The orange sun sinks lower on the horizon nearly dipping into obscurity as the silhouette of Garrett quietly weeps several feet from me. It’s the truest, most real emotion I’ve seen out of him in a literal decade, and I feel helpless.
He wipes his nose on the back of his hand but still doesn’t face me. Ge sighs, shaking his head. “It was Dudley.”
His quiet admission shocks me. “What do you mean?” I whisper as he turns toward me. His tears shine in the fading light, and I want to wipe them from his face.
“Got home and heard him cryin’ out there in the woods. Was unlike anything I’d ever heard from him before. Came runnin’ but it was too late.” He clears his throat and spits again. Standing there, he shifts his weight back and forth, hesitating to tell me the rest. His shoulders tremble, and I can tell he’s trying to fight the corners of his emotion. But when he drops his head, his words come flooding out of him like a wall of grief pushing past its breaking point. “Something bit a chunk right out of him and left him for dead,” he says, his voice sinking into the pain.
Rushing him, I wrap my arms around him to absorb his sobs, his tears soaking through the shoulder of my t-shirt.
“He was in pain, Rach. I had to.”
He hasn’t called me Rach since high school, and the sound of it on his tongue puts my stomach in a knot.
“He was squirmin’ and screechin’, and I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed my pistol and—”
“You took his pain away. So he didn’t have to hurt anymore,” I say into his chest, hoping he’d hear me clearly.
My words unleash his wracking sobs that tear at my insides. In a way, I suppose Dudley is all Garrett had. That cute, mischievous fox is the only thing he consistently let into his life ever since Lydia died. While I’m horrified at the loss, I can’t even imagine the height of Garrett’s pain— the absence in his life this hole will bring.
“It’ll be okay.” I rub circles into his back and let him cry until his tears finally dry.
Lifting his head, he pulls himself from my grip, his green eyes seeming to quiver. “Sorry. Haven’t cried this much since Lydia.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. I don’t want him to think that allowing himself to feel is some terrible thing. “Is your shed unlocked? I can get a shovel so we can bury Dudley if you want.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s unlocked.”
Walking to the shed, I leave Garrett to resume his spot on the stump that had been the feeding spot for the curious fox. Nearly every evening, Garrett would toss leftovers to Dudley on that stump while he told him about his day. I suppose in some ways, that fox was better for him than a cat could ever be.
With the shovel in hand, I return to Garrett, and we decide on a spot at the edge of the woods. I slam the shovel into the ground with a push of my shoe, but Garrett nudges me out of the way and takes over.
With his strength and upset fueling his dig, the hole is ready in no time. He turns back to me with a look of absolute dread in his eyes. “One of the white towels from the closet? To wrap him in?”
I nod, understanding.
Some might think we’re mad for the care we take burying the fox, but Dudley had been a huge part of Garrett’s life. Dudley was an inside joke that Garrett and I shared, and I felt like I knew him, having spotted him a few times myself. I fetch the towel and hang back as Garrett heads into the woods. Minutes later, he returns with Dudley’s limp body swaddled in the terry cloth. I let him do the rest as he settles his wild pet into the shallow grave and begins covering him with red soil.
Quietly, I sigh and fight back more of my own tears. Lowering my eyes, I catch sight of a patch of blue flowers by the edge of the forest. They’re wild, and I’m not certain what type they are, but it feels right. I pluck three flowers, one for each of us, and toss them in with a wash of dirt from Garrett’s shovel.
In minutes, our fox friend is gone forever.
Chapter Seven
I don’t remember the last time I had dinner with Garrett alone. No parents, no friends, just Garrett and me. And before tonight, it’d been even longer since I stepped foot inside his house. It’s a place I’ve learned to avoid because I know what enough time with him in private usually ends up leading to, yet here I am. After what happened with Dudley though, I don’t dare leave him alone tonight.
After cleaning ourselves up, Garrett locks his pistol away. Standing in the middle of his kitchen, we try to come up with something to eat. We’d been able to patch together some sweet tea from a few remnants in his cabinets, but he suggests we make nachos with liquid cheese for supper. With a smile, I refuse.
“Whatever. I don’t cook much,” he grumbles before we finally settle on ordering a pizza for delivery.
There is something sweet about sitting across the table from him and enjoying a slice of pizza in his bare dining room. He sneaks a few of my pepperonis, popping them in his mouth, but I don’t mind. Watching him, I worry that I’ll never see him like this again— open, raw from feeling, but also comfortable enough with me for him to have called me during his crisis. I push the thought from my mind and try to savor the moment
Long after we finish eating, the mood sinks, and we’re somber in our silence. In an attempt to lift Garrett’s spirits, I jump out of my chair and shove the pizza box in his empty refrigerator. My burst of activity seems to startle him, but he stands and stretches with a yawn.
“Does your neighbor still have that trampoline out back?” I ask as casually as I can.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Come on,” I tell him, jutting my hand out in offering.
Studying my face, Garrett’s lips curl into the first smile I’ve seen on him all night. It takes him a second, but he snatches my hand, and without an explanation, I’m pulling him through his back door.
His hand is warm and strong in mine, and it hits me that this is the first time we’ve ever held hands. It’s a thought I work to ignore as we race across the yard to the trampoline that’s permanently straddling property lines in the tall swaths of grass. It’s tucked back behind the shed under the weeping tree boughs from the woods, having been dragged there once the neighbor kids had outgrown it years ago. Garrett suddenly bolts ahead tugging me along, his grip of my hand firm. I squeal out in a quiet, elated excitement.
As we reach the trampoline, I realize just how big it is with no safety net to deter us. Heaving myself up and onto it, I kick off my shoes and tumble into the center laughing.
“I’ll probably hurt myself on this thing,” I say, not even joking. I curl myself into the tiniest ball I can manage and wait for Garrett to send me bouncing.
He snorts out in laughter and follows me up onto the trampoline. Starting to hop, he jostles me around like I’m some ragdoll in the middle of a late-summer hurricane. His breath is staggered with force as he jumps, bouncing me every which way, all over the trampoline mat on my knees, back, and sides, to where I can’t reclaim my balance.
“You do know the point of this thing is to jump on it, right?” he asks, his voice matching the cadence of his jumps.
Peals of my laughter fill the air as Garrett grabs my hands and yanks me up to my feet, forcing me to join him in his madness. There is something touching about the moment as we jump in opposition with one another, my wildly tangled hair flying every which way and Garrett’s sincere eyes backdropped with white, sweeping magnolias. The sound of the trampoline springs working below us echoes out into the woods, and I feel like I’m five years-old again.
As our jump timing starts to creep off from one another, Garrett’s feet hit the trampoline just in time to send me sailing through the air. Arms flailing around me, I shriek, my voice cutting out into the night. Careening off the trampoline, I see the ground hurtling toward me, and I hit the grass hard with a grunt, the wind having knocked right out of me. Laying there, I roll over onto my back moaning, my body aching from the fall. Panicked as I am, I try to catch my breath.
“Shit, Rach.” Garrett hops down to the grass and leans over
me. “You okay?”
I can’t talk for my air still missing, but I nod with a teetering groan.
Shaking his head, he grabs for my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Up you go now.”
Flinging me upward too fast, I slam square into his chest. The warmth of his hands linger on me, leaving me acutely aware of the space between us where our breath mingles.
All around us the crickets’ song has lifted, but then there’s the sudden sound of a screen door swinging open— the neighbor. A jolt of nervous frenzy buzzes right through me, and I can’t help but giggle.
Garrett’s eyes grow big as quarters, and his vision narrows in on me as he puts his hand over my mouth, shushing me. Still pressed into his chest, we stand there, eye to eye, with his sweaty, salty palm pressed to my lips.
“Who’s there?” the neighbor shouts.
Garrett seals my mouth tighter with his palm as I almost burst out into laughter. We’re motionless and silent tucked back behind his shed until we finally hear the squeak of the screen door again a few moments later.
In a snap judgment, I hurriedly jerk away from him. “I told you I was going to hurt myself,” I whisper, easing myself back up onto the trampoline. I lay on my back in the middle of the mat staring up toward the unveiling stars that seem to blink back at me. The trampoline dips at my side as a hesitant Garrett crawls over and settles down beside me with the same upward stare. Darkness having dropped in on us, the night air is a bit cooler now but still hangs heavy over the lawn. The scent of a nearby honeysuckle bush lingers, bringing us air so sweet we can almost taste it. The silence that floats between us is somehow comforting, and I swear Garrett is here beside me in the moment, present and feeling the same way I am— grateful for the closeness.
“Tell me somethin’,” he says into the night air above us.
“Like what?”
“Anything you want me to know.”
Sighing, I can’t help but feel nervous that this might be some temporary glitch in him. But there’s only one thing I can think to tell him in the moment. “I just decided to apply to veterinary school.” My voice floats in the dark above us waiting for him to swat the idea down, but he doesn’t.
Lifting his head up from the trampoline, he looks over at me. “You just decided? Haven’t told anyone?”
I shake my head. “Only you. Not Kate or Frank or anyone.” Clearing my throat, I hesitate, hoping he won’t judge me for how ridiculous it may sound. “I take the GRE in Wilmington early Tuesday. Deadline for applications is mid-July. I need recommendation letters and transcripts. But if I can’t pass the GRE, none of that matters— it’s over.”
He breathes out. “You’ll pass. You always wanted that?”
Knowing he can’t see me, I shrug. “I’ve always loved animals. And I want my life to mean something. So it seems like the right move.”
“Huh,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’re gonna be a vet one day. That why you never wanted the brewery?”
“Yeah. It just never appealed to me. Alright, your turn,” I say, putting my hot hands down by my sides. “Tell me something.”
I feel him shift beside me, and though I don’t move my head, I can see him turned on his side, staring at me.
“Alright, uh.” When he inches closer, I smell a hint of his pine body wash from his shower before dinner. “Your eyes,” he says quietly. And before he’s able to finish, I know exactly what he’s about to say. “The color of ‘em reminds me of wildflowers.”
My breath catches in the back of my throat, and I wipe my clammy palms on the bib of my overalls. “You’ve told me that before, Garrett.”
“Have I?” He softly runs one of his knuckles down my cheek. “Must be because I mean it.”
There’s a tenderness to his voice. A calm sort of truth that I haven’t sensed in him for years. And while, the first time around, his wildflower comment up on the golf course was the sweetest and oddest thing anyone had ever said to me, I can’t help but think he actually does mean it.
I stay quiet as he shifts up onto his elbows, drifting closer. The stars above me are soon blotted out by the tilt of his head, and I have only the briefest glimpse of his eyes before he starts kissing me with an intense fervor.
Part of me wants to shove him away so I can enjoy the depth of his company at my side, but I don’t have it in me. Every thought I’ve had about him this summer, every single time I’ve imagined ending up in his lap, it was all prefaced by the fleeting feeling of him opening up to me like he had tonight. I can’t tear myself away from him now if I tried.
His lips are salty and laced with hints of sweet whiskey, and the drift of his fingers into the thick of my hair leaves me breathless. With his other hand, he slowly unhooks each of my overall straps searching for any sign of hesitation in me. Finding none, he pulls the denim bib down to my waist, his fingers lingering at my hipbone. Settling the length of his body overtop me, he consumes me in the heat and strength of his frame.
Sanity be damned, I want him. I need him.
His teeth rake at my lower lip, drawing out quiet sighs of my increasing pleasure, and a floodgate opens in me. He knows I’m a goner, and the drag of his calloused palms across the bare flesh of my abs proves it.
Without hesitation, I give way to him, allowing the curl of his fingers to pull at the hem of my shirt, lifting it straight over my head. His lips continue to crash over mine, drowning me in the taste of clove and sweet tea. His hand dips down into the press of the trampoline beneath my back, feeling toward the clasp at the back of my bra. Short of breath and wanting to rid us both of the clothes that separate us, I arch up into him. He takes advantage, and with the clasp loosened and my lacy bra torn free, he smiles as if he hasn’t seen me bare like this in years.
“I just want you to feel good.” Licking his top lip, he takes his time cupping each of my breasts in his palm as if he’s studying the shape of me. Pressing his thumb over my nipples, the intentional movement of his fingers causes me to melt, and I can feel myself growing wetter by the minute.
Bending down over me, his lips slide across the tender flesh of my breast, and I hiss in anticipation as the warm slip of his tongue awakens me, now stiffening my nipples. Lingering there, he nibbles around my tight buds, planting a trail of gentle kisses down my sternum and over my tummy. Shivers of impulsive desire ripple through me, wiping out all thoughts except for the one that’s been gnawing at me for weeks now: I want this man inside me.
Hastily, I grasp at the hem of his shirt. With a chuckle, he shimmies free of it and tosses it clear into the grass. I slide my palms down the bare of his chest, feeling every rope of muscle beneath his tanned skin. I feel the shudder of his breath across my neck before he rolls away, leaving me breathless and confused in the wake of my loss.
“Pants. Off,” he grunts, anxiously shoving his jeans down as the trampoline shakes beneath me. In seconds, he is bare, leaving me to catch up. I wiggle out of my overalls and panties, finally freeing myself. This leaves nothing between us, save for the desperate hunger in our eyes.
Garrett settles overtop me again and dives back in against my lips. His kiss is ravenous as if he’s never tasted me so fully. Whatever it is that’s made him so desirous of me tonight, it leaves me craving every last drop of him.
No more waiting.
“Garrett.” My whisper lifts his hazy, stupefied gaze. “I want you. Now.”
His eyes go wide, but he immediately obliges. Slipping between my legs, I can tell he’s as starved for my body as I am for his. This lights something inside me on fire, and a yearning for a deep and intimate closeness with him burns within my core.
Pausing, he nips at my neck for a second. “Need to go get a con—”
“No,” I whimper, knowing he hates using them anyway. Before he can respond, I arch my back in frantic search of what my hips can’t find. Reaching down, my fingers curl around the length of his stiff erection. I feel him tremble from the smallest touch, and I know he wants me just as bad.
“Rach, you sure?” he asks, controlling his breaths. “They’re just inside.”
“I can’t wait that long,” I say, tightening my grip around him. My fingers slide at an agonizingly slow pace up and down his length. He is already damp at his very tip, and that’s enough of a sign for me. I aim his rod down, and with a lift of my hips control the shuddering sensation of him filling me entirely.
My breath leaves me knowing this is exactly what he’s wanted for years, and I’m giving it to him. In times past, he’s dealt with my insistence on using a condom, but tonight I’m not patient. Tonight, I want to feel him inside me, nothing separating us. My breath hitches in a cascading dance as he slips slowly in and out of my wet core. I can’t help groaning his name into his ear as I latch my arms around his neck, pulling him further into me. His pleasured breaths fall onto my collarbone and face, and the scent of him enjoying me fuels my own desirous need.
His thick lips move all over me now, lavishing me with covetous, passionate kisses from the corner of my mouth down past my breasts as he continues to sink down inside me, slow and patient, over and over again causing my center to clench around him with each move.
There is nothing I can focus on save for the growing heat building inside me. In a gradual rise, he accelerates his thrusts into me, and I’m suddenly aware that there are no walls to hold in the wisps of my rising moans.
Pressing my mouth into his bare shoulder to dampen the volume of my cries, I dig my nails into his back and snake my legs around him.
“Harder,” I whisper between my undulating breaths. I want him to push me over the edge and leave me quaking, that impending crash I won’t be able to delay. “Please harder,” I beg through my whimpers.
“You ready to come for me?” His words are calculated and heavy with concentration. I know exactly what he’s searching for now.
I nod with a groan, and I’ve tried to deny him for so long up until tonight that I’d forgotten just how bright he sets my flame. My core clenches around him, and I feel my entire center pulsating with his every move. My body seizes beneath the weight of him, catching me in my crescendo of pleasure. My moans, now echoing out into the woods, drown the sound of his ragged breathing. “Garrett,” I plead, right on the edge of shattering. “I’m going to—”
All the Wild Ways Page 5