by K. S. Thomas
She rolls over onto her side and scans the whole apartment skeptically. “With what? There isn’t a single electric device in this entire place. You don’t even have a freaking TV.”
“I have an office. It’s just not connected to the apartment. It’s on the other side of the house. Used to be the third garage. In fact, there’s a spare desk in there you could use.” I trace down the middle of her exposed back with my fingers. I want to memorize it. The way her skin feels against mine. The way her body moves under my touch. Every curve. Every freckle. Every scar. I want to brand them into my mind forever. So I can keep her with me even when she’s gone.
“You’re serious about this. You want me to move in with you. A step which usually occurs when a couple is moving forward, making a commitment. Not when they’re about to say goodbye.” She’s spelling it out for me again. Reminding me. She does that a lot. Honestly, I think she does it for herself.
“Yes. I’m serious. And why does it have to represent anything? Why can’t it just be a fun way to spend two weeks? Not to mention, I could save some gas money not having to pick you up for our nightly outings.” As soon as I stop talking I realize that saving the environment with less exhaust pollution would have been a more reasonable argument. Especially considering she’s been well aware of my abundant bank account ever since Nate outed me in his living room. The fifty cents it costs to cover the trip back and forth every day is hardly hurting me.
“You’re weird.” She smirks like she’s made a joke only she knows is funny. “But I’m not going to let that stop me. I’ll pack up my stuff and bring it over here in a bit.”
It’s taking all I’ve got not to shoot straight to my feet and start jumping up and down on my bed like a five year old. “Cool. That works for me.”
***
Quinn
I’ve lost my ever loving mind. Clearly. Why else would I agree to move in with Riker? Unless I’d lost it. Every last little brain cell. Gone. Poof. Now I’m but one pair of ruby red slippers from representing the entire cast of The Wizard of Oz, because the second I break this news to my sister, I’ll even have my very own good witch, all sparkling and shit, and waving her wand to help matters along whether I’m ready for the trip or not.
“Hey, Kirsten.” Took me almost ten minutes of walking around this giant ass house to locate her in the laundry room.
“There you are. I went downstairs looking for you earlier but you weren’t back yet.” She’s busy folding the laundry straight out of the dryer. I wish I was organized like she is. I’m lucky if my clothes make it out of the laundry basket and into my dresser before I wear them and they land back in the hamper.
“Oh, did you need something?” I’m stalling. I know what she needed. To have her curiosities satisfied. She checks on me almost every morning now to find out what romantic date thing Riker cooked up the night before. And he’s been on a roll, so the stories have been good.
“Just wanted to hear about last night.” She smiles. As much as she hated Riker at first, I think she might be a little too enamored with him now. But I get it. I was enamored with Nate too when I first saw how happy he made my sister. Especially after I’d seen what she went through losing Levi. If Nate had the power to put light back into my sister’s beautiful green eyes, he was a hero in my book. So, I can see why Riker is riding high on a pedestal these days with Kirsten.
“I’m not sure you would have liked last night’s outing. It was very outdoorsy.” Not my sister’s speed at all.
“Hm. Well, you’re into that sort of stuff, so I’m still liking it. What did you guys do?” Her voice echoes slightly because she’s head first in the dryer searching for the missing socks to the two lonely ones she’s holding in her hands.
“We went for a drive down the beach. Then, he made a fire and we roasted marshmallows and made s’mores while Harley ran around chasing the waves in the dark. After, he lowered the tailgate and loaded the back of the pick-up with blankets and pillows he had crammed in the backseat, and we curled up in them and watched the stars.” I sigh. Yes. An actual sigh.
So does Kirsten. “Aw. How cute is he?”
“I know.” My eyes bug out dramatically. “And freaking smart, too. You know he gave me an entire astronomy lesson while we were lying there. I swear, he surprises me all the time.”
“He’s really trying hard.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She gives up on the socks and closes the dryer. “You know exactly what I mean. That man is in love with you. He doesn’t want you to leave and he’s pulling out all the stops to convince you to stay.”
“Don’t say that. He’s not in love with me. That’s not even possible. Not when there’s so much he doesn’t know about me.” I turn away and start pacing in the cramped laundry room. It’s not an ideal space for pacing, but I’m antsy and I have to pace. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what he wants. Or even what I want. I can’t stay. You know that.”
Kirsten places her laundry basket filled with neatly folded clothes onto the dryer and I know she’s settling in to give me a good speech.
“First of all, I don’t care what you think he doesn’t know. Riker Shepherdson can see right to your core and I can see that in his eyes every time I see him look at you. So, save me this bullshit about how he can’t love you because he doesn’t know about your past. Who gives a fuck about who you were? He’s in love with you now.” Her hands land on her hips and I don’t bother to interrupt because she’s only just getting started. “Second, it always matters what you want. Even when you can’t have it. It still matters. Because you matter. You matter to me. You matter to Mom and Dad. Nate. Sophie. Devyn. And you sure as hell matter to Riker. It’s about damn time you start to matter to yourself.” She takes a breath and I brace myself for ‘third of all’ since I’m pretty sure it’s going to knock me the fuck out.
“Lastly, don’t you dare let this thing with Jackson’s family be the reason you lose Riker. Fine. You have to go home. And fine. You have no idea for how long. And fucking fine, you don’t have a clue what will happen before it’s all over and done with, but none of that means you have to give up the one thing that has made you smile, really, truly, genuinely smile, in over three years. It just means you’ll have to put forth a little more effort, show a little more courage and have a little more trust...in him...to keep it.”
I’m not pacing anymore. I’m kinda barely even standing. Mostly I’m just leaning against the doorframe hoping my knees don’t buckle and I end up a puddle on the ground weeping like a baby. She hit me good. Right in all the scary shit. I knew she would. Kirsten always does. She’s a good sister like that.
“He wants me to move in,” I mumble.
She grabs her basket and nods. “Good. I’ll help you pack.” Then she comes at me, practically pushing me through the door with her load of laundry.
“You do understand that it’ll only be for two weeks, right?” I stumble slightly still being moved along by the basket rammed into my lower back.
“I understand that you need to go downstairs and start emptying your closet.” She stops, straightening her arms and letting the laundry basket dangle over her thighs. “Please, Quinn. Just go and get packed. Don’t take the time to think it through. Just do it. I promise you, it won’t be a mistake. He’s not going to hurt you. You know that, right?” Her earlier conviction is turning to concern and I’m not sure if I feel better or worse about it.
“I do know that.” I bite the inside of my lip, trying not to let fear and guilt get the best of me. “But what if I hurt him?”
“That’s a risk he’s willing to take.” She holds my stare for as long as I need her to. Until I know she’s right. Until I believe that everything will work out. Not just for me, but for Riker as well. Then, I turn and go downstairs and pack. Just like she instructed me to.
Even though I showed up here with everything I own in the world, it takes all of two hours before the downstairs game room looks like I never ev
en lived in it. To make matters even more depressing, it only takes one trip with Kirsten’s little car to get all of my stuff moved over to Riker’s.
He’s not here when we pull up, but the door’s never locked anyway and I’ve been letting myself in for weeks now, so today is no different.
“This is...cozy.” I’m sure it’s the nicest thing Kirsten could think to say. And she can’t say anything bad since she doesn’t want me to come back home with her.
“It’s Riker.” I figured this out a while back. One of the nights that I was too wired to sleep and just laid here in the dark, scanning the room over and over again until I started to really see what I was looking at. Everything in this place is something he has re-purposed in some way. The old wicker chairs. The turned over milk crate. I’m sincerely hoping the mattress is new, but I’m not asking for confirmation on this because I may not get the answer I’m looking for. Then there’s the dingy paint and water damaged ceilings, and a wardrobe that consists of clothes that are so old they are falling apart and flannel shirts he buys in five packs at Wal-Mart, only when he absolutely has to.
Riker grew up with everything he could possibly want or need. Ever. Then, he lost what couldn’t be bought and realized things mean nothing. It’s one of the qualities I like best about him. So when I walk in this apartment, I never see the shitty looking sheets or the busted blinds that probably cost five dollars at Home Depot to replace. I see him. I see what he places value on. And judging by the new dog bed in the corner and the Post-it on his dresser marked ‘starving for some chick clothes’, it’s me.
Of course, these things go unnoticed by my sister whose nose is crinkled as she stares at me, inspecting the dopey ass grin I can feel on my own face.
“Really? The sight of this place makes you that happy?” She shakes her head, smiling smugly. “Alright. Let’s get you moved in here.” She drops the box she’s holding onto the floor along the wall and heads back outside to the car. We go back and forth maybe five times between the two of us, and then it’s done. My stuff and I are here. To stay. For now.
“So, how about I take you to lunch to celebrate your new living situation?”
I peer over at the fridge which is likely empty. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. But I’m buying. It’s the least I can do after you helped me move.” And, you know, everything else.
“Deal.” She leads the way back to the driveway and I say a quick goodbye to Harley before I close the door behind me. I don’t even feel weird about leaving him here. Probably because he looked so comfortable lying there in his brand new bed.
After two hours of eating every appetizer on the menu and finishing the ordeal off with a shared death by chocolate cake, Kirsten drops me back Riker’s and then takes off to pick up Sophie from summer camp.
Since I’ve yet to even power up my computer today, I take my laptop and wander around to the other side of the house in search of the mysterious office. When I find it, it’s actually locked, but the key is hanging from a hook beside the door. Don’t ask me where the logic is in this, but I’m not complaining since I want in and I need the key.
Unlike the apartment, everything in here is brand new. Top notch computers and printers. Fancy desks and leather chairs. There’s even a really nice sofa in here. And, of course, a lovely corner desk all cleared out and waiting for my itty bitty laptop. It’s not really itty bitty. Just kinda looks that way now in contrast to everything else in here.
The chair is about the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat in and I have half a mind to tell Riker he’ll be sleeping alone on that crappy old mattress from here on out, but then I settle in long enough to feel the cool leather against my skin and decide being flesh on flesh with Riker really is the more appealing way to go.
Once I get over the initial shock of being in an actual office, I get to work. I’m so focused on what I’m doing, I don’t even realize how long I’ve been in here until I hear the creak of the door open and the scent of Riker’s shower soap fills the room with the breeze sweeping in from the ocean.
“This works,” he says, sounding very satisfied with himself. “It really does.” He comes over and kisses the top of my head. “Yes. I like it. Coming home. Finding you. Makes me want to come home more.”
I want to tell him not to say stuff like that. To remind him of my impending departure. Not to get used to this. But I don’t.
“Thank you for Harley’s new bed. He really likes it. And the note on the dresser was cute.”
He spins my chair all the way around to face him. “You’re welcome. And, I hope you don’t mind, but I fed the beast since you didn’t. All the clothes from the black duffle bag are now in the dresser. And not that I was going through your underwear or anything, but I may have held onto a few pieces I wouldn’t mind seeing you in later tonight.”
“Is that so?”
He leans in, a playful grin flashing across his lips right before he comes in to kiss me.
“How much longer before you’re finished here?” he murmurs, still inches from my face.
“Oh, I was done the second you walked in. Who can concentrate on anything work related when you’re in the room?” I laugh at myself. I don’t say stuff like this. Even if I do think it. A lot. I don’t actually say it. Out loud.
“Well, Miss Quinn. I do believe you’re blushing. Unless of course you’re just getting hot and bothered thinking about what I’m going to do to you later.” Oh my God. Why is he so much better at this than I am? I could have said the same damn thing and it would have sounded cheesy as hell. He says anything with my name in it and the words ‘I’, ‘do’ and ‘you’ and I’m ready to melt right out of my clothes and into his arms.
“Does that mean we’re staying in tonight?” I ask hopefully. Not that I haven’t enjoyed all of the ways he’s found to entertain me night after night in this town, it’s just that I’m starting to feel a little anxious about leaving. And I know in the end, it won’t be any of the restaurants, or sights, or even romantic activities, I’ll miss. It’ll just be him.
“It does.” Then, his arms wrap around me without warning, hoisting me up out of the chair and over his shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing now?” I start smacking his ass. Because it’s a damn fine ass and it’s right there for the smacking.
“Taking you home and giving you a little lesson in moving in. Just dropping boxes full of your shit randomly around my place isn’t going to cut it.” He gives me a good whack as well. “Now stop spanking me, crazyass.”
“Fine.” I stop beating on him and resolve to simply cup each perfectly sculpted butt cheek with my hands while he walks me from one side of the house to the other, dangling head first over his shoulder the entire way.
“You don’t think this is a little silly?” I ask, handing him books out of my box and watching him stack them up on top of his shelf next to the front door. “Moving in. For two weeks? It’s not like I’m going to be doing a lot of reading.” I shoot him a dirty look. “I better not be doing a lot of reading.”
He chuckles. The sweet chuckle. I kinda hate it. Because I kinda love it. And then I wonder who else gets to hear it. Secretly I hope he keeps it just for me, but I’m guessing Sidney’s heard this one, too.
“No, I have no intention of giving you reading time,” he assures me as he takes the last of my paperbacks and stacks them up alongside the others, “I just like seeing your stuff in my place.” Then he kisses me flush on the lips. Not long. Just a second or two to distract me from seeing it. But I do anyway. And not just now.
I can see it more and more clearly every day. This part of him. The part he wants to give me. Only I can never take it from him. Because people like me don’t deserve a heart like Riker Shepherdson has. In spite of what my sister would like me to believe, when it comes to Riker, what I want doesn’t matter.
He sits down on the floor next to me and tugs over another load. “Where do you want these?”
He’s holding two pict
ure frames in his hand and I realize in a panic that one of the boxes I keep permanently sealed is now open.
“Put those back,” I snap, practically lunging for the cardboard flaps to close them again.
“Whoa.” He hurries out of my path, but makes no effort to return the frames he already has in his possession. “Why do I feel like maybe you should have marked this one Pandora’s Box instead of just ‘Pics’?”
I try to snatch the pictures from him, but he moves too fast. “I’m not in the mood for smartass comebacks, Riker. Just put those back. Now.” I’m not even pissed. I’m something. Scared. I’m scared. That box has been sealed for a long time. And for good reason. I’m not ready to face what’s in it. I may never be ready.
Slowly, he moves the frames face down onto the closed box. “He’s the reason you don’t ride anymore. The reason you never talk about horses. Even though you clearly feel more at home in a barn than you do anywhere else.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I slide the pictures in through the crack without ever looking at them.
“I know you don’t. You never want to talk about anything too personal. Do you really think that it keeps me at some sort of a distance? That not talking about it somehow means I don’t know? I know, Quinn. I’m not a fucking idiot.” He leans his head back against the wall. He’s not even mad at me. Just hurt. Which makes me mad at myself.
“Whatever you think you know...just forget it.” I get to my feet and pick up the box to move it. Somewhere. I don’t even know where. I just want it gone.
“Forget it.” He laughs dryly. “Sure. I’ll forget.” His head drops back to catch my gaze again. “I’ll forget the scars I’ve seen on your body. And I’ll forget the way you scream in your sleep sometimes as if you’re being ripped to pieces by some monster. Hell, maybe I’ll even forget that look in your eyes when you wake up and think that I’m him. Or the one after...when you realize I’m not.”