Embrace (Evolve Series #2) (11 page)

“What she said, sorta,” I agree. “Who are you? And
why do you have her out here all alone, drunk, in the dark?” If I didn’t have
to hold up Whitley right now, I’d gladly wrinkle that shirt of his.

“That’s Tyler,” Whitley supplies. “Family friend
forever. He had the coolest fort in his backyard; I used to sneak over. He wants
in my panties, and my dad’s wallet, which is empty, I guess. Oops!” She giggles
and covers her mouth.

“I’m taking her home.” I scoop her up in my arms and
make towards the house, not even caring to find Sawyer. Total bullshit he left
her like this. Her arms snake around my neck and her head falls back, hanging
over my arm.

“Evan?”

“What?”

“Why are you mad at me?” she asks, her head bouncing
with each of my steps.

“I’m not mad at you. You just scared me. We’ll talk
in the morning.” I stop, hitching her up and resetting my secure grip of her
limp body.

“What if my dad’s so broke he can’t pay for school
anymore? I’ll have to leave. Who will take care of you?”

“Whitley, you’re drunk. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Not every girl will leave you. I don’t want to.”

I know better than to try and carry on a
conversation with someone who’s drunk, but drunken words are sober thoughts,
and it seems as though she’s got some pretty big ones plaguing her that she
needs to get out.

“Whitley, I’m sure it’ll be fine. You won’t have to
leave school. And don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Okay?”

I look down when she doesn’t respond, seeing she’s
passed out. Although difficult, I manage to get the door open and her tucked in
bed, then lay a glass of water and some headache reliever I dug up in the
kitchen on her nightstand.

Tomorrow, we’ll have to talk. What she did tonight
was dangerous and she needn’t try to drink away her fears. She also shouldn’t
be worrying about me. And I shouldn’t be thinking about how good it feels to be
someone’s concern.

Chapter 14

Goin’ Fishin’

~Evan~

“
D
ude, wake up.”

I open my eyes, then squint against the sunlight, barely
able to see Sawyer crouched by my bed, shaking me. “What?” The
one
time
I’m not the first person awake and here comes this guy.

“I can’t get this chick to leave. I need your help,
bro. Get up and come run interference, say we gotta go somewhere or something.”

I’m not too sleepy to grin ear to ear once I turn
away from him; serves him right. I hope she’s sniffing his clothes and doodling
his initials when he walks back in there. “You’re on your own,
bro
. You
left Whitley alone,
drunk
, and you want help? You gotta be a friend to
have a friend, Sawyer.”

“I didn’t leave Whitley drunk. I left her sober,
with an old friend, who she said she trusted. I specifically asked her.”

I roll over and look at him now, standing in the
middle of the room, arms crossed and wearing a scowl. He can scowl all he
wants, if he left Whitley like that, we’re done. “She was blitzed when I found
her, alone in the front yard, away from the crowd, with one guy.”
Scowl
right back at ya.

“Yeah, Tyler or something, right? Listen, I pulled
that girl aside and asked her, she said he was an old family friend and she trusted
him. She was sober, on the sun porch thing with a lot of people when I walked
away. I swear.”

“You’re sure?” I should have known he wouldn’t just
leave
her
like that. For all his obnoxiousness, he’s a decent guy.

“You calling me a liar, Evan?”

“Nah, man, not a liar, I just wanted to make sure.”
I stand now and offer him a fist bump. “My bad.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I could have gone back and
checked on her.”

“Just remember next time. Cool?”

“Cool.” He nods, clapping me on the shoulder.

“Now what is it you need help with again?” I haven’t
forgotten, in the whole last five minutes, I just want him to have to squirm
through telling me again.

“This girl, she won’t leave.”

There it is, the pained grimace on his face…so glad
I asked again.

“Stop hooking up with randoms and you won’t have
this problem.” I throw a shirt over my head and pull on some jeans; no sense
risking the clinger taking a liking.

“Ah, small price to pay, my friend.” He moves to the
door and looks back. “You should try it; get your
heads
back in the
game.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna try to start dating, I think.”

“I was kidding,” he comments, turning fully to face
me, “kinda. I thought maybe you and Whitley might start something up. Girl’s
gah gah over you.”

“No, she’s not. We’re just friends. I can’t do that
to her, you know? What if I’m imagining something that isn’t really there because
of a rebound thing?”

“My hell, you are one complicated guy. We need to
run to the store for some feminine products there, puss?”

“Fuck off,” I mumble, brushing past him and opening
the door. I instantly smell the coffee and hear two female voices cackling
away.

“Good morning!” Whitley greets us with a huge smile
and bright eyes.

Another fact learned about Whit—she is obviously
immune to hangovers. Lucky.

“Evan, this is Portia,” Whitley properly introduces
us and I barely get out a hello or my hand outstretched before the stranger is draped
around Sawyer’s arm.

Sasha, Portia…maybe he needs to start trying
girls named Jane, or Mary, or something he has a chance of spelling.

“Oh, and Nikki came by to invite you parasailing.
Said to meet them in an hour at the dock if you want to go. You guys want some
coffee?”

“Sure, thank you,” I answer, but Sawyer… Yuck. That
explains why Sawyer’s silent...Portia is attached to his mouth. 

Whitley hands me a mug of black coffee with a smile,
her eyes not
quite
meeting mine. I don’t know if that’s because the
display right beside us is making her uncomfortable or she’s embarrassed about
last night or what…but I can’t delve into it with our spectators, even though
I’m pretty sure I could scream “FIRE!” and those two wouldn’t flinch. Which
leaves me confused, ‘cause now I’m not sure if I’m still supposed to help him
get rid of her or slip him a condom behind her back.

“What do I do?”
I mouth to Whitley with a
shrug of one shoulder and a crook of my head to the “couple.”

“I don’t know,” Whitley mouths back, suppressing a
giggle.

“Do you have any creamer?” I ask her loudly, praying
she says no, as this is my only idea.

“Sorry, no,” she frowns.

Yes!
Here’s where my bro brilliance comes in.

“I can’t drink coffee without creamer. I guess
Sawyer and I will run to the store.” I rise, feigning aggravation. “Portia, I
can give you a lift home when we go.”

No response.

“Portia?” I say even louder.

“Hmm? What?” She releases suction and turns to me,
eyes glazed.

“Let us give you a ride home, we have to go to the
store anyway.”

“Oh, um, okay,” she mutters, looking back at Sawyer
with pleading eyes, just waiting for him to squash the take her home plan…which
he doesn’t. Once she realizes he isn’t going to, she starts to shuffle slowly.
“Let me just grab my stuff.”

“Niceeeee,” Sawyer praises when she’s out of
earshot, “I owe you one.”

“Sawyer Beckett,” Whitley chastises him in a low
voice, “that is someone’s daughter. You should be ashamed.”

“Whitley, she came willingly…twice. I didn’t make
her any promises. How is it any more my fault than hers?” He shakes his head.
“You women and your double standards.”

I cough loudly when I see Portia walking back in. “You
ready?”

“I guess so.” She glances hopefully at Sawyer once
more.

“We’ll be back in a minute, Whitley,” Sawyer says
over his shoulder as he leads Portia out the front door with his hand…on her
ass.

What a dog.

E
van: Don’t worry about breakfast. I’ll grab it
while we’re out. You want anything special?

Sawyer climbs back in the truck, having walked
Portia to her door, which shocked the shit out of me really.

“I told Whit we’d pick up breakfast. What do you
want?”

“Whatever you see first is fine with me.”

Whitley: There’s a place called JoJo’s right on
I-9. They have the best breakfast burritos.

“We’re having breakfast burritos. We on I-9?” I ask.

“Hell if I know.” He’s looks around for signs. “Right
there,” he points, “get back over.”

“Look for a place called JoJo’s,” I tell him as I
navigate back across traffic, “Whitley says they’re the best.”

“So, no Whitley for you, huh? That surprises me.”

“She’s great, don’t get me wrong. But I told ya, I
think I’m reading things into it and will end up hurting her. Doesn’t it seem a
little too easy that Whitley, the first girl I meet here, ends up being the
one? You know, when things seem too good to be true, it’s usually because they
are…”

“Whatever you say, man. I think maybe you think
too
much
, but it’s your call.”

We pull through JoJo’s, another random, grim-looking
eatery (Whitley’s specialty apparently), and Sawyer thankfully lets the subject
drop, inhaling his burrito straight from the bag.

“Don’t eat ours, Saw,” I warn him with a laugh.

“I won’t, crybaby,” I
think
he says, his
mouth full.

“So,” he finally comes out of the bag for air
minutes later, now speaking legibly, “we gonna go parasailing?”

“Don’t know yet.” I climb out of the truck, snagging
the bag from Sawyer as I go, salvaging Whitley and I some breakfast. “Depends
on what Whit wants to do.”

He’s still bugging me about it as we walk in.
“Whitley, you wanna go parasailing?” he asks her.

“I don’t think I was invited,” she glances at me,
“but you guys go ahead. I just downloaded a new book. I’ll be more than happy
laying out and reading.”

Not happening.

“Cool,” Sawyer shrugs, “oh and Whit? Don’t get drunk
alone with guys anymore, okay? Evan here about kicked my ass for leaving you
alone, even though I assured him you weren’t hammered when I left you. Not
safe, sugar.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” she says pointedly to me,
“Tyler had a flask of whiskey I got carried away. Sawyer didn’t know.”

I nod briskly; I’d already settled it with Sawyer
and he’d now issued the warning I wanted to, so no need to rehash it.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, then we’ll head out.
Cool?”

“Nah,” I answer him, “you go ahead. I’m gonna hang
with Whit.”

“Evan, you don’t have—”

“Hanging with you,” I cut her off sternly.

“You guys settle it,” Sawyer laughs, “I’m going with
or without ya.”

He leaves to take his shower and I get up and gather
the trash from breakfast, Whitley fixing an imaginary problem with the bottom
of her shirt, a small smile hinting at the corners of her mouth

“So, what do you feel like doing?” I ask.

“Well, I know a really good spot to go fishing. We
have poles in the garage I think.”

My eyes pop and I look at her suspiciously, one brow
raised. “You fish?”

She full-on smiles now. “I do if you teach me.”

“You know where to get worms?”

“Um, the ground?”

I laugh at her innocent but correct answer. I was
thinking of a Vendabait machine, but yes, the ground works too. “I don’t know
if we’ll find enough that way, but we can sure try. Go get ready, I’ll check
the garage for poles.”

“Okay!” She bounces all the way down the hall; I
know this because I watch with a grin plastered on my face.

It’s gonna be damn hard to find people to date
when I get home.

W
hitley is the best accidental squirrel
hunter I’ve ever met. Her hook has been up in the trees, which aren’t exactly
right on top of us, more times than not, so she must be trying to hook herself
a squirrel. She apologizes profusely every time I have to put down my pole and
help her, but I really don’t mind. It’s fun to watch her keep trying, her
little tongue popping out in determination with every
attempted
cast.

Has she caught a fish? No.

Has she actually caught a squirrel? Still no.

Is being here, fishing, just what I needed? Yes.

Have I won the battle with myself to ignore the
memories and comparisons? Damn near.

“I think I need an intermission,” she says, propping
her pole against a tree. “I’ll just watch you for a while. Catch me a big one.”

“We can go if you want.”

“No way!” she gasps. “I’m having a great time,
really. I’m just taking a break. Go on,” she motions with her hands, “keep
fishing.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be too much longer. I’m
almost out of worms.”

It’s gorgeous here, the water calm and a bit clearer
than back home, and no crowd; this back cove to a small lake Whitley’s great
little secret I guess . The air isn’t as sticky as home, either, which is a
blessing. Now I know everybody says there’s nowhere as muggy as South Carolina,
and maybe it’s just me, but you sit by a body of water in a Georgia summer,
your shirt’s soaked in ten minutes. The breeze today may be helping, but this
spot seems pretty close to perfect. It also doesn’t hurt that sweet Whitley has
been humming “Fishing in the Dark” by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band quietly behind
me since she started her intermission. It’s a favorite of mine, and I’m shocked
she knows it. It’s all kinds of cute…another example of her “mood music.”

I haven’t gotten a single nibble the whole time I’ve
been daydreaming, so I reel in, seeing I’ve been picked clean. When I reach
down to grab another worm, the cup is gone. So is the humming.

“Whitley?” I lay down my pole, walking around to
search for her. “Whitley?”

“Over here!” I hear her call from my right.