for another relationship. Shit, I can’t even seem to cut the thread that still holds Laney and I together, so how am I supposed to move forward with Claire when I’m not man enough to push past what might just be a hiccup?

  I look myself in the mirror, not at the scars that seem to have defined me since I’d first gotten them, but into my own eyes. The night of the dance, I’d been prepared to tell Claire about the attack and the injuries it left me with. I would have answered any question she’d had for me, even about Laney if she’d wanted to go there. Together, I imagined we’d figure out what that meant for us. I’d envisioned doing all of these things and taking a giant step forward with Claire, but it had all been wiped to shit because of Austin.

  And that made me reassess my readiness and pushed me back into the shell I’d been hiding in. But I hate that fucking shell. It makes me miserable, and I’m tired of that, tired of walking through my life like it’s a minefield, being so fucking careful so as not to blow it all to hell. But maybe I need to risk that—it’s why I told Claire yesterday that I was ready to talk.

  Claire: Are we still good for meeting today?

  Me: Yeah. My parents are at some craft show in Spokane, so we can talk here if that’s okay?

  Claire: Of course. What time?

  Me: 11 good? I can pick you up.

  Claire: I’ll be there, and thanks, but I’ll get a ride. See you soon.

  I take a quick shower, shave off the beginnings of a beard and try to look nice in some jeans and a T-shirt. Then I’m pacing through the house, waiting for her, planning to let her talk first and get whatever it is off of her chest. If things are over, then they’re over, and I’ll deal… somehow. But if she’s really done with Austin and hasn’t given up on me, then I’m preparing for the possibility of telling her everything.

  I’m talking myself in circles and trying not to hyperventilate when the doorbell rings.

  Steeling my resolve, I head to the door. Opening it, I’m blown away, as always, by how beautiful Claire is. She’s not in one of her dresses today, just a simple pair of leggings, some boots that look like they might actually be comfortable and a long sweater that rides her curves just right. But her body and what’s covering it are nothing compared to her gorgeous blue eyes or that sweet, genuine smile of hers that make me glad to know her, make me feel like a complete idiot and an ass for brushing her off for the last two weeks and riski
ng what we were building.

  “I might need a ride back after,” she says, turning and waving at McKenzie who apparently was waiting for me to open the door. “But I can call her back too if things…” she sighs.

  If things don’t go well.

  “I can drive you back, no matter what,” I say, knowing I’m capable of doing at least that much for her.

  “Okay… cool.” She waves one last time at McKenzie who backs her car out while I open the door up wide to let Claire in.

  “Can I get you something?” I ask, feeling like a jerk for not having food or coffee or something waiting for her.

  She shakes her head. “No. I just want to talk.”

  “Yeah… of course.” I drag my hand behind my neck and lead her over to the sectional.

  Jessup is chilling in his dog bed, but perks up as soon as he sees Claire. He runs over to her, and she bends down to pet him, telling him what a handsome boy he is. I consider telling him to calm down, but instead I stand by, enjoying watching Claire treat him like he’s her very own, like she and I are his pet parents.

  “He’s so sweet,” Claire finally says before Jessup jumps up and runs to the front door.

  “And apparently needs to pee,” I say, heading over and letting him outside.

  Now it’s just the two of us, and we end up on the sectional, she on one end and me on the other.

  “Did you listen to my voicemail the night of the dance?” she asks, crossing her legs. “Because, you’ve pretty much been shutting me out since then.”

  At that, I should be hanging my head down in shame. What becomes clear to me, sitting across from this beautiful girl who is making a real effort with us, is that what I’d been doing for the past two weeks wasn’t only about guarding myself from hurt—it was about punishing her for going to Austin instead of me.

  “I know, Claire. I’m sorry—I was wrong. Part of it was… I don’t know, fear about what you really felt for me.”

  “I thought I’d made that fairly clear.”

  “No, you probably did. I just couldn’t seem to process it. Maybe you can tell me again, just lay it out there.”

  God, I feel like an ass in asking, maybe even like the pussy Austin accused me of being. I guess I really am this insecure.

  She could just tell me to fuck off, but she eases right into an answer. “I felt like that night was the only point I might be able to get through to Austin. He seemed fractured, if that makes any sense. But after I talked to him, talked some reason into him, I realized it came at your expense.”

  “At the time, it just felt like you were choosing him,” I say, picturing that night like it was yesterday, the way she’d gone to him and turned her back on me. It made me feel like that was her gut talking, that when it came down to it, he’s the guy she’d end up choosing under pressure.

  She shakes her head. “It looked bad… I’ll admit that. Nina said I was an idiot, but Austin hasn’t done more than say a quick hello to me since. He was hanging on to me like I was the only person that could motivate him in his life. I just had to make him see I’m not that person.”

  “That shouldn’t have had to be your job,” I say, anger brewing at him for putting her in that position. “I mean, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have, but I guess I’m just sorry you had to go to that length just to get a guy to stop harassing you.”

  She shrugs. “At this point, all I care about is him leaving me alone… leaving us alone.” She raises her brows.

  Is that hope in her eyes?

  “So there’s still an us?”

  “There never wasn’t an us,” she says with firm determination. “I would have told you that the night of the dance if you’d called me back. I was worried about you… and freaked out, and I figured I’d messed everything up.”

  There is a slight shake in her voice toward the end of that, and I can tell that she’s been hurting, that I’d put her through something completely unnecessary by basically ignoring her. I had punished her, and I’m a complete shit for doing it.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain… that I didn’t… well… you know, that I didn’t actually listen to you. I wasted two weeks that you and I could have been together.”

  She’d been stiff, but her body visibly relaxes, just as I feel mine do, and she nods at me, like I’m finally saying something that is making sense.

  “But you’re hearing me now?” she asks. “You get that Austin is my past and you’re my future?”

  “Yeah. I mean, shit, I’m kind of floored you even want a future with me after the way I treated you.”

  “I’ll forgive you for it if you promise never to do that to me again. I can handle bad things, Tyler, but I can’t handle being frozen out, not for two entire weeks.”

  “I promise,” I say, my body basically buzzing because I’m so damn eager to be close to her, to touch her, to try to make up for basically passing her at school with nothing more than a nod or forced smile. “So, we’re good then?”

  “I am if you are.”

  I’m up and off my end of the couch and eating up the distance between she and I because these past two weeks have felt like an eternity, and I want to pick up right where we left off before Austin complicated things. Next to her now, my breath pretty much caught in my chest, I don’t want to fuck this up.

  “Tyler…” She brings her hand to my jaw, tracing it with her fingers, our legs touching now and our eyes locked.

  I edge in closer, putting my arm around her and wanting nothing more right now than to kiss her… and I do… softly at first, enough to savor the plump smoothness of her lips and the light fruity taste of whatever lip stuff she’s wearing. But it’s hard to hold back when being this close makes me ache for her, makes me want to pretty much devour her.

  I move my arm behind her back, gripping her hip and pulling her closer to me as I kiss her harder, her hands having moved to the back of my head and wrangling through my hair. I drag her into my lap, every one of her touches sending shivers of pleasure throughout my entire body, including between my legs, and with her sitting on me, there’s no way in hell she’s not going to feel how fucking hard I am for her.

  I’m burning for her, every move I make being led by my need for her. When I release my lips from hers, she’s breathless, and her eyes are just as heavy and as full of longing as I know mine must be. I need my lips back on her, so I move her hair out of the way and connect with her long, silky neck, slowly moving down and pushing the fabric of her sweater away from the curvy shoulder that my lips can’t seem to get enough of.

  “I want to… ” she whispers, dragging her hand to the hem of my shirt and then pushing underneath it to my bare skin.

  The sensation of her touch is just what I want, but I still pull my lips from her neck and put my hand over hers before she can go further, before she can touch and trace my scars, some of which burn with a dull, never-ending ache, others that are numb and without any sensory receptors left, and yet I still feel her and want to feel her more. But the shell around my life is a hard one to break, and like a bad habit, I ease away from her and catch my breath.

  “I’m not sure we should,” I tell her, wanting to like nothing else, but afraid that rejection could still come.

  “I am,” she says, her sweet, caring eyes swept with desire.

  “There’s so much I have to tell you first,” I get out, not wanting to ruin the moment but feeling like I have to, like I won’t be able to relax if she doesn’t understand where I’m coming from.

  She shakes her head. “You can tell me later. I know there’s something, but it won’t matter to me. It won’t change what I feel for you.”

  I desperately want to believe that.

  “You don’t know that,” I say.

  “I do.” She glides the fingers of her other hand against my cheek, adding more fuel to my fire for her.

  Instead of answering, I remove my hand from hers. She takes it as a green light and pushes her hand further up
and underneath my shirt, over the nasty gnarl of scars and up to my chest. I’m sure she must see that she has me now because her touch sends shivers and sparks of electricity up and down through every inch of my body, seemingly even to the inches that are damaged and without feeling. It’s been too damn long since I’ve been touched like that, and it feels amazing, and I don’t want it to stop.

  Her movements encourage my own, and now I’m revving back up to full speed, my hands all over the curves and the smooth skin of her body. And she isn’t shy about showing more of herself to me, maneuvering out of my lap and slipping out of her boots, leggings and sweater before I’ve even had a chance to loosen the button of my jeans.

  “Beautiful… so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, tracing my lips against as much of her bare skin as I can get to.

  There’s only so much we can do on the couch—and it would be a nightmare if my parents walked in on this—so, while I’m almost still fully clothed, I painfully pull myself away from her, stand up and offer her my hand. She takes it, and I lead her to my room, my body, mind and heart all in control. For a second I’m worried that my room is messier than I’d like her to be seeing it, but it’s at least not full of dirty laundry or old food like it was last weekend.

  “Nice room,” she teases as I close the door behind us.

  “Nicer girl,” I say, lifting her up so that she easily spreads her legs around my waist, locking them behind me while she firmly wraps her arms around my neck.

  Gently, I push her up against the door, supporting the curve of her ass with my hands, our tongues entwined in one another’s mouths again. I’m beyond being rock hard now, and there’s only one way this can end, at least one way I hope it will end, and I’m really not looking forward to a cold shower being a very distant second option.

  “Do you want to, uh?” I get out, pulling my lips away from hers and looking into her eyes to be sure she’s willing to go as far as I’m now wanting to.

  She nods, then says, “Yes… I really do.”

  “Good,” I say, holding her body close to mine and carrying her to my bed, laying her down gently and unable to take my eyes off of her, this beautiful, nearly naked girl who wants me, maybe just as much as I desperately want her.