“Spill” Gage says from next to me as he takes a pull from his beer.
Where the fuck did this fucker come from?
“Fuck off” I growl at him, taking a drink without looking over at him. If I ignore the twat, maybe he’ll go away.
“Nice try. Spill Brother. Do it or I’mma sic Cotton on your sullen arse,” Gage says matter-of-factly over his beer, not looking at me.
“Got nothing to say,” I brood.
“Don’t test me motherfucker,” he says, pointing a finger at me from around the bottle neck. “Something has yer panties in a twist Brother,” Gage counters. I’m still not giving in to the fucker. I’m not talking to him, to anyone about the fact that I can’t get Tessa and her bouncing body outta my mind.
“I’m going for a ride,” I growl. I need to get my mind right and get away from these thoughts of Tessa. I need to ride, clear my head. I tear through the common room and out the front doors, ignoring the calls of a few of the Brothers as I pass. I’m not in the mood to talk, not in the mood for another drink, I just want to get lost on the road and let my mind melt away.
Chapter 7
Tessa
One week running like crazy to stay put and I’m still standing.
I did it. I survived my first shifts working at The Looking Glass with Alice. As crazy and boring as it may get, I must admit I love every minute of it. If there was going to be any happy destination to my flight from Seattle, this is almost better than I could have dreamed. I love getting to work with Alice and Francois, who makes the best biscuits and gravy on the planet. Seriously. He can bring grown men to their knees with one plate of that manna from heaven.
The biggest blessing though is my dear neighbor Betha. She and Evan have become fast friends and she is beyond fantastic with him. I’ve worked the night shift twice this week and Betha has worked some kind of magic and has gotten Evan to sleep in his crib without a fuss. I’ve almost begged her to come over and put him down every night for me, anything to keep him from screaming for hours and hours on those tough nights.
Alice wasn’t kidding when she said she was short staffed; it’s been a full seven days, and this is my first day off. She said it would be a trial by fire, and it literally was when I put a stack of napkins next to the stove, but I’m finally getting my café legs under me.
Evan and I are enjoying a chill morning at home and it’s just what the doctor ordered for the both of us. Home. It’s amazing to me how quickly this place has started to feel like our home let alone a home. I wasn’t expecting it, didn’t want it, but here we are after only seven days and the thought of packing up and moving on again makes me feel a strange tightening in my chest. I don’t want to leave. I should leave though. I need more miles between there and the two of us. Maybe, I can stay a bit longer though. Maybe I can slow down the pace a bit and make the marathon.
I shake off the thunder cloud that threatens my mood. I'm going to enjoy the day with my baby boy and not think about tomorrow, just for today. Right now, I’m going to watch a movie with my little man. Honestly, the movie is pretty cute… the first hundred times you watch it. Now it’s just background noise that I quote under my breath without even realizing I’m doing it.
While Evan rolls around on the rug with his toys and laughing at the little green one-eyed monster running around on the screen, I pull out my phone and start scrolling through my emails, catching up on the news. It’s true that I want to leave the past behind, but there is still a part of me that’s connected to Seattle. It’s where I grew up, where my son was born. It will always be a part of us, for better or worse. In a moment of homesickness, I subscribed to a weekly email update from the local paper, one of those little townie ones that barely are online and barely cover the county news. I haven't been opening them, not wanting to tempt myself while getting settled into our new lives, but today I click into the most recent update.
Basic suburban headlines fill my screen. A new park getting built here, a historic building getting restored there, some wiz kid from the high school won some national grant to intern for NASA… nothing new, nothing exciting really. But the last headline at the bottom makes me stop.
HOMETOWN LAWYER DARRIN ROBERTSON, ESQ. KILLED IN TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT
I click into the article, sure the headline must be wrong, or it is some other Darrin Robertson. I feel numb, my limbs heavy, the tears running down my face as I search the article for what happened.
“According to Kirkland police Darrin Robertson, 27, was driving a black Porsche 911 northbound on Juanita Drive through Saint Edward State Park when he appears to have lost control of the vehicle and veered off the road where it struck a tree before overturning and landing on its top. Kirkland police report that Robertson was ejected from the car and died at the scene. No other details have been released at this time but a representative for the investigation stated that Robertson’s blood alcohol level was well above the legal limit at the time of the crash.”
This can’t be happening.
“Lexi. Oh my god Lex” I whisper as a sob rips through me.
My baby sister Lexi is engaged to Darrin Robertson, hometown football star and third generation lawyer in the family practice. Well, I guess she was engaged. They were supposed to get married next September. She had been so excited the last time I talked with her.
I stare at the article for several minutes, trying to make sense of it, but I just can’t figure it out. That isn’t the Darrin I know. I have never known him to have more than a single drink while out and never if he has to drive home. A pit of unease takes root in my belly.
Something isn’t right here.
I have to talk to her; I have to call Lexi. I know it would be stupid and a huge risk I can’t afford, but I can’t let her go through this alone. I pull up a new email, maybe that’ll be better, and I send her a quick note. I try to stay as vague as possible about Evan and I and keep it focused on how she is holding up. After hitting send I stare at my phone for a few minutes, willing a response to show up in my inbox even though I know there’s no way I’ll receive anything back so soon.
When I finally snap out of it and look up from my phone; the movie is about half over and Evan is rolling around oblivious to anything other than his quest to eat his own foot. Deciding I need a distraction and more caffeine, I get up and head to the kitchen to refill my mug, almost tripping over a stuffed animal in the dark room as I do.
“Bud, it’s such a cave in here! Mind if I open the curtains? Of course, you don’t… Because you’re a baby… And if you do, I’m gonna anyway. Because I'm the mommy. So there,” I say with a mock attitude, sticking my tongue out at him. He giggles at my antics, squealing and flailing his arms in his adorable little way. I laugh as I cross to the window and push the curtains open over the large window. My laugh fades to a quiet hum when I catch sight of what’s going on across the street.
It’s been a week since I saw Sawyer as I was leaving for my run. A horrendous encounter that still has me wondering if someone performed a lobotomy on one, or both of us. I can’t think of a more painfully awkward moment in my entire life post puberty, probably during as well. But now, looking out the window, I feel my mouth run dry and my traitorous lady bits tingle to life. As if that man wasn’t good looking enough fully clothed, now he is freakin’ mouthwatering, jaw dropping, brain melting, stunningly gorgeous. Forget panty-melting, this man is panty-disintegrating hot.