Page 21 of Rock the Chardonnay

My entire body heats as I rush to the door.

When I open it, Ciaran stands there. He looks freshly showered, his blond hair slicked artfully into a wave. He’s wearing a red and black St. Olaf Fire Department T-shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to accent his arm muscles. “Hey,” he says. That voice when I was eighteen and desperate? Teenaged me would have grabbed him by the front of his shirt and had his pants off within ten seconds.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I’m fully covered in a tee and loose sweatpants but I wish I had a blanket. My ancient Alabama Shakes shirt hangs off one shoulder. I adjust it to cover a little more skin.

Ciaran cracks that thousand-watt smile of his, the one that wouldn’t be out of place on a movie star. “I know, I know, I should have come by right away. I had a shift at the grill then I was covering the fire station. I wanted to see you, the minute I heard you got into town.”

“Really? Why?” I yawn.

His brow furrows momentarily before smoothing out again. “Come on, D. I thought we left things…open.”

The day after graduation, I’d told him I was moving to New York and that he should stay in Wisconsin. It was nothing personal. Our time was through. And he’d agreed. Later that night at a graduation party, he hooked up with a girl from Appleton. I didn’t care. The next day I was on an eastbound bus. “I’m pretty sure we just broke up. That’s how I remember it.”

He leans deeper against the jamb, like this is not going how he intended. “Can I come in? I’d like to talk.”

“This isn’t a good time. I have to go to sleep. I’m performing tomorrow.” I yawn again for emphasis.

Ciaran sniffs the air. “Is that Mom’s chili?”

I stiffen, my hand on the doorknob. “Yeah. Declan brought it over earlier. That was really thoughtful of your mom.”

“That’s Mom.” Ciaran runs one hand through his hair, separating the strands. “You remember.”

“I do.” My voice is soft. It’s impossible to forget.

“How’s your mom?”

I swallow, but my throat is dry. “The same. I didn’t think you remembered my mom.” She remembers Ciaran. Probably because every time she met him, she hit on him.

“She was the worst.” Ciaran exhales, resting his cheek against his bicep. “I always felt bad, dropping you back off at that house.”

“I don’t need your pity. It’s twelve years too late.”

“I’m sorry, I—“

“Whatever, Ciaran. Some of us win the family jackpot, and some of us don’t.”

Ciaran frowns, which seems to be an uncomfortable expression on him. “At least you didn’t get Declan in your family.”

At his name, I clench my thighs together. “Declan isn’t all bad.”

Ciaran scoffs. “He’s such a fucking goody two-shoes. You didn’t have to grow up in his shadow.”

I wouldn’t mind being in Declan’s shadow again. It had worked out well for me earlier. “I would have liked siblings. Someone to share the family burdens with.”

“Yeah?” Ciaran quirks his eyebrow up in a practiced motion. He rests both palms on the lintel of the door, looming in front of me. “You’ve grown up. You look damn fine, Daughtry. You were always gorgeous, but the years have been good to you.”

I fix the shoulder of my T-shirt again. “You, too.” It seems the kind thing to say.

“I tried to reach out a few times over the years,” he says. “I know we broke up because we went to different colleges, but I always thought there was something real between us.”

“There was.” Need. I had needed him and his family. They were my safe haven and I had been willing to do anything to keep them for the heartbeat I had with them. “But that was then. A lot’s happened since.”

He leans closer, his eyes darkening as shadows fall across his face. “I always liked what a bad girl you are, Daughtry.” His voice is pure gravel and heat, and if this were a different time, and I hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex with his brother…maybe. Probably not, but maybe.

Also, this is not the first time I’ve been called bad girl, and I never minded it. Right now, though, it doesn’t sit well with me.

“Can I come in, D?” Now his voice is soft and silken, a rope from the past winding around me.

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