Every Little Kiss (22 page)

“We're going to the Wheelhouse. I'll drive. We're getting you a drink and you're going to tell me what's going on. And no bullshit. You looked like a ghost during that baby shower, and I'm
not
going to believe you if you tell me it was from the smell of Willa's farts.”

Casey didn't have the energy to argue. She handed over her keys and got into her own passenger seat. Audrey started the car and, a few minutes later, they were motoring across the Birch River, passing over geese clustered along the banks, their bills tucked deep into their downy wings.

Casey wondered why they were still here, why they'd stayed the winter in White Pine. She wondered if she'd fly away if she had wings that would take her anywhere.

But where could she go? The problem with any destination was that Casey would have to face herself when she got there.

Ten minutes later, they were seated at the bar and Dave Englund was handing her a bubbling drink the color of warm honey. It was garnished with a lime like an exclamation point of color. “A dark and stormy,” he said, “to match your mood.”

“It doesn't
look
dark and stormy,” Casey said, hating the little-kid pout in her voice. Part of her was miffed that, when they'd arrived, Audrey had blabbed to Dave that Casey had just been crying, and needed the perfect drink.

She barely wanted her sister to know she'd been bawling, much less their
bartender
. At the same time, she didn't hate that she was here, with the smooth wood of the bar under her palms and the comfort of her sister next to her, and Dave smiling like a friend might.

As if she belonged here.

“The black rum's the trick to that drink,” Dave said, muscles bulging from underneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. “I think it's supposed to be reminiscent of a churning ocean or something.”

“Just imagine you're in Key West and the clouds are rolling in,” Audrey said. She'd ordered the Christmas ale once again, and was sucking it down like she was dehydrated.

“You guys want some cheese curds or something?” Dave asked.

Audrey put a hand on her stomach. “No, thanks. I just ate enough baby shower cake for three.” She gave him a small smile. “But maybe we could get an update about you and that firefighter, Quinn.”

Dave's easygoing bartender demeanor instantly hardened. His dark eyes flashed with hurt. “I wish I could tell you. We went on some dates. I thought things were fine, but she stopped returning my phone calls.”

“What, just like that?” Audrey asked.

“Yeah, pretty much. I thought things were cool. But apparently she had a different viewpoint.”

Audrey shook her head, her ponytail bouncing. “Sorry, Dave. That sucks.”

Dave's jaw flexed. From the look on his face, he thought so, too.

Two weeks ago, Casey might have tried again with Dave, maybe leaned forward to stir up some sparks between them. But now the idea seemed ludicrous. The only person she had on her mind was Abe. He was the only one she
wanted
on her mind.

“I'll check on you guys in a little while. In the meantime, enjoy.” Dave left them to attend to another set of customers. Audrey drummed her fingers on the bar.

“That's too bad about Quinn,” she said. “I wonder what happened.”

Maybe she realized Dave wanted kids and she didn't. Maybe she realized she had tried to change, but she still didn't fit in anywhere.

The thoughts stung hard enough to make Casey's eyes smart all over again.

“For heaven's sake,” Audrey said. “Will you please tell me what's wrong?”

Casey hated that her sister was having to drag all this out of her. She should be brave enough just to speak honestly about what was going on. Except confusion had her words lodged somewhere in her throat.

She had to try, though. If she wanted to salvage any kind of relationship with her sister, she had to be honest.

“I slept with Abe Cameron,” she said finally. She figured it was as good a place as any to start.

Audrey's eyes widened. Then her mouth cracked into a huge grin. “You told him about the list? And he agreed?”

Casey played with her straw. “Kind of. I mean, yes, he agreed. But then, after we slept together, he told me he wanted more.”

Audrey's grin spread. “You don't say.”

“You shouldn't smile. This isn't a good thing.”

“What? Why not? He likes you, Casey. How is that not awesome?”

“Because we want different things. At the time he said he wanted a relationship, and he even admitted to wanting kids. But I don't—it's not where I see my life heading.”

Audrey tilted her head. Her brown eyes searched Casey's. “Where
do
you see your life heading?”

“I don't know. But I don't think pushing a baby stroller is in the cards.”

“Why not? I mean, if you found the right person?”

Casey sucked down a big gulp of her drink.
Liquid courage.
She was going to need it. “Growing up for us wasn't easy,” she said. “Aunt Lodi did her best, but you know as well as I do what we went through. I shouldered a lot. We both did. And now, I just feel like I kind of want less responsibility in my life, not more. Does that make sense?”

Audrey blinked. “You're saying you don't want kids because of our childhood? That was ages ago.”

“But it put me on a very specific path. And it's not that I don't want responsibility, it's that I don't want responsibility to define me. For years, I took on so much, and look where it got me. Alone. Rigid. Trying to control everything, being a total bitch, and—eventually—I was working my ass off to split you and Kieran apart. I don't ever want to go back there.”

Audrey shifted. “I get that, for sure. If you don't want to have kids, that's your choice, and I support it. I'll stand by you, no matter what you decide. But why do I get the feeling that's not all there is to what's bothering you?”

Casey sighed. “Because you're right. If I don't have kids, that means I'm not like you and your friends. It means I don't want the white picket fence and the happy, perfect family package. I'll always be different.”

Audrey arched a dark brow. “If you think any of us are perfect, then you haven't seen Stephanie's twins draw on the walls with Sharpies, or me after Kieran leaves ice cream out on the counter all night.” She smiled, but Casey couldn't return it.

“That's just it, though. There might be tiny aberrations here and there, but fundamentally I'm not the same. And I can't change that.”

“So?”

“So then I'll always be an outsider.”

Audrey sat back. “Are you looking for reasons to not be friends with us?”

“What?
No.
”

“Because if we're being honest here, then these all sound like excuses, Casey. Friendships don't just happen, they take work. You think I liked Willa when she marched back into town two years ago with her nose in the air, like she was so much better than all of us? I didn't. But I kept at it—we both did—because she deserved a shot.

“If you want to find reasons not to be part of the recipe exchange, they're there. For all of us. But don't show me a handful of bullshit and pretend it's gold.”

“I'm trying to tell you how I feel,” Casey said, her irritation rising. “It's not bullshit.”

“Is too,” Audrey said. “The recipe exchange isn't the problem.”

The words spiked Casey's heart. The implication was clear. If the recipe exchange wasn't the problem,
Casey
was. Casey gripped her drink to keep her hands from shaking.

“The recipe exchange is oil and I'm water,” Casey said, thinking of Betty's radiant face and Willa's swollen belly. “You can't blame physics when they don't mix. It's how the universe is constructed.”

“No, I think you're the oil here,” Audrey said, “because you're being deliberately slick.”

“How so?”

“You came to White Pine because you wanted a new start. You said you didn't want to be on the same path of responsibility and rigidity you were before. Fine. But everything you're saying right now is
rooted
in rigidity and control. You don't want to give the recipe exchange a shot. You don't want to give Abe a shot. You don't want to give kids a shot.”

Audrey held up a hand when Casey tried to interrupt. “Kids are a complicated choice, and I'm not trying to pressure you into changing your mind on that front. What I am saying, though, is that you came here wanting to change. You made a booty list like it was proof you could release your inner wild child. But now, think about it. That list has brought a good man into your life, who you're determined to push away. Moving here has brought a group of women into your life, who you're determined to stay removed from.”

“I
have
to push Abe away.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how the story ends. You're right that he's a good man, and he deserves to get what he wants. He told me that's kids, Audrey. Which I don't want. So how can we be compatible long term? Don't you see?”

Audrey reached out and touched Casey's shoulder. “Maybe there's a way around all this.”

Casey shook her head. She knew from experience. There wasn't.

“You know,” Audrey said slowly, “you had a lot of responsibility when we were kids. And you had a lot of fear, too. More fear, I think, than anything else. These days, you've tried to disguise it as other things, like inhibition, maybe. But it's still just fear.”

Casey stared at the bar's polished wood. She could all but feel terror twining her gut like nettles. Audrey was right. It was still there.

“I don't want to screw up again,” she whispered. “I lost a relationship once over the whole kid thing. Not that he was some great love, but—still, it was awful. And of course Mom and Dad, and then I came so close to losing you just a few months ago. Now, I'm just trying not to let everything fall apart again.” The tears were back again, collecting at the corners of her eyes. She tried not to let them fall.

“Oh, Casey.” Audrey wrapped her arms around her sister. “Things fall apart. It's part of what being human is all about. But being afraid of mistakes, of hurt, doesn't justify sitting back and letting what you want slip away. You
have
to talk to Abe.”

“And tell him…what?”

“That you care for him. That you want to try and work it out, even if you don't want kids.”

“But that will only lead to—”

“
Stop.
Stop saying that. You don't know that. Maybe that's how one relationship of yours ended a long time ago. But maybe this is different.”

Casey swallowed. This didn't seem possible. “It's so risky,” she whispered.

Audrey nodded. “That's what love is. It's one big, huge risk. A great leap off a cliff, and it's not always going to be a smooth drop until the end. You're going to hit some stuff on the way down. The people who love you—who really love you—won't care about the bumps.”

“But why jump at all?”

“Because it's fun. It makes life worthwhile.”

“It sounds awful.”

“Sometimes it's that, too. Listen, you don't have to jump. But you also can't stand on the edge and tell everyone you're having a blast on the way down, when we can all see you haven't moved.”

Audrey pulled back. She took a sip of beer. Casey tucked her hair behind her ears, trying to regain her composure. She felt like she'd just stepped out of a wind tunnel. Her emotions were battered and buffeted.

After a moment, Audrey touched her shoulder. “When you get a better handle on things, sit down with Abe and be honest. Even if you end up in different places, it's better that you get there by telling the truth.”

Casey tossed back the last of her drink.

She didn't have to be honest with Abe. He had agreed to her list, after all. If that was what she wanted, she'd get it.

But she wasn't at all sure she wanted just her list anymore.

She thought about watching the parade with Abe, shopping for Christmas decorations with him, and watching him cook breakfast in her kitchen. She'd been so deeply content in those moments, it was hard to think about reverting to a list of only five things.

Crammed in alongside the picture of Abe in her mind was Carter, and all the kids like him who needed help. She might not want her own kids, it was true. But maybe that didn't mean she had to reject supporting and loving any kids, ever.

“I'll talk to him,” she said finally. “But first can we have another round?”

Audrey smiled. “We can have three if you want. You've earned it.”

“Maybe I should get something besides a dark and stormy. I feel slightly better. Maybe there's a different drink out there for me.”

“Sex on the beach? That is, if things go well with Abe?”

Casey laughed. “It's better than a mudslide.”

“Or a rusty nail.”

“I could get a tequila sunrise,” Casey mused. “It's night right now, technically, but maybe I can convince myself to look forward to what's ahead.”

“That's called something else,” Audrey said.

“Yeah?”

“It's called a glass half full. You're practically an optimist already.”

V
iola Stroud was missing her dentures, which made her story about her deceased husband's black Packard all the harder to understand. Abe and Quinn were standing in the old woman's small kitchen, trying to follow along.

“Drobe da Bacard da churb on Drismab,” Viola said, nodding emphatically. Her white hair was fine and thin, tufted out from her head like a wispy halo. Behind her, faded flowered wallpaper lined the walls. Abe and Quinn glanced at each other, trying to translate what the elderly woman had just said.

“Oh, I'm sure it was such a nice drive on Christmas morning,” Quinn said suddenly, grasping the old woman's meaning. “Do you want us to find your teeth for you? And maybe feed Mr. Mittens?”

Her gray cat was twining around their boots, meowing. Viola had an in-home caregiver stop by three days each week to clean and cook food and help out generally. And on the other days, she had the White Pine Fire Department, since she used her medical alert tag liberally.

Abe had debated telling her that she should only call in emergencies, but so far he hadn't been able to summon the words. As long as they weren't on another call, it was no sweat off anyone's back to stop by and see her. She was a widow, after all.

She'd lost her husband two years ago to a heart attack. He'd slumped over while watching the evening news. Abe had been on the call, in fact.

That dreary night, Viola's face had been a flat sheet—shock had made her featureless, like there weren't any muscles in her cheeks or jaw or brow. Abe had let her ride in the ambulance. His team had worked on her husband the whole way, even though it was clear he was gone, snuffed out before they even got there. They kept the resuscitation going for Viola's sake, because no one wanted to tell her the truth.

In the hospital, he'd let the doctors take over. He'd let them break the bad news to the old woman. At the time he'd told himself this was why you didn't love anyone or let them in. Because it crushed you, in the end. He could see it on Viola's face that very night. She was a ghost, a shadow of herself, without her better half.

Two years on, Abe knew Viola was still a shell in a way, bumbling through every day like it was a cobwebbed maze. But she was happiest when she talked about her husband—when that happened, her eyes focused, her voice brightened.

Any light she had left, it was because of him, Abe realized. Eighty years in, and he was still with her, helping her through the days that remained. Even if he wasn't physically present.

Maybe that was what love did, he thought. It gave you strength, even when it was seemingly gone.

He swallowed hard, trying not to think about Casey. But there she was. He felt more for her than he had for anyone, ever. So much that he was willing to risk the pain that came with caring for someone with your whole self. Not just one balloon on the beach, he thought, picturing his mom's painting, but two.

Even if it was just for a moment. Even if it was just for the five things on her list, he would float alongside her. He wanted more, of course. He wanted a lifetime. But he'd take what he could get. He'd live out the rest of his life in dim gray if it meant he could have a little of her light blazing alongside him for a few brief moments.

They fed Mr. Mittens, then found Viola's dentures in a small glass next to her bedside. Once her teeth were in place, they made her a sandwich and poured her a glass of milk. Abe grabbed Viola's hand when she was done eating. He should remind her of the rules, tell her she shouldn't use her medical alert signal all the time. “You call us if you need anything,” he said instead. “Anything at all.”

Abe and Quinn were uncharacteristically quiet on the ride back to the station. Usually they'd be ribbing each other, debating about a quick stop at the Rolling Pin, or trying to think about what pranks to pull on Reese.

Instead, Quinn was turned toward the window, blowing her bangs out of her face with soft sighs. Abe had Casey on the brain, and knew he probably looked tired. Hell, maybe he was.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, after the silence had stretched too long. One of them had to say something.

Quinn shrugged. “Just thinking about how differently two people can see the same thing. Like, I'm looking at that Viola lady and thinking she's so lonely, and it's so sad. But maybe she's sitting there thinking she had the fullest, bestest life ever, and she's feeling sorry for
me
because I'm alone—”

Quinn cut herself off. This wasn't how firefighters talked. “Fuck it,” she said, shoving her shoulders back.

Abe threw her a knowing look. “If Reese was here or Lambeck, I'd let it go. But it's just you and me. I'm not going to say anything to anybody if you want to talk about…whatever you've got on your mind.”

Quinn tensed. Then threw up her hands. “Fine. The gossip mill already knows I went on a couple dates with that bartender, Dave. And it was going fine, but I bailed.”

“Why? He mess up?”

“No, that's just it. He was perfect. Too perfect. And I freaked out.”

Abe took a deep breath, thinking of all the women he'd shoved to the back burner because of fear. Too many to count.

“Why do you think you did that?” he asked.

Quinn shrugged. “I think I'm broken. Because the thing is, Dave was good. Really good. And not just in bed, although—shit, never mind. Point is, there was part of me that didn't want to mess it up. I was scared I'd ruin it somehow. So I bailed.”

Abe gripped the steering wheel. Usually he'd just clam up and nod at whoever was talking—it was safer that way in the firehouse—but this time he wasn't about to let Quinn hang there alone, twisting in the wind. “I've got the opposite problem,” he said, trying to catch her eye. “I like a woman who doesn't like me back. Or, at least, she likes me enough for five things.”

“What does that mean?”

Abe confided Casey's list to Quinn, and her eyes grew rounder with each number. “Color me shocked. I never would have guessed she had a list like that.”

Abe chuckled. “Me either.”

“And you're not going to try and talk her into more than those five things?”

“Nope. I did that, and it didn't end so well. I'm at a place now where I like her so much, I'm willing to give her what she wants and end it there.”

“God, that's pathetic.”

“I know.”

“But it's romantic, too. I'll deny ever having said that, by the way.”

“Romantic is you walking up to Dave Englund's house with a six-pack and telling him you acted like a jerk.”

“That's humiliating.”

“Same difference, some days.”

Quinn gave a dry laugh. “I'm so used to running, I don't think I'd know what to do if I was in more than one spot for a while.”

“You've been at the station for years now. What are you talking about?”

“It's a metaphor, dumbass. For my heart?”

“Don't call me dumbass. I'm your superior.”

“Superior dumbass, then.” Quinn grinned, and Abe was relieved to see that some of the tension had vanished from her face.

“You're scrubbing the toilets, just for that.”

“You're buying me a cruller at the Rolling Pin first.”

Abe pretended to be put out. But he smiled as he stood in line at the Rolling Pin.

And then he bought her a whole box of donuts instead of just one.

Saturday afternoon, Casey was pacing the floor of her house, staring at her phone. Abe had texted her, asking if he'd could come over, and, God help her, she'd said yes.

After their talk at the school, she knew that meant Abe wasn't coming over for a sandwich and a chat. At the same time, she wasn't sure she wanted to just leap into bed with him. There was so much she wanted to tell him. Since Thursday, she'd had tentative phrases rattling against the underside of her cranium:

I'm scared to feel too much for you.

I don't want kids, but I want you, and I don't know where that leaves us.

I'd jump with you, if it meant we'd be together when we fell.

She stopped in front of her Christmas tree, the lights blurring in front of her eyes. How in the world was she going to say any of that when Abe had just proclaimed his dedication to the five things on her list? What if he didn't want to hear any of it?

But of course she knew he would be open to every single word. He had told her he cared about her, and, more than that, she could feel it when they were in bed together. The sex had been mind-blowing and not just because he had a huge penis and knew his way around a woman's body. It had been glorious because they cared about one another—perhaps more than either of them realized.

The doorbell rang and she squared her shoulders. It was time to pull on her big-girl panties and be brave about exposing not just her body, but her feelings, too. It was the only way forward.

Except, when she pulled the door open, Abe was standing there, shirt open in the winter weather, baring his sculpted abs and holding a pair of handcuffs. He looked like a calendar model. Maybe for November, since he was yummy enough to serve up for Thanksgiving.

He stepped inside and kicked the door closed with one foot. Then he was pressing Casey against the wall, his frame towering over hers and his eyes locked on to her face.

“I'm sorry I fucked up,” he said, kneeing apart her legs and shoving a deliciously muscled thigh in between them. She barely had time to comprehend what was happening. But her body knew all too well. It heated from the inside out, and she swore she could hear the air crackling with electricity.

She struggled to remember what she wanted to talk about with Abe, even as she licked her lips. God, but she was hungry for this man.

“Abe, I have to tell you—”

“Nothing. You don't owe me a single explanation or piece of information. You told me what you wanted, Casey. And I aim to give it to you.”

Before she could blink, he shrugged off his shirt. His naked torso was smooth and honey colored. Her fingers itched to run the length of it, from the dark blond hairs near his pecs to the trail that ended just below his waist.

Then she heard a click, and realized he'd locked one of her wrists into the handcuffs. Her heart pounded. Excitement—and a little bit of fear—twisted through her. She pulled in air, trying to think.

“We should…” She said but trailed off. The idea of a heart-to-heart chat right now seemed ridiculous. How could she stop the stampede of desire that was roaring through them both? She couldn't. More than that, she wouldn't.

Her list was like a fire, flaming in her mind's eye.

Maybe her five things weren't
all
she wanted, but right now, at this moment, they were a dessert too rich and delicious to resist. Her thoughts were carnal and base, but she didn't care. Abe was willing to give her the list.

And, God help her, she wanted it.

If part of her felt like a coward for bending to her desire above all else, she pushed it aside. There would be plenty of time to talk. Right now, she would do the opposite of talk. She would shut up and let Abe do what he wanted.

Because it was what
she
wanted.

“We should go to the bedroom,” she said finally. “And you should lead the way.”

Abe grabbed her wrist, the handcuff dangling loose. He twisted her arm behind her back—not roughly, but the sharp movement had her panting. His voice was low in her ear. “No, you lead the way,” he said, and marched her down the hallway like she'd just been arrested. It was thrilling enough to cause her legs to tremble. She wondered for a brief second if she'd even make it to the bed.

Moments later, Abe had Casey's arms stretched overhead. She was handcuffed to the headboard, her back against the bedding. Her heart thundered in her ears. She was shirtless—he'd pulled off her top and unhooked her bra before she could think. Now, her blood was hot, just on the edge of boiling. Her chest rose and fell like she'd been running.

Abe unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off her while she could only watch. She was naked, fully exposed, and every muscle in her body felt tight enough to snap. She was thrilled to her core, but something else, too. Nervous? Scared? Maybe all of it.

She bit her lip, wondering what Abe's next move would be. She pictured him taking her every way he wanted while she was powerless to stop him.

Abe tugged his clothes off. He was thick and hard, and the sight of his penis ignited a throbbing deep inside. Casey sucked in air as he knelt between her thighs, towering over her.

He grasped her nipples in his fingers, pinching slightly. She lost her breath.

“Do you like that?” A mischievous smile flashed on his face.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes.”

He turned her to her side and spanked her once. Not hard, but she felt her eyes widen with surprise nonetheless.

“And that?” he asked. “Did you like that?”

She nodded, her heart pounding.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“I liked it,” she said, thrilling at his authority.

He turned her so she was fully on her back again. He shoved her thighs apart with his hands. His eyes glinted with desire.

This is it
, she thought.
He will take me with everything he has, and it will be thrilling.

She was ready.

And yet, she strained against the handcuffs. “Wait,” she said, not sure why she was stopping him. Abe pulled back.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. His eyes had gone from hungry to concerned in the space of half a second.

“Yes, of course, it's fine. I just—I don't know. If you wanted to take your time, I'm not—that is—”

He shut her up with a kiss so deep and long she wondered that time itself didn't stop. His hands stroked her as gently as his tongue. His fingers were everywhere on her, while she pulled against her handcuffs, wishing she could plunge her hands into his hair, wishing she could feel his cock. The desire—the yearning—was as almost as delicious as his touch.