ELEVEN

The urge to forcibly hold her together when she comes undone, is hard to resist.

Roar

When the din of cutlery clanging dies down, and the last plates are removed, a familiar voice comes over the speakers. Time for Kyle Thompson, the festival’s biggest sponsor, to give his annual welcome speech. This would normally be the moment where I’d quietly excuse myself to Charlie, who is used to me disappearing, but tonight Leelo is my date, and I’ll be damned if I leave her sitting by herself.

I feel her tense up beside me when she notices Kyle.

At first it’s easy to tune out the self-serving drivel he feeds the crowd, but then something he says draws my attention.

“I’m excited at the boost this festival gives our local economy. For the first time, this past year, the number of small businesses closing their doors was outnumbered by new ones being opened. I’m proud of that accomplishment, and I’m pleased to note our latest new business owner decided to grace us with her presence tonight,” he says, and I snap my head in his direction to find him staring across the hall at Leelo.

The fucking bastard. I move to shove back my chair, but find myself held back by the women on either side of me. Charlie squeezes the hand she lands on my shoulder and Leelo digs her nails in my thigh.

“Lilith,” Kyle calls out with a smirk, beckoning Leelo with his hand. “Join me up here, won’t you?”

That’s it. I may be pinned to my seat, but no one is keeping my mouth shut, so I use it.

“Hey, Kyle!” I call out, surprising him and his eyes slide to me. “Don’t you think it’s time to get your own date, buddy? Quit trying to steal mine!” I drop my arm around Leelo’s shoulder and pull her close, kiss the side of her head, while keeping my eyes locked on him.

Someone starts laughing and claps, and pretty soon others follow, drowning out anything else coming from his mouth.

“Can we get out of here?” Leelo asks quietly, tilting her head back to look at me.

I hate seeing her eyes are wet, but when I lift a hand to her face, she quickly turns her head away. On my other side, I hear Charlie’s deep sigh. That’s when I realize she’s not just upset with that asshole, but also with me.

“Sure,” I tell her, dropping my arm from around her and feeling a twist in my gut. Kyle may have been the first to try and make her feel uncomfortable, but I played right into his hand. My attempt to put him in his place only resulted in putting a bigger target on Leelo. Of course she’s upset.

How badly I fucked up becomes clear before we even have a chance to say our goodbyes, when a familiar scent hits my nose, seconds before I feel a hand rub over my head. The uncomfortable knot in my stomach only twists tighter.

“I’m impressed,” Patti practically purrs over my shoulder, the smell of alcohol heavy on her breath. “You managed that all by yourself?”

Every eye at the table is turned in our direction.

Son of a bitch. For a night that started so promising, it sure has gone to shit in every possible way.

I purposely keep my back to Patti as I push up from the table, turning to Leelo instead.

“I don’t think you’ve met Patti yet, have you?” I ask, holding out my hand so I can help her to her feet.

Leelo

Talk about mortifying.

First Kyle, then Roar, and now...Patti? So much for easing quietly into a new community, more like being dropped naked in the middle of town square on market day.

It’s not that I haven’t heard her name mentioned once or twice, I know she works at the lodge part-time, but for some reason I’d envisioned someone a lot older. Not the well put together, intimidatingly pretty, and most definitely tipsy blonde, whose scrutinizing, bloodshot eyes take in my appearance as I put my hand in Roar’s and get to my feet. Standing feels a little better, a little less intimidating, but it also makes me conscious of the stark contrast I provide to the much taller, and way better dressed woman, who seems much more suited to the towering man between us.

I’ve been here before, in a moment like this, where everyone looks at you with a mix of curiosity and pity when you find out how blind you’ve been.

“I haven’t,” I finally respond, struggling to keep my voice strong and even. “Hi, I’m Lilith Talbot,” I introduce myself with a bright smile, not waiting for Roar to do the honours. God only knows what would come out of his mouth, and I’ve had about all the discomfort I can handle tonight. As it is, the air is already thick with tension.

“Patti Jackson,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze as she leans her body into the man beside her. “Ssso nice to finally meet you. I’m actually—“

“An old friend,” Roar finishes for her, effectively cutting the woman off. “She was married to my best friend and helps out at the lodge. And Leelo is the new owner of the Whitefish Motel.”

A few random pieces fall into place. Matt had briefly mentioned something about Roar naming the lodge after a friend who passed away. Given her last name, this must be his widow? Yet judging from the way she’s leaning against him while eyeing me, something tells me that may not be all she is to him.

“We were just heading out,” Roar says, grabbing my hand in his and sidestepping Patti, who briefly wavers on her feet. He stops to drop a kiss on Charlie’s cheek and barely gives me a chance to do the same before he drags me out of there.

Not a word is exchanged as he pulls me along to where his truck is parked. Only when he’s safely buckled me in, does he briefly rest his forehead against mine.

“That was fucked up,” he whispers. “Let me get you out of here.”

Dropping a peck on my lips, he backs out, shuts the door, and rounds the truck to get in behind the wheel.

The drive is silent. I open my mouth a few times to say something, but stop myself each time. Better to take a little time to process. Lord knows there’s enough there. Not the least of which the woman with the ridiculously tiny waist and the firm ass.

No tight heart-shaped ass here—more like an oversized beanbag.

I know I let myself get swept away with the unexpected attention he gave me, but tonight showed me just how little I know about him. And maybe even more importantly, how easily my newly found confidence is damaged. I’m clearly not the devil-may-care independent woman I try to be. Not yet anyway.

So when the truck pulls into the motel driveway, I already have my hand on the door and a polite goodbye on my lips. Distance. I need a little distance to regain my perspective.

“Thanks for dinner,” I rattle off, as I launch myself from the truck the moment it rolls to a stop. All I hear is Roar telling me to wait, but I’m not about to. The tears have already started rolling and there’s no way I can hold back the deluge now. A mix of old and new frustration, confusion and hurt come pouring out. Tonight’s experience so close to the one from years ago that I thought I’d long left behind me, that the feelings evoked by either blend together in an indistinguishable wave of emotion.

I struggle to fit the key in the door of the bar, when I sense more than hear him come up behind me. Mostly because I’m sobbing too hard to hear anything. He doesn’t touch me but his hand reaches around, takes the key from mine, and easily slides it home in the lock. Fuck him. Now with unreasonable anger thrown in the mix, I push through the opened door and stomp right through the bar to the sanctuary of my home beyond, determined not to care what happens behind me.

“Go away,” I call out blindly, as I flop on the couch and pull the quilt over my head. I’m tired, I’m worn, and I just want to be left alone. When I don’t hear anything in response, I safely assume I’m alone and finally completely let loose, burying my cries in the couch pillow.

It’s surprising how cathartic it can be from time to time, to fling open the floodgates and hold nothing back. Like a good cleansing, letting the toxins just pour out of your body. Everything, past and present emotions tripping the other like domino stones as the neat rows of tight control slowly disappear. And with each stone falling, a little pocket of tension is relieved.

By the time I’ve purged enough to be able to draw a normal breath, the pillow is soaked, my eyes are burning, and my head is pounding with the beginnings of a doozy of a headache. Lovely. But a weight has lifted and my body is relaxed as I drag the quilt away from my slobbery face.

“Wipe with this.”

The sudden sound of his voice, along with the cold wet cloth he drops on my face, scares the shit out of me.

“Again?” I screech; scrambling up in a sitting position with the quilt clutched to my chest. Roar just manages to catch the washcloth as it falls to the floor and instead of handing it back; he uses it to gently mop up the mess on my face himself. Stripped of any remaining dignity after the night I’ve had, I let him, keeping my eyes closed until he’s done.

“Drink this,” he orders, placing a mug with something warm in my hands.

“Bossy,” I mutter, but I dutifully bring what smells like tea to my lips and take a sip, and then another.

“When I came back from my third tour in Afghanistan, injured and escorting the dead body of my best friend home, Kyle Thompson had finally found his way into my wife’s bed. That day I lost everything.”

My eyes shoot up only to find Roar staring into the distance, lost to his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wrapping my hands tighter around the warm mug.

“It’s a game to him. Always has been, since we were friends in high school. Everything had to be a competition. I usually just shrugged it off, but Jenny changed that. He used her, and when he got what he wanted, dropped her to deal with the ravages of our marriage. Any other time we might have found our way through, but with what I’d just been through, the stretch just wasn’t there.” He finally turns his head to face me, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and let my fingers run along his cheek and beard. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I have lived here my whole life. There’s a lot of history, and some of it might bubble to the surface before I have a chance to catch you up. Tonight’s a prime example of that.” He unfolds one of my hands, still holding the mug, and brings it up to his lips, kissing the back of my fingers. His eyes never leave mine.

“And Patti?” I can’t stop the question from forming. “Is she an example of that as well?” I hear the deep sigh and instinctively pull my hand from his, tucking it protectively around my waist, but I don’t back down. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I got the impression there’s some history there that is not quite as simple as just an old friend. I haven’t always had my eyes open in the past, and the consequences have done damage, which is why clarity on that particular subject is important to me.”

The silence that follows is unsettling, and I almost get up to start pacing when I feel his hand on my knee.

“There was more. We were both stuck in our loss, not looking for anything new, and occasionally turned to each other for—”

“I get it,” I say quickly, cutting him off, not really wanting to hear more. But he twists in his seat and cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.

“I ended it quite a while ago. Could be I sensed it had started meaning more to her than it did to me. Her friendship is more valuable to me.”

“I get it,” I repeat, before softly adding, “I’m just not sure she does.”

Roar

Her face is still red and puffy from her earlier meltdown, but her red-rimmed eyes are steady on mine as I gently stroke my thumbs over her cheeks.

I’m not sure why it felt important to let her work through that emotional collapse on her own, or how I managed to keep from interfering, but forcing myself to stay in the background while listening to her come apart was pretty fucking brutal. But I can feel the calm coming off her now, even after plodding through a few difficult topics.

Christ, how I hate talking, but after tonight, I feel I owe her at least that.

“I know,” I finally say.

Not easy to finally admit something I didn’t want to see. If not for Leelo broaching the topic, I would never have gotten into the whole Patti thing, but now that it’s out there, it’s a bit of a relief.

Her hands come up to cover mine, bracketing her face, as I drop my forehead to hers.

I’m wiped. My body is buzzing with awareness at the smell and feel of her, and I’m sure is game to explore those further, but my mind feels sluggish, like it’s been through the wringer. I’d prefer to pay attention to what I’m doing, instead of letting instinct take over and blindly fucking that soft, warm body on the couch.

“I gotta go,” I say instead, pressing a kiss to her lips. But when I pull away, her hands shoot out and tangle in my beard, tugging me back. My own fingers slide back, twisting into her hair until her head tilts further back, and I slam my mouth down on hers.

Her lips open immediately and my tongue invades, the hot throb of my blood flaming the surge of hunger. It feels like I’ll burst out of my skin as I devour her mouth. Fucking hell, she tastes good.

Feels good too, as her body twists, and with her fingers still tangled in my beard, drags me down on top of her, without ever taking her mouth off mine. The next second, my hand is tugging down her neckline and bra, to lift one lush tit from its confines. The sharp sting when I pull my beard from her hold barely registers, when I bend my head to run my tongue over the creamy flesh.

I pluck lightly at the tight pink nipple with my teeth, before taking it between my lips.

“Yesss...” she hisses, her body restlessly shifting under mine.

Fuck! Not like this.

I drop my head to her chest and try to regain some control.

“I really should go,” I repeat, feeling her body freeze at my words.

I lift my head and drop a kiss on her nipple, before gently covering her back up. She tries to scramble upright, her face a tight mask, but I shift my body to keep her in place.

“Been quite a while, sweetheart,” I explain, my nose just inches from hers, even though she avoids looking into my eyes. “Combine that with the kind of night we’ve had, I know I wouldn’t be able to do you justice,” I push on, pressing my hard-on against her hip and a thumb under her chin, until her eyes finally meet mine. “I know you feel that.”

When I finally push myself off the couch and let her sit up, her sass returns when she treats me to a dramatic roll of the eyes. I’m grinning as I walk toward the door.

“I’m not blowing you off, Leelo,” I promise, stopping to turn around in the doorway.

She’s pulled the quilt back over her and is holding it bunched in her fists, under her chin. Her eyes sparkle bright blue, her hair is mussed, and her face is deeply flushed. She needs to know she’s much more than a quick grope on the couch. So I tell her.

“I’m saving you for a special occasion.”