Light peeking in through the window was my first clue that I wasn’t in a bunk bed. Not only had I slept past sunrise, but the bed was too big, too comfortable, and it smelled really good—like Irish Spring and leather and—
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Justice sang out as he appeared in the doorway.
My eyes widened as I sat up.
“You fell asleep sitting at the kitchen table last night.”
Glancing at the rumpled sheets beside me, my heart rate kicked up several notches. Surely…
He winked. “I slept on the couch.”
I vaguely remembered Justice’s strong arms holding me close as he carried me to his bed—him saying something about a couch and insisting I change into a dry shirt. My heart rate took off, and my fingers flew to my lips as I remembered what happened before that. Out in the rain, we kissed.
“I let the girls know you were okay last night and told them today’s plan.”
My cheeks heated and my heart sank back to the depths of reality. Back to business. “Plan?”
“Yeah, the chief is gonna take you back to Holten to talk to that girl.”
Rubbing my face to wake up, I realized it felt slightly swollen. Great, my eyes were all puffy and probably still red from my crying binge last night. And my hair…I must look like ten kinds of hell.
Justice gave me a crooked grin and turned to leave. “Billi Jo sent a bag of clothes and stuff for you. I put it in the bathroom since I figured you’d probably want a hot shower.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled from behind my finger mask.
I stepped out of a long shower smelling like a bouquet of honeysuckle and feeling like I had just won the lottery—except that my hand had started bleeding again. After wrapping a thick layer of toilet paper around it, I opened the bag Billi Jo sent me. Typical, she forgot to include a shirt and sent her own jeans (which were a few inches too long). Crap. I’d have to borrow a t-shirt from Justice for now, and then throw last night’s soggy jeans in the washer and dryer before I left for Holten.
I spotted a thin, long-sleeved flannel shirt of Justice’s hanging on the back of the door, so I slipped it on over my bra and panties. It would do for an hour, and since the shirt was practically mini-skirt length, I decided it would be okay to wear in front of Justice. As I started out of the bathroom, he came down the hall toward his bedroom.
“Wow,” his eyebrows shot up, and he kind of gasped, “that old shirt sure looks a hell of a lot better on you than it does on me.” As soon as the last word came out of his mouth, his face brightened to match his cherry-colored lips.
“Uh, thanks…I guess,” I stammered, trying to remember the English language. He had never really said anything like that to me before, and I didn’t know what to make of it. “Billi Jo…um…didn’t send me a shirt, and she only sent her jeans, which are way too long.” I tugged at the bottom of the thigh-length shirt, suddenly feeling naked.
Justice began to study something on the wall. “Yeah, Billi Jo mentioned something about you guys running out of clean clothes. You can use the washer anytime.”
“Okay, thanks. Actually…would you mind if I put my clothes in right now? Otherwise I’m gonna have to make five-inch cuffs—not cool.”
“Sure.” He gestured toward the laundry closet. “Help yourself. You know your way around.”
As we danced awkwardly past each other, I tried to ignore the sudden spike in my body temperature when his arm brushed against mine. Something between us had shifted last night as we stood in the rain about to say good-bye. We kissed, but did it change his feelings or only make things between us more strained?
My stomach sank when it hit me; he had a girlfriend. He was riddled with guilt and, worst of all, he regretted our kiss. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve never allowed it to happen. He wasn’t the cheating kind. It was a pity kiss. A good-bye kiss and nothing more. But what about the way he held me and took care of my hand and carried me to his bed? Okay, so I had slept alone, but…
What was wrong with me? I would be the worst thing ever for Justice, and I cared about him way too much to drag him down to my level. Besides, after what happened with Logan, I’d promised myself I’d never fall in love again, and I had every intention of keeping that promise.
After depositing last night’s wet clothes in the washer, I closed the lid and followed the smell of food to the kitchen. I walked up behind Justice as he stood in front of the stove. “What do we have here?” I tried to sound as casual as always.
“I’m making you a ham and cheese omelet—protein. I thought you needed a good breakfast today.” He flipped the omelet and then turned to face me, his cheeks blushing to a nice shade of pink this time.
“I should…” I nodded toward the bathroom, “put on those jeans of Billi Jo’s.”
He grabbed a glass of water off the counter and took a swig. “No,” he gulped, “you’re fine. I’m just not used to seeing you in…my clothes, I guess.” He focused on his omelet making again.
I pulled at the bottom of the flannel shirt as if I could stretch it and racked my brain for a change of topic.
After he motioned for me to sit down at the kitchen table, I picked up a glass of his famous fresh-squeezed lemonade and took a slow drink. “So tell me,” I smirked as I prepared to ask a question I really didn’t want to know the answer to, “do you do all this for all your overnight guests?”
“Nope.” He turned his head enough for me to see his grin, but he didn’t divulge any information. He was like a steel trap. I would never get any information out of him.
“I mean, your parents are both out of town and all,” I prodded.
He laughed. “I try not to make a habit of letting strange girls sleep in my bed.” That didn’t exactly satisfy the answer to the question that had been burning in my head.
“Strange?”
He stared at me as he set our plates on the table. “Yeah, strange; you’re a burglar, storm chaser, and police stalker…just to name a few.”
“Okay, maybe a little strange.” I stabbed a chunk of omelet.
Sitting down across from me, he watched me take the first bite.
I closed my eyes for a couple seconds. “Mm, it’s really good.”
He smiled his crooked smile. “I thought it was about time somebody started feedin’ you.”
I pushed a fork full of omelet around my plate. “Guess I haven’t really had much of an appetite…the last few months.”
“Well, it looks like things are startin’ to look up a little.”
Relieved he left it at that and hadn’t pushed for answers about my leave of absence, I took a big bite to make him happy.
“So, how do you feel about riding all the way to Holten with…your dad?”
“I haven’t really had time to think about it.” My sole focus was to get Rachel Banard to talk, and if the only way to get her to do that was to share my story, then I would. My interaction with Carl on the trip to Holten had to be a normal cop-to-victim relationship. I would state the facts, Rachel Banard would confess, the chief would compare notes and do what cops do, end of story. I had no illusions of father-daughter bonding—especially not during something as uncomfortable as what I might have to divulge.
“I’m off today, I could go with—”
“No,” I choked. “Thank you, though.” I didn’t exactly want to be alone with Bio-Dad, but I definitely didn’t want Justice sitting in on any more of my conversations with him. I couldn’t let him hear the details of what Logan did to me. And I couldn’t confess the reason I left the field party with him. I knew Justice well enough to know he would blame himself if he knew I did it to protect him. And I’d already put him through enough.
Justice nodded like he understood, but there’s no way he could’ve.
I strategically changed the subject, and after about an hour of talking horses, Justice looked up at the clock. “The chief said he’d be here about eleven, so you’d better go change.”
My shoulders slumped. “Damn. I forgot to put my clothes in the dryer. Now I’ll have to wear Billi Jo’s giraffe jeans.” I got up to take my plate to the sink, and Justice followed.
“You could always try a pair of my shorts.” He smirked. “They might be pants-length on you.”
“Hey, I’m not that short. I’m almost five-seven.”
“Well, I’m almost six-two. The shorts might not be a bad idea.” He grabbed the dishtowel off of the counter and snapped it at my bare legs.
“Watch it, Braden, I don’t want to have to take you down right here in the kitchen.”
He stood up straighter. “You might have been able to take me down when we were eight, but I’m taller than you now. And stronger,” he added, flexing his muscles. He was referring to the only physical fight we’d ever had. I was an inch taller than him then and a whole lot tougher. We were fighting over ownership rights of a puppy we found. Justice got a bloody nose—and I got a puppy.
“You may have won Hank physically, but I won his heart.”
“You won his stomach. You and all your table-scrap bribing.” I pointed at him, “And stop trying to redirect the focus here. The point is; I could still take you down if I wanted to.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want to.” He moved to stand in front of me, and after a few seconds his smile faded. “Hey, kidding aside, I really hope this works out for you today.” He brought his hand up toward my face, and I involuntarily flinched. My reaction surprised us both. “What? I was just gonna move this strand of hair out of your eyes.”
“I know,” I agreed too quickly.
“What is it, then?” When he caught the look in my eyes, he realized why I’d flinched. “I would never hurt you, River,” he said softly.
“I know.” I shrugged and looked away. “I know.”
Uncomfortable now, he eased his hands back to his sides while I tried to figure out what to do with mine. Stupid reflexes. It had been a long time since Logan hurt me. Wasn’t it long enough?
“Guess I’d better go get dressed.” I pointed toward the bathroom.
“Whoa, wait a minute.” He reached for my wrist.
“My hand’s fine. It just started bleeding a little after my shower.”
“A little?” He pulled back my sleeve to reveal the saturated toilet paper mess stuck to my hand. “Here, sit down. You’re not goin’ anywhere until I fix this for you.” He directed me to the kitchen table while he grabbed the first aid kit off the counter, then sat down across from me and started unraveling the mummy hand. “You managed to get into more trouble,” he grumbled as he cleaned and started re-bandaging my hand.
“Speaking of trouble,” I drummed my moveable set of fingers on the table, “I’m sure you’d be in some trouble of your own if your girlfriend finds out you’ve been sneaking me around like this, with me wearing your clothes, sleeping in your bed…”
His tone was serious. “River, it’s not like we did anything wrong. I slept on the couch.”
“But you kissed me,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“No,” his eyebrows creased and confusion clouded his eyes, “I didn’t. I didn’t kiss you back, and I know you didn’t mean to kiss me, either. You thought you were leaving—saying good-bye. It was a mistake.”
A thickness formed in my throat and threatened to strangle me. How many times was he going to have to reject me for me to get it?
He forced a smile. “Hey, it doesn’t change anything; we’re friends, same as always.”
“Yep, friends, same as always,” I lied. If it was same as always my heart wouldn’t beat all weird when I was around him, and I wouldn’t be so jumpy all of a sudden. And it wouldn’t bug me so damn much that he had a girlfriend.
Despite the crushing pain in my chest, I couldn’t let it go. “Mistake or no mistake, what would your girlfriend think about our friendship?”
“I’m allowed to have friends. You and I have always been friends, and I’m not gonna give that up just because I’m dating someone. It’s not like it was with you and…”
I bit my lip in the same spot I’d been gnawing on last night and tasted blood.
His eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t mean…”
I stared down at the hand he still held. “It’s okay, you’re right. I deserved that.” I hated myself for pushing Justice away when I dated Logan. I should’ve known better.
He brushed his thumb across the top of my hand before releasing it. “Now go get dressed,” he said, letting me off the hook. “We don’t want to get on the chief’s bad side already.”
The way he said we, like we were a team, made my insides glow—but only for a second. It didn’t really count because I wasn’t his first pick. I wasn’t his pick at all.
“T-shirts are in the second drawer. It’s gonna be hot later,” he called after me.
Sitting on top of the dresser was a shiny silver frame with a picture of Justice and his girlfriend. They both had bright smiles on their faces. I picked it up and ran my fingers across the embossed words scrawled across the top: You + Me = Forever.
Gag. It was obviously a gift from her because Justice would never pick out something so cheesy or hideously shiny. He would also never talk about forever with some random girl he’d only known a few months. A sharp pain stabbed at my heart. Would he?
I set the frame back down and pulled out Justice’s top dresser drawer. Beside his wallet and coins was another frame—a wooden one—with a picture of him and me. It was taken on a trail ride at Wide Ridge last summer when we’d gone with a bunch of friends. Justice and I were sitting in front of the campfire with our arms around each other, grinning like we were the only two in on a life-altering secret. Wetness formed at the corners of my eyes when I remembered how we stayed up all night burning the last of the firewood just so we could watch the flames dance themselves to sleep.
“It can be like that again, ya know,” Justice said as he stopped in the open doorway.
“Sure,” I lied. Nothing in my life would ever really be the same. Even if I didn’t end up in prison.
“Hey. T-shirts, second drawer,” he reminded me before continuing down the hallway.
“Right, sorry. Guess I wasn’t paying attention.” I put our picture back where I’d found it, then scooped the silver frame off the dresser again to take one last tortuous peek at the photo of the happy couple. A burst of anger rushed through me, and I struggled to push it away. What was wrong with me? It’s not like Justice had never had girlfriends before. She wasn’t his type, was all, I reminded myself, then set the picture back down—face first.
After I dressed, I walked out with an oversized t-shirt under his flannel shirt and two pounds of blue jean cuffs. I twirled around like a model—a bad one.
He put his hand under his chin, judging me. “I vote for my flannel shirt only.”
Butterflies tried to take flight in my stomach, but I chased them away. Our kiss—my kiss—was a mistake. I punched him in the arm because it was easier than crying.
“Ouch,” he grabbed his shoulder, pretending to be in pain.
The hum of a car engine got my attention, and I reached out to Justice. “Guess it’s time…”
He pulled me in for a good-bye hug and breathed in the top of my hair. “Mmm, you smell good.”
“Thanks to you.”
“I remembered how you loved honeysuckle.”
He did pick out that scent on purpose—for me. The realization lifted my heart and made it burn like he’d taken a saw blade to it at the same time. Blocking out the bittersweet pain, I closed my eyes and tried to memorize the feeling of his arms around me. There was a good possibility this would be the last moment I shared with him.
He brushed his thumb along my cheekbone and gazed down at me, his eyes heavy with worry. “Good luck today,” he breathed against my forehead, then allowed his lips to rest against it.
I needed more than luck—I needed a miracle.