Page 6 of Wildest Dreams

“Morning,” Pacey beams, backwards cap on his messy blonde hair as he spoons cereal into his mouth. My dad, Jorge, is reading the paper whilst drinking a black coffee like he does every morning.

I grunt. That's all I can manage. A grumpy ass grunt.

My legs keep moving as I reach for the coffee pot and fill my cup up, and when I spin, I see her.

She's sitting at the breakfast bar, all wide eyed and shit. She's wearing a tee, no doubt mine or Pacey’s and I can't be in here with her. It’s just too much. My lungs feel like they’re drowning.

I place my coffee cup on the countertop and turn. I keep my head down and head for my room. It's too much. I need her gone, but until then, I’ll be the one to leave.

Grabbing a clean tee and my jeans, I dress then run down the stairs. I can feel Pacey's eyes on me, but I refuse to meet his glare. I am fully aware that they must think I have fucking lost my mind, but that's okay. They can think it.

“Where are you going?” he calls, just as I grab my cowboy hat and place it on my head.

“Out,” I rush out, slamming the door behind me and as soon as I am on the porch, I breathe. Inhaling deeply, holding my breath for three then releasing.

Fuck.

Pocketing my keys, I run for my truck. Climbing in, I shut the door and start the engine, and where can I go at seven thirty in the morning on a Saturday? Riggs'.

Driving the car round the turning circle, I kick it down the drive and towards Crooked Creek. The drive isn’t far, five minutes if that.

Slowing my truck outside their gates, I cut the engine and slip the window down. It’s peaceful here. The sound of the creek constantly running, the soft breeze dancing in the trees. Giving myself a couple of minutes, I reluctantly get out of the truck andAce hears me before he sees me, barking but his tail is wagging all happy and shit.

“Ace,” I smile, reaching down and stroking behind his ear.

The barks stop, then he trots off happily towards the creek.

Opening the gate, it scratches across the gravel and my heavy boots lead me to their front door.

Knocking, I wait but no answer. I knock again but after the second time of being ignored, I try the handle and I am surprised when it opens.

Honestly, wish I never tried.

I step into the short hallway and just as you reach the end is the kitchen.

And there, sitting on the edge of the countertop, legs wrapped around my brother’s head is my sister-in-law, and my brother enjoying his breakfast.

“Oh my god,” I bellow loudly and Aspen pushes Riggs away, covering herself up with the shirt she is wearing, and Riggs stands, eyes flicking between the both of us.

“Tripp!” Aspen is flushed red as she jumps off the countertop and hides behind Riggs.

“Aspen,” I lift my hat off my head and cover my face and I hear Riggs' deep laugh fill their home.

“It's not funny,” she slaps his arm and I try and contain my laughter.

“Maybe lock the door next time,” I suggest, letting my hand lower, my hat now resting between my fingers at the side of my body.

“What brings you over...” Riggs looks over his shoulder at the wall clock, “at seven forty-seven on a Saturday morning?”

Aspen busies herself putting a fresh pot of coffee on.

“Dixie Walker, that's what.”

Riggs' brows raise and Aspen spins to face us.

“Dixie?” her brows furrow. Dixie was the grade below us in school.

“Yeah, lived across from Blue Beak.”

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