Page 9 of For Puck’s Sake (Seattle Vipers #2)

EIGHT

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H olding Bessie in my lap, I shift, straightening the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I shiver. Even in the summer, this close to the water Lark Bay always has a slight chill in the air at night. The full moon shines down on me on the edge of the dock, giving me enough light to see the notes I’m scribbling on my notepad. The lake is calm in front of me, mirroring the night sky, giving me an infinite picture of the widespread stars and constellations. It’s beautiful, especially with the trees shielding Tor’s lakeside house from his neighbors on the other side of the water. All is quiet on this private inlet, most of the homes here aren’t occupied until mid-summer. The owners, like Tor and Alexis, won’t be here until next week when summer tourism well and truly kicks off. Right now, it’s just me, my insomnia, and my music. Well, to be honest, that’s me most nights. I swear, the number of songs I’ve written in the past two years will keep my record label happy for a very long time. Most of it will never see the light of day, but when the creative juices are flowing, I can’t rest until I get it all out.

I find inspiration in my lack of sleep, my brain’s inability to shut down is both a blessing and a curse. I thought the adrenaline crash from tonight’s performance would be enough to knock me out. But alas, a certain pair of blue eyes haunt me every time I try to close my eyes. The way I ran tonight, the way I handled seeing him . . . well, I can’t shake that either. Ugh. Hence, my midnight rendezvous with the moon. “Your namesake, Luna. My beautiful moon, always present, never wavering, shining brightly no matter the time of day. But you shine brightest at night, don’t you, beautiful.”

“So cheesy,” I whisper, chuckling softly as a memory of Ridley’s words come out of nowhere. I tug my blanket closer, my fingers moving automatically as I begin to strum a silly tune. Fast and steady, I picture Ridley’s drunken smile and how he all but dared me to come up with a song about the moon one night. I never got tired of him calling me his Luna. His moon.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Luna,” he teased. “You’re a lyrical genius. I’m just keeping you on your toes.” He smiled down at me dreamily, leaning so close, I could almost taste the whiskey on his lips. “Please, baby,” he begged, poking his bottom lip out in a pout. Of course, he would deny doing it in the morning when I brought up how cute of a drunk he could be. But for now, I took a mental snapshot of the ease in his face. I loved it when he let go.

I shook my head. “I can’t just come up with a song. Song writing is serious business, Rid. Lots of concentration and stuff,” I said playfully. He flopped down beside me on the floor of the patio, tried and failed miserably to sit cross legged. For a hockey player, my man wasn’t the most flexible.

“You.” He nudged my shoulder, putting most of his body weight into it, and almost crushed me underneath him. “You can do anything, my Luna. I dare you.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, those big blue eyes shiny and glassy from way too much happy juice. I thought that was the name Devan gave Ridley’s birthday celebration cocktail. Honestly, it tasted like straight Macallen’s and nothing else. A mixologist, he is not.

“You dare me, huh?” I lifted my brow with a smirk as the noise from the party inside our penthouse could be heard beyond the glass patio doors. I looked over my shoulder briefly, watching Devan twirl Lia around our living room, a beautiful smile on her face. Sam Cooke crooned ‘Bring It On Home to Me’ in the background, making me appreciate Devan even more for his vintage song choice.

“Yep,” Ridley slurred, popping the p. “It’s my birthday and I want a song about the moon.”

“And what do I get?” I asked as I pushed him back into a sitting position and pulled Bessie into my lap. Right now, at this moment, there was absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. I loved him. So, if he wanted a silly ass song about the moon, then so be it.

“Me.” He smiled, and my heart melted.

“I already have you,” I replied, and I let my fingers guide me.

My mouth opens as tears sting my eyes at the memory of that night. Ridley stopped being a fan of his birthday due to the loss of his parents the day before he turned twenty-one. He told me once the day felt like a bad omen, and it was best to let it tick over like any other. Well, I surprised him after his game that year, hoping I could inject some happiness into such a somber moment for him. It was always the little things with the two of us. The good outweighed the bad. I was happy, we were happy. I shake my head, refusing to go down that road as I look up at the moon and sing.

Oh, moon, you never leave the sky,

Hanging out up there, oh so high.

In the daytime, you’re so shy,

But at night, you catch my eye.

A tear falls as I laugh out loud, the sound echoes around the lake, an impromptu concert only for me and my silly memories. Some of my favorites were shared with Ridley, and no matter how hard I try to push them down, he remains. “So damn cheesy,” I mutter to myself as I wipe my eyes and continue to sing. I mean, you can’t have a song without a chorus. I’m nothing if not thorough.

Ode to the moon, so bright and round,

You light up the night without a sound.

Ode to the moon, you never leave,

Shining bright for all who believe.

I shrug, amazed at my ability to recall the lyrics. I never wrote them down. I just let them flow from me that night Ridley sat beside me, his head on my shoulder and I sang to him about the moon until I ran out of words.

Day or night, you’re always there,

Hiding in the sun’s glare.

But when the stars come out to play,

You steal the show and lead the way.

The dock moves underneath me suddenly, rocking my body. My playing falters and the movement startles me so bad I almost lose Bessie to the lake. Clutching my guitar to my chest, I turn my head, looking over my shoulder, unsure who has managed to sneak up on me without me catching them sooner. I let my guard down, and all I can think about are the slasher movies I grew up watching. The only weapon I have is Bessie, and she is irreplaceable. I’m screwed.

My eyes widen as I see the man standing before me. “Ridley!” I call out his name in relief, voice shaking as I stand quickly. The blanket draped over me falls to my feet revealing my sleep shorts and tank top. I stumble forward, barefoot, braless, and a complete mess with my hair cascading all around me.

He holds his hands up in surrender, bare chest heaving, grey fucking sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His eyes mirror my own, both of us just as shocked to see the other. A shiver runs over my body again and I don’t know if it’s because of the temperature or the sight of him alone. Goosebumps prickle my skin and I am all too aware of what I must look like. Thank goodness for long locs shielding my now hardening nipples from view. Jeez, Brea.

Unsure of what to do with myself, I immediately start to pick up my notepad and blanket, clutching all of it, along with Bessie in my arms like a barrier of protection. Even with my hands full, I still feel too exposed.

“What are you doing here?” we both ask at the same time. I tilt my head and cock my hip to the side. Unfortunately, I don’t have any hands left to place on said hips, so my defensive stance is seriously lacking. By the hint of a smile on Ridley’s lips, I look awkward and ridiculous. Great.

Ridley shoves his hands into his pockets, pulling the waistband of his pants even lower, exposing the deep V-cut of his creamy sun-kissed lower abs. Holy Moly, it’s too late or too early for a lady boner right now and this is definitely not the time or the place for me to be salivating over the sight of my ex. “You first,” he finally says, saving me from falling into memories of my tongue worshiping him in that exact spot on his body.

“I’m staying here for the summer. Well, for the first few weeks until my tour officially starts,” I hurriedly reply, looking beyond his shoulder and noticing all the lights on in the main house. When I walked out here earlier the house was dark, and I assumed unoccupied. Huh. How did I miss this? I adjust all the items in my arms and step forward, leaning to the side to get a good look around him. I guess it’s too much to ask for Tor and Alexis to magically appear behind him.

“Tor told me he and Alexis were coming next week. I thought the camp started then as well,” I continue, clearly baffled by Ridley’s presence. Yes, he came to Red’s tonight, but I assumed . . . I assumed. Oh hell, I don’t know what I thought, but him showing up here in the middle of the night wasn’t it. How the hell did he know I was here?

“Paris,” he mumbles, then clears his throat. “Tor took Alexis to Paris. I’m here to run the camp for him. It was last min?—”

“Nope” Obviously I’ve slipped, hit my head on this deck, and now I’m having a bad dream. “No. You can’t be here, Ridley,” my voice squeaks and I sound a little too whiny for my own liking. He can’t be here. Not now.

Ridley narrows his eyes at my reaction and steps forward. But I don’t move. One: because I have the lake at my back and a late-night swim is not on my agenda. Two: because I’m feeling like a cornered, wounded animal with nowhere to flee. I guess I’m gearing up for a fight, because flight is not possible.

“Well, I’m here, Brea. I’m here until the camp is finished for the summer. Like I said before you chimed in with your displeasure, it was all very last minute, and no, before you ask, I didn’t know you were going to be here. I was just as surprised to see you performing at Red’s tonight.” He pauses then looks back over his shoulder as if searching for something, then turns his attention back to me. “Am I to assume you are staying in the guest house next door?” he asks, taking another tentative step toward me, slowly closing the distance between us. I don’t think my body can become any more rigid than it already is. I’m trapped with no exit. I need him— Why can’t he just stand still, stop moving damn it? I feel like I’m having a panic attack, struggling to push air up and out of my lungs. My emotional foundation is shaky, and it may all come tumbling down around me with one touch from him. It dawns on me then that we haven’t been in close proximity for almost two years. Yeah, we’ve shared the same room, at a distance, but we haven’t been this close since the night I left.

I do my best to hold my hands out to stop him to no avail. I definitely need to decide what is a priority in my arms because this is not working. “I didn’t want to stay in the local B & B my record label booked for Dean and me. My parents . . . well, do I need to say more?” I finally say with a shrug, but I don’t miss the tick in his jaw at the mention of Dean’s name, followed by a sympathetic lift of his lips toward my parents. “I assumed Tor and Alexis would be here this summer. When I asked if he had room, he said the guest house was available. If I had known?—"

“If you had known it would be me staying instead of Tor and Alexis. What then, Brea? Would you have cozied up with your boyfriend at the B & B in town?” he scoffs, throwing his arms in the air. “Fuck, Brea,” Ridley whispers under his breath and turns his back on me.

I watch him, not sure what he wants me to say. If I had known, yes I would have found other accommodation, or hell, stayed with Red. At the time, I just wanted somewhere secluded and quiet. Tor’s lakeside house is the perfect location, equal distance to and from the main drag of town. Does he think I would leap at the chance to be in his presence? Too much time has passed and there is too much distance between us to be that kind of comfortable.

I bristle when he hangs his head and takes a deep inhalation of breath, as if he has a right to be frustrated. His shoulders sag as he slowly turns towards me once more. Before he opens his mouth, I beat him to it.

“My choices are my own, Ridley, and no, I wouldn’t have stayed with Dean. He and I are not together.” I wait a beat and watch as his body relaxes. Yep, there it is. I purse my lips and continue, “Yeah, I didn’t miss you calling Dean my boyfriend. You just can’t help yourself. Do you feel better knowing my relationship status?” I ask, feeling my anger rising, because how dare he? Who does he think he’s fooling? Did he forget, I know him? “What I would have done is inconsequential considering I didn’t know you were staying next door. But if you want to know the truth, then, yes, I would have opted to stay somewhere else and given you a wide berth,” I say as I make my way down the dock as quickly as my feet will carry me. As soon as solid ground comes into view, I jump down, by-passing Ridley, cutting through the back garden toward the guest house. I can hear him following me, but I don’t turn around to acknowledge him. If I look at him, really look at him, then I will be reminded of what I heard today and how it affected me. I don’t want to think about us, about him, or about . . .

“Can you not look at me, Luna?” he pleads softly, making me pause at his use of my nickname. My legs feel heavy with the weight of his words, because, no, it hurts too much to look at him. Everything involving us is too much.

“Ridley, it’s late. I need to get some sleep. I have a scheduled photo shoot tomorrow to promote the tour and several interviews to do. Then I’m off to Red’s in the afternoon. I can’t do this now,” I say with a sigh, keeping my back to him. I can see the guest house from here, in a few more paces I can escape behind a closed door.

“You were outside playing Bessie on the dock, Brea. Did you forget that I know when you’re struggling to sleep? I heard my song. It woke me. I heard your voice. I thought, I thought I was dreaming. But I ran out here and there you were, singing to the moon.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and it only makes my chest ache. My throat burns, and like always, he invokes emotions in me that need to remain buried. “Look at me, Brea,” he pleads again. “Can we at least?—"

“Stop!” I plead. “Please, stop! I don’t see a need to talk, Ridley. I couldn’t sleep, yes, sorry to have disturbed you. If I had known someone was next door . . . I would have kept the noise down. But, honestly, I—I don’t owe you anything.” I shake my head and find the will to move my feet. I hurry up the path and relief fills me, I’m almost there.

“You don’t?” he asks, and I pause again. Two words, full of sorrow, hurt, and anger. Two words that fill me with so much regret, I’m drowning, right here in the middle of the walkway. “Disturbed me? Since when have you ever disturbed me? Have we really fallen so far?” Each softly spoken question is a blow, one hit after the other. I realize something then, I’m intentionally hurting him. Haven’t I hurt him enough? Regardless of what happened afterwards, or if he would argue who let us fall apart first, it was me.

“Ridley, I?—"

“You walked away from us. You walked away from me. You walked away without giving me a chance to make it right.” He sucks in a sharp breath. I don’t need to look at him to know he’s rubbing his chest. I can feel his anguish from here. “I didn’t follow, because somehow, through the heartbreak, I understood why. I tried to be strong enough to let you walk away from me and hold on to my love for you from afar.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “There was never an end between us Brea. We didn’t walk away amicably. Everything between us is an open wound that refuses to heal. Fuck, Brea, you can’t even look at me. Make it make sense, baby.” I hear his footsteps behind me as my vision blurs from unshed tears. I’m not in the right headspace to unpack any of the baggage he placed in front of me. I’m a mess of regrets and indecision, especially when it comes to matters of him. I can’t look at him, because it hurts to see someone I don’t recognize anymore. Even though I know this man like the strings attached to Bessie’s fretboard.

“You’re right. I did this,” I finally say, wanting to throw everything in my arms to the ground, sans Bessie, to gesticulate along with my words. “I left the door open between us, and that’s my fault for not being brave enough,” I take in a shuddering breath, “to let you go. Walking away at the time was the best I could do. I didn’t communicate. That’s on me. I was suffocating and I didn’t allow you to save me. Not when I needed to save myself. But you, you moved on without a backward glance. Or at least that is what the world saw, Ridley. What you made me witness every day.” I close my eyes and blow out a breath, but I only feel the fire in my veins. “So, excuse me if I can’t look at the man who’s spent the past two years, using women and screwing everything with a pulse. It’s like a fucking slap in the face. Like what we had meant nothing, like I was nothing. To add insult to injury, now you’re going to be a father.” My voice cracks. “Abso-fucking-lutely fantastic for you.”

I know that’s my cue to leave. Because I’ll be damned if I let him see me cry. With my arms full and my heart heavy, I run the rest of the way to the guest house and slam the door in his face. With my back against the wall, I drop everything at my feet and slide into a sitting position. I listen for movement outside the door, but it doesn’t come. I wait for his excuses, his apologies, his reasons for handling things the way he did. But they don’t come.

All that remains as my tears fall is silence and the weight of it is too much to bear.