Soft Wild Ache (Crown Creek)

by Theresa Leigh

  She took a deep breath and I forced myself to listen as she continued. "I think I could belong there, though."

  I pulled her to me and kissed her again, this time on the lips. "I'm so glad."

  "Oh!" Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "They ask me to join the choir!"

  "Oh angel, that's wonderful! Do you think you're going to?"

  "Yeah." She smiled shyly. "And I'm going to sing as loud as I want, too."

  I nodded. "Damn straight you are. And I'm going to come watch you do it."

  She looked surprised. "You'd do that? I didn't think you were religious."

  I just kissed her. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. Or maybe my religion was Rachel. "I know it's hot as balls out here," I said with a stifled yawn. "But I'm dying for a cup of coffee."

  Rachel wrinkled her nose as she fell into step with me. "Finn still not sleeping?"

  I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to think about the bad turn my brother had taken. Ever since we came home from New York, he'd been broodier. He was awake into the wee hours of the morning, and then slept most of the day. After the high of the New York City trip, he had crashed back down hard. I was worried about him, and I hated feeling like I had to cut my time short with Rachel to check in on him. I knew he hated it too, telling me again and again that he didn't want to be a burden.

  He wasn't a burden. He was my brother. "He got a few hours in I guess." I yawned again and smiled at Rachel's worried expression. "He was still asleep when I left, so I think we're okay."

  She nodded and then the corner of her mouth curled up into a wicked little smile. "Good. Because I'm dying for a cup of Satan's brew too. After the caffeine withdrawal headache I got while at the compound, I never want to be without my coffee again."

  "Spoken like a true addict," I teased her, then paused when I saw the way her mouth turned down. "What's up?" I asked, but I knew. She was thinking about it again. That nightmare week she'd spent. How she'd been hurt by the people she trusted and nearly forced into marrying someone she barely knew. She thought she'd been going back to the place she'd belonged because that's what they'd told her. "Hey, no one can tell us where we belong," I reminded her. "No one else can make that choice for us."

  "I know." Her voice was faint at first, then she nodded with sudden resolve. She looked up at me. "And I know where I belong." She slipped her hand into mine and smiled. She didn't have to say it. I already knew.

  Wherever she was, was where I belonged.

  Epilogue

  Rachel

  Beau was being weird.

  "Are you sure you don't need any help?" I stepped directly into his path as he dashed past me yet again. "Because you sure look like you could use some."

  He gave me a quick kiss. "I told you to sit." He nodded to the kitchen chair where I had been parked for over an hour.

  "I've been sitting," I complained, but dutifully went back over to his kitchen table and sat down again. "Hey, Beau?" He turned back at the back door and looked at me. "Why do you have a black smudge on your face?"

  He reached up and wiped his cheek, smearing the black even more, and then sighed. "You're impossible to surprise."

  I sat up. "Bonfire?" I sniffed the air, then jumped up in excitement. "Yes! You're making a bonfire!"

  Car wheels crunched on the gravel drive. Beau ignored my shouted questions, most involving how many marshmallows he'd bought for the occasion to look out over the deck.

  "There he is," he muttered.

  But the car wasn't Finn's, it was Claire's white Jeep. "Claire is coming? Why is Claire here?"

  Beau sighed and threw up his hands. "Fine! It's a Labor Day bonfire. I figured we could end the summer the way we started it."

  I turned and looked at him. "Wow," I said, touched. "That's a great idea."

  He smiled and wrapped his arm around my waist. "Well, it's been a pretty great summer." He kissed the top of my head. "One worth celebrating."

  Behind Claire's car, his father's classic Corvette rumbled to a stop. His parents waved up at us and began the trek up the lawn. Behind them came Jonah's old car that their father had restored for him, with Ruby in the passenger seat. Gabe and Everly jumped out of the cramped back immediately. I squealed to see my friend again. "Everly!!"

  "Look at what happens when I leave you alone!" she teased, gesturing to how I was leaning into Beau. I laughed and went thundering down the deck stairs to hurtle into her, knocking the bag of chips out of her hands.

  The end of summer meant the nights were getting shorter and cooler. Beau herded everyone inside and orchestrated a potluck feast, but all the while he was checking out the window.

  There was still no sign of Finn.

  "How long has he been gone?" I murmured in Beau's ear when we met again at the refrigerator.

  He looked pained. "Since last night, I guess. I don't know. He wasn't here when I woke up. We were up late talking about—" He caught himself and shook his head. "We were up late talking, so I slept in later than normal. I thought maybe he went for a walk, but his car's gone."

  I felt a flash of guilt, remembering how Beau had gone looking for me and found that I had disappeared as well. I slid my arms under his, clinging to him for a moment. He sighed, then lifted one of my hands. Kissing my fingers, he flashed a smile. "He'll be okay."

  "He will," I agreed.

  Beau held my gaze in his hazel one for a long moment and then nodded again. "Okay!" he called over the din of his family. "I've got marshmallows and a bunch of toasting sticks, some of them better than others. Ready, set, go!"

  Gabe shot out onto the lawn at a dead run, elbowing past Jonah, who tackled him around the knees. Which made it easy for Claire to shoot around both of them and claim the best marshmallow toasting stick for herself.

  I nearly fell over the deck I was laughing so hard. "Come on!" Beau urged, waving for me to join them. "I snagged you the second-best stick."

  It was a night just like the first one I'd spent with the Kings. A soft summer's night and the feeling of belonging. I went out onto the lawn and joined the family I'd created for myself.

  Beau put his arm around me. I felt him stiffen when I went to slide my cold hand into his pocket. "What?" I teased. "Too much?"

  He rolled his eyes. "Man, you really are terrible at keeping surprises from."

  The chatter around the bonfire fell silent and everyone looked at us. My heart started thumping so loud I was sure they could all hear it.

  "I wish Finn was here," Beau continued.

  "So wait," I urged. "Whatever it is you have planned, wait to do it until he comes back."

  "No." He took a deep breath. "I'm doing this now."

  He dropped to one knee.

  I heard Claire squeak, and a sigh from his mother. But the only thing I could see was Beau reaching into his pocket and pulling out the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. "Rachel Walker, we belong together. We both know it, fuck, we went through hell to figure it out." I clapped my hands over my mouth to hide my disbelieving giggle at the fact that he was cursing during his proposal. He grinned sheepishly when he realized. "Sorry. But yeah. We figured it out, and now I'm sure. I'm more sure of this than I've ever been of anything. I want to belong to you forever." He stood up and slipped the ring onto my finger. "Will you belong to me?"

  I looked around at the happy faces watching us, holding their breath, waiting to find out if I would belong to them too. The only face that was missing was Finn's and I knew it had to be killing Beau that he was doing this without his twin here to see it. And that made me love him even more. "Yes!" I shouted, clasping his smooth face between my hands. "I'll belong to you. I'll marry you. Yes, yes, yes!"

  Everyone clapped as I kissed him. Gabe whooped so loud that it covered up my whispered request so that only Beau heard it. "But only on one condition."

  He pulled back and looked at me, worry furrowing his brow. "What's that?"

  I cupped his face again. "You have to grow back the beard."

  THE EN
D

  Thank you for reading Soft Wild Ache! I hope you loved Beau and Rachel’s story. And if you’re wondering where on earth Finn is, his sexy, sometimes hilarious, sometimes gut-punchingly emotional story is coming soon in His Secret Heart! Pre-order it now >

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  Excerpt from Sweet Crazy Song

  Ruby

  The piano music died away. There was a stray cough that sounded like Principal Donovan's persistent dry hack. Then, silence.

  After a moment, Foster King stood up. His family watched him as he stood at the end of his row of chairs, unfolding a piece of torn notebook paper and smoothing it on his thigh before he walked stiffly to the podium in front of us.

  I leaned back and blinked. Watching him meant I had to look at Gideon's casket for the first time. This was the funeral of a man who filled some of the empty space my father left when he died. Not all of it. Who could have?

  But now the emptiness was the size of two dads.

  My ribs were stuck in place, not expanding or retracting, glued with grief.

  When she heard me take a deep, desperate breath, my friend Willa reached over and covered my hand with hers. "You're okay," she mouthed. Always the mother hen, even at a funeral. She handed me a tissue and then reached past me to hand one to Sadie who was sitting on my left. Sadie took it without looking, her eyes faraway, dreaming of being in some place nicer than a funeral home at ten in the morning on a gray November day. Willa nodded as I wiped my nose. "You're okay," she repeated, nodding like the force of her love could make it true.

  I nodded, my eyes filling with tears, but she was wrong. I wasn't okay. Gideon was in that box. My second chance at a father figure, my mentor at the school, and he was gone now.

  I knew people thought it was strange that a twenty-three year old woman and a forty-six year old man could be such good friends. Good friends without a trace of the weirdness that usually plagues male / female friendships. Gid said it was because I was an old soul and he was a big kid. I told him he was right, then admonished him to sit up straight before he threw his back out.

  He always roared with laughter at that.

  He was never going to laugh again, and that was the part that hurt the most. How a man like him could just...end. How was I supposed to do anything now?

  I dragged my eyes away from that box where Gideon lay silent and still, and back up to the podium.

  Mr. King cleared his throat. "Thank you all," he said into the small mic, voice catching before growing stronger. "I am glad to see all of the people here today. My little brother was a hard guy to get to know." His voice caught again. "But an easy guy to love all the same."

  Mrs. King was nodding in front row. Claire rested her head on her mom's shoulder, letting her muss her blonde hair absently. Of course my best friend needed to be up there with the rest of her family, rather than sitting back here with her friends. After all, Gideon was her uncle and lived on their property. But if always made me feel unstable when we got together and one of the four of us was missing. Like a bench with only three legs.

  Next to Claire, her brother Beau was listening to their father, his spine very straight and tall. Finn, his twin brother, was leaning forward so I couldn't see his face. But I could see their brother Gabriel's face all right, and I had to look away because I knew exactly why he looked so angry.

  It was because the seat next to his was empty.

  "I know Gideon wouldn't want us to let our sadness cloud the good memories," Mr. King said. His voice was fading and he had to strain it to get to the end of his eulogy as the wind picked up outside. I touched my cheek, feeling the tears start to track their way down. Willa silently handed me another tissue. Sadie blew her nose quietly. "We all loved him," Mr. King went on. "And I know he loved all of us." His eyes glanced up towards the back and stayed there for a moment.

  I held my breath, wondering if Jonah King had finally arrived.

  But Mr. King just shook his head and looked down again, disappointment flickering across his face. "We're gonna miss you, Giddyup," he said, gruffly patting the casket. "I hope the angels can handle your singing."

  A small ripple of nervous titters came up from the crowd. There was a sound of shuffling and then coughing. I looked over to see that everyone was looking at Isobel Tanner, but she showed no sign of moving, only staring straight ahead with a dazed look of disbelief on her face.

  Dizzy Izzy, as she was known throughout town, was Gideon's long-term girlfriend. At twenty-eight, she was eighteen years younger than him, much closer to my age than his. I felt a burst of sympathy to see her hunched shoulders, suddenly frail looking without her man at her side. They'd been together ten years now, the only love she'd ever had, and to hear Gid tell it, the only one he'd ever had too.

  A hot knife of anger at the unfairness of this all twisted in my gut again as I looked at her. Izzy was fragile, Gid was always saying so. Izzy was the kind of sweet, innocent person the world rushed to protect, to cushion from hurts as deep as this. She should have been selling her herbal tinctures at the Winter Market right now, smiling at all the bundled up kids and touching their heads. She should have been waiting for Gid to pull up in his van to collect her, ready to leap into his arms like their separation had been years instead of hours. This shouldn't have happened to her and it made me so angry that it had.

  Izzy was wearing this light blue dress, totally inappropriate for a funeral, like she had no idea where she was. Her legs were bare, even though it had been sleeting freezing rain this morning when we arrived and...

  "Oh shit," I murmured.

  "What's wrong?" Willa hissed, leaning in.

  "Izzy's barefoot."

  Willa looked over and rolled her eyes. "Oh lord. Where are her shoes?"

  "No idea." I shook my head. The priest had stepped in and was now talking about eternal rest, which sounded like something Gideon would have hated. I tried to look anywhere else, but those bare, dirty toes seemed seared into my retinas. "I have a pair of sneakers in my car," I whispered to Willa. "I'm going to go grab them for her."

  "Don't worry about it, honey," Willa whispered back. "I'm sure she just left them in a corner somewhere."

  I glanced at Izzy again. "Maybe, maybe not. I want her to have the option, though."

  "Don't try to adopt her now," Willa warned. Which was pretty rich coming from a girl who tucked seven packs of tissues into her purse before coming this morning because she thought Sadie and I would forget. Never mind she was right.

  "I'm just getting shoes for her," I said, a little too loudly. Willa's mouth twitched and I knew what she was thinking and she was wrong. I wasn't trying to take care of Izzy just because Gid was gone now. I just...

  I had shoes. She needed shoes. Seemed like a no-brainer. It was the right thing to do.

  "If it ends before I'm back, tell Claire I'm coming," I told Willa. She shook her head, but Sadie snapped out of her daydream and nodded, still wiping her nose.

  I ducked past Willa into the aisle and scooted towards the doors in the back, pausing to rest my hand on Izzy's shoulder as I did. My threadbare woolen coat was hanging in the vestibule. I never wore the thing, but my usual practical bright purple puffy jacket seemed the wrong attire for a funeral.

  I was still buttoning up my coat when the car screeched in to the lot of Lowry Funera
l home. It had the shiny glaze of newness on it, and the plates were from out of state. I tracked it as it circled slowly before it finally, almost begrudgingly, shoved its way into the last spot in the row.

  My heart was already racing. Grief and worry spun around in my head, crashing into each other until a new emotion was born.

  Fucking rage.

  I threw open the funeral home door, ignoring the slam that ricocheted like a gunshot off the low rolling hills, and tore down the stairs to stand guard. Fuck him if he thought he was going to rush in and interrupt the service like some hero. He could wait til it was all over and live with the fact he'd missed it. Like hell was I going to let him make Gid's funeral all about him.

  The car sat silent at the end of the row for a moment. Leaves skittered across the pavement in the chilly breeze, but anger had me warm enough that it may as well have been a blazing hot day in June. I took a breath, ready to storm down to the car and confront him right then.

  But finally the door opened and Jonah King leaped out.

  His haircut wasn't a surprise. The tabloid that covered it was still sitting in the dentist's office six months after the fact. I'd seen him, even as I pretended to avoid him. He was still working, honing his solo career after the King Brothers broke up two years ago. He'd opened a leg of Wreckage's US tour, played festivals, and showed up for bit parts and cameos in B-movies. His face was as familiar to me as my own at this point. So I knew exactly how upset he was right now.

  But anger tightened in my chest all the same. "You missed it," I called.

  He stopped short. "Ruby," he exhaled, taking me in. "You cut your hair."

  There was a brief flash of pleasure tinged confusion that he would have noticed that, but I crossed my arms over my chest all the same. "The priest is giving the blessing," I went on as if he hadn't interrupted. "Your dad already gave the eulogy, so..." I trailed off. He was fifty yards away from me, across a bitterly cold parking lot, but I could still feel it.