Page 2 of Love Again

The adrenaline pounds in the back of my throat, selecting a tempo I have no control over. That’s the problem. I lost everything, to him. Everything I had, with him. Every nerve is telling me to run, to get out of here, to leave, to jump in the car, turn the key, step on the gas, and go. He’s sweet and kind and used to love me, but we have a history that eclipses the one I have with Keller.

I’ve never slept with Keller.

But I don’t run. We Russos are practical. I’m here to paint a room, and I’m not going to let Luke Walker stop me. How dare he. How dare he come to my town, to my station. How dare he stand there . . . looking like that.

Rugged. Handsome. His thick sandy hair cut longer than I remember.

It’s been two years.

Luke remains fixed on the stoop. He’s pale and clearly as shocked as I am. I don’t care. I avert my eyes because I can barely look at him. The memory of his body against mine, his mouth on mine, his hands on me, is swift and overwhelming and kept alive by those dreams. His body was hard and powerful, his touch tender, and he breathed life into me when we kissed. And he’s standing just fifteen paces from me now.

It’s been two long years.

My mouth is bone dry.

“Why the fuck don’t you read your texts?” says Keller, and for a moment, I think he’s speaking to me.

I flinch and release the breath I must have been holding.

Now, Luke is moving toward us, trying to shut Keller down. “Don’t. Stop talking—”

But it’s too late. Keller is wound up. “This is what you always do. You don’t communicate. If you’d read your texts”—Keller’s eyes grow wide, and he gestures to his phone—“you would have stayed inside and avoided all this crap.” He closes his lips down hard on the p. He continues. “But no. No. Like with everything else in your life, you back right into it. Now you’ve got your comin’ to Jesus moment, and you didn’t have to do anything to make that happen. No effort. As usual, you just let ‘fate’ step in and do all the work.”

His air quotes catch me off guard. I’ve never, ever, seen him use them. Frankly, it’s a little scary.

Keller barrels on. “This is what we talked about before. You. Not communicating. With us.” He lowers his voice and forces the v in “Ever.”

My mind is sluggish. “What do you mean Fate? What does? What?” Turning to Luke, I blink, and something catches in my throat. I try hard to complete a sentence. “How long have you been here?”

His mouth opens, but there’s nothing. Now he can’t seem to put words together.

Keller turns to me. “Three weeks. He’s been here three long, excruciating weeks, working opposite shifts from you. Okay? I’m trying so fucking hard to make this all work for everyone and respect everyone’s need ‘to process.’”

Again, with the air quotes. I’ve never seen Keller in this state before. He’s overly consumed with walking on eggshells and being solicitous doesn’t suit him at all. He’s too big. He must sense he’s in the middle of something huge, and he’s trying hard to stay in front of a train wreck.

He has no idea how big of a wreck it is, either.

I try to slow the mess down with another question, this time to Keller. “So he’s the new guy?” It comes out far more accusingly than I mean for it to.

Greg Burnett left to go back to school a month ago. We were all amazed at how quickly the slot filled—no advertising, no interviews. Now I know why.

Sort of.

Keller looks slightly guilty and shrugs his shoulders, nodding “yes.”

“No wonder you didn’t put the new guy’s picture up on the board.” I shift my gaze to Luke and control my voice. “You told him about us? My family doesn’t even know about us.” And then even more quietly, I say, “Jesus, Luke.”

Luke’s throat works, and he runs a hand through that thick, sandy-brown hair. “Listen. No excuses.”

I cut him off. “You’re right. You don’t have any excuses. Why the hell did you leave Colorado? What possessed you to leave your magnificent Rockies? What right do you have to come here, where I live, and barge in on my life?”

He takes a step back as if every word seems to stab, but I can’t stop, and I can’t afford to care, and now I can’t take those words back.

I keep pressing him. “Hmm?”

I’ll take any answer to any question right now. My hands shake, so I shove them into my front pockets. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me unglued.

In the brief silence, a sea-gull wheels above.