Because it’s not like relationships ever start out obviously bad. Okay, maybe I’ve had a couple start out that way. But for the most part, I jump into things because of how perfect they seem on the surface. It’s only once we start swimming deeper that I notice all the murkiness and sharp rocks waiting down below.
But Maren has to be different, right? She’s not just some girl I met at a bar, or hell, even some girl I swiped right on from some app. She’s Maren. Wolfie’s sister. We’ve known each other forever. That has to mean something. What I can’t tell is whether what that means is something good or something very, very bad. Either way, I’m afraid of failure and need to get my head on straight.
By the time I pull up into the long gravel driveway, I’ve worried myself into one huge ball of anxiety. Fucking perfect. The exact opposite of what I needed.
I lug my bag and the six-pack inside from the trunk, and when I flip on the lights in the foyer, all the memories of the last time I was here come flooding back to me. Maren and I were just starting out then. Hands brushing, eyes meeting. The sexual tension was so thick between us, you could have taken a bite out of it. Not that any of that has changed in the past couple of weeks.
The first beer goes down faster and easier than I expected, and the second is right behind it. I make a small fire in the pit by the lake as the sun starts lowering over the horizon. Its warmth and light are just enough to cut through the cool evening breeze.
Water laps at the shore, and I’m about to reach into my cooler for beer number three when I hear the sound of tires on gravel.
What the hell?
I didn’t tell anyone to meet me here. And unless one of the guys also decided to go on a last-minute getaway, something tells me I’m about to have some unwelcome company.
“Hello?” I stand and call out.
The car parks behind mine and kills its lights. After a few moments, the driver’s side door opens, and a pair of long, tanned legs pop out.
“Thought you might want some company.”
It’s Maren, dressed in a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a lacy tank top, looking sweeter than any fantasy I could have dreamed up.
“Jesus, dove,” I wheeze out, half out of relief and half out of arousal. “Some warning would have been nice.”
She sticks out her lower lip into a pout. “You’re not happy to see me?”
I pull her in close, so the sweet scent of her skin mingles with the smoky warmth of the bonfire. I didn’t realize I was lonely until the moment she arrived. She’s right. It’s nice to have some company. Especially when that company is my current favorite person.
With my hands on her waist, I lean in and kiss her. All that worry, all that fear turns into urgency between us. She wraps her arms around my neck and the wind lifts the ends of her hair. I’m lost in her, lost in this moment, and when we part, I couldn’t tell you what I was so worried about before.
She rests her forehead against mine, and I release a sigh.
“Hey, you okay?” she asks, placing her palm gently against my cheek. The gesture is so soft, so tender, it takes me right back to that night at the lake house in my bed. When she took me by surprise by kissing me.
I nod and take a deep breath. “How did you know I was here?”
“Rosie told me. I went by your place after work to say hi and was surprised to find her all by her lonesome.”
“Yeah. I needed some time . . . away.”
“From me?” Maren asks, her voice small and timid.
“No, dove. From everything else. From the city. From your brother. The guys at work. It’s all just starting to feel like too much.”
She stares down at our feet. “Are you saying that this is too much? We’re too much?”
I grasp her hands in mine and search her eyes. It breaks my heart to hear her even say those words.
“Dove, I want you so desperately, I can barely even contain it. It’s the situation that’s starting to make me feel crazy. You’ve watched me all these years, so you know—I’m not good at this. Things just don’t work out for me. I mess up, I hurt people, and the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself.”
“I told you, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that. But I can’t shake the bad feeling that this won’t end well.”
“You were never a bad boyfriend, Hayes,” she says thoughtfully.
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes meet mine with a sincere look. “You just weren’t with the right person.”
I let her words sink in, and it takes me a minute to realize she’s right. Maybe Maren is the person I’m meant to be with. No one else. That’s the reason why I couldn’t make a relationship last.
The heavy weight that’s settled inside my chest eases slightly at that realization.
Maren cradles my face in her hand, her forehead pressing into mine. She doesn’t respond, but I can feel the worry tracing lines across her skin. We hold each other like that for a while before putting the fire out and going inside.
I don’t know where we’ll go from here, but I do know one thing—for tonight, I’m glad we’re together.
20
MAREN
The nightclub is thrumming with life, filled from wall to wall with glitter-covered bodies, pulsating bass
