Page 77 of Promise Me Never

The rumble of a truck and trailer on the gravel cause a welcome distraction. Charlie bolts out of the door as soon as I open it. She flies across the backyard and runs along beside the truck. Grandpa gets out of the passenger side of Luke’s truck and grabs his bag out of the bed as I approach.

“Hi, Grandpa.” I give him a hug, loving the familiar scent of Irish Spring soap that has clung to him as long as I can remember. “How was the sale?”

“Good but could’ve been better.” He looks over at Luke who’s looking directly at me. “Go on home to Amy, I’m sure she’s missed you.”

Shock and then pain cross Luke’s expression, erasing the warmth he had been directing at me. My chest cleaves for him. Why would Grandpa say that?

“Grandpa,” I say quietly, looking up into his confused eyes. “Amy passed away years ago.”

“Huh?” The confusion clears in his eyes, replaced with something sharp. “I know that.” The reprimand in his tone is sharp enough to cut.

My eyes water as he walks off toward the house, leaving me confused and Luke reeling in his wake. I watch as he walks off, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. Luke’s hand lands on my shoulder, turning me around.

“It was a long couple of days, I’m sure her name just slipped out of habit.” He gives me a weak smile and drops his hand as one of the workers walks by and greets him.

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly. “That was abrupt.”

“I’m fine.” He stiffens.

“Are you sure?” I wish there weren’t so many people walking around so I could reach up and touch him. “You can talk about it, about her, if you need.”

“I don’t.” His voice is pure ice.

In less than two minutes, I’ve gone from being excited to see my two favorite guys to being verbally reprimanded twice over. My nose stings as I hold in the hurt at the tone of voice he used. I snap my fingers for Charlie to come.

“Got it,” I turn and start walking quickly toward the house. I won’t let him see my eyes water. He doesn’t get to know that he hurt me.

“Eli,” he calls out as I pick up my pace. Luckily someone calls his name from the stables, so he goes to them and lets me escape.

I was so excited to see him, and now I can’t get away fast enough. It’s giving me emotional whiplash. Why does he always think he has the right to know what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling when he never shares? This is temporary, but he’s made it clear that even with our short shelf life, it’s exclusive.

I take the side entrance to the house, so I can avoid seeing Grandpa, too. Charlie stays close to my side, immediately sensing my sadness. At the end of the day, one thing is always true: dogs are better than men.

* * *

It’s a little after ten when I hear his feet hit the balcony. It takes him two long strides to reach my door, which I left unlocked purposefully. The door opens silently, due to him spraying it down with a can of WD-40.

He stands there, backlit by the moon and stars in a pair of jeans, an olive green t-shirt, and a backwards baseball cap. I’m pissed all over again. How does he find the audacity to look so damn good when I’m mad at him? He should be crawling on his knees, not strutting with a cocky cowboy swagger.

I scoff at myself and lay down, pulling all the blankets around myself. “Did you at least bring me ice cream?”

He chuckles and takes his shoes off before climbing into bed beside me. “No.”

“Then you have nothing I want.” I retreat further into my blanket nest. “Goodbye.”

He tosses his shirt onto the floor on the side of the bed I’m facing. My inner hussy is upset that we missed the visual of him taking it off. But she has no principles, so I’m ignoring her.

“I have something better.” His jeans are next.

The heat of his body settles behind me. The scent of his cedar and citrus soap surrounds me, mixing with the warmth of his skin to lull me into a Luke induced trance. I’m weak for it.

He gently pulls the covers back, kissing each inch of exposed skin he sees. “I hate hurting you.”

“Then stop doing it.” I lift my arms as he pulls my camisole up and off my body.

“I’m trying. Let me make it up to you tonight.”

It’s not a question, just a declarative statement. We both know I’m going to let him. So I follow directions when he tells me to roll onto my stomach. I lift my hips when he tells me to so he can pull my shorts and panties off.

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