Page 22 of I Could Be Yours

“Fee’s sister is here, and so are Tally’s parents,” I remind him.

“The ’rents went back to the lodge already. Someone has to monitor them.”

I tip my head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I could call him out, but that would open the door for him to do the same with me. I’ve seen the way Tally looks at him. Not with stars in her eyes, but some kind of awareness. And Flip is always hyper-alert when she’s around, always looking out for her. Always worried. Always protective. If he gets a clue, that could change. It could also really fuck him up, and the guy has enough emotional baggage, so I keep my mouth shut.

I spot Tally sitting with her friends in the corner of the food tent. She’s lost that teenage softness over the last year. I point toward them. “They’re over there.”

“Okay, good.” His shoulders come down from his ears, and he sips his drink. “So Essie?—”

“Nope.”

“She’s—”

“I’m going to use the bathroom.”

His laughter follows me as I go.

Halfway across the lawn, I spot Essie heading away from the party and into the dark. Alone. We’re in the north. There are wild animals out here. Raccoons. Bears, even. Where in the world is her self-preservation? Did she tell anyone where shewas heading? What if I’m the only one who knows she’s out there on her own? I change course and follow her.

She lifts the old-school wooden latch on the shed door and disappears inside. I should turn around, or stay where I am and wait until she rejoins the party. But I don’t. I slip inside the shed with her. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why do I feel compelled to follow Essie around, even though I behave like a massive asshole with every interaction?

I glance around the space. It’s a typical shed, with a shelving unit that holds a bunch of random items and a few paper products, and next to that is a riding lawn mower—a nice one with a zero-turn radius. I used to fix those a lot when I took small engines in high school.

Essie strains to reach the paper towels on the top shelf as my shadow passes over her. She shrieks and spins around. “What the hell are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.” She shoves my shoulder, and I stumble back a step, bumping into the door.

“Why are you wandering around in the dark on your own?” I fire back.

“I’m getting paper towels.” She throws a roll at me.

It hits me in the chest and falls to the floor.

She props a fist on her hip. “Why are you following me?”

“There are bears out here.” It sounds ridiculous even to my ears.

She gives me a disbelieving look.

“There are signs posted at the dump!” I’ve latched on to this faulty logic like a burr on a wool sweater.

She rolls her big, beautiful eyes at me. “Because it’s thedump, and bears love a free meal.”

I have no defense, and anything else I say will probably make me look even more pathetic or dickish.

She turns back to the shelf and jumps up, nabbing another roll of paper towels. She skirts around me and frowns at the lack of handle. I push on the wooden door, but nothing happens.

“Ha-ha. Open the freaking door, Nate.”

I push again, but it doesn’t budge. I can see very clearly through the quarter-inch gap that the wooden bar, which holds the door closed from the outside, has fallen back in place. That means we’re trapped in here. Together. Just me and Essie and six years of not dealing with the shit I pulled before I left for university. “Okay, I need you to not freak out.” And I need to not say something offensive or hurtful.

She crosses her arms. “You can’t say that and not expect that exact thing to happen.”

I give her a look and mentally plead with my eyeballs to stay above her neck. It’s tough since she’s still wearing only a bikini top, through which I could see her nipple shields earlier.

She returns the look and ups the ante when her pretty, pink tongue drags across her equally pretty, pink bottom lip. “Please tell me we’re not locked in here, Nathan.”

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