Page 15 of Returning Your Love
“I did not,” he muttered, slowing as we took a hairpin turn around one of the lake’s coves.
“Did too!” I shot back, laughing. “And that night what was his name—Ralphie—Vaughn Jackson’s cousin had talked Shelly into going to Dig-In with him. You were pissed.”
“Who wouldn’t be when some outsider came into town and attempted to sweep your girlfriend off her feet?”
“You guys weren’t even dating that day,” I reminded him, still laughing over his put-out expression. “It was the third breakup of our junior year. The final straw, you’d said.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let her go like you would have done.”
“You broke the dude’s nose.”
“Because he crowded her to kiss her!”
The memory lay fresh in my mind. We’d been outside our town’s only diner, Dig-In, along Route 16, watching through the picture window as that Ralphie kid had tried to weasel his way into Shelly’s panties.
At that point, she and Chaz hadn’t been fucking yet, but he’d been all about being her first and vice versa. Her going out with another guy during one of their little breakups had settled his mind on Shelly.
Sure, he’d gone caveman on the guy, but it’d been my chest that ached like a motherfucker when he and Shelly walked away afterward, hand in hand.
Again.
Each and every time they got back together had renewed my heartache. It’d sucked ass but not nearly as bad as the day they vowed to love each other until they grew old and gray.
Fuck, those memories hurt like hell.
I needed to get my head set on the now before I made shit weird between us, but it was damned near impossible with Chaz an arm’s length away. I turned my focus on the open passenger window, allowing fresh air to flood the cab along with a bit of dust kicked up from Chaz’s tires. The sight of sparkling water flickered through the trees.
Pippen Creek Pond was one of the few lakes not built-up like those farther south by Bostonians looking for weekend escapes. We were too damned far into the mountains for convenience.Timber filled the area, creating cozy peninsulas and close to a dozen small coves like where we would camp.
Chaz turned the truck onto a narrow pathway leading down to the westernmost side of the lake. Coach hadn’t ever built on the land left to him by his granddaddy. He preferred to rough it—somewhat—and that was fine by us. He’d had an electric line brought into the private campsite from the main road, so there was that alongside a concrete, leveled slab he parked his camper on. An old outhouse stood back a ways into the woods, far enough no unpleasant smells reached where we would pitch our tent.
We set to work, our conversation focused mostly on the fun we’d had as kids rather than the shit we both found our current lives wrapped up in.
August was only a few days away, so the sky stayed lit well past the time we’d grilled steaks on an open fire and pulled foil-wrapped potatoes from the embers. It wasn’t until after nine that the stars started to pop out overhead.
Coach’s land was one of the more private properties on the lake without immediate neighbors in sight. We’d watched a few boats passing the cove’s narrow entrance, enjoying the weather along with a couple of jet skis. The lake wasn’t open to public launch, which kept the crowds to a bare minimum of local folks.
We did our share of swimming in the warm water and had spent at least an hour fishing off the end of the small dock Coach used to keep his small fishing boat tied to.
Chaz and I continued to catch up on the four years we’d been separated. I avoided the topic of women when he’d asked about notches in my bedpost at college, and he definitely steered our conversation from his and Shelly’s relationship. They’d been trying for a baby since day one, and he didn’t have to say jack shit for me to realize the four years of “failure” had been tough on him. But, I didn’t poke over the word he’d despised for as long asI’d known him. I’d always hated nosey people attempting to get all up in my space, so I let the matter lie. If and when he wanted to discuss the unrest Dad had told me about, he would.
I expected Chaz and I would both need some time to build back up the trust we’d had as kids, even though things seemed easier than I’d first expected. At least we remembered how to joke and laugh together.
The fire crackled in front of us, shooting sparks into the night sky.
We sat alongside each other, sipping cold beers—my first in over a year, his third. The lake spread out in front of us beyond the small cove, a dark blue that kissed the opposite shore lined by pine trees.
The second major heatwave of the summer had settled over us the day before, and the muggy air made my T-shirt cling to my skin.
“I thought I’d escaped this weather when I left Texas,” I muttered, setting aside my beer to yank off the shirt I never should have put back on after swimming. Would have gone completely naked if I’d been able to. No fucking way with Chaz being in the vicinity. I’d been chubbing up since sunrise.
Chaz set aside his marshmallow stick, a final s’more in hand. “You must have been happy to leave the south behind. Shit—sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I tossed a piece of twig I’d broken off the stick in my hand. “Didn’t have a choice. Makes acceptance of shattered hopes a little easier to swallow.”
He hummed around a mouthful of marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker.
“It sucked, not gonna lie,” I stated quietly, peering at the flickering flames and figuring if I opened up to him, he might do the same with me. “One tackle demolished my dreams.”
