Page 69 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking on Lee’s selfish ways, but this is the first time I’ve recognized the trait in myself. It settles heavy in my gut, cutting out a place for itself among the rest of my mangled pieces.

Pops doesn’t say another word, just grumbles all the way to his brown recliner in the living room, promptly passing out.

Sarah’s sitting next to me, quiet as ever. She hasn’t said a word since dinner ended. I’m thankful for her silence, because right now, I don’t think I’d care to hear whatever she has to say.

I imagined a lot of things for when I came back. Prepared myself for a hundred different scenarios. My shield, strong and sure, has been ready to combat all the emotions I’m not prepared to feel.

Embarrassment wasn’t one of them.

That doesn’t stop it from crashing through my defenses and sweeping away any hope that maybe there was something worth fighting for here in Sugarlake.

There isn’t.

“I got that girl’s number from your sister.”

My body locks up tight at Sarah’s words, my hand freezing on the open door of the fridge. “What girl?”

“Rebecca.”

“Becca.” I spin to face her.

Sarah cocks her head. “Huh?”

My heart thuds against my ribcage. “It’s uh… it’s just Becca. She doesn’t like to be called by her full name.”

Even as I say the words, I realize they aren’t exactly true. Visions of how much she loved when the name rolled off my tongue flash behind my eyes. My gut clenches at the thought of her loving when someone else says it, too.

Sarah’s nose scrunches. “Okay, then. Becca. She got us a meeting with her dad next Tuesday, said it was the best she could do.”

I bite my cheek to keep the questions from pouring out. Questions I have no right to ask—ones I know better than to want the answers to. Because I shouldn’t be dying to know what her tone of voice was as she talked about my wedding to another woman. My heart shouldn’t be faltering in my chest, wondering if shards of glass are wedging in the divots of her soul, like they are for me, or if she’s completely unaffected.

“You okay there, big guy?” Sarah giggles, waving a hand in front of my face.

I snap out of my fog, swallowing around the burn of my throat. Wrapping my arms around Sarah’s waist, I peck her lips. “I’m fine. Gonna run to the coffee shop and grab us some breakfast. There’s not shit to eat in this house. Wanna go with me?”

“Nope. I’m gonna take a shower.” She smiles, rubbing the bottom of my lip with her thumb. “Just hurry back. I don’t really want to be left alone with your dad.”

I glance toward his bedroom, grimacing at the fact it’s almost ten a.m., and he hasn’t woken up. I wonder briefly if he sleeps in this late every day, or if it’s because his drinking got a little out of hand last night. Maybe he just needs the rest.

It’s only two blocks to the coffee shop, and it’s a perfect June day, so I decide to walk. It’s early enough where the sun isn’t blistering, and the fresh air will do me good. Clear my head. Hopefully, bring some clarity.

I think about showing Sarah around town, secure in the fact that it’s a chance to start fresh. To make new memories here. Ones that don’t sting as bad when I’m forced to look back.

Something makes me look up from the pavement as I step off the curb to cross the street, and once I do, I wish I never had.

Because there she is.

Fiery in her aura, and blinding in her beauty. I choke on my inhale, desire racing through my body. I had forgotten how she takes my breath away.

She’s walking out of the very coffee shop I’m about to enter, and I’m a statue on the curb. My hand rubs my chest, trying to ease my double-crossing heart back into its natural rhythm. At the rate it’s pounding, I’m afraid it might shatter. Like it’s prone to do around her.

Becca’s head is thrown back in laughter, her crazy curls cascading down her back. My hands tingle from the memory of those strands wrapped around my fist.

I told myself I was prepared for this moment. It’s been five years. I’ve moved on.

But I’m transfixed at the sight of her.

Her hand grasps the arm of the man she’s with, and he smiles down at her with a look I know well. A look I’ve worn a hundred times. One I’ve only ever felt when gazing at her.

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