Page 56 of Craving Consequences

LACHLAN

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What a fucking mess.

I jerk on the cords keeping the tarp securely pinned in place over the patio chairs.

The neat stalk is braced against the side of the house, untouched by the storm.

It’s more than I can say for the chaos of broken branches and debris strewn across the yard.

Van has most of it pulled into a pile, but there is no way we’re getting this place set up in the short time we have left.

I turn away from my friend, ignore the hard set of his shoulders, the angry strides of his legs as he throws himself into the task like it’s the most important thing he’s ever had to do.

I get it.

Speaking the words out loud, putting them into unfaltering perspective was gutting.

Hearing the facts and knowing there is nothing we can do to alter the course of our future is a kick to the gut.

It doesn’t even matter that I’ve known this was coming since the night at the bar.

I prepared myself. Braced, and still I feel knocked to my knees.

“Fuck sakes,” I breathe under my breath .

My gaze squints out over the sea of damp green to the soft roll of murky gray reflecting the overcast sky. The wind is starting to stir again, disturbing the trees and creating choppy waves across the lake. It carries the scent of rain sprinkled with pine sap and wet earth.

It’s all for show. The weather doesn’t call for another storm, but I still pick up my pace; I won’t put Everly’s life at risk if I’m wrong and we’re caught in another downpour.

I stalk across the patio and down to join Van. The earth sinks beneath my boots and the wet blades soak the hems of my jeans, but I close the distance.

“We’re not getting this set up today,” I tell him as he chucks a branch onto the pile.

Van straightens and faces me. His wide chest expands beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt and bunches across the broad width of his shoulders when he lifts a tree trunk of an arm and swipes at his brow with his forearm.

“No,” he agrees reluctantly.

I know what he’s thinking. He thinks we can drag this out another night.

Possibly another after that. Just stay here with her and leave it all behind.

I have no idea if that’s what he’s actually thinking, but that’s the temptation I’ve been fighting against. It’s the little voice nagging me to drag out every task until it’s too dark to leave.

It wishes for another storm that locks us inside with the tiny creature in the kitchen, packing up our supplies .

Even from across the yard, through the square cut of glass, her silhouette is unmistakable bathed in the warm gold of the overhead lights.

She’s twisted her hair up into a knot at the top of her head and she’s barefoot, skirt floating around her long legs.

Her motions are practiced and sure, like she’s done this a million times.

“Why does it feel like a goodbye?”

I don’t have to look to know he’s watching her, too. I don’t tell him it is.

I can’t.

“We should pack up the car,” I say instead.

“Lach.”

I round to face my best friend, frustration and desperation flooding my system.

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what to tell you.

I don’t know how to fix this.” I rub a damp hand over my jaw and turn my head away.

“I don’t like it either. It’s killing me, but if anything happens to her because of us. ..”

The words fracture in my throat, jagged shards of glass tear into my esophagus. Bleed into my mouth. I clench my jaw.

Van watches me. He stares into my soul without uttering a word. The storm is in his eyes. Turning the pain an opaque gray.

“We can’t keep her,” I whisper, needing to remind us both .

“I can’t go back to before, Lach. I can’t go back to my life without her.”

The confession chokes me. It bears down with the weight of everything I’m trying to hold up. Beneath the weight, my knees quiver. My resolve cracks.

“We have to.” I look at him. Let myself meet the onslaught of agony coming off him with my own. “If we want to keep her safe.” I know I have him when his muscles tighten. His fists clench at his sides and he turns his face away. “We pack up the car. We take her home.”

We walk away.

I don’t say it out loud, but it hangs like a funeral shroud between us. The density is suffocating, but I stand firm.

Forty-five minutes later, we’re loading up into the truck. Our duffels are shoved into the backseat with the leftover supplies. We leave the party bins behind to come back to on Friday. Van helps Everly into the seat between us with the first drop of rain splattering across the windshield.

Couldn’t have come twenty minutes earlier, I muse, glowering up at the unpredictable churn of clouds.

“I think I should come back by myself tomorrow,” Everly offers as I take the dirt path away from our sanctuary. “I can stay the night and get everything ready for Saturday—”

“No.” I slip a hand off the wheel and set it on the soft muscles of her thigh. The warmth of her skin burns my palm and I tighten my fingers. “We’ll come with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she begins, but Van interjects.

“Lach’s right. You’re not coming back here by yourself.”

I wait for her to point out that she’s capable of handling it like she has in the past, but she glances from me to Van with a mirror of our desperation reflected in her eyes.

Quietly, she slips her palm under mine and threads our fingers together. Her other hand loops around Van’s and she turns her face into his massive bicep.

“I shouldn’t want that, but I’m ... I’m not ready to let you go.”

Van cups the back of her head with his free hand, holds her in place to press a kiss to her crown.

“We’re going to figure this out, Evie. I don’t care how.”

I don’t correct him. We have three hours with her still and I’m not going to spend them reminding us how wrong he is.

“What’s the plan for the rest of today?” I ask, moving us away from the chasm threatening to drag us under.

Head never lifting off Van’s shoulder, Everly tilts it in my direction. “I don’t have any. My original plan was to stay at the cabin until Friday. Drive back to grab Lauren and drive back for the party. ”

It’s very tempting to simply turn the truck around and just head back, but my crew needs me.

We have projects that need looking over and contracts that need to be signed.

Skipping one day is understandable when the weather would have kept us locked in anyway, but any more than that would raise questions.

“But I have calls to make and I’ve been meaning to clean out some of the clutter at the house so I might do that,” she says after a moment.

“Want any help?” I volunteer. “I think we’ve proven we’re pretty handy.”

Everly chuckles. “It’s nothing crazy. Just packing up some old stuff to take to the church donation.”

“I have a truck,” I point and get another sweet giggle. “Less trips.”

I know I’m pushing too hard. I know I’m supposed to drop her off and drive away. That was the plan.

But what harm is a few more hours with her? We’re helping her clean up clutter. We’re being neighborly.

“I would like that,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

I don’t reply. I can’t without showing the relief loosening the bands around my chest.

The conversation extends to dropping her off. Taking me and Van home to change and drop off our stuff. Empty the truck bed. And return to help her load up .

At that point, I figure one of us can run to Mama May’s diner and order some dinner. No one would blame us for eating.

Tomorrow, we’ll return to the cabin and finish getting the yard ready. We’ll only be gone a few hours. I doubt anyone would even notice.

When did I get so good at lying to myself? I wonder with a weighted exhale.

It’s early afternoon by the time we maneuver our way through town. The roads are full of people going about their business, enjoying the soft shift of heat elevated by the rain. There’s still a humidity that dampens clothes against skin, but it’s not joined by the scorching sun.

But while everything is exactly how we left it just the day before, there’s a dimness to the scenery.

An absence of something I can’t put my finger on.

Maybe it’s my lack of desire to be here.

Maybe it’s the sprinkling of hatred I can feel growing inside me.

Whatever it is, whatever is holding me back, it stays in my gut like a rock the entire way to Everly’s house.

She doesn’t move when I pull to a stop.

Neither do we.

We sit still and quiet in her driveway, surrounded by prying eyes, unable to do anything else when I’m dying to pull her to me and kiss her. All I can do is squeeze her fingers .

“We’ll be back,” I tell her softly when her fingers tighten around mine in return with an almost possessive clamp. “Promise.”

“I know,” she breathes with a tiny chuckle. “I feel silly, but ... I...”

I disagree. I understand completely the need to have her with us, but if we’re going to keep this charade going, we need to act naturally.

“Get inside, sweetheart,” I tell her firmly.

She doesn’t argue. She says nothing when she scoots across the bench after Van who throws open his door and slides down with the same ease he always has, except I know him better than that.

The rigid tension coiled tight beneath his skin does not go unnoticed by me, nor does the ten possessive fingers he curls around her waist to lift her down.

Everly lets him. She settles her tiny fingers on his shoulders and lets herself get pulled into him. Lets him cradle her a heartbeat too long before he sets her down.

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, her head tips over her shoulder to where I can’t take my eyes off her. The look she gives me ... the longing that sparks between us sends a physical ache through me that has my fingers fisting around the wheel in restraint.

“Hurry,” she whispers quietly. Then, with a weak smile she adds, “I don’t want to have all the fun without you. ”