“That should’ve been enough.” But you were too easy, and I don’t do well with easy. But you knew that, didn’t you? That brought a wave of guilt that nearly bowled her over, but it was as true as the sky was blue. “I could really use your words of wisdom right now, Eddie.” She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. “I don’t know what to do, but Dare’s right. Most days I feel like I’m going to explode. It hurts, Eddie. I wish you were here to tell me what to do.” She heard an airplane in the distance and wished she were on it. Scratch that. She wished that she wanted to be on it, because going away would make things so much easier, but she didn’t want to leave the place or people she loved. “Can you just give me a sign, Eddie? A hint about what I should do?”
She ran faster, wishing she’d never started dating him, because she’d known even then that her heart had already been spoken for. But she’d thought she could get past her feelings for Dare. Oh, how she’d tried, year after year, but he was so deeply rooted in her soul, she didn’t know where she ended and he began. She didn’t even know when she’d fallen in love with him, but she’d known she was in too deep the summer after high school, when she’d had a bit too much liquid courage at a party and had gone in for a kiss—and had come out the other side consumed by sensations more powerful than any thrill she’d ever experienced, more addicting than the adrenaline rushes that had ruled her life, and it had terrified her. She knew at that moment that loving Dare Whiskey was dangerous, and she’d told him it could never happen again. It was a good thing, because he’d gotten so out of control that summer, drinking too much, toying with drugs, and tempting fate with treacherously dangerous stunts, she’d been sure she’d stop wanting him. But here she was, ten-plus years later, asking her dead ex-fiancé for help.
Her lungs stung, her clothing was soaked, and her heart hurt like a bitch. She slowed to a walk and bent over, resting her hands on her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. The breeze felt good on her face.
“Maaaaanciiiiiiniiiiii!”
She whipped around just as Dare parachuted to the ground on the other side of the field. Are you freaking kidding me, Eddie? He’s your sign? Either you’ve got a wicked sense of humor, or I’m in trouble.
She headed across the grass toward Dare as he unhooked his equipment. Most people wore flight suits, but Dare and Billie had always hated them. He wore a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and sneakers, and he had a small backpack strapped to his chest. His cocky grin brought a smile, despite her annoyance.
“Hey, girl. Great morning, huh?” He shrugged off the pack that was strapped to his chest and plopped onto his ass as he unzipped it.
“It was. What’re you doing here, Dare?”
He pulled a plastic bottle of orange juice out of the backpack and set it on the grass. “Having breakfast.” He withdrew a plastic container and took off the top, revealing two sandwiches. “PBJ and banana. Wanna share?” He patted the grass beside him.
She rolled her eyes as she sat down. “Am I supposed to believe you went skydiving armed with my favorite breakfast and just happened to land in the field where I run practically every day?”
“I figured you missed me.”
“I just saw you last night.”
“Exactly. That was a long damn time ago, and I know you’re dreaming about me and shit.”
“There’s that ego we all know so well.”
“You don’t know it nearly well enough anymore, and you run three days a week, not seven.” He leaned his shoulder against hers, lowering his voice. “Embellisher.” He held the plastic container in front of her. “Go ahead—you know you want it.”
“Not hungry, thanks.”
“Bullshit. You’re always hungry. I mean, I know you’d rather have some of this.” He waved to his body. “But I don’t fool around with women who want to scratch my eyes out. Now, dig those nails into my back…” He winked.
“Dream on, Devlin.”
“Pullin’ out the big guns, are ya?” He lifted the container again. “Eat the damn sandwich, and don’t worry, Wilhelmina, I won’t take it as an olive branch.”
Ugh. Why had her parents saddled her with her great-grandmother’s first name? She reluctantly took the sandwich and bit into it, further irritated that his sandwiches still tasted better than anyone else’s. The raspberry preserves and bananas were sweeter, the peanut butter chunkier, and the bread was as soft as a cloud. “Thanks.”
“I lied. I’m totally taking it as an olive branch.” He shoved half his sandwich in his mouth and reached into his backpack, handing her a bottle of water, amusement shining in his eyes.
She yanked it from his hand. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“Good. The day I stop being one, I’ll know I mean nothing to you.”
As if that could ever happen. She chugged the water. “Did you come here to give me more shit?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Great.” She pushed to her feet.
He yanked her back down. “Chill out, Mancini. I’m just having breakfast with my bestie.”
“I’m not your bestie anymore.”
“You’ll always be my bestie. Those bonds don’t break just because you get a hair up your ass for a few years.”
“Lucky me,” she said sarcastically. “Whose butt do I have to kick for flying you out here?”
“Flame gave me a lift. Good luck kicking the ass of a guy who jumps into fires for a living.”
Flame was Dare’s friend Finn Steele’s road name. He was a smoke jumper and a Dark Knight, and now he was on Billie’s shit list. “Freaking Finn. You can bet I’m going to give him hell.”
“Good luck with that. Hey, maybe I’ll go running with you sometime.”
She scoffed. “You couldn’t keep up.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Yeah. I win, you stop coming around. You win, you stop coming around.”
He ate the rest of his sandwich in one bite, eyes narrowing as he chewed and swallowed. “You’d be lonely without me.”
“I’ve been without you for a long time, Dare, and I’m not lonely.” She took another bite of her sandwich and gazed out at the field, hoping she’d pulled off the lie.
“Twitch, twitch.”
She tried to stifle a smile as she turned to look at him. “You think you know me.”
“Besties for life know each other’s tells.”
“Just like I know you’re here to get me to talk.”
He leaned back on his palms and crossed his ankles. “Is that so bad?”
“Why now? After all this time?”
“I never stopped trying to talk to you.”
That was true, even after she’d tried to cut him out of her life, he’d been persistent, coming back day after day, calling, texting, showing up when he knew she’d be home, trying to talk to her at the bar after she’d gone back to work. Weeks later, when he’d finally taken the hint and those check-ins had tapered off, she’d been as relieved as she was devastated. But he’d never stopped trying.