“I think I saw it over here,” I say, turning the cart around. “Do you want to get a jar?”
We circle the cart around to the peanut butter aisle where I saw the hazelnut spread, and my stomach plummets when I see we’re not alone. Caught off guard, I nearly crash our cart into the shelf of strawberry jelly, and Camilla collides into the back of me.
She smashes her nose into the back of my head and shouts, “Dammit.”
Talent’s reading the ingredients on a box of brownies like they’re something to be health conscious of, but his eyes lift to mine and hold like magnets when he hears the commotion at the other end of the aisle from him.
This is why I stick to the fucking list.
“My nose is bleeding.” Camilla tilts her head back and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Your head is so hard.”
“Shut up.” I try to turn the cart around, but one of the wheels is stuck straight. I abandon it, deciding it’s a good time to switch to the store close to the apartment. Pushing Camilla forward, I say, “Walk. Hurry the fuck up and walk. We have to go.”
Blood streams from her nose over her lips. She lifts the hem of her shirt to wipe it away, hesitant to move her feet as I shove her out of the aisle.
“Lydia,” Talent calls out to me. He walks quickly to close the distance between us. “Lydia, stop.”
“Dammit, Camilla. It’s just a little blood. Move your fucking feet.” When shoving doesn’t work, I grab her hand and drag her toward the front of the store.
“Blood makes me faint,” Camilla admits. The soles of her shoes squeak against the tile floor, screeching to a stop. She bends at the waist, holding her hands on her knees to keep upright. “I’m dizzy. I just need a minute. It’ll pass.”
Talent didn’t return the box of brownies to the shelf. It’s still in his right hand as he approaches us, unsure if he should confront me or offer Camilla a helping hand. She’s a light shade of chalk white and makes red dot art on the floor in her blood.
“Is she okay?” Talent asks. He motions to her with the brownies. “Should we get help? Does she need a doctor?”
“No,” I say defensively, stepping between them. “We’re leaving.”
“I’m dying,” Camilla groans. Her knees shake. “I can taste the blood in my mouth. It’s the worst.”
Dropping my head back, I close my eyes and count to ten. I can always leave by myself, get into the SUV waiting outside, and order Yael to drive and not to stop until we reach the other side of the world, far away from this agony. Now is as good a time as any to start my life over.
“Wild, grab a box of tissue for this girl before she passes out.” Talent places his hand on Camilla’s back, and it dawns on me that I should be offering comfort, not him. I’m a shit person.
Wait.
Wild? As in Wilder?
Sure enough, Wilder Ridge, Talent’s older brother, approaches with his hands up in surrender, seemingly as afraid of the blood as Camilla is.
Because, surely, this situation couldn’t improve at all.
Wilder is a larger, lighter, stiffer version of Talent. Talent is tall and lean, with dark hair and natural swagger. Wilder Ridge is bulkier, with light brown hair and a straight posture that doesn’t waver under bloody, drippy stress. Sharing the same shaped nose and ears, the color of their eyes is nearly an identical shade of gray, with Talent’s a tinge darker while Wilder’s are sharp and speculative. He absorbs the scene—the bleeding girl, his concerned brother, and the brunette off to the side who doesn’t act like she wants any part in it.
Wilder runs off for tissue, and I kind of, sort of want to run away, too. It’s not like Camilla would be left alone.
“Talent, what are you doing here?” I ask, conceding. I push his hand off Camilla and take over, rubbing small circles like Cricket used to do to me when I was ill.
“Didn’t you hear me calling your name?” he asks.
“I don’t talk to strangers,” I reply.
“Ouch.”
Wilder returns with a pack of tissue and I work quick to get it open. I press a wad of it under Camilla’s nose and guide her upright. Dismissively, I ask whoever, “Can you get someone to clean this mess up?”
“I think it’s slowing down,” Camilla mumbles under the tissue. She looks around, and her eyes widen when she sees the Ridge brothers. New to the city, even she’s aware of who they are.
“Why don’t you go to the restroom and wash your hands. I’ll check out and we can go home,” I say.
Still red from the facial wax, Camilla’s hands are streaked with blood, and her shirt is stained in it. She has the decency to look embarrassed in front of two of the most influential people in Grand Haven and quickly scurries off to clean up.
Talent nods in her direction but doesn’t watch her go. He only has eyes for me, and I melt under his molten stare. The only thing that keeps my chest from caving in is the heavy beat of my heart. I feel it in the palms of my hands, in the bend of my elbows, and in my lips.
“Is that a friend?” he asks.
Wilder crosses his arms over his chest, giving nothing away. I slide my eyes to his and dare him to give me a piece of his mind. I’d chew him up and spit him out.
“Lydia,” Talent says, bringing my attention back to him. “What’s going on?”
“Excuse me,” I whisper. “I need to get my cart.”
Wilder moves out of the way, but Talent runs his hand through his head of curly hair and exhales a large breath through his lips. “Can we talk?”
Pushing past him, I say, “There’s nothing to talk about, Talent. I think we made that abundantly clear the last time we saw each other.”
He follows me back to the peanut butter aisle. “My brother and I are going to grill some steaks at my place. Come over. Bring the bleeding girl.”
I laugh out, yanking my cart away from the jelly shelf. “Give me a break. You don’t shop for yourself, and you don’t grill your own food. What the hell are you doing here?”
Talent captures my elbow and pulls me against his body. I’m assaulted by his scent, his warmth, his power and magic. I close my eyes and inhale the reminder of a life that won’t ever be mine. It takes everything in me not to sink into his touch and fuck the rest.
“I miss you,” he lowers his lips to my ear and whispers.
“I miss you,” I admit. It’s a small release of pent-up longing, but it’s still hard to breathe.
“I’ve tried to stay away, Lydia,” he says. His lips brush against my skin and chills crawl up my spine. “I’ve tried to get you out of my head. But I miss you.”
Resting my forehead on his chest, I suck up as much of his presence as I can in the few precious seconds we have together, like recharging a battery. When I hear Camilla return and ask Wilder if he knows where I am, I step away from Talent’s embrace and harden myself again. As much as I miss him, it’s still not enough to change what I am and who he is.
It’ll never work.
“Take care of yourself,” I say, pushing the cart in the direction of the checkout stands.
Wilder’s expression doesn’t falter as I pass by, but I’m not afraid of him. What I’m unsure of is if he knows who I am and what I do. I’m careful to keep a low profile, but word gets around. The Ridge brothers run in the same social circle as some of my clients. There’s a chance he knows exactly who I work for through word of mouth. Or maybe the intuitive bastard is just a good judge of character? Can tell right off the bat that I’m no good for his brother?