The Fiction of Forever (A Stand By Me Novel Book 2)

by Brinda Berry

  He flips the flashlight off and my eyes adjust to the dark. Stars twinkle through the mesh rectangle at the top of the tent.

  Gunner puts a hand out and touches my hair. “Why is your hair damp? You’re going to freeze,” he says.

  “Took a shower.” Thunder sounds in the distance and I’m glad I made it back before any rain.

  “Hm.” He scoots closer. “You smell nice. Get inside the sleeping bag or you’ll freeze. Keep your head tucked under the blanket.”

  He reaches over and lifts the edge of the sleeping bag. Wind whistles around the tent.

  “Go on. I don’t bite,” he says.

  I get inside the bag and snuggle in. “Thanks.”

  “You like that guy?”

  “Who?”

  “Director Tony.”

  I roll my eyes. “I told you. It’s not like that.”

  “But you were going to sleep in his tent?”

  “My relationship with Tony is purely platonic. You were going to have me sleep in your tent and we’re only friends.”

  “Hm.” He puts one arm behind his head. “About the other night when you came by. I shouldn’t have let you leave like you did.”

  “No. I needed to leave.” The faint tremor in my voice gives away my vulnerability.

  “I have a hard time with the opposite sex.”

  “Please. You should stop right there.”

  “OK. If you say so.”

  He puts a hand on my my head and slides fingers into my hair, then pulls it back. “Still wet. You shouldn’t have washed it. It’ll take forever to dry.”

  When he reached across to my head, I stopped breathing. Now I realize he was only being practical. I stare at his profile, a strong jaw and wide mouth set in a hard line. “Do you really have trouble with women, or was that a line? Because I’m having a hard time imaging you having trouble with anything.”

  We’re both silent for a while as the wind blows and leaves tumble. I’ve almost given up that he’ll answer when he clears his throat.

  “It’s the truth,” he says.

  A powerful gust of wind shakes the sides of the tent. I peer through the darkness, now deeper since clouds cover the previously starry sky. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Why do I suspect I won’t like it?”

  “You don’t have to answer.”

  “I’ll tell you anything.” There’s a raw, honest timbre in his voice.

  “Tell me what happened when you moved that year.”

  “Not much to tell.”

  “What happened to your mom? How did she die?”

  “Cancer. She got breast cancer.” His low words hold a sadness that vibrates through the air.

  “You loved her a lot.” It’s so easy to hear in his voice. I reach across and capture his hand in mine, squeezing his big palm gently. He’s breaking my heart simply thinking of how hard he had it.

  “Yeah. I did. Sometimes you remind me of her.”

  I draw in air quickly, not expecting that at all. “How’s that?”

  “She was sassy and bold. She knew what she wanted. She was a strong woman…until the end.”

  “She’d be proud of the man you are.”

  “Hm…” he says. “She would sometimes. Right now she’d whip my ass.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She’d want me to be more honorable than I am.”

  I can hear the smile at the edges of his statement. “Honorable how?”

  “I’m trying to think of a way to tell you I pissed Addison off on purpose so she’d leave.”

  I pull my hand out of his and smack him on the arm while I laugh. “You’re kidding. Right? Tell me you didn’t do that. I can’t believe you admitted it.”

  “On the other hand, maybe Mom’s looking down on me and is proud of my ingenuity.”

  He grabs my hand again and pulls me to him in slow motion. I’m half in and half out of my bag, unable to resist the tug he has on me physically and emotionally.

  His breath tickles the edge of mouth. “Maybe she’d want me to do whatever makes me happy.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Taste

  Current Day

  Gunner

  “Don’t, Gunner,” Kiley breathes with our mouths almost touching. She allows her head to fall back and closes her eyes. “We cannot do this.”

  “Sure we can.” I trail two fingers down the front of her beautiful neck and stop at her collarbone.

  Her eyelids fly open and flash murder at me. “You are dating women.”

  “Not by choice.”

  She ignores my protest. “I am not one of these women.”

  “Again, not my choice.”

  She snorts and wrestles her way back into her sleeping bag. “You signed a contract. You made the decision to do the show.” She points her finger at me. “You could’ve called me after I broke it off with Mason.”

  Something surprising blooms in my chest. Hope? A drop of cold water slides down my neck. I ignore it.

  Then another drop. Rain pelts down on the back of my head. “Don’t move,” I say. I’d watched the weather yesterday and didn’t see this coming. I’m a dumbass who didn’t check it again early this morning.

  I stand so I can make sure the sky flap is completely closed. Kiley burrows into her sleeping bag to avoid the now steady stream of water dripping on her side. The tent shakes from the onslaught outside. Thunder claps in a sudden sharp sound that makes me jump.

  In minutes, I’m back inside my sleeping bag and scooting closer to Kiley.

  “Don’t come this way. I think there’s a leak,” she whispers.

  “Are you wet?” No response. I unzip my sleeping bag. “Get into mine. I’m dry.” I’m talking to myself because she doesn’t even make a sound in response. I’ve never in my life known Kiley to be bashful or speechless.

  She crawls out of her bag and stands.

  “I don’t think so. I…um…I” She crouches, glancing from her abandoned sleeping bag to me and back.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask when she stands and stares down at me with her hands on her hips.

  “I don’t want you to expect anything,” she says softly as she peels off her socks and throws them to the side. Kiley stares at her bare feet.

  Hesitating so much it makes me grin in the dark.

  “Maybe you’re the one expecting sex.” I roll to my side and hold up the edge of my bag so she can get in.

  “Maybe. But I’m not having sex with you, Gunner Parrish. If that’s on your mind, you can think again. So stop thinking about it…if you are.”

  She sits next to me and slides her bare feet into my bag, sticking them on my leg. I jump at the cold feel of them. Her teeth click together in a barely audible chatter.

  “Hurry before we both freeze,” I say. The temperature outside is dropping.

  She grabs her side of the bag and pulls the zipper up until we’re zipped in tight.

  “Roll to your side or I won’t be able to breathe.” I can’t keep the amusement out of my voice.

  “Sorry I ate those last two hot dogs.” Her sweet giggle tells me she isn’t sorry in the least. She’s having a good time—in the cold and the rain. With me.

  “You made me a happy man when I saw that. Even happier when I noticed the mustard on the corner of your mouth.”

  She sighs, turns and snuggles her ass against me, and I suck in a breath. What the hell does she think I’ll be thinking about with her body tucked up in this position?

  I scoot back an inch so I’m not poking her in the back with my dick.

  “This is nice,” she whispers.

  “Mm.” I bury my nose into her hair and breathe her in.

  “I should get into the other tent when it stops raining.” Her voice turns serious. “This looks bad. You know—me and you alone in here.”

  “Who’s going to know?” I make an effort to keep the lewdness and the subtle hinting out of my tone, but it’s tough.

  She turns her head slig
htly, putting it even closer to my mouth. “Roy will,” she says. “And Tony will when he gets back to load up his tent and stuff.”

  “Roy hopped in and left with Tony and Addison. Didn’t you notice he’s missing?”

  “Why would he do that?” She pauses. “Oh. I guess there’s nothing to film. Wow. They were really concerned about me!”

  I grin into her hair. Actually, Tony had argued that he was going to stick around and let Roy drive Addison back to the city. But then Roy said he has some night vision thing.

  But there’s no way I’m telling her all this. Because I can feel her heart beating and her body relaxing. It doesn’t matter that the rain is falling harder or that the temperature has dropped.

  An odd contentment I haven’t felt in years settles over me. I tuck her body into the curve of mine, spooning within the small space.

  “When I was a kid, I’d camp in my backyard,” I say into her hair. “My mom and dad had this firepit in the back. They’d let me and my friends pretend we were in the wilderness when we were really only a hundred yards from the back door.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “Yeah. Sort of like this—camping in a campground. This isn’t real camping. There’s no electricity or bathrooms where I’d planned to take us.”

  “Oh.” She yawns. “Whatever you say. This feels pretty primitive to me. There were no hairdryers in the bathroom.”

  I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. “Sweet dreams.”

  “You, too. Good night, Gun.” She exhales in a slow, satisfied whoosh.

  Gun. It’s a nickname used only by the people closest to me. “If you need to go to the bathroom, wake me up. Don’t go alone.”

  “Sure,” she mutters, her limbs relaxing even more. My hand rests on her arm due to the close quarters and she pulls it around her as if I’m her human blanket. I don’t have the heart to complain that she’s torturing me.

  I fall asleep to the sound of rain and another sound—her light snoring. It’s a damned relief that she’s not perfect.

  Or maybe she is.

  * * *

  I drift deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. I’m inside the local hamburger joint back in Arkansas. No, that’s not right. This place is too nice to be Bambi’s Burgers, because a waitress walks up to us with pen and pad in hand. She wears a funky dress and has a giant nametag pinned above her right breast with the name Vanessa. I look closer to see it’s Vanessa Hudgens from that movie High School Musical—the one my stepsister Veronica watched a million times the year our parents got married. She knows the words to every song.

  Waitress Vanessa Hudgens gives us a huge smile.”What’ll it be?” she asks and then blows a humongous pink bubble with her gum.

  The popping sound startles me in surround sound and I jump. Veronica laughs from the seat across the table.

  Veronica kicks me lightly underneath the table. “Are you going to order or are we going to starve?”

  “OK. We’ll have a couple of cheeseburgers, an order of fries, and another of onion rings. I’ll have a Coke. Nicky-girl? You having a chocolate shake?”

  “Strawberry,” she answers.

  “You’re going to turn into one big strawberry,” I tease.

  She throws a sugar packet at me. “It’s your fault. You got me hooked on strawberry slushies at the store,” she says.

  “You’re killing my profit with your slushie addiction.”

  Her face grows concerned. “For real?” she asks in a low voice. “Sorry Gun. You can take it out of my pay.”

  I push the toe of my boot against her sneaker. “Stop. I was joking. What’s mine is yours.”

  “You’re too good to me.” She looks away from me and up at the waitress placing our drinks on the table.

  I level a scolding eye at her. “We have to watch out for each other. You’re the only one in this world I care about. Don’t ever leave me, OK?”

  Vanessa of High School Musical brings the burgers on a red tray. She sings, “Don’t ever leave. Don’t ever leave. Don’t ever leave.”

  We both ignore her as if it’s normal to have a singing waitress.

  I unwrap my burger from the foil paper and take a bite without looking across from me.

  I shouldn’t have said it out loud. In this diner, I’m nineteen and she’s sixteen. I know this because it’s the year she first worked for me at Gimme Gas. We’ve survived, holding onto each other for stability and normalcy for three years now.

  Grandpa saved us. But a heart attack stole him from us.

  I don’t want to imagine life without Veronica. I don’t want her to leave me like Mom did. Like Grandpa did.

  Suddenly, I look around and we’re not in the diner. We’re in the kitchen at home. I’m hot so I shrug out of my jacket. I’m still wearing that stupid letter football jacket, and I’m too old for that.

  It’s Veronica’s seventeenth birthday because I brought her a cake from the grocery store.

  “I want to spend time with my friends tonight,” she says. “It’s a birthday party for me.”

  Why does she want to leave me? I think of ways to make her stay, but it’s no use. She doesn’t see how she comforts me, makes me want to be the best man I can be.

  “If that’s what you want, Nicky-girl. I thought you might want to spend your birthday with me.” I’ve said too much. I don’t need her to stick around out of guilt. I don’t want her to feel sorry for me.

  From the time we were thrown together as teenagers in a household on the verge of exploding, I’ve been the strong one, lending her my courage when she had none. Now that she’s ready to fly away, I can’t bear the thought of being alone.

  She gets up from the sofa and comes to stand before me with a small smile. The I’m-trying-to-be-patient one. “Let’s do something tomorrow, Gun. OK? I promise.”

  “Sure. It’s fine,” I lie.

  She turns her back and the kitchen disappears.

  I’m sixteen and at the hospital. Mom’s hooked to an IV bag. Her colorless face rivals the white of the hospital sheet. I look away from her face and look anywhere but her eyes. I touch the tips of her fingers with one hand. A large purple bruise surrounds the tape over the needle stuck in the vein.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  “I feel good today,” Mom says.

  I nod instead of calling her a liar. You can’t call out a woman on her deathbed. A woman acting fucking cheerful because she doesn’t want to make other people feel sad.

  There’s a lump in my throat so big I fight to swallow. Finally, I’m able to control my voice. I finger my cell phone in my pocket. “Want me to make Dad come? I’ll call him. He can get his ass down here.”

  “No, baby.” She hasn’t called me that since I was little. It’s enough to make me bawl like I really am one.

  “Aren’t you gonna tell me to quit cussing?” I grip the sides of the hospital bed rail and my knuckles turn white.

  “No,” she says. “You’re practically a man. Old enough to take care of yourself and old enough to decide the person you want to be.”

  “Not really,” I mumble. “I’m not.”

  “You are. You’ll be a fine man. You’re going to be OK.”

  I let go of the bed rail and back away. Turn two circles, afraid to look at her. Afraid to see that she’s been disappearing for a while and soon it will be forever.

  “I FUCKING won’t! I need you.” My eyes fill with tears. I turn and leave the room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Weakness

  Current Day

  Kiley

  Dawn light filters through the tent walls, creating a leafy pattern of shadows from nearby trees. A frigid wind buffets the nylon fabric, and I shiver. I roll into the warmth of Gunner’s body.

  Even though he’s worked his upper body out of the sleeping bag, his skin radiates heat. Morning stubble in a color a shade darker than his hair stands out along his jawline. A tiny scar sits perched at the top of one eyebrow. I examine the way his eyelashes
curl at the ends. I’ve never noticed it before. But now I have the luxury of seeing every detail of his face up close and unhurried. He’s all man, but those lashes should belong to me.

  His breathing quickens and his eyes move beneath his eyelids.

  “Need you,” he chants several times, as if he’s trying to convince the person in his dream. His pained tone sends daggers straight to my heart.

  I squeeze Gunner’s bicep and gently shake him. “Hey.”

  He shrugs it off. “What? What is it?”

  His gaze darts from the ceiling of the tent to the far corners, but never looking straight at me. His breathing comes in little shallow gulps.

  “It’s me. Kiley.” I need to make the shadows leave his eyes.

  He meets my gaze as I lean close to his chest. After several seconds, he licks his lips and gives me a tremulous smile. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

  “Yeah. You were talking in your sleep.”

  “Bad dream.” He stares up at the top of the tent.

  I resist the urge to hug him. He’s not a child in need of soothing. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” he says too quickly.

  I place my hand on his chest in a comforting way. “It must’ve been a doozie.”

  “Yeah. Well,” he rakes his free hand over his hair. “I’m not used to sleeping with someone. That must be it. Sleeping with you.”

  “Are you saying I give you nightmares?” I tease him.

  He doesn’t laugh as I expect him to. “It’s not a big deal.” He exhales and looks away. “Drop it.”

  His words grate, gruff and final.

  I want to make him feel better. What makes a guy like Gunner afraid? I don’t want to act as though he’s hurt my feelings, but he has.

  “Sure,” I say, my voice tight and my smile tighter.

  “Wait.” He closes his eyes. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  I shrug. “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not.” His lids flutter open and his gaze softens. “You don’t deserve a shitty attitude.”