Now And Always (Crown Creek) Read online

  Johnny disappeared around the corner. My sister settled Kate into her highchair and handed her a bottle. My brother-in-law emerged from the back yard, dusting his hands off. "Ethan," Kevin said, coming over to shake my hand. “Sorry, I was just chopping up some wood for the woodstove. How's my little girl?" he asked, bending to make funny faces at his daughter, who immediately grabbed his beard and yanked it.

  "An angel as always," I said, smiling.

  "I know it's a terrible thing to say," my sister whispered. “But I am so happy to have a girl."

  Her statement was punctuated by another thunderous clatter announcing the arrival of my nephews. Caleb and Asher ganged up on Johnny to see who would get the privilege of sitting next to me, but my oldest nephew prevailed, throwing elbows to claim his birthright.

  I ducked and smiled and tried to stay out of the way as the three of them reached for the food, talked with their hands, and spilled their milk. Dinner at my sister’s was always a rowdy affair, but I liked it. It was so different from my normally quiet existence that it was like being an alien visitor to a distant planet.

  I laughed and joked and gave Caleb piggyback rides after dinner. But when he and Asher started cannonballing off the couch, my sister’s amusement started to fray.

  "Okay, you two, you’re getting too riled up before bedtime," I admonished them, reading Heather's frazzled expression expertly. "I'm heading out before I get in trouble." I went over and kissed my sister on the cheek. "You’re coming to Mom and Dad’s Thursday, right?"

  "I wonder when Mom is going to let me host Thanksgiving for once," my sister complained. "When we're there, I spend the entire time terrified that one of these animals is going to break Dad's prized model ships."

  "Someday, I hope,” I agreed. Although I couldn't conceive of it. Having Thanksgiving at my mother’s house every year, with all my aunts and uncles and cousins in tow, was a family tradition I couldn't imagine changing. "Besides, at least you have the baby to give you an excuse to bow out early. What's mine?"

  "Maybe if you got yourself a lady, you could plead a headache for her benefit.” This was from Kevin, who had wandered into the conversation. "I'm always up for playing bad guy when she's had too much."

  My sister elbowed him affectionately, then turned to me. “Speaking of ladies, how's Claire?”

  "You mean my friend, Claire King?" I corrected, wariness creeping into my voice. "She's fine."

  "Ha ha.” Heather gave me one of the same looks she’d given Asher at dinner.

  I rolled my eyes "Okay, that's my cue to bow out. It looks like it's getting bad out there anyway."

  "Why do you live so far out of town?”

  "It's only fifteen minutes," I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but around here that may as well be on the moon. You're halfway to Reckless Falls."

  "Not even halfway. Besides, you know why. I'm in my workshop with power tools most nights until four in the morning. If I had neighbors, they would've called the cops on me several times over already. You know how this town is. Everybody’s in each other's business."

  "I get it," Kevin said. “Don't you remember, honey? When Caleb went through his no-pants phase? People still remember that."

  "I did not go through a no-pants phase!" Caleb cried. He screwed up his face into a mask of overtired indignation.

  At that, my sister clapped her hands. “Okay, Mr. Crankypants, you were up all night last night. You're exhausted. Upstairs, let's go.” She turned and gave me a wan smile. "Get out while you can," she whispered.

  "Already on it," I said, heading for the door.

  Back in the relative quiet of my pickup, I exhaled. Part of me longed to be in that chaos. The exasperation mixed with happiness on my sister’s face was something I loved to see.

  But man, it was just too much sometimes. I didn't even turn on my audiobook once I was on the road. I just savored the quiet, watching the road ahead of me carefully. The sun had gone down a long time ago, and it was as dark as midnight in spite of only being eight at night. The rain-slicked pavement reflected my lights back up at me, so I slowed down, watching the road for deer and other wildlife.

  I was almost home when I spotted the hulk pulled over to the side of the road. A white Jeep half on the road, half in the ditch alongside it. As my headlights crawled across the front grille, I saw the familiar string of numbers on the license plate.

  My heart leapt instantly into my throat. "Claire?"

  Chapter Nine

  Claire

  “What the fuc—?!” I jerked awake.

  It was dark. Full dark. Like, couldn’t see my hand dark. And I was freezing cold. And a tapping sound annoyed me.

  But the strangest thing was the glow outside my window.

  Another tap, and the glow materialized into a face.

  I screamed.

  “No, Claire, it’s me!"

  “Ethan?” I blinked and looked around. I was inside my Jeep. And the glow was Ethan's white, scared face illuminated by the flashlight app on his phone. “What the fuck?”

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice muffled by the glass between us.

  “I’m….” I tried to piece together what had happened. My eyes had kept closing on the drive home from work, so I’d pulled over. Just for a minute. “Wait, what time is it?”

  “It’s after eight. Were you…sleeping?”

  A wash of embarrassment followed the confusion. Every part of me wanted to burst into angry, confused tears. I’d fallen asleep on the side of the road?

  “Can you open your door?” Ethan called from outside.

  Still confused, and too weirded out to do anything but comply, I opened the door. But I’d be damned if I looked him in the eye.

  “Claire, were you drinking?” There was no judgment in his voice, but my anger rose anyway.

  “No. I just…I got sleepy.” I rubbed my eyes and bit back a yawn.

  He slid his phone's beam over my face. “Have you eaten?”

  “Yeah, well, lunch. And a lot of baked goods.”

  “You look like hell."

  “Seriously?” I reached for the ignition. “Fuck off, Bailey.”

  “Claire.” To my shock, he closed his fingers over my wrist, strongly enough to prevent me from turning the key. I gaped at him. “Come over. Have a cup of coffee. You can’t drive home like this.”

  “Sure I can,” I said, rubbing my eyes and straightening up. “I just needed a nap, that’s all. It was a long day at work.” I reached for the door handle, expecting him to step aside.

  He didn’t.

  “Move, Ethan. You’re going to get your arm smashed.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t let you drive like this. Come on. Just have a cup of coffee so I can feel better, okay?”

  He gave me that grin of his. The one that said he knew he had me.

  “You know me too damn well,” I grumbled. Because he was right. I wasn’t going to accept his help for my sake.

  But letting me think I was doing him a favor?

  “You’re a jerk,” I mumbled, sliding out of my Jeep and into his arms.

  He caught me around the waist with a little, “Whoopsie,” when my knees buckled. Not even the freezing cold air could fully revive me.

  Something was wrong.

  But not as wrong as letting Ethan see me this way. As he tucked me into the passenger seat of his truck, I wanted to disintegrate with shame, and I couldn't figure out why. He was my friend, after all. Just like Ruby, Sadie, Willa, and the rest of them. I had no problem being a hot mess in front of Ruby. I never gave a second thought to getting falling down drunk and having Willa take care of me.

  But letting Ethan see me like this--exhausted and mumbling with a face flecked with sugar from the last of the honey buns--was like letting him see me naked.

  A shiver of refusal shot up my spine. I don't need help, the voice in my head protested. I'm the one who does the helping. I’m the one who has her shit together. He can’t see me like this
.

  But when he started his truck up, I realized he already was.

  Chapter Ten

  Ethan

  As we pulled away from her Jeep, I couldn’t help feeling a little bit—

  Well, smug is not a nice word.

  Nor is triumphant, especially not with a slumped Claire King in my truck, looking sad and pitiful. This wasn’t a victory at all.

  So why did I feel like I’d won something?

  “I’ll walk out later and drive it back for you,” I promised her. “I know you love your Jeep.”

  “Trixie,” she mumbled into her hand.

  “Huh?” It took me a moment to process this new information. “Your Jeep is named Trixie? How come you never told me that?”

  She turned to me. It was dark, but I didn’t need to see her eyes to know she was rolling them. “You knew, Ethan. You just forgot.”

  “I assure you, I would not have forgotten something so awesome. Your Jeep is named Trixie.” I shook my head, laughing. “That seems so wrong to me.”

  “Why the hell would it be wrong?” She sounded genuinely affronted.

  I spread my hands. “I figured, someone like you?” I gestured at her, making sure to take in her smart business suit while ignoring the way her blouse stretched tight over her chest. “I mean, if she named her cars at all—and that’s a big if—she’d give them powerful names.”

  “What, pray tell, is a powerful name?” I could hear the laughter in her voice, even though she was struggling to sound mad.

  “Athena,” I blurted. It was the first thing that came to my head—thank you, Intro to Lit class that nearly killed me. “Or whatever the goddess of vengeance is. Or like, something from pop culture, like some badass chick. Um…what was her name in that movie...Furiosa?”

  This time she did laugh. Which made me happy because she was no longer slumped in defeat.

  I could handle a lot of shit in my life, but a slumped, defeated Claire was intolerable.

  I pulled into my drive and made her wait in the truck until I could help her to the door. “I haven’t shoveled yet. It’s a sheet of ice out here, and you’re wearing ridiculous shoes.”

  “These shoes cost more than your truck, Bailey.”

  “Doesn’t mean they’re good in the snow.” I grabbed her hand.

  It was meant as a helpful gesture. Truly, it was. Like back in my Boy Scout days of helping little old ladies cross the street. It was a gesture of friendship—specifically the desire not to see my friend slip and fall on her ass.

  But the second my fingers touched her bare skin, a jolt shot up my arm. Heat pooled dangerously in my belly.

  I would have snatched my hand away. I should have, for both of our sakes. So this wouldn’t get all weird.

  But if I yanked my hand away, then she'd definitely fall on her ass. Then I’d have Claire’s broken hip on my conscience, in addition to the decidedly unplatonic way my body was tingling.

  Better that only one of us suffer the consequences of me being a terrible friend.

  “Sit,” I ordered her once we were safely in my kitchen. There was that feeling of triumph again. Claire is listening to me, my brain declared. She’s actually letting me take care of her. If I was capable of doing a backflip, I would have done one right there in the middle of my kitchen.

  Instead I went to my coffee maker. “I’m making you a cup,” I told her. “Want some eggs?”

  “You’re having eggs for dinner?”

  I turned to her. “I’m sorry, is that a problem?”

  “I don’t usually approve of foods being eaten outside of their designated mealtimes.” She cupped her belly. “But I’m starving, so I’ll make an allowance if that’s what you’re having.”

  “Actually?” I said as I cracked an egg into the bowl while my coffee maker sputtered to life. “I already ate. I went to Heather's.”

  “You’re not having any?”

  “Not hungry. I’m actually uncomfortably full.” I tugged at my waistband.

  “What was the occasion?”

  “Just me being awesome.”

  “How is the baby?”

  I grinned. “Pretty stinking cute.”

  “You take any pictures?”

  “Of course. What kind of best uncle in the world would I be if I didn't?” I let her have my phone as I poured the eggs into the pan and started scrambling them. The secret was to not move them around too much. Just scrape your spatula slowly along the bottom of the hot pan, making room for more to set.

  Claire laughed.

  “The green bean one?” I asked without turning to her. I had to keep an eye on my eggs.

  “Is she trying to eat them with her eyes?”

  “Right after that picture was taken, she really went for it and stabbed herself in the eyeball. Started crying.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious.”

  “It was.” I poured her coffee into the biggest mug I owned, a chipped one I’d picked up from the thrift store, with the words "Cuppa Cuppa Burnin’ Love,” emblazoned across the front in yellow letters. “Black?”

  “Yes, please.” She took a sip.

  “Careful! It’s hot!”

  “I have a cast iron tongue. And I need caffeine more than I need an unburnt mouth.” She let out a small sigh I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear.

  I snuck a glance at her as I scrambled the eggs. She leaned back in her chair, cupping both hands around her mug. Her eyes wandered freely over my kitchen, and I desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. What did she notice? What did she think of me now that she was in my space like this? I wished I had cleaned up beforehand. Or that I was the kind of guy with a selection of wines at the ready or something. I had beer. Maybe three bottles left from a six-pack of porter I hoped hadn’t skunked too badly. Oh, and way in the back of the fridge, a can of light beer left here by my sister before she even got pregnant. Claire would drink a beer, but she liked wine better. Maybe I had a bottle somewhere? Like a Christmas gift from a client or something? But then I'd have to leave my eggs to go look for it.

  “Eggs are all set,” I said to mask how hard I was thinking about this.

  “Do you have hot sauce?” Some of the color had returned to her cheeks.

  “I think so?” I went up on my tiptoes and stared accusingly at my meager spice cupboard. “Okay, I did at one point, but I think my cousin stole it.”

  “Tell Taylor he’s an asshole for that.” Her mouth was full.

  I turned back to her. She was wolfing down the eggs. She looked almost normal again, and I was about to comment on it, tell her it was good that she didn’t look like death anymore.

  Then I stopped myself. Claire was pride. Claire was dignity. Claire was poise. And I’d seen her with her guard down. Her lips without her usual slick of red lipstick looked naked…and innocent.

  I felt like I was seeing something very few people were allowed to see. Like I was approaching a newborn fawn in the forest. I didn’t want to scare it.

  So I said nothing. Instead I opened my fridge, narrowed my eyes at the light beer, and went for the porter instead. I cracked it open, chugged a long sip, and wished it was something stronger. “Want one?” I blurted. I suddenly had no idea what to do with my hands.

  She looked at me like I was crazy. Which was fair. “I don’t want to get sleepy,” she said slowly. As if I were an idiot.

  Which was also fair. “I feel weird drinking in front of you though.”

  “Well, you are weird.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me and reached out. “What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Chocolate cherry porter.”

  She sniffed the top of the bottle and dramatically gagged. “It smells awful!”

  I sniffed it quizzically. “It smells like chocolate and cherries.” I drained it. “Tastes like it too.”

  “I’ll pass. But I’ll take more coffee.” She held out her mug.

  I topped her
off. “That good?”

  Her eyes caught mine over the rim. Her slim throat bobbed as she swallowed and looked down, the overhead light casting the shadow of her lashes across her cheeks. “Hey.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  The gratitude in her eyes nailed me to the floor. I couldn’t move from the spot, but I could bend at the waist. Closer and closer.

  I’d been close to Claire before. But never like this, with the space between us charged like the air before a storm. If I kissed her now, what would she say? How would she respond?

  Did it matter?

  I pulled myself back with a jerk. Of course it matters, asshole. What the hell was I thinking?

  Holy shit. Stop it, Ethan.

  Dizzily, I staggered to the fridge and pulled out another beer. I drained half of it before I could look at her again without wondering if I was wasting my time by not slamming my lips to hers.

  What was wrong with me? I balled my fist and punched myself in the thigh. This was Claire. Claire King. Of all the people in the world to be acting like a fucking weirdo about.

  But she’d thanked me. I couldn’t remember her ever thanking me before. Thanking me would imply that she needed me, and Claire didn’t need anyone. She was the essential one. She was the one who made things happen. The driving force behind anything good. I wasn’t the only one who knew that Claire was just…necessary.

  To be needed by someone so elemental was the biggest fucking turn-on of my life.

  I shifted my weight from one leg to the other and smiled back at her. “You’re welcome.” Then lifted the coffee mug from her hands and set it gently on the table. “You still hungry? More eggs?” I was basically begging to be allowed to take care of her and wondered if she knew how desperate I was to have her need me.

  Her pink tongue poked out of the corner of her lips for just a moment. “Do you have more?”

  “Another dozen, at least.”

  “Growing boy.”

  “That’s what my mom says.”