Rafe Page 6

  I would have felt better if I’d seen some emotion on his face—irritation at me, or pain over his father. I would even feel good at seeing something like regret or longing for better days. Instead, I see nothing.

  His eyes are flat, and his mouth slackens before he turns back to his weeding. I watch him as I approach, and see he’s doing nothing more than rearranging small nuggets of bark mulch. I have to wonder if he’s completely shut down.

  “Get up,” I command as I reach where he’s hunched over in the flowerbed.

  His body jerks as his head snaps my way. “What?”

  “Get up,” I repeat. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Out of here,” I reply and then turn on my heel. I make my way back up the staircase of the deck and head into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?” Brenda asks softly as I slide the door closed behind me.

  I smile at her, my expression reassuring and slightly mischievous. “I’m taking your son out for some fresh air. Tell him I’ll be waiting in my car.”

  * * * *

  “I can’t believe this is still here...untouched.”

  I glance at Rafe as he gazes out over Old Man Podden’s pond. It sits on the back of a large tobacco and corn farm at the edge of Wake and Franklin counties. He’s surprised because the capital city of Raleigh has been expanding outward, and all the country farms have been sold off to real estate developers.

  But Podden’s pond remains, and it’s a well-protected secret. Podden sold off most of his farm but kept a small portion of land, about twenty acres with the original homestead. I have unfettered access to it because my dad has been Podden’s mechanic for decades. The pond itself is a hidden treasure, secluded by a copse of pine and oak trees, an old, abandoned dirt road the only way to access it.

  “Raleigh is growing so fast,” I agree before tipping my beer back to drain the rest.

  I backed my Pathfinder up to a cleared spot near the edge of the pond. It’s close enough that if we had fishing poles, we could cast right from the rear where we’re now sitting.

  Rafe mimics my action, emptying his bottle. We’ve always drunk beer at the same rate...not too fast and not too slow. Granted, it wasn’t like we drank a lot, but we had our ways of getting our hands on it, even back then.

  He reaches behind him to the cooler we grabbed from my parents’ garage, which we filled with ice and beer from a convenience store as we traveled up Route 1 to the pond. He pulls out two more bottles—our second beer each—twists off the caps, and hands me one.

  It’s weird how, without thought, we both automatically tap the glass necks together and say, “Cheers.”

  It’s what we always used to do when we slipped away to the pond with a picnic basket and ice-cold Cokes.

  Rafe spares me an awkward smile. I can see in his expression that he knows perhaps the fond memory might provoke more bitter feelings within me, a potent reminder of what’s been lost.

  Quite the opposite happens, though.

  I feel the need to reminisce. “Remember my senior skip day?”

  Rafe chuckles, and his smile becomes relaxed. “How everyone headed east on I-40 to the beach, but we came here instead?”

  I give him a look of faux reprimand. “You were home visiting from Green Bay and said it would be romantic, but really...you just wanted to get me alone so you could get in my pants.”

  Rafe snorts. “It was romantic, and let’s be honest...you wanted in my pants just as much.”

  I giggle because it’s true. Once we relieved each other of our virginities at age seventeen—even though he’s almost ten days younger than I am—we couldn’t get enough of each other. The only problem was, being next-door neighbors with our parents’ noses always in both our businesses, our opportunities to be together were not plentiful.

  So senior skip day was a golden opportunity. While my entire senior class headed to the beach for a day of frolicking and fun, Rafe and I wanted nothing more than to be together.

  Intimately? Yes.

  But more than that. We were settled—really at our happiest—when it was just us.

  “It’s a good thing we didn’t go to the beach that day,” I muse, taking another long pull off my beer.

  “No kidding.” He laughs, and I join in.

  That turned out to be a very bad idea for a lot of students. Turned out the underground plan for every senior to skip class on a coordinated day in favor of spending the day at the beach with a whole lot of underage drinking didn’t turn out so well for those who went. Our vice principal, Mr. Henkel, had somehow intercepted the plan. He was waiting at the high-rise bridge that crossed to Topsail Island with a list of every person’s make and model of car.

  He made a note of every single one and then managed to track down every party on the north side of the island at one of the public beach accesses. There, he handed out detention slips and called everyone’s parents.

  Sure, I skipped that day too, with Rafe at my side, but we weren’t busted at the beach with beers in hand, dealing with subsequent calls to our parents.

  Instead, we enjoyed a quiet day to ourselves, fishing on Podden’s pond, eating ham sandwiches and drinking ice-cold Cokes, and we made love in the back of his car without a care in the world. It was one of the best days of my life, honestly.

  And not something I really should be thinking of.

  Rafe and I sip at our beers, and finally, I poke at him a bit. “So, what’s the deal with tearing up your mom’s flowerbed in the back yard today?”

  It’s a roundabout way of me asking him how he’s doing, and he knows exactly what I’m angling for as his eyes meet mine, his expression not one of forthcoming information but questions of his own.

  I can see them, brutally clear, even if he doesn’t voice them aloud.

  Do you really want to know?

  Why should I tell you? We’re less than friends these days.

  Can I really share this with you, or will you turn your anger back on me? Because I really can’t handle much more grief these days.

  I reach out to him, placing my hand on his thigh and giving it a pat. There’s nothing sexual about the gesture, but I hope the solid warmth of my touch, and the fact that I don’t hesitate to reach out to him means that he can trust me with his sorrows.

  “Lay it on me, Rafe,” I murmur quietly. “I know you can’t burden your mom. I know it’s hard to talk to your dad. I’m here, and I’m listening.”

  Rafe physically deflates, his posture sagging as he cradles his beer bottle between his legs and stares at it. He doesn’t look my way, but his words are only for me. “I feel hopeless. Out of control.”

  The power of his admission humbles me. I know Rafe as well as anyone, and he’s a strong, proud man. He never admits to weakness, always stoically carrying whatever burden is on his shoulders. Even back when we were together, he didn’t show his vulnerability to me because he didn’t want to weigh me down.

  That he’s actually sharing with me now causes a shift within me that feels like loose sand on a beach dune.

  He’s actually sliced himself open to let me see a part of him that, no matter how close we were before, I’d never been given the privilege of observing.

  The fact that he’s doing so now causes more of the walls I erected to crumble, revealing more of my current self to him as well. It’s like peeling away a protective hide, leaving me raw and exposed.

  I swallow past the lump of emotion in my throat and try to give him the best advice I can. “I expect that’s normal given your situation. And I expect there’s no easy fix. I don’t think you really need me telling you this, but I’ll say it anyway. You need to make the most of what time you have left.”

  His gaze comes to me slowly.

  Painfully.

  The naked grief in his eyes touches me so deeply, I lean into him. “You’ve got this, Rafe. I’ll help you through it.”

  “Why would you?” His disbelief is evident. It’s warranted, a
s well.

  “Because, no matter what, I guess I still care about you. And I care deeply for your parents. You know that’s never changed. Let me be here for you. You only have to tell me what you need, and I’ll give it.”

  I’m not prepared for the flash of heat in his eyes, nor am I ready for the way my blood quickens from it.

  “I need to feel something more than grief and sadness,” he says bluntly. And then with challenge in his tone, he adds, “That may be the beer talking.”

  My mouth curves into an unbidden smile. Rafe’s wit has always been effortless, his charm foolproof. It makes me want to play along, and that’s probably the beer talking on my part.

  Surely a kiss couldn’t hurt, though. Take his mind off his problems for a bit. And it’s practically a harmless gesture. It’s not like we haven’t kissed before, and we both know that it won’t go anywhere past a mere touching of our lips.

  But as I lean farther into him, I know that’s likely the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself.

  Chapter 7

  Rafe

  The past eight years of my life melt away when Calliope’s lips touch mine.

  Gone.

  My entire professional hockey career fades.

  The women I’ve dated over time...faceless.

  The money I’ve made, unimportant.

  Fuck, I’d forgotten how good she tastes. Her tongue touches mine, and when an electric surge of longing pulses through me, I realize we are in dangerous territory. Calliope has no clue that I’ve carried an agonizing torch of desire for my first true love all these years. She can’t understand the depth of my feelings, and if I don’t draw away now, this could be disastrous.

  She’ll never accept the truth.

  I pull away, my eyes immediately taking her in.

  I see eyes half-closed, a small smile playing on her mouth, and a tiny exhale of something that I can’t quite put my finger on.

  Disappointment?

  Regret?

  Her eyelids flutter open, and her hazel-green eyes stare at me. Confusion sets in. “What’s wrong?”

  Only about a million things.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” I reply.

  Her chin jerks, and by the expression on her face, I can tell that thought never crossed her mind. Still, I hold her gaze.

  Calliope, never one to back down, returns the look just as steadily. Finally, she says, “I know I shouldn’t even be attracted to you after...”

  Her words crumble, drift away. And yet, she doesn’t drop her gaze from mine. She inhales a fortifying breath and then lets it out slowly. “I hated you for a very long time. And I’m ashamed of that because I was raised to never hate. But you hurt me so badly, and I went years without knowing what was so wrong with me that—”

  “Nothing was wrong with you,” I exclaim, my hand shooting out to clasp the back of her neck. She finally tries to avert her gaze, attempting to turn her head. I hold tightly, squeezing her neck gently and finally, she gives me her regard again. “I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

  Incredulity morphs her features, and her mouth opens in shock. “What was best for me? You crushed me.”

  “Christ,” I mutter and frame her face with my hands. “I didn’t think you would follow your dreams if you were following mine.”

  “That makes no sense,” she blurts.

  “It did to me back then,” I reply bitterly. “You had big plans, Poppy. Nursing school. It was all you ever dreamed of. And yet you and I were so tied up in each other, I thought you’d lose sight of that. Moving away with me to Calgary so suddenly...you wouldn’t have had time to enroll in school, and I just thought that if you got off track with your college plans, you wouldn’t ever get back on. So I made the decision to leave you behind. I thought it was what was best for you, and that had to take precedence over what I wanted.”

  I’m stunned when Calliope’s eyes flash with fury, and she knocks my hands away from her face. “You egocentric, sexist pig. How dare you decide what’s best for me? How dare you think that I didn’t have the fortitude to pursue my dreams while helping you follow yours at the same time?”

  And, fuck...there it is. The source of my regret all these years. Because while I thought for quite a while that I was doing the right thing, deep down, I knew I never gave her the credit she deserved.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer. No truer words have ever been spoken. “I’m so very sorry. I got it wrong. So very fucking wrong.”

  “You’re goddamned right you did,” she seethes and scrambles from the back of the Pathfinder. She whirls to face me, hair flying, and eyes spitting sparks of wrathful fury. “You refused to even have a conversation with me about it. I begged you to tell me why you were making the decision, and all you said was that you changed your mind about wanting me to come with you. Do you know how devastating that was?”

  “It was devastating to me, too, Poppy,” I tell her.

  She points a finger my way, wags it as if she’s chastising a small child. “Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t you dare call me Poppy. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

  I hold up my hands for a moment in silent surrender and hop to the ground beside her. She’s magnificent in her rage, never having been more beautiful as she expels all of her anger at me.

  But I want to calm this down. We’re actually communicating, and I realize now that this is my chance to try and make things right with and for her. Make her realize that what I did, I did out of love.

  I extend a hand to her. “Calliope...”

  She takes a quick step back as if touching me would be a vile affront. Her second step back, and her sandaled foot comes right down on the edge of the pond bank. Dewy grass and mud take her hostage, and she starts to tumble backward.

  I lurch for her, latching on to her wrist, but she tries to avoid my touch, leaning her entire body back. The momentum of gravity pulls at her hard, and I have to take a step toward her for more balance.

  Except my shoe hits the same disastrous combo of weeds and slimy mud, and my balance dissipates. I fall toward her, and no matter how strong I am or how much I’d really, really love to save the girl, it’s all for naught.

  We both go crashing down, right into the chilly April waters of Podden’s pond.

  Calliope shrieks when she hits the water, and my breath is knocked clean out of me as I feel the iciness next. We both go under. Slimy ribbons of pond scum lap at my face, but I refuse to let go of Calliope. She’s a strong swimmer, as am I, but no way am I letting her go.

  We both fully submerge into the shallow water. Broken sticks and what feels like a rotten log hit my legs, and then I’m pulling her up to fresh air.

  The water’s not deep enough to be a bother, and we both come up sputtering in a sitting position on the mushy pond floor, water up to our shoulders.

  Calliope uses her free hand to push sopping wet hair from her face, dead leaves snagged in and hanging from the ends. I give my head a hard shake and drag my free hand over my face.

  We stare agog at each other, both shocked into silence, the argument forgotten.

  I watch as a thin rivulet of pond mud slithers from her scalp down her temple, and I’m enchanted by the water droplets suspended from her eyelashes.

  She stares at me in complete disbelief.

  “You look like a fairy sea princess,” I tell her truthfully.

  She blinks, waterdrops fall.

  I can’t help it... I start laughing.

  Immediately, I snap my mouth shut and bite down hard on my tongue. “I’m sorry.”

  Calliope blinks again and then her lips part.

  I snicker.

  Then snort.

  Her beautiful eyes narrow on me, and the next thing I know, she’s sending a wave of nasty pond water right at me. It catches me full in the face, hits the back of my throat, and I choke on it. I deserve it.

  When I clear my eyes, Calliope is bent over, laughing hysterically, her shoulder dipping down into the wa
ter. The sound of her lilting voice is music to my ears, and I don’t want it to stop.

  So what’s a guy to do?

  I splash a wall of water back at her. She sputters and looks stunned for only a moment before her palms slap at the pond’s surface, and I’m caught full in the face again.

  Then it’s on.

  We both go at each other, laughing and splashing. Calliope comes up to her knees. She wobbles in the sucking mud but gets better leverage on me. I’m entirely doused by wave after wave. I hold up my arms, trying to protect myself, and suddenly realize I need to go more on the offensive.

  I lurch up, lunge at her, and grab her wrists to stop the inundation. She’s laughing so hard she barely has any strength left to fight against me. Her face is flushed despite the chill, and I can’t fucking help myself.

  I crash my mouth down on hers, feel her freeze in shock for a moment, and then gobble down the sultry groan that warbles out of her. It heats me to my bones, and then we’re clawing at each other.

  Grabbing, fisting clothing, attacking each other with our mouths. My hands make their way back to her face, intent on holding her still so I can consume everything she has to offer.

  The kiss is atomic, off-the-charts hot, and filled with so much emotion I don’t know whether she’s coming at me with hate or something else.

  Doesn’t matter.

  I’m not stopping.

  Then something comes over me...a calm that feels like a steadying hand. I slow myself, make an exploring and leisurely swipe of my tongue against hers, and she melts into my body. An arm around her waist, I pull both of us to a standing position, the water lapping at my lower legs. I haul her into me and kiss her with all the regret I’ve been carrying around in my soul for years—a sincere apology.

  Calliope wraps one leg around mine and puts her hands on my shoulders as if she’s trying to climb up my body. I help her along, putting my hands under her ass as I haul her up. Her legs wrap around my waist, and our mouths never break contact.

  She shudders in my arms, over and over again, and it’s like a drug. Every part of her vibrates, even her lips against mine, and it’s intoxicating.