Swept Away (Wildfire Lake Book 3)

by Skye Jordan

  I look over the screen of my laptop and soak in the pink-and-coral sky, slowly darkening. Another day gone. Another day alone. I haven’t figured out what this experience was supposed to teach me. There are so many possibilities—exposure of my trust issues, the consequences of holding information back, ruling Xavier out as boyfriend material once and for all. Every time I try to figure it out, my mind spins and spins but doesn’t gain traction. I probably can’t see it because I’m not ready to let go of the anger. Anger is judgment. Judgment is ego. But I’m sure as soon as I let go of the resentment, the tears will come, and I’m terrified they’ll never stop.

  My phone pings with a message. I don’t look because I’m pretty damn sure it’s from Xavier. He’s been calling and texting and coming by since that night in the hospital, but I’m no more ready to talk to him now than I am ready to let go of my anger and hurt. It’s a simmering cauldron of poison I know I have to dump, but it’s still too hot to touch.

  Just thinking about it all tugs at the wounds enough to break the scabs, and I start bleeding again. Not the arterial gush I suffered at the hospital, but still a messy, aching stream.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Bodhi slides into a seat across from me, a bottle of water in hand.

  I sigh and look at my computer screen. “The words just aren’t coming tonight.”

  “Oh, how well I know that pain.”

  It’s almost time for yoga, so I close my laptop. “I read your book. It’s pretty good.”

  “Just pretty good?” he asks, smiling.

  Yeah, he’s got a great smile. I can see him more objectively now that I have distance from the betrayal. He’s just as imperfect as the rest of us. I put him on too high a pedestal. He had to fall eventually.

  My phone lets out a soft reminder ping.

  Bodhi glances at my phone, then back to me. “Xavier?”

  “Probably.”

  “Still not talking?”

  I shake my head. “Not ready.”

  Bodhi’s gaze lowers to the water bottle he spins in his hand, and his expression shifts toward regret. “If you’d never met me, if I’d never cheated”—his gaze lifts to mine, contemplative—“would you be more willing to give Xavier a chance to bridge this space between you?”

  I didn’t tell him what happened, just that we broke up.

  His question is a relatively deep one, reminding me of all the intense talks Bodhi and I shared. All the wisdom he imparted.

  I sigh and turn the question over in my mind. Try to imagine Bodhi and I didn’t work out for a benign reason that hadn’t broken my trust and betrayed my love.

  And when I take the resulting bitterness and distrust out of the equation, I nod. “Probably. Yeah.”

  “Then you need to give him that chance. Haven’t I stolen enough of your happiness?”

  I exhale, my shoulders sag.

  Bodhi reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “I leave in the morning.”

  I nod.

  “It’s been so…healing…to see you,” he says. “I will love you until the day I die and be forever grateful you chose to forgive me.”

  Tears sting my eyes. I feel like my world is falling down around me. I nod again, and when he stands and holds his arms open, I hug him goodbye.

  “Forgive Xavier, Chloe. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, forgiving Xavier should be a no-brainer. You deserve true happiness.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed and nod against his shoulder.

  Bodhi kisses my forehead and walks away at a brisk clip, as if he needs to put distance between us so he doesn’t do something stupid, like try to kiss me.

  My heart is both lighter and heavier. He was such a big part of my life for so long, and part of me still misses the man he was at his most amazing. But that level of superhumanness isn’t sustainable day in and day out. We all falter, make mistakes, say things we shouldn’t have, do things we shouldn’t have. We’re human, after all. All just trying to live our best life. I know it took a lot of inner strength for him to let me go, and I’m pleasantly surprised and grateful he took the high road this time around.

  Everyone needs boundaries. Everyone needs to know where to draw that line in the sand, no matter how much it hurts. I’d done that with Bodhi, and I did it well.

  Xavier, on the other hand…

  I slide my laptop into my bag and head toward my boat to change into yoga clothes. I’ve been sleeping in the apartment unit above the conference center, so I didn’t have to worry about Xavier just showing up—which he tends to do—and to get the space I need to think, but I feel ready to move back to the boat. To face Xavier. Or, as ready as I’ll ever be.

  Making my way down the dock, I take a deep breath and open Xavier’s text message.

  Please don’t make me apologize in text. I want to look into your eyes, so you know how serious I am and how bad I feel. I miss the hell out of you. Throw me a bone, baby. Even KT can get behind that. I’m dying here.

  My heart softens, and the text makes me smile. His messages over the last few days have grown lighter, more teasingly melodramatic and self-deprecating, but no less heartfelt. In truth, they’ve been ripping me apart because I’ve been having a hard time finding a way to forgive him while retaining my emotional safety and self-respect. Regardless of what happens between us from now on, it’s about time I made my own apologies for my contribution to this mess.

  I change into a workout bra and yoga shorts and head toward the conference center, playing with words in my head, trying to figure out what I want to say. There are already a handful of women lying quietly in the yoga room, and I set up at the front, cue my music, and light a candle. It’s a new candle. A new pink candle. I stare at it, wondering if I want to forgive Chamuel or not. Undecided, I take a seat in lotus. Time for a little meditation on that apology for Xavier.

  I can’t say I’ve made much headway when the room fills and it’s time to move. Teaching yoga is like breathing for me. Yoga is a form of meditation, a place where I feel confident, connected, and calm. Where I feel all my sharp edges soften, all my tight muscles ease, and all my problems fade, even if just a little.

  After welcoming everyone and offering my gratitude for their participation over the last nine days, I lead them through an easy warmup, which is when I notice all their mats are pink. And that’s beyond weird, because when I purchased mats for the yoga center, I purposely chose five different colors.

  “Am I seeing things, or is eveyone’s mat pink?” I glance at the basket by the door that holds rolled-up mats, and the few that are left are also pink. “Where did those come from?”

  “Don’t know,” Renee, one of the participants who’s been here every day says, “but I saw Laiyla in here earlier moving things around.”

  I exhale. Yes, Chamuel. I hear you. I know what I have to do.

  Now I just have to decide how and when.

  “Starring in child’s pose,” I say, moving along with the class, “open your knees nice and wide and allow your chest to come down right in between the legs. Reach out in front of you and feel that luscious stretch in your arms, shoulders, and back.”

  I guide their breathing for two minutes in this resting position, then ease into cat-cow stretches. “Breathing into the lower back, exhale, and round slowly into tabletop. Now arch the back, hold, and shift, raising the hips and scooping the back. Get a nice stretch in your spine while opening your heart.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see someone come in late. As I round my spine into cat pose, I glance around the room to make sure there’s a spot for her.

  But it’s not a her. It’s a him. It’s Xavier.

  My stomach tumbles. My heart floats. I’m simultaneously frustrated and thrilled. He’s in jeans, a tee, and, God, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him. But I’m not ready and my nerves tangle.

  “Sorry,” I tell him, continuing the stretches, “yoga students only.” Then to the class, “Lift your hips high and bring your
chest to the floor for puppy pose.”

  Xavier shifts on his feet and glances around.

  “Join us, Officer Wilde.” This comes from Renee in the middle of the room. I have several sassy, flirty, fun women in the class. “Grab a mat.” When he turns to do that, Renee says, “Danielle, sweetie, come back here by me.”

  Danielle is directly in front of me. A wicked grin lights up her face, and she moves to a spot next to Renee.

  “That’s right,” Renee tells Xavier. “You go on, right up there, honey. Give us a little eye candy on our last night here.”

  A ripple of laughter flows through the room.

  “What a great idea.” Xavier takes off his socks and shoes and unrolls the mat right in front of me. Fucking perfect.

  “Lift back to tabletop,” I say. “Extend your right leg and your left arm.”

  “Handsome,” Danielle says, “you can’t do yoga in jeans. Give us all a little sugar and shuck those bad boys.”

  “Danielle,” I say combining my what-the-hell and knock-it-off tones.

  “Just sayin’,” she zings. “None of us is wearing much more than boxer briefs. Why should he?”

  Oh. My. God. I glare at the two women, who return snarky smiles.

  Xavier moves to the side of the room again and drops his jeans.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Renee says, making everyone laugh among hoots and whistles as if this is a Chippendales show.

  I close my eyes and exhale all my air, muttering, “Jesus Christ.”

  “Lose that tee too,” Carmen pipes up from the back row, followed by a wave of approval from the others.

  Xavier fists the back of his shirt and drags it over his head. The entire class bursts out in whistles and shouts. Some women pull out of the pose to clap. Xavier makes a melodramatic bow, then takes up his position on the mat in front of me and matches my yoga position.

  “Switch,” I say. “Left leg and right arm extended.”

  Once Xavier finds balance he says, “Hi.”

  I sputter a laugh and shake my head. “And switch.”

  “Why didn’t we have him here from the start?” one of the women asks. “Talk about motivation.”

  The other women laugh and make sounds of agreement.

  “I know an apology for what happened at the hospital isn’t enough,” he says. “But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were wrong.”

  “Switch,” I say. “Engage your abdominals, elongate your spine.”

  “When I saw Piper bleeding like that, I was reminded of Keith, and I lost it. You were the closest, safest target, and it was so wrong of me to hurt you like that.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Renee says. “Sing it, baby.”

  I shoot Renee a scowl. “Inhale,” I say, “draw your elbow and knee together and exhale on the crunch. Extend, inhale. Crunch, exhale.”

  “Jesus.” Within a few minutes, Xavier is panting. “I never realized yoga could be so hard.”

  “Tuck the toes of your resting leg, and lift into a one-legged dog, reaching your opposite leg toward the sky.”

  Xavier follows, grunting with the effort. “All right, ladies,” he says, “you have my undying admiration for putting yourselves through this.”

  Laughter whispers through the room.

  “Bending the knee, coming into plank, touching the knee to your chest, for one, two, three. Releasing into your high plank, opening into side plank.”

  “Good God,” Xavier moans, “How you could possibly find this relaxing, I’ll never understand.”

  More laughter, and, yeah, I’m smiling now too.

  “Lifting into that stretch, stacking your feet. If this is too much for you,” I say with sarcasm in my voice, my gaze on Xavier’s, “you can drop your bottom knee to the mat.”

  “Fuck that,” he says, challenge in his voice. “I’ve got this.”

  I continue to go through the motions of class—push-ups, down dogs, baby cobras—trying like hell not to ogle his body, unlike the other women.

  “When Piper woke up,” he says, “we had a long talk. She told me all the amazing things you did for her. She explained how it really wasn’t your fault. And she told me that she went to you because I’m too hard to talk to. So, in a lot of ways, what happened was more my fault than yours.”

  He’s making my chest ache and messing with my concentration. “Moving into elbow plank, and hold. Remember to breathe.”

  That last reminder is more for me than the class, I’m feeling pretty choked up.

  “These last four days have been hell without you,” he says.

  “Lift your hips into dolphin pose.”

  “If you give me another chance, I swear I won’t ever make that mistake again.”

  “And lower back into plank.”

  “Chloe,” Renee scolds, “give the man some hope, or half this class will take him home.”

  “Amen,” Danielle chimes, followed by approval through the class.

  “Lift into dolphin.”

  “Chloe,” Xavier says pointedly. “I miss you so much.”

  “And lower into plank,” where I’m now eye to eye with Xavier, just a foot apart.

  “I love you.”

  The words stun me, and I fall out of the pose. Just freaking drop to the floor like a rock. “Wh-what?”

  “I. Love. You.” Now Xavier releases the pose, resting on his stomach. “I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you in the grocery store a year ago, and I love you so much more now.”

  Either the room went completely silent, or my hearing has tunneled.

  He reaches out and cups my chin. “I love you, Chloe. I don’t want to be without you another minute. Tell me what to do to fix this, and I’ll do it.”

  I don’t know how long I’ve been staring into his eyes when I finally notice the members of the class quietly rolling up their mats and making their way out of the room. Renee is holding the door, and when the last student leaves, she winks at me and closes the door behind her.

  I’m alone with Xavier.

  He pushes himself forward, closing the distance, and kisses me. And, God, it feels so good. Tension leaks from my body and my heart opens. But lingering fear and hurt make me pull back and roll to a seat on my butt, legs crossed.

  Xavier mirrors me, close enough for our legs to touch.

  “What you did in the hospital was so wrong,” I say. “You treated Karen better than you treated me.”

  “I did. I shouldn’t have.”

  “It hurt. A lot.”

  He reaches out and takes my hand in both of his. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  “I know you were stressed and scared, but it can’t happen again, do you understand that? After all I went through with Bodhi, I won’t accept that kind of treatment. The self-preservation in me is having a really hard time forgiving you.”

  He nods, his expression sober. “You would be completely justified if you didn’t, but, damn, I pray you do.”

  As the tension fades and we start to find balance, I let out a long breath. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you what I knew about Piper’s friends. I didn’t realize there was a competition going on. I just thought she was searching for a place to belong. If I’d thought she was in any danger, I would have told you. I swear.”

  His fingers caress mine. “I know. She told me everything.”

  My hopes lift. “So she’s talking?”

  “Roughly, but well enough. She’s home, and Karen took a week off to stay with her. Piper told me you didn’t know about the game and that when you caught her with the pot, you ripped her on it.”

  “I don’t understand why she made everything worse by going through with the break-in.”

  “She said she was so close to the end, that the break-in was the last test, and even if Smith, Dale, and Willow were mean—”

  “She’d rather have shitty friends than no friends.”

  He nods. “Her mom agreed that Piper will stay with me if Karen’s
going to be out after nine at night. But I think this scared her into moving Piper up toward the top of her priority list.

  “I also talked with Piper about how I need to change so she can talk to me about anything in the future. You were right about me being too black-and-white and not giving her the safety net she needs to confide in me.”

  I tilt my head and slide my fingers along his jaw. “That will be so good for her.”

  “I’m hoping it will be good for you too. I want you to be able to tell me everything without me acting like a bull in a china shop, forcing my way toward the solution I think is right. I want you to trust me not to betray your confidences so you feel like you can share them with me.”

  I pull in a breath that stutters into my lungs. “That would be so amazing.”

  I push up on my knees and slide across his lap. His arms curl around me, and he hugs me so tight, he steals my breath. I press my face to his neck and breathe deep of his scent. “The last four days have been awful. Really awful.”

  “I agree with you there.” He pulls back, cups my cheek, and looks into my eyes. “God, I don’t ever want to go without seeing you for a full twenty-four hours again.”

  “I think we can make that happen.”

  He finally smiles. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I kiss him. “Because I love you too.”

  Epilogue

  Xavier

  Six months later

  I pilot the boat away from the New Year’s Eve party at Levi and Laiyla’s house on the lake. It’s forty degrees now at 1:00 a.m., but I’m sweating.

  “Man, do they know how to throw a party,” Chloe says from the passenger’s seat. She’s got her head laid back, her gaze on the sky. She loves stargazing.

  “Definitely qualified as a bash,” I agree. “You think it was bigger than their wedding? It felt like every soul in Wildfire was there tonight.”

  “Sure did.” She laughs softly. “It’s so great to see KT and Ben and the girls. I’m so happy they’re staying in town awhile. Did you see how much the girls have grown? Maybe it just seems that way since we haven’t seen them in a while. I sure have missed them.”