Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1)
Those last words echo through my mind.
I have shoved her out of my head for the last few years. Took over Dad’s business, took care of my business. Trudged forward without her because that was the only choice I had. I hardly even think about her anymore unless someone brings her up in conversation.
So why do I itch to crawl into the truck and hunt her down?
Because I’m a fucking idiot.
My hand squeezes my finger harder.
“I gotta get back to work,” I tell Penn, shoving away from the truck. “So do you.”
“Wait. You haven’t even told me anything yet.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask. “I went into the café for a cup of coffee. She came in. We said hello. She left.”
He looks nonplussed. “And?”
“And what? There’s no more to say.”
“You know how you know when there’s more to say? When someone says, ‘There’s no more to say.’”
Fiddling with the bandanna, I consider that.
Of course there’s more to say. But if I tell him I bought her coffee or noticed the new freckles across the bridge of her nose or thought about her so much in the last hour I wrecked my finger, he’ll never let it go.
He needs to let it go.
I need to let it go.
I wipe my brow again. “She’s visiting for a couple of days. Living in New York. Seems happy.”
“That’s your answer?” Penn deadpans.
“Yeah. That’s my answer.”
He scratches the top of his head. “Really, Dane? It’s like you withhold the good stuff just to be a dick.”
“What good stuff?” I laugh. “You want to know if she’s hot? Hell yes, she’s hot. No,” I backtrack, realizing that’s not quite right. “She’s not hot. She’s fucking beautiful.”
My brain starts to send words to my mouth at a speed my lips can’t quite keep up with. I start and stop four sentences before giving up with a shrug.
“Yeah, you’re fucked.” Penn smiles, but this time, it’s a tiny bit less asshole-ish.
“What are you talking about?” Twisting my hat around backward, I let the sun hit my face. It’ll be a decent excuse for the heat in my cheeks if Penn calls me out on it. “She’s just a girl from my past. I ran into her. People run into their exes all the time.”
“Just a girl from your past, huh? So if I tell you Brandon Atwood has a date with her tonight, you’re cool with that?”
“He fucking what?” I bark, not giving a damn that my cheeks are blazing. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t. It was a litmus test.”
Shoulders slumping, a breath rushing from my lungs, I glare at him and try not to laugh. “You’re a cocksucker.”
“And you’re a liar. What’s worse?”
“Does the cocksucker charge for sucking cock?” Matt slides up to the truck and looks at each of us. “If so, that’s worse. If not, I’ll go with the liar.” When we fail to respond, he grins. “This is going to be good, isn’t it?”
“What?” I ask.
“Whatever the two of you are arguing about.”
“We aren’t arguing,” Penn tells him. “I was making a point he didn’t want me to make.”
Matt pulls his brows together. “You made a point? Okay. This I gotta hear.”
“I don’t even have to make it,” Penn says. “Let Dane tell you, and then you’ll see my point. That’s the magic of all this.”
“Will you shut the hell up?” I ask. “Why do you have to make such a big deal about everything?”
“Uh, because this is a big deal.”
Matt’s head goes back and forth like he’s watching a volleyball match. “Is someone gonna tell me or what?”
“Fine.” I look at my brother, ignoring the shit-eating grin on Penn’s face. “Neely is home.”
His eyes grow wide. “No kidding?”
“No kidding.”
“When did this happen?”
“I don’t know. Saw her this morning at the café.” My voice is calm as her face streams through my mind. “Yes, she was hot, if that’s the first thing you wanted to know like dumbass over here.”
“You said beautiful.” Penn holds his hands to his sides. “What? You said it. I didn’t.”
“She was always beautiful,” Matt admits. “That’s nothing new.”
“Yeah, but you should see her now. Fucking hell, Matt.”
Their raised brows let me know they’re curious where I’m going with this.
Answer: nowhere.
I open the cab of the truck and pretend to search for something just to stop the banter. Just to get a second to myself.
The vein in my temple begins to pulse along with the heartbeat in my thumb. My skin itches as if it can’t keep all my emotions contained. I can’t focus on one thing, one part of this thing, long enough to make sense of it without jumping to the next. I shouldn’t give a shit. She’s here for a few days. She said so herself. Even if she were here indefinitely, it doesn’t mean she would give me the time of day or that I should even want her to. Or that I could actually do it.