“Keep your voice down,” June warns. “She’s sleeping. Like a log.”
“She’s a vampire baby, I swear. Sleeps all day, up all night.” Cade sighs. “Why don’t I go watch the other hellions so you can have this conversation I shouldn’t be a part of?”
“See how nice he’s being?” June says to me. “It’s all an act just to get pie.”
Cade snorts, slapping June on the ass as he turns to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Don’t let her fool you,” he says back. “It’s no act. I’m nice all the damn time. This is a prime specimen, right here. Grade-A husband material.”
“Get out and leave us alone, since I’m cooking for you and everything. Make sure the children don’t destroy the living room.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Cade waves at her as he leaves, coffee cup in hand. “I’m requesting steak for dinner, though.”
“What about you guys?” June asks. “Are you staying for dinner, or do you have other plans?” She practically leers, wiggling her eyebrows when she says other plans.
“I think Luke and I are… I think he’s cooking for me again,” I say as she laughs.
“Cooking. Oh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“Shut up.”
“Everyone’s in the living room, so now’s the time,” she says. “Spill it. He’s hot, isn’t he? The sex is totally amazing, and you’re doing it like bunnies, and he has a big –“
My phone goes off in my purse, and June laughs.
“Saved by the bell,” I say.
“Is that your phone or your vi–“
“Oh my God, you think I carry a vibrator in my purse?” I hiss, pulling out the phone and sticking my tongue out at her. I slide my finger across the screen. One text, from Luke.
Can’t make it tonight. Something’s come up. Call me.
“Is that from him?” June asks. “Is he sending you love notes? That’s so adorable.”
I roll my eyes and slide my phone back into my purse. “He’s not sending me love notes,” I say, sighing loudly. “And yeah, we’re staying for dinner.”
June’s brow furrows. “Anything wrong?”
“I’m not sure.”
28
Luke
I glance in my rearview mirror at the empty road, then reach between my legs for the cell phone I’ve wedged in there. Sliding my finger across the screen for the millionth time since I've been on the road, I verify that there's no signal. But I knew that already.
I called Elias after leaving Silas’ place. He’s in Hollywood with his girl, River Andrews, a big-time movie star. They're at some awards show tonight. When I called, there were people around, stylists or something. I told him I’d keep an eye out for him on television so I could see how stupid he looked in a monkey suit. He called me an asshole and told me he’d try to flip me the bird if he could.
I'd tried to call Autumn again before I left, but it went to voicemail. I left a second stupid message – terse, short, not at all what I wanted to say.
What the hell do I want to say to her?
I’m the guy who fucks bimbos with big tits and small brains, girls who don’t ask for anything more than a good time and no damn conversation. I’m the guy whose idea of commitment is a second beer. I’m not the guy who cooks dinners for some girl, playing with her kid, not wanting to leave in the morning after I fuck her senseless all night.
Every day I keep going with Autumn is another day playing this charade. At some point, I’m going to break her fucking heart. And I don’t want to be that asshole.
I don’t know if I can be still.
I’m afraid I can’t stay still. I can’t give her what she needs.
She deserves more than me.
Fuck, this is goddamn depressing, driving down a deserted road in a truck with just my thoughts for company. Time to think is never good, not in my book, anyway. It’s one of the things I appreciate about smoke jumping – or base jumping, rock climbing, snow boarding, hell, anything that floods your system with adrenaline the way that shit does.
Take smoke jumping, for instance. You jump out of a fucking plane, gear strapped to your ass, and it’s just you and fate. Yeah, you’ve got skill and your gear and all that bullshit, but anything can go wrong. It’s a dice roll.
And when you’re in the air, freefalling, it’s like white noise.
Pure adrenaline.
Everything in the world turns off, and you don’t think.
It’s the same thing when you’re in a fire. Despite all the sounds – trees groaning and cracking under their own weight and falling to the ground with an earthshattering thud, the roar of the fire – all you care about is the seconds in front of you and nothing else. You’re not thinking about past or present or future bullshit.
When I left West Bend and got my first taste of that – the way my mind turned off, unburdened with all my family bullshit, worrying about my brothers – I knew I was hooked on all of it: jumping, climbing, boarding, surfing, whatever ate up my focus completely and entirely.