by Lindsey Hart
Zoe stares at me like I just sprouted a second dick, this one from my armpit or forehead, and because of its dubious nature, growing where it shouldn’t, it’s not viewed as a potential source for pleasure, but more of extreme worry. Zoe used to be a master of changing the subject. Obviously, that hasn’t changed.
“Lead the way back to the lodge. Stay silent the entire time, for the love of pity Pete.”
“What’s to pity about Pete?”
“Argh!” Zoe’s eyes lift up to the sky like she thinks something up there can help her. Or maybe she’s just trying to brace against another bastard dive bomber spruce beetle or whatever they’re called. Pine sawyer—that might also be the name. I’ve heard the lodge owners tell us about both. Fuck if I know what it was. I didn’t even see the foul fucker. “You’re not getting a tiebreaker. Let’s go.”
“Alright.”
“Alright?”
“We’ll see. I have bets on you coming to me. Or just coming.”
Zoe stands rigid. She’s not even going to dignify that with an answer. I know Zoe, though, or at least I used to. I can tell when she’s genuinely pissed, and right now, she’s just acting. The truth is there in her eyes. The truth is there is something strange and undeniable between us—a chemistry neither of us expected. Something. Something that just isn’t going to go away. It’s definitely physical, but it’s sure the hell more than that too.
It feels like something connected to the heart.
It feels a little bit like being soulmates, that connection. Like someone whom you met once, and no matter how much time passes, you just pick up right where you left off. Maybe I’m not using that term correctly. I think there are different kinds of soulmates, though. I kind of feel like Zoe never left, except she did. And she grew up. But she’s still the same Zoe deep down inside. She still isn’t afraid to speak her mind, and she’s still the same girl who would take on a crowd of bullies if they were picking on someone she loves. She always stood up for what she believed in. She was fearless, full of heart. Such a huge heart that’s so much bigger than her small stature.
Zoe always got along with just about everyone. Obviously. There isn’t a single person out there who is capable of not loving her in some sort of way.
Of course, it’s connected. This girl used to be my best friend, and we tattooed each other’s initials into our skin. Maybe it’s the blood poisoning kicking in after all these years that’s messing with our heads.
Maybe.
But I don’t think so.
“Just so you know,” Zoe grumbles a few minutes later from further behind me than I’d like her to be. “I’m still giving my notice.”
I can’t even begin to smother my grin. She can’t see it anyway, but she probably knows it’s there. “We’ll see.”
CHAPTER 14
Zoe
The moment I’ve been sweating over and dreading is finally here.
Raiden literally paid a private cab company to come out to the lodge, which is in the middle of nowhere but still has road access, to come and get us to take us into Denver for lunch with his mom. I sat up front so I wouldn’t have to talk to him.
Thankfully, our driver, a younger guy who didn’t look old enough to have a valid license, wasn’t in the mood for conversation either, so I could just sit and stew in my worries instead of talking about something else.
When we get to the place, Raiden opens the door of a classic looking family restaurant and holds it for me. He’s not a gentleman, even if he does hold doors. His mom probably chose the place, as it’s surely not fancy enough to be up to par with his new, expensive tastes.
For some reason, I just can’t see him enjoying a burger and fries the way he used to when we were kids, where he’d inhale two or sometimes three, eat all of his fries, and mine too, and often drink my soda as well. We weren’t often treated to eating out when our parents were married because they didn’t have a ton of extra cash or just didn’t think to take us out for dinner, but whenever we were, Raiden ate like he wanted to make up for all the times we weren’t.
My eyes flick to his back as he walks ahead of me to talk to the smiling, young hostess at the front. Maybe I just can’t imagine Raiden eating like that because he looks like he hasn’t ever touched fast food in his life. He’s way too fit. I haven’t seen him with a shirt off, but I have seen the way his t-shirts give his abs, chest, and shoulders some love. They hug those tight parts even tighter.
The hostess says something I don’t catch, and then Raiden follows her in, and I have to follow both of them. The restaurant isn’t fancy on the inside. It screams nineties family diner, and with the blonde wood on the walls, outdated purple booths and tables, scary low pile green carpet, and ancient-looking thin metal blinds, it looks like it hasn’t seen better times since it was last renovated or built.
On the other hand, there is a pie counter at the front with a ton of delicious looking goodies in there, so I immediately give this place a thumbs up for thinking about the rest of humanity—those of us who don’t look like we live in the gym and who actually eat something other than straight chicken breasts for every meal.
I spot Raiden’s mom, Gwen, as soon as Raiden slides into the booth opposite her, leaving me with a clear line of view. I manage to paste on what I hope passes as a welcoming, warm smile, and since my choices are either asking Gwen to shove over or sliding in next to Raiden, I choose to slide into the booth beside him.
Unfortunately.
As soon as I get within a few inches, I can smell the expensive, manly cologne the guy dabs on. He’s freshly shaved, so maybe it’s the aftershave. Do people still use aftershave? Thinking about Raiden shaving makes me think about how my skin burned when his jaw scraped over my more sensitive bits when he was eating me out.
That thought makes me go completely scarlet, I’m sure, especially since the rest of me feels like it’s near boiling point. I quickly grab a menu and bring it up to my face in order to hide behind it.
“Zoe! It’s so good to see you again!” Gwen says cheerfully. I can tell she means it too, so I lower my menu just a fraction. It would just be rude not to.
“I…yes. You look amazing.” I mean it too.
Gwen always was pretty. Raiden used to have to deal with constant jokes from his friends about how hot his mom was. He hated it when his mom was dubbed a MILF. She’s got to be in her mid to late fifties now, though, but she’s still smoking hot. She probably works out and can bench press a cow, just like Raiden. It’s most probably where he learned to eat all that chicken.
Okay, that’s extreme. Gwen isn’t ripped. She’s just really nicely toned, and she has the body of someone in her early thirties. Her face barely has a wrinkle, and her dark hair is tastefully dyed with blonde highlights, probably to cover up the gray, but on her, it looks tasteful. She’s wearing a dark blue tunic and yoga pants, I think. I haven’t looked under the table, but I’m guessing she went for those or leggings. She never did like wearing jeans, and I didn’t get any glimpses of bare legs peeking out from shorts or a skirt when I slid into the booth.
“Oh, geez.” Gwen laughs softly, a little embarrassed by the compliment.
Honestly, I’m not sure why my dad was dumb enough to let Gwen go. She was always so nice. She was pretty, kind, and she didn’t have any sort of ego. She was always embarrassed by compliments, and she worked hard. I don’t know why they were constantly arguing about something, but I do know my dad didn’t treat her very well, and he was messy all the time, which used to drive Gwen nuts. I’ve always kind of wondered if that’s why my mom up and left too.
I mean, I know my dad is an amazing man, and I love the heck out of him. He raised me, basically by himself, and I have nothing but respect and admiration for him. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to be a dad and have to raise your daughter without a mom. Sometimes, things were awkward. And sometimes, they were hard, but Dad was always my number one fan. For real. He made time for me. He was there for me.
&
nbsp; I just wished he could have done more of that for Gwen. I can also honestly say as good as my dad was to me, he was never like that with the women he dated or with Gwen, who he married. I’m not sure why he couldn’t just open himself up and be a better partner. I’m not sure why he was always so quick to lay blame or instigate arguments on purpose. It’s like he didn’t want to risk any part of himself or put any part of himself into a relationship. I’m not sure if it’s because of what happened with my mom walking out on him or if he was just kind of broken even before my mom.
There’s a lot I don’t know. Sometimes, over the years, I’ve been afraid I’m a little bit like him. I’ve dated people, but I can never seem to make anything stick. I used to tell myself it was because I just hadn’t found THE ONE yet, but yeah. I’m starting to think maybe I’m a little bit broken too. I don’t argue or fight like my dad, and I’m not lazy. I do try and pull my own weight and give a hundred percent and everything, but things still don’t work out. People still leave. Or sometimes, most of the time, I think we just mutually lose interest.
There’s this massive part of me that really doubts there is anyone out there for me.
And that makes me think about Raiden.
About all the things I already feel for him—when I’m with him, when I think about him, and when I think about our past—that I haven’t felt with another person. Ever.
It can’t be real. It’s only been two weeks, during which I’ve done my best to avoid him. It’s just my brain playing tricks on me. Or my body, because Raiden looks like a fantasy character—the kind that walks around wearing a loincloth type garment and some crude armor, kicks ass with a sword, and is all bronzed and muscly and oiled up.
I’m seriously blaming the sudden tingling and my racing pulse on the rabies.
“Zoe?”
“What?” I drop my menu and whip around to face Raiden. Apparently, I was so lost in thought that whatever was just said, I completely ignored.
“I was just telling mom how surprising it was to take over a company and find you working there—what a nice surprise it was. She asked me about what you do, so I filled her in with a very brief overview. That’s what you missed while you were somewhere in space.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. I face Gwen guiltily. “I got too much sun yesterday. I think it fried my brain.”
“That’s alright. It’s the main reason I moved out of Miami. The humidity was just brutal, and you could never escape it. Here, the sun will only fry you two months out of the year. It’s much more bearable.”
“Oh. Yes.” I hastily glance at the menu and pick the first thing I see, then shut it just as fast as I opened it. I set it aside and make sure I’m sitting as far to the edge of the booth as I can.
Raiden isn’t exactly a small guy, and he basically takes up the whole thing.
“So, you’re going to stay on with the company?”
I nearly turn and frown at Raiden since I’m sure he put his mom up to this, but Gwen is so sincere that the question doesn’t sound forced at all.
“I’m still deciding,” I say, since I know I’m a terrible liar.
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Yeah, well, I was contemplating a career change for a while.”
“Into something different?”
“I was thinking about going back to school, actually. I have three cats. They’re all rescues, and I was thinking about becoming a vet tech. It’s only for two years. And I wasn’t half bad at science, so that helps.”
“Yes, you were,” Raiden snorts.
Gwen gives him a look of death, and he actually sinks down a few inches in the booth. He grabs his menu, and now, he’s the one hiding behind it.
“That’s amazing,” Gwen says softly. “It’s a very noble calling.”
“Are you really considering that?” Raiden asks from behind the menu. “You never mentioned it.”
“There are a lot of things I didn’t mention. And we only just met again less than two weeks ago.”
Out of nowhere, a blonde teenage girl suddenly appears at the table. She pulls out a notepad, and it’s obvious that it’s time to order. I feel a little embarrassed getting waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, but Gwen orders the same thing. Raiden looks at us like we’re from another planet and asks for a chicken sandwich.
Of course he does.
He does surprise me by getting fries and a soda, though. Gwen, on the other hand, orders a strawberry milkshake, but I just settle for coffee.
I have no idea how she stays so fit. Maybe this is her cheat day or splurge day. Or whatever. But probably not, though. Gwen is just really pretty and super awesome, kind of like her son. Except Raiden didn’t inherit the awesome. He must have gotten an asshole gene from his dad or something.
“It’s good to see you again. Truly,” Gwen says again. She smiles at me so warmly that it makes my heart swell a little in my chest. “I hope that even if you do pursue a different career path, you and Raiden can stay friends. He needs some good friends in his life. Money does a lot of things for a person, but not all of them are good. Genuine people are hard to come by.”
“Mom!”
“Well, it’s true.”
“I still have good friends,” Raiden mock pouts. “Don’t listen to her.”
“But there are a lot of people who just want to use him for his money.”
“Mom!”
“I know all about that,” I blurt out. I want to die as soon as I say it because no, it wasn’t a happy statement, and it totally reeked of bitterness and resentment.
Great. Now I’m staring down two identically puzzled expressions. I’m not a smooth talker at the best of times, but I know there isn’t any way I’m getting myself out of this one.
CHAPTER 15
Raiden
“You do?” Mom and I both ask at the same time. We laugh sheepishly when we recognize our faux-pas.
Zoe stuffs her hands into her lap and studies them. She looks like she wishes she never agreed to this lunch in the first place. Then she wouldn’t be here, trapping herself into awkward confessions and unwanted conversation.
“Yeah,” Zoe mutters. “I mean, kind of. I’ve had a few people in the past whom I thought were friends, but it turned out they somehow knew Raiden and I used to know each other, and they just wanted to get close enough to me to see if I could get them a decent job or hook them up. Not the guys for the hooking up part, I mean. It’s not just the friends I’ve had, but boyfriends too. Sometimes complete strangers come up to me and ask if I know Raiden Vanstone. Obviously, they know I do because then they ask if I can get them a job or a meeting to pitch their idea or whatever.”
“But you weren’t even in contact with him until a few weeks ago,” Mom protests. She’s shocked. She doesn’t mean to sound like she doesn’t believe Zoe, but I think Zoe gets that.
“I know,” she clarifies. “I guess they did some digging, and they thought past connections meant something. They couldn’t be sure, I guess, about how we didn’t keep in touch.”
“That’s terrible!” Mom exclaims. “Boyfriends? Guys dated you to try and get something out of you that way?”
“Yeah.” Zoe shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
I half expect her to excuse herself to go to the bathroom or something just so she can get away from us for a minute and break the tension, but Zoe’s always had lady balls the size of watermelons, so of course, she doesn’t take the easy way out. Instead, she raises her head and looks Mom right in the eye.
“It happened a few times, actually. It was bad. It did hurt me, and it made me angry, but I guess the good thing is that they weeded themselves out eventually. No one wants fake friends or fake boyfriends. Most of the time, they only made it a few weeks. And now, I’m much more careful.”
“That’s still horrible.”
“I’d like to find them and offer them a job, alright,” I hiss under my breath. “I’d create a super special position just for them. Scrubbing toile
ts with their tongues would be too good for them, though, but I can’t think of anything worse off the top of my head.”
A tiny smile tugs at the corners of Zoe’s lips, but it never blooms completely, though, and I can tell she’s making a valiant effort to keep the hurt out of her voice and face. I hope she doesn’t blame me for what happened. I’d like to find those guys and force-feed them the lies they told Zoe. I’m not sure what I’d do to the women since I was mostly raised by my mom, and I do try and treat women with respect and admiration. While the world might think I’m a serial dater, I’m actually the one who gets dumped, or the breakups are mutual, or we both understand there aren’t any strings from the start. I try my very best not to be a pig, as Zoe called me, and I so wish she knew that.
I really do care what she thinks—a lot.
“One milkshake, one soda, and one coffee,” a voice says out of nowhere.
I pull my head out of my butthole and stare at our server as she carefully places our drinks on the table. This isn’t about me. I mean, it is, but it’s also not. This is about Zoe. I shouldn’t be thinking about myself right now or justifying my past to myself when it’s Zoe who needs to know. Or maybe it’s a shithead thing to do, to think about my past like that when we were talking about her.
I suppose I could be overthinking this. But maybe I just really don’t want her to think of me as a trash bag kind of person even though she likely already does think things like that of me. And rightfully so.
“Your food should be up shortly,” our server tells us before she leaves us with our drinks and a conversation none of us want to pick up.
I want to tell Zoe that I’m sorry. That if I could go back, change things, and protect her, I would. I wish I could go back. Because then, I wouldn’t have just let her walk out of my life. I would have contacted her sooner, and I would have made sure I could watch out for her.