by Nicole Helm
“I’m sorry if I hit a nerve,” she managed.
“This is one giant fucking nerve, Tori.”
“The Courtney thing . . . I’ll leave it alone, but the rest has to do with me. I was there and my life changed irrevocably because of things that happened that night.”
“I didn’t do shit to you that you didn’t start. I never wanted your confession. I never wanted your emotions.”
“You made that crystal clear.”
“Damn right I did,” he said in something so close to a yell it was disorienting. Even that night Will hadn’t yelled. “I was . . .” Whatever he’d been going to say he bit off. Violently.
“You were what?”
He shook his head, his eyes squinting against the bright sun setting. “I never asked for it. Any of it.”
Though he was emphatic and angry and a million emotional things, she knew that’s not what he’d been about to say. She was a little too shaky in her heart and scared and hurt to push it right now, but she’d come back to it.
She’d have to.
Chapter Ten
Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so much like punching someone in the face. Oh, there were a lot of times he’d threaten bodily harm against Brandon or Sam. Hell, he and Sam had almost come to blows a few times over Hayley last month. But it wasn’t like this.
This boiling emotional thing. Wrapped up in Courtney memories and Tori and talking about a past he wanted to erase. She wouldn’t let him. How dare she not let him. He just wanted peace. Why wouldn’t anyone give him any damn peace?
James was telling a story about some guy he’d arrested. Tori was leaning on her elbow, listening to his every possible inflection as though rapt. Hayley was clearly enjoying the hell out of herself. Watching her stepbrother interact with her friends. Even Sam seemed at ease.
When had Will become the surly, awkward one?
When the steaks arrived, he decided he was just hungry. He would eat and then he would turn on the old Will Evans charm. Because he was fucking charming, damn it. People liked spending time with him, and he liked spending time with people, and . . .
He attacked his steak and did everything in his power not to look at Tori.
Not the way her golden hair glinted in the lights of the restaurant. Not the way she smiled at James and the little dimple on her right cheek appeared, which only happened on her soft smiles. Those he never saw anymore. All these details he’d forgotten he knew. All these pieces of her that he missed and wanted.
Because that’s what her little car conversation did. It reminded him of all the ways he’d wanted to give her exactly what she’d wanted from him. He’d wanted to be the kind of man who could give her the love she deserved, but he’d known that was never, ever going to be him.
Why couldn’t she just accept that? Why’d she have to keep pushing? Bringing Courtney and all those complicated emotions up.
He felt like he was being ripped in half, and it was so damn painful he barely noticed the throbbing in his shoulder or his head. All he knew was his chest felt like an anvil was pressing against it. Like a bear was clawing out his heart. It didn’t matter that he was being all kinds of overdramatic because that was how he felt.
And all Tori could dare to do was smile at this yapping stranger like he had any right to deserve her smiles. No one did.
“You might want to consider getting your shit together,” Sam mumbled to him under his breath.
“What do you mean?” Will returned, equally quiet, their little conversation going unnoticed by the women who were just so enthralled with James the fucking cop and his grand tales of heroism and bullshit.
“It’s not escaping anyone’s notice that you’re pissed off.”
“Well, you can blame Tori for that because I was fine until she started poking at me on the way over.” Which was true. It was.
Despite keeping their voices low, they were starting to attract glances from Hayley and Tori, and occasionally even James.
“Get it together. Now.” It was the fact Sam of all people was the one lecturing him about his behavior that managed to knock some sense into place. Sam had been something of a hermit for years and was just now slowly emerging from that hard shell he’d built around himself. If Will’s behavior was setting off Sam’s discomfort, Will absolutely had to get ahold of himself.
“I haven’t spent too much time in Aurora, but it’s a nice town, yeah? Pretty out there close to Denver.” See? He could be engaging and shit.
James shrugged. “It’s really got nothing on Gracely. I gave Hayley a hard time about moving here, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since my last trip up.”
Conversation continued with everyone talking about Gracely and its many charms. Will managed to calm himself down enough to be civil if not charming. Though it got harder and harder the more James smiled at Tori and asked questions about her time as a ski instructor or her hobbies or whatever.
It irritated him even more that Hayley kept smiling every time he did, as though she’d won some matchmaking lottery by pushing James and Tori into sitting next to each other.
Even as they all so cheerfully walked out of the restaurant, Tori and James lingering together a few steps behind, Will fought to smother the ticking time bomb inside of him.
Will glanced back as James pulled a card out of his wallet and said something close to Tori’s ear.
It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
“We should probably head back, yeah?” Will said too loudly, using every last ounce of control to keep himself from grabbing her arm and jerking her away from James’s proffered card.
He knew he was being an ass. It didn’t stop him in the least.
Tori frowned at him, but there was also a little flash of worry. He liked that too, too much. That she might care enough to be worried.
She stepped toward him, of course not before she took the card from James. She offered the man a smile and then a different smile to Sam and Hayley. Which was important to note, for some reason.
“Thanks, guys. This was fun. I’m glad you invited me.”
“Thanks for coming, and hopefully we can do it again soon with Brandon and Lilly too.” Hayley leaned in and said something to Tori that Will didn’t catch. Tori gave a little nod though, and Will could only assume it was about James.
Good-byes were murmured, and James, Hayley, and Sam went in the direction of Sam’s Jeep, while Will and Tori started off in the opposite direction toward his. After a few seconds of walking, Tori touched him on the elbow gently.
“You want me to drive?”
He glared at her, irritated by any gentle from her right now. “No, I don’t want you to drive.”
“No need to be a growly ass. You’re acting so weird, and Hayley thought it might have something to do with your head bothering you. If it is, I can drive.”
“My head is fine.”
“Okay. Great.” He could hear the eye roll in her voice more than he could see it on her face.
They climbed into the Jeep and Will thought he did an admirable job of not bringing James up. They didn’t talk at all as he maneuvered the Jeep through the mountains and toward Gracely. Which was how he liked it. She wasn’t poking at him about things that had happened a million years ago, and he didn’t have to feel jumbled because . . .
He pulled up to the curb in front of the house she was renting. It was a sunshiny little house situated next to where Lilly’s sister lived. The cheerful exterior wasn’t exactly what he associated with Tori and yet it somehow worked. Because Gracely always seemed to work when it shouldn’t.
He glanced at Tori, then forced himself to look at the windshield. He wasn’t going there. Or anywhere. He was dropping her off and going back to Mile High and . . .
“Dating Hayley’s stepbrother isn’t the brightest idea.”
He’d known it was a stupid thing to say before it tumbled out of his mouth, and yet he hadn’t been able to stop it.
He should leave it at that. He knew he should leave it at that.
He got out of the car and followed her across her yard.
“Go home, Will,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, her golden hair flowing behind her as she strode with certain, hard steps toward her front door. “I don’t feel like fighting with you.”
“Then don’t fight with me,” he returned, following her, trying to figure out why. It was like his body had taken over and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
She whirled on him, so he came to a stop. Her blue-green eyes flashed in the moonlight, reminding him of a mermaid. Or something.
“You’re making this impossible,” she said, flinging her arms toward him. “Telling me what to do. Giving some opinion on who I can date and who’s a good idea and what taste I have in men. We’re not friends anymore, Will. Maybe we could be, but not like this.”
Which hit, sharper than a punch, something more like a stab. He wanted her in his life, but she made it so damn hard. They’d been friends, but she’d disappeared. She’d been the one to change things on him.
How dare she say they couldn’t be friends like this? “Like what?” he demanded, taking a threatening step toward her, but she just lifted her chin. “Like you always poking at me? Like you bringing up my marriage and flirting with my half sister’s stepbrother all night?”
She stared at him openmouthed as if he was the crazy one. But he wasn’t crazy. She had a problem with him giving some opinions on her life? Well, he had a hell of a problem with her wanting to drag the past into everything.
“You are so un-fucking-believable. Even more so than usual, which was already pretty unbelievable.”
“You started it.”
“Oh, how mature.”
“That’s me.”
It was her turn to take a threatening step toward him and she poked him right in the chest. “I didn’t say anything on the way back. I kept my mouth shut the whole way. I stopped talking about the past. You know why? Because tonight was nice. I sat there and thought about my future. I still think we should rehash that night if only because it would get out this simmering resentment, but tonight was nice. I sat there and I thought . . . maybe this can be my life. Living in Gracely. Maybe I could date a cute cop. Maybe for the first time my future is as open as I want it to be, and the only thing standing in my way is you and your shitty attitude.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I’m in the same exact place? I have nothing but the future ahead of me. I am single, and Mile High is thriving, and then you show up with your crap poking at old wounds.”
“Ignoring it isn’t healing them! Why can’t you see that?”
“Because I know what rehashing it will do. I know what explaining it all will accomplish, and I don’t want it.”
“What? My God, what do you think it will do?”
It would bring up truths he never wanted her to know. It would speak to all the weaknesses he was ashamed to have. If they went through that night, it was nothing but . . . waste. His cowardice was nothing but a waste.
He had to get out of here. He didn’t know what he thought he was trying to do, and he had to get out of here. So he turned to head for his Jeep before he said another thing he’d live to grieve and regret.
“That’s it. Walk away. Ignore it all and walk away. Good old Will Evans.”
Something snapped, sharp and painful, and if he wasn’t so angry maybe he could have repaired it. But he was done. He was out of patience and denial and all the other things he used to wrap up and hide away those feelings inside of him.
He whirled on her, and he didn’t care that she stumbled back as he advanced. Good. She should be afraid. She should run away. She needed to be just as damn afraid of this thing boiling inside of him as he was.
“What are you doing?” she demanded in a screech when he grabbed her, curling his fingers around her soft, strong upper arms.
Because, damn it, it was all there. Just like it had always been. The unrelenting desire to have his hands on her. The hellish idea that he would never be complete until he tasted her.
So that’s just what he fucking did.
He crushed his mouth to hers, holding her tight against him. Pouring his rage and his confusion and all those other things she brought out in him into the kiss. Into her mouth. Into her blood. He wanted her to feel it, drown in it. He wanted her to hate it as much as he did.
It was wrong. Everything about it was wrong, and yet it was the rightest he’d ever felt. Ever. Tori wrapped up in his arms, Tori’s mouth under his.
This. This was what he’d always been so afraid of. He’d been right to be because it was burning him alive. The fact she hadn’t fought him off, that she was kissing him back, that she was small and pliant in his arms.
Shaking and vulnerable under all that determined strength.
A thing he could break.
He released her as a wave of self-disgust washed through him. In a situation that had already been fucked to hell, he’d just screwed it up even more.
* * *
Tori was frozen. She ordered her body to move, but it wouldn’t. She’d spent years dreaming of Will touching her like that. Intimately. Desperately. She’d imagined him kissing her in a million different ways, and then she’d spent the past seven years dreaming of quite the opposite.
She was shaken and unsteady and so many confusing things. Her lips burned. Her body hummed. A pathetic unfurling need had centered itself deep in her belly. She hated herself a little, but when she looked at him, she hated him more.
It wasn’t the realization she’d kissed him back—that he had that kind of power over her. It wasn’t the realization this was the worst possible thing he or she could have done. It was the look on his face that made her hate him. Something unreadable mingled with horror.
As though kissing her was the worst possible thing he could have ever done.
She curled her shaking fingers into fists and then she pounded them to his chest and pushed him as hard as she could.
He stumbled back and she was glad of it. She wanted him to stumble and fall, so she stepped forward to push him again.
“Tori?”
Tori froze at the questioning female voice. She glanced to the side where Cora stood on her porch, bathed in the dim yellow light hanging above the door.
Tori had the horrible realization they must’ve made enough noise to attract some attention.
“Is everything okay? Do I need to call the police?” Cora called.
Will cleared his throat. “We were just talking.”
“My question wasn’t for you, Will,” Cora retorted, a surprising acidity in her tone.
Tori wished she could muster the strength to find that funny or even sweet, but all she felt was defeated and awful and too close to tears to do this any longer.
“You don’t need to call anyone,” she said carefully, making sure every word sounded strong and sure—the opposite of how she felt inside.
She couldn’t let Will read her weakness. He didn’t deserve her weakness.
“Are you sure because—”
“I’m leaving,” Will interrupted.
Will looked at her then, even as he took a step backward toward his car.
She lifted her chin, determined to be the defiant fighter she’d always been. He couldn’t turn her into that girl on the mountain seven years ago. No one could. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again,” she said quietly enough Cora wouldn’t hear, but solid and sturdy and certain.
No nod. No response. He just turned and walked to his Jeep.
She knew she was shaking, but she had to find a way to get a hold on it. Be strong and unaffected so she could assure Cora that whatever she thought she’d seen had been nothing to report to Lilly or anyone else. Nothing m
ore than . . .
Who the fuck knew. Will had kissed her. Like a possessed . . . It wouldn’t do her any good to find a comparison. No good at all.
“Come on over, sweetheart,” Cora said, a surprisingly soft note of order to her voice. Like a mother, Tori supposed.
Tori wanted to beg Cora off, but the woman’s concern was a little too much. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone on her side for once? Cora had talked to Will like he was a criminal.
Tori wouldn’t get that at Mile High. She wouldn’t get it anywhere else, so she trudged over to Cora’s doorstep.
“Did he hurt you?” Cora asked, searching Tori’s face.
God, yes, but Tori realized immediately that’s not what Cora meant. Had it looked that bad from an outside observer? “No, not like that.”
“Are you sure? You can tell me. I know what it’s like . . .” Cora trailed off and bit her lip before taking Tori’s hand. “Come inside. We need wine.”
Tori let herself be led. She didn’t have the brainpower to do anything but. Will’s kiss—kiss—lingered, like she was an animal caught in an oil spill and her entire body was covered with the remnants of it.
Sparking anger, impotent want, a confusion she didn’t know how to sort through. What had that been? Punishment? Proof of something? She didn’t get it. He hadn’t kissed her like his life depended on it when she’d admitted she’d loved him years ago, but now when they did nothing but fight and snipe.
Cora deposited her on a comfortable couch the color of the sky at dawn. “White or red? I have both.”
“I don’t think . . .”
“I spent half the night arguing with my eleven-year-old about social media. Indulge me and be my drinking buddy.”
“White.” It’d be easier to go along with it. She didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. She didn’t have energy—period—fighting with Will took enough energy and then . . .
Cora handed her a wineglass filled almost to the brim with wine. She plopped onto the couch next to Tori and took a deep, long sip.