River Wild

by Towle, Samantha

  His gaze comes up to mine. “What?” He’s smiling.

  I chuckle again, shaking my head. “Nothing. You just make me laugh.”

  He seems to like that from the look on his face.

  Olive kicks again, drawing his eyes back to my bump.

  “God, it’s fucking amazing, Red.” He shakes his head. “You have a baby inside of you right now.”

  “Five months now,” I deadpan.

  His eyes come back to mine. “You know what I mean. Of course, I knew you were pregnant, but it wasn’t …”

  He’s struggling to find the right word, so I offer one up. “Real.”

  “Yeah.” His eyes flicker down and then come back to mine to stay. “It wasn’t real. Until now.”

  His eyes are still staring into mine, and I’m looking right back into those dark depths of his.

  I feel it—the exact moment something shifts between us. Like it snaps and then clicks into place. I know he feels it, too.

  I don’t quite know exactly what it is or what it means, but I just know that it matters.

  It matters a lot.

  Carrie

  I hum along to the lyrics of “I Found” by Amber Run, which is playing from my phone, while I fit the mobile onto the baby’s crib.

  It’s adorable. I ordered it from a store online. It has clouds and stars hanging from it. And hanging in the middle is a crescent moon, and an elephant is sleeping on it.

  The delivery box was waiting on my doorstep for me when I got home, so of course, I had to fit the mobile to the crib straightaway.

  The nursery is almost done. The walls are fresh with the color I picked out. On the wall directly above the crib, there is a black-and-gold decal sticker that says, Dream Big, Little One, with stars and a crescent moon surrounding them. Olive’s crib is a brown wooden sleigh crib. The cream bedding with little gold stars is on the mattress. The crib bumper fitted to the crib. Matching chest of drawers and the changing table sit nicely around the room. Baby clothes hang in the closet and are folded up in the drawers. I have a rocking chair over by the window, so I can feed Olive during the night.

  River pulled up the old carpet and sanded and varnished down the floorboards. It looks amazing. I got a fluffy white rug for the floor, which Buddy has taken a liking to sleeping on.

  River’s been such a big help in getting the room ready these past few weeks. I don’t think I could’ve done it without him. But, of course, I won’t admit that.

  I’m an independent woman nowadays.

  River has become incredibly important to me.

  He’s my friend. Probably my best friend.

  But it also feels like things have shifted between us. There’s a slow, shimmering attraction there. I feel it. I think he does, too. Or maybe I’m just imagining it, and it’s all on my part.

  Either way, I have no intention of acting upon it.

  I would never do anything to risk our friendship.

  I’d say we have a unique friendship though.

  It’s like we know everything about each other and absolutely nothing at all.

  We know the basic facts. The likes and dislikes.

  But we don’t know the big stuff.

  He doesn’t know about Neil. Or my life before Carrie. When I was still Annie Coombs.

  I don’t really know anything of his past.

  I know about his mom. And that he lived with his gran in the house that he still lives in now.

  But I also know there’s more from his past that I don’t know.

  His eyes are that of a survivor.

  He has seen things and knows things he never should’ve.

  And I don’t just mean the murder of his stepfather.

  I mean the reason his stepfather was murdered.

  There was a reason River’s mom shot her husband that day. And something tells me that reason was River.

  Or I could be way off.

  But I’m not going to ask him. And he won’t ask me about my past.

  It’s an unspoken agreement between us. Because neither of us wants to discuss our pasts by bringing up the other’s.

  We want to leave them just there. In the past.

  “Red?”

  The sound of River’s voice has me turning my head.

  “Baby’s room,” I call to him.

  I listen to the sound of his boots against the floor as he makes his way toward me.

  Tightening the last plastic fitting to the crib, I stand back to admire the mobile.

  “The mobile came,” he says, entering the room. “Looks good.”

  “Doesn’t it?” I smile, turning to him.

  He has a box in his hands, and a small brown paper bag sits on the top of it.

  “What’s in the box?” I ask.

  I’m pretty sure I already know what’s in the paper bag. River has taken to bringing me fruit every week for the day the baby hits that size. This week is a large mango.

  “A gift.” He crosses the room and puts the box down on the changing table.

  I follow him over there, standing beside him. I stare down at the box. My heart starts to pound an erratic beat, like it always does when I’m this physically close to him.

  He hands me the paper bag. I reach inside and pull out a mango.

  I smile up at him. “You want to share?” I ask him, knowing what his answer will be.

  His nose wrinkles up. “No. And I still can’t believe you eat the fruit babies that I bring you. It’s fucking gross, Red.”

  I laugh out loud, holding the piece of fruit up. “It’s a mango. Not an actual baby. And I’m not just going to let a perfectly good piece of fruit go to waste.”

  “You let the spaghetti squash go to waste last week.”

  “Yeah, but that was gross.” Honestly, I only eat the fruit to wind him up. I think it’s adorable how it freaks him out. “You’re cute. You know that?” I tell him, bumping his hip with mine.

  “I’m not fucking cute,” he grumbles. “Bunnies are cute. Puppies and kittens are cute. I most definitely am not.”

  No. You’re beautiful. Inside and out.

  “True. You’re more like a bear. But a cute, fluffy bear, one that will rip someone’s head off if they get too close to you.”

  “Better. Marginally,” he mutters, frown lines marring his brow. “And are you gonna open the fucking gift anytime today?”

  “Am I supposed to? You never said it was for me. You just said it was a gift.” I smile sweetly up at him.

  “Smart-ass.” His eyes smile down at me. “Of course it’s for you. Now, will you just open it? Oh, and FYI, Red, it’s not edible.”

  “Hilarious.” I pull open the top of the box and stare down into it.

  Oh my God.

  “You made this?” I ask even though I know he did. It has his artistic touch all over it.

  “It’s a light fixture,” he tells me, like he needs to explain. “For the baby. But, if you don’t like it, it’s fine. I won’t be offended.”

  “Not like it?” I drag my eyes from the light fixture and stare up at him. “I love it, River. So much. Thank you.”

  The tips of his ears are red. That’s his tell when he’s nervous or embarrassed.

  “Do you want me to put it up now?”

  “Yes,” I say eagerly.

  I wait while he goes and gets a screwdriver. I watch as he takes down the old hanging light fixture and then carefully gets his from the box and fits it to the wires before screwing it to the ceiling.

  “Should I turn it on?” he asks.

  I nod, staring up at it.

  He flicks the switch on, and it comes to life. Not that it wasn’t already alive with the mix of colors. There must be forty different glass balloons, all varying sizes, hanging on thin wires from the metal fitting, where the lights gleam down on them, alighting the multiple colors. There are numerous shades of reds, greens, yellows, oranges, and blues.

  It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

  He steps cl
oser to me. “Is it okay?” he asks with an uncertainty that I’ve come to know from him.

  For all his brash and bravado, River is also incredibly insecure and shy.

  I turn my face to his. “It’s perfect. Olive is going to love it. I love it.” I press my hand to my chest.

  He smiles, and it’s blinding. My heart swells, feeling like it’s tripled in size.

  River and I rarely touch each other. I don’t know if it’s a conscious thing on either of our parts, but it’s just not something we do.

  Neither of us are tactile people. But I want him to know just how much this means to me. That he took the time to make this for Olive.

  So, I reach up on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “Thank you so much, River,” I whisper close to his ear. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”

  He doesn’t hug me back. I feel a shudder run through his body. Not knowing what it means, I release him and step back.

  “Sorry, I just—”

  “No,” he says low.

  His hand reaches out and catches hold of mine.

  Our eyes meet. For once, his aren’t guarded. I can see right into them, and they’re telling me everything I haven’t been sure about.

  I can feel his hand trembling as he lifts mine and places it against his chest. Over his heart.

  I flatten my palm. I can feel his heart pounding beneath his solid chest.

  “You make it do that,” he roughly tells me.

  My stomach flutters, and whether it’s the baby or him making it do so, I can’t tell. But it’s definitely him that has my heart fighting to catch pace with his.

  His hand leaves mine. He gently runs his knuckles down my cheek. His thumb traces a path over my lips. My breath hitches.

  I swallow down.

  The tenderness of his touch … the intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming.

  Almost.

  “Red,” he whispers, lowering his face to mine.

  A kiss to my forehead. The barest of touches. His stubble brushes over my skin. It’s softer than I thought it would be.

  I close my eyes.

  His lips press gently to my temple.

  To my cheek.

  My jaw.

  His nose grazes mine.

  I feel his warm breath against my lips.

  “Carrie.”

  I open my eyes. He’s staring straight into mine. Those dark depths of his are wide open to me in a way they’ve never been before.

  Then, he closes them.

  And presses his mouth to mine.

  The softest of touches.

  His lips brush over mine.

  Once. Twice.

  I sigh, parting my lips.

  His tongue runs along the seam.

  I curl my fingers in his shirt.

  “Jesus, Carrie,” he groans.

  I feel that groan everywhere.

  He cradles my face in those big, talented hands of his and fits his mouth over mine.

  My toes curl into the rug beneath my feet.

  He kisses me hard and soft, all at the same time.

  He kisses me like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

  He touches me with reverence.

  Like it matters.

  Like I matter.

  Then, Olive decides to start kicking. And I mean, kicks hard. River feels it.

  He chuckles against my lips. “Feisty, like her mama.”

  “Her?” I question.

  “Definitely.”

  His hand slides into my hair, bringing my head to rest against his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Carrie …” he says in a quiet voice, filled with something that instantly squashes my good feeling.

  “Don’t …” I say quietly. “Don’t spoil the moment.”

  So, he doesn’t.

  He doesn’t say another word.

  Carrie

  River is driving us into the city, so I can go shopping for a stroller. I could have come alone, but he said he’d like to come with me. I think he worries about me driving the more pregnant I get.

  I’m seven months pregnant now. Olive is the size of a cabbage. I made a slaw with the one River brought me. He, of course, refused to eat it.

  He’s so weird.

  It’s been seven weeks since River kissed me. And nothing.

  He hasn’t talked about it or made any move to do the same.

  And neither have I.

  But I still go to sleep every night with the feel of his lips on mine.

  I’m not sure why he hasn’t kissed me again. I can still feel the attraction there between us, and it’s only gotten stronger since the kiss.

  It’s hard to keep my feelings in check at times when I’m around him as much as I am and as hormonal as I currently am.

  But he’s choosing to ignore what’s happening between us. Or not, as the case might be. That means I’m doing the same.

  I think it’s because I’m pregnant. Why he hasn’t kissed me again.

  And I can understand that.

  I’m carrying another man’s child. A man who River has no clue about.

  Of course he doesn’t want to get into any form of romantic entanglement with me.

  Because it’s not just me he’d be getting tangled up with.

  It’d be the baby as well.

  No, it’s better that we’re just friends.

  I need to focus on becoming a mom, which is fast approaching. Hence the stroller shopping.

  “You okay, Red?” River’s deep voice carries across the inside of the truck. “You’re quiet over there. And you’re never quiet.”

  I smile at him. “Just a little tired. The diner was busy today.”

  “The diner’s always busy. You shouldn’t be working up to the birth.”

  “I only get six weeks paid maternity leave, so that’s all I can afford to take.” And that’s really good because most places don’t pay maternity leave at all, but thankfully, I have an awesome boss. “And I want to spend those six weeks with the baby before I have to go back to work.” And put Olive in daycare. But I’m choosing not to think about that just yet.

  River huffs but says nothing more on the subject.

  He parks the car into a parking spot close to the baby store, and we both climb out of his truck.

  I have a fairly good idea of what I want after looking at strollers online, so we shouldn’t be in here too long. I know how much men dislike shopping, and I figure River is no different.

  Once the stroller is purchased, I’ll ask River if he fancies getting dinner out. I’m hungry, and I could really go for pizza right now.

  River holds the door to the store open for me, and I walk inside.

  Holy strollers! There are loads of them.

  “Please tell me you know exactly which stroller you want,” River says close to my ear.

  I hold back the shiver I feel.

  I meet his eyes. “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “Thank God.”

  He exhales, and I laugh softly.

  “I want the travel system one,” I tell him as we walk over to the strollers. “You can buy the car seat to go with them. It clips into the stroller. And they’re really lightweight.”

  “Travel system with car seat. Gotcha. This way.” River points to the sign that says Travel System Strollers.

  We walk over to them. He walks at my slow, waddling pace and places his hand on my lower back, guiding me.

  Every sense and nerve ending in my body is focused on that one single place where his hand is touching.

  “Okay, so any specific brand you want?” he asks, moving away to look at a red stroller, his hand leaving my back.

  I’m not disappointed at all.

  Okay, well, just a little disappointed.

  “There was one that I saw online. The Nuna. It has gray fabric—found it.” I clap my hands in delight. It looks just as good as it did online. “It’s really nice.” Expensive. But totally wor
th it. “What do you think?”

  No response.

  “River?” I lift my gaze from the stroller to him to find his eyes fixed in the opposite direction of me. “River,” I say his name firmer, but he still doesn’t seem to hear me, and he’s not exactly far away.

  I look in the direction of where he’s looking. All I can see are people looking at strollers.

  “River!” I holler his name to get his attention, and it works.

  His eyes flick to mine. “What?” he snaps, taking me back a step.

  My eyes widen in surprise. “I was talking to you.”

  “And?”

  He’s acting like an ass. It’s been a while since he’s behaved like this around me.

  “And you were ignoring me. What were you looking at?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Didn’t seem like nothing,” I challenge.

  His body is all rigid. Tight with tension. And his hands are clenched at his sides.

  Something, or someone, has got him spooked.

  And I don’t like it. It’s worrying me.

  I look over my shoulder in that direction, trying to see what’s got him so agitated.

  “Did you see someone? From your … past maybe?” I ask quietly.

  Considering I know nothing about his past, it’s a pretty broad question. But I don’t want to say nothing. I want him to know I care. That I’m here.

  “Stop prying into my business,” he says low and harsh. “Which you know exactly fucking zero about. And buy the fucking stroller, which is what you came here to do.”

  Jerk.

  Tears sting my eyes.

  I hate pregnancy hormones. They make me cry way more easily than I normally would.

  Biting the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay, I turn back to the stroller, not really in the mood for shopping anymore.

  So long as it keeps Olive safe, that’s all that matters.

  I see a store worker passing by and wave to catch his attention.

  “Can I help you?” he asks, approaching me with a kind smile.

  At least someone’s being kind at the moment.

  Unlike the big horse’s ass standing behind me.

  “Yes. I’d like to take this stroller.” I pat it with my hand.

  “Of course. I’ll have one brought up to the cash register for you.”

  “Thank you.” I walk away, heading for the cash registers, not even bothering to look if River is following me or not.