by K. S. Thomas
“What? You didn’t change that? Appoint someone new?”
She looks at me like I’m the crazy one. The irony here is priceless, but apparently I’m the only one aware of it. “Why would I appoint someone new? You’re my sister. You were there when Sophie was born. You were the second person to ever hold her. The only one who could get her to stop crying when she was teething, and the last person to leave when she was admitted to the hospital with an allergic reaction so bad I thought she might die.”
“All of that was a long time ago. Think of everything I missed in the meantime. I’m like a stranger to her now.” Three years is a long time when you’ve only been around for five.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Quinn. She loves you. You love her. Time hasn’t changed that. Even if it’s changed you.” She pulls me in for a hug, and we’re not huggers, so this is a big deal. “Now more than ever, I know without a doubt that you and only you, are the person I would trust with my daughter’s life. If ever there was a day that I wasn’t here to be her mother anymore, I would find peace in knowing she still had you.”
“Kirsten.” I have to take a deep breath and swallow several times to push back down the emotions she so skillfully wrung to the surface. “I would fuck up your kid faster than they could give you entry to heaven. So just do whatever you have to, to stick around and finish the job yourself.”
She pinches my side and laughs, but she’s wiping her eyes with the palm of her free hand. She even made herself cry. “Deal.”
Sophie comes back, shoes on and backpack in hand. And just in the nick of time. Who knows what other depressing sort of conversations Kirsten and I would have started without her presence to remind us that they were running late for school.
After a round of good bye waves, they’re both out the door and I’m left sitting alone in the kitchen.
I’m about to get up when my phone rings and my heart drops. Devyn. I’m not ready for more bad news just yet.
I bring it out of my pocket to send the call to voicemail when I see the name. It’s not Devyn. It’s Riker. Again.
“Am I going to need to assign you your own ringtone? Like, will you be calling me that often that it would be handy?” There’s a reason hardly anyone calls me. I have zero phone etiquette. Just never saw the point in starting the conversation with ‘hello’. I mean, you’re calling me. As far as I’m concerned, the conversation opens when my phone rings.
“Yes. And I want a good one. And don’t think I won’t test that shit out and call you when I’m sitting next to you just to hear what plays.” He’s completely serious. And my belly does a weird flip flop thing. He does that to me. He’s not supposed to. But he does.
“Fine. But I’m going to have to put some thought into it now. Jeez. Talk about pressure.” I even roll my eyes. Just because I believe in following through.
“Good. I wouldn’t want you to just pick the first song that comes along.” He chuckles and the sound sends a sea of goosebumps down my body. “Anyway, since everyone pretty much knows...what there is to know...now. How do you feel about doing something not inside my apartment tonight?”
I pick at a crusty, dried piece of frosted flake that has glued itself to Kirsten’s kitchen counter via its sugary coating. “You mean like on the roof top terrace? I don’t know, it’s kind of overcast. I’m not sure I’d be into that in the rain.”
“No. I mean, like out. Away from my place. With clothes.”
I stop what I’m doing. Things just got serious. So it’s clearly time to deflect. “With clothes? That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He would.
“I’m going to take that as a refusal to accept no,” I mumble. I don’t know why. I’m actually pretty excited. In spite of myself.
“Take it however you like. I’m coming over at seven. Be ready. And dressed.” He hangs up before I can say anything else. Like, don’t come to my sister’s house. Or...no, that first one would have pretty much covered it.
Since Nate left for work sometime before I even woke up this morning, I abandon the greater part of the house and head downstairs to my own little sanctuary where I spend the day with Harley curled up at my feet and laptop propped up over my knees while I work out of bed. I love what I do. Maybe love is a strong word. I find it satisfying. Redeeming even. And I need that. I need things that grant me some sort of redemption for the things that I’ve done. I can’t say that out loud. Not in front of Kirsten. Or Devyn. Or even my parents, although, I think there are days they wonder about the girl they raised and how it happened that she vanished right before their eyes. But not saying it to any of them, doesn’t keep me from feeling it. And it doesn’t keep me from hoping against all hope that, someday, just maybe, I’ll be able to give back what I took.
The day takes turns flying by and moving slow as molasses. Somewhere along the way, Kirsten comes down and insists I come out of my cave for a meal and I wind up sharing some celery and peanut butter with Sophie while she sings me her rainbow song. Then, I creep back downstairs for the simple solitude my soul craves so much of the time.
I get so involved in working, I don’t notice when time switches back into flying mode and before I know it, six thirty has rolled around and I’m still sitting on my bed in the same clothes I wore last night. My computer nearly meets an untimely end as it almost falls from the bed after I jump up in a panic. I catch it just in time and hurry over to put it back in the safe zone, aka, my desk, then I run for the shower.
Even in record time, I’m not getting ready in under thirty minutes and my level of anxiety gradually climbs when I hear the doorbell at seven while I’m still rushing around my room in my underwear.
Ten minutes later and I’m finally taking the steps two at a time to reach the main level where I find Kirsten and Riker sitting casually in the formal living room having what appears to be a fairly pleasant conversation.
My sister sees me first. “You didn’t tell me you had a date tonight.”
I shrug. “Is it a date? I don’t know. Are we calling it that?” I glance over at Riker expecting him to follow my lead and downplay the whole thing.
“Yes. We’re calling it that.” So much for downplaying. Then he makes matters worse by getting up from the couch and walking straight across the room to where I’m standing. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he pauses a second, then mumbles, “Screw it,” and kisses me. Right there. In front of my sister. And I melt, completely forgetting where we are.
Until I hear Nate’s voice. “Shep?”
Riker breaks away instantly. As soon as he sees Nate, his hand extends to him. “Hey, man. It’s been a long time.”
Nate shakes his hand longer than necessary, but he’s smiling, so I’m assuming everything is okay. “It has been a while.” He laughs. “So, you’re Quinn’s mystery man. Makes sense now. You guys meeting out at the ranch.” He finally let’s go of Riker, who seems oddly interested in the floor.
“Yeah. I guess it would.”
Meanwhile, Kirsten and I have both been flipping our heads back and forth as if we’ve been watching a ping pong match, and while I could continue watching to see how this plays out, Kirsten isn’t nearly that patient. “You two know each other?”
Nate nods. “Oh, yeah. We go way back. What? Third grade?”
“Sounds about right.” Riker’s keeping things more at eye level now, although he’s still not looking at me.
“How crazy.” Kirsten’s tone shifts gears. “Well, you two should get going. Don’t want to keep you from your date any longer.” She’s practically pushing us out the door and I know it’s just so she can pump Nate for more backstory the second we leave. I’m sure she’s assuming I’m eager to do the same thing. Only I’m not. Because I got more backstory than I bargained for the second Nate saw Riker and called him ‘Shep’.
We’re not even touching while we walk out to his truck. It’s ridiculous, because he looks amazing in his worn and slightly ripped
jeans and fitted button up shirt. He’s got the top buttons undone, revealing his usual white t-shirt and the sleeves are rolled up to just below his elbows, showing off his tattoos. Normally, I’d be all over him.
“He called you Shep.”
Riker nods. “He did. Most people I went to school with do.”
We reach his truck and stop.
“You’re James Shepherdson.” I’m not asking. I already know he is. Frankly, I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t realize it sooner. Of course, I wouldn’t have. I didn’t want to know.
“Riker’s my middle name. I’ve always used it. I wasn’t hiding this from you.” He sounds worried and I get now why he was so busy studying the tile work in my sister’s living room. He’s wondering how I’ll react.
“You can’t hide something I deliberately ask you not to show.” After all, I’m the one who refused to listen last night when he wanted to talk. Clearly, this was on the list of things he wanted to share.
He turns toward me, drawing me to him until I have no choice but to look him square in the eyes. “When I first told you this thing between us couldn’t be more, I meant it. I never had any intention of telling you about my past. I was happy going with the fact that you didn’t need anything from me in the present, and I was depending on you never expecting anything from me in the future. Because when you showed up, I didn’t have one. All I had was a fucked up past. And a dead-end present.” He brushes his thumb softly over my cheek. “And now. Fuck. I don’t know what now. All I know is I don’t feel like I did before that day I first saw you. My past is still fucked up. But my present is changing. And maybe that means the future is something I can dare to think about again.”
I shake my head. I don’t mean to. The second I do, a darkness rolls over his eyes and I know I’ve hurt him. It’s the last thing I’m trying to do. The opposite of what I want. I take his face in both my hands and kiss him. Deeply. And so long, I’m out of breath when I finally speak. “I’m not saying no to you, Riker. I’m saying I can’t say yes.” The quiver in my own voice shocks me.
“So say maybe.” His deep voice is husky and slightly strained. This is getting to him as well.
“I can’t. I want to. I just can’t.” I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. “I’m not staying, Riker. I have to go back home in August.”
“For good?”
I nuzzle my face into his shirt and nod. “I have some things to take care of there. Things I knew I would have to do long before I met you. I just didn’t know when.”
His chin comes down to rest beside my ear. “Is this some of the stuff you didn’t want to dig up last night?”
“I still don’t. Can’t we just take the next two months and spend as much or as little of it together as we want? Can’t that be enough?”
I can hear him sigh and feel his breath move through my hair until it touches my skin with its warmth. “No. It’s not enough.” He moves back, taking me from the safe spot I’d carved out for myself on his chest. “But I’ll take it.” He kisses my forehead. Then the tip of my nose. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me for however long you give it.” He doesn’t have to move in for my mouth because I’m already reaching for his, my lips open and starving for him as if it’s been weeks since I’ve kissed him, not minutes.
When we finally separate I’m not sure how long we’ve been standing in my sister’s driveway anymore, and I’m fairly certain she’s spying on us from the window in the kitchen if she’s aware of our presence.
“We should probably get out of here. Provided you still want to take me on this date thing.”
“Are you kidding? For the next two months, this date thing is going to be the norm. I’m going to cram everything I can possibly think of into every second between now and August.” He takes my hand and leads me to the passenger side of his truck.
“Why? What was wrong with how we’ve done things up until now?”
He opens the door for me and even helps me up. I’d almost forgotten guys in pick-up trucks did that. Then hurries around to the driver’s side and gets in as well.
“Nothing. Nothing was wrong with it. And we’ll still be keeping that stuff the same. We’re just adding to it. Because when you leave here, I don’t want to be just be the guy you were screwing in North Carolina.”
I twist my head back halfway. “Who do you want to be?”
He just starts up the truck, grinning like he’s about to get me good. “I’m not telling you. But you’ll figure it out when I’m no longer just the guy you’re screwing in North Carolina.”
“What, are you planning on taking me over state lines and screwing me there, too?” I’m doing it again. Using stupid jokes to avoid the stuff that scares me. The feelings. Well, it’s not the feelings that scare me really. It’s finding out whether or not I actually have any. And finding out I have them is not what terrifies me. It’s finding out I don’t. Because if I can’t feel something for him, I’ll never feel anything for anyone. It’s an ugly truth I live with day in and day out, but it seems magnified now, and harder to bear with every day Riker continues to be in my life.
He doesn’t say much of anything the entire drive, just holds my hand, rubbing the top of it with the inside of his thumb. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it’s a gesture he’s making for no other reason than that he wants to, which sort of takes it from simple to significant.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.”
I’m not particularly fond of surprises. They rarely seem to work out for me. “Can you at least tell me if I’m dressed appropriately?” I went with jeans this time. And the boots he was so eager to show his disdain for the first time we met.
“Nope.”
“You’re not giving up anything, are you? Not one itty bitty clue even?”
He briefly takes his eyes off the road to flash me a satisfied smirk. “Nope.”
“Fine.” My inner two year old is tempted to yank my hand from his out of spite, but then I’d just have to come cowering back a second later, my fingers creeping past his palm to lock in with his. Pouting wouldn’t be worth the humiliation.
Thankfully, it isn’t much longer before he turns the truck down a small dirt road leading away from the main drag. Shortly after, a house becomes visible at the end of it.
“What is this place?”
“It’s the Butterfly Inn. Don’t worry we’re not staying the night.” He parks the truck and kills the engine. “We’re just here for their chocolate fondue. They have other food too, obviously, but why ruin a perfectly good appetite with real food when we can go straight for dessert?”
I slant my eyes at him suspiciously. “Who are you? And what woman has been telling you all of our secrets?”
“I grew up with a sister, remember?” He winks and tugs my hand to slide me across the seats to follow him out of the driver’s side door, before either of us can dwell on the part where his sister is no longer here.
Still holding hands, we walk up to the most charming cottage style house I’ve ever seen. “You know, it’s kind of funny they call you Shep.”
He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because Quinn is short for my last name as well.” Then, before he can ask me what it is, I reach for the door handle and hurry inside where I’m welcomed with a wealth of new conversation topics, from the adorable décor to the heavenly scents wafting toward us from the dining room.
Chapter Thirteen
Riker
Time is passing too quickly and I don’t know how to stop it. Two weeks. Two weeks is all I have left and it isn’t nearly enough.
I stroke her hair and watch her sleep, her head on my bare chest, her warm breath sweeping over my skin. I don’t want to give this up. I don’t want to give her up. But she’s still leaving. It doesn’t matter how often I try to bring up staying, she won’t talk about it and she won’t tell me why. And I kn
ow it’s killing her. Whatever it is. It’s eating away at her. Taking small pieces of her soul and destroying them with every day that passes us by.
Several times I’ve wound up standing on Kirsten’s doorstep, fully prepared to demand a fucking explanation for Quinn’s secretive behavior, and every time I’ve turned back and left without ever ringing the doorbell. Because those secrets aren’t Kirsten’s to tell. And they aren’t mine to know. Not until Quinn decides they are.
I hear her moan in her sleep and my gaze drops to her mouth. She’s smiling. And I’m smiling. It’s been weeks since she had a nightmare. Weeks since she cried in her sleep, or woke up screaming. When she first started staying over it happened all the time, now, even if I can’t keep her nightmares away forever, I can at least hold onto the fact that she felt safe in my arms for a while. She found peace with me. The same peace I found with her. I just wish she would let me hold her longer.
She starts to move her feet, a sign I recognize now as the beginning of her waking up. I like that. Knowing these things about her. I want to know more. I want to know them all.
I press my lips to the top of her head and she grins without even opening her eyes.
“Move in with me.”
Her lids fly open so fast I’m surprised they didn’t disappear in their sockets. “What?”
“Until you leave. Stay here with me. What’s the point of always going back and forth every day? You sleep here every night anyway. Why bother going to Kirsten’s just to shower and change?” I’m hoping if I make it sound like it’s motivated by a desire to be more practical as opposed to a desire to just be with her more, she’ll actually go for it.
“I don’t just change clothes when I go back there, you know. I have a job for example.” She lifts herself up on my chest, resting on her arms to face me.
“Yeah. On your laptop. Pretty sure those can go anywhere you do.”
She peers around the room skeptically. “Do you even have internet here?”
“Yes, I have internet. I run a business too, you know.” Lately I’ve even been something one could consider proactive in that arena, doing more than just the basics required to keep my father and grandfather’s empire afloat.