“She doesn’t, reckon she can be taught, same as Dee.”
“She got her shit together?”
“Does Darryl?”
Feb’s eyes slid to Darryl then they hit the floor and she whispered, “Fuck me.”
“That’s later.”
She looked at him and her face cracked. She didn’t want to smile and she didn’t want to laugh but she was having a hard time not doing either.
When she won her struggle against her humor, she declared, “I take her on, then you’ll owe me.”
“I’ll pay.”
She shook her head before she tipped it to his beer. “Ready for another?”
“When Shanghai gets here.”
“All right, babe,” she said and turned away and again Colt watched her ass when she did.
* * * * *
It was after they shared their food while sitting in the office and shooting the shit during Feb’s break, all of which lasted less than twenty minutes.
It was after the crush hit the red zone, everyone in town buzzing and wanting to be out. Spring was there, weather was turning warmer, days were longer and dead bodies were being found. It was time, if you were alive, to be alive and get your ass to J&J’s, have a drink, see your friends and neighbors and have a good time.
It was when Colt was feeling a fatigue he hadn’t felt in a long time, with stress and broken sleep, all through riding an emotional roller coaster. He just wanted to go home and go to bed with Feb and, yes, with her damned cat draped on their feet.
It was when he thought this that he saw Feb slide through the crowd toward the jukebox. She found her song, put in a coin and pressed buttons. He’d seen her do that on occasion in the last two years. She did it more before, when she would be home visiting and wasn’t working.
It was when she turned and headed toward a table where they were calling her name, Colt decided he could stay awhile. If Feb was in the mood for some of her music then Colt wasn’t too tired to sit on a stool, drink his beer and watch her enjoy it.
It took five songs for Feb’s to come on. She was behind the bar at the other end but Colt still knew it was hers. It wasn’t what he was expecting or anyone would expect. The music came loud because the box was set loud, but it wasn’t rowdy Friday night bar music by a long shot.
The minute he heard the guitar his eyes went to her to see hers come to him. Then she dipped her chin, looking away while she tucked her hair behind her ear, bashful at showing her emotion.
And that’s when Colt knew it wasn’t Feb’s song. It was the song Feb chose for him, or the song she chose to say the things she couldn’t say.
A lump hit his throat, he looked down at his hand wrapped around his beer which was sitting on the bar and he paid attention to the lyrics to a song he’d heard time and again, lyrics he knew and could likely recite if asked. Lyrics he’d never paid any real attention to in his life.
Staring at his beer, his hand tightening on the bottle, fighting that lump in his throat, he listened to Stevie Nicks singing “Landslide”.
Colt’d always liked it, it was a great song. Listening to it then he thought it was the most beautiful f**king song he’d ever heard in his whole f**king life.
He saw her hand wrap around his wrist the second Stevie quit singing and his head came up.
She leaned in close and whispered, “Go home, baby, get to bed. Someone’ll drop me home later.”
She didn’t want to make a big deal of it, what she’d just given him, but her face was soft, her eyes especially, her lips tipped up at the ends, just slightly but it was all there, nothing held back, everything she felt for him showing clear on her face.
He wanted to go home, he definitely wanted to go home, but only if he was taking Feb home.
But that wasn’t the way she wanted to play it and she just handed him everything, he could give her this.
“Whoever brings you home walks you in,” he ordered, she nodded and he said, “all the way in, Feb.”
“Gotcha.”
He lifted his beer and her hand fell away. He took one last pull and put it on the bar before he tagged her around the back of her head, leaned in and brought her mouth to his.
“Later, baby,” he said against her mouth when he finished giving her his kiss.
“Later, Alec.”
He pulled away but his hand slid through her hair to her cheek, taking hair with it but he didn’t care and neither did she. She pressed her cheek into his hand as he ran his thumb along her cheekbone. Then his hand dropped away and he turned away before he did something asinine like carry her out of the bar over his shoulder.
Calling his good-byes to a dozen people as he went, Colt exited J&J’s, walked to the Station, got in his truck and went home.
He saw Melanie’s car parked out front as he turned into his street. He drew in an annoyed breath and decided his first order of business the next morning was putting in for vacation time. He’d just had time off but he didn’t give a f**k, he’d take it unpaid if he had to.
He parked the truck in the drive and by the time he slid out of it she was walking across the yard toward him.
“Melly, it’s then thirty at night,” he said when she was four feet away.
“Gotta talk, Colt.”
Fucking hell.
“Mel, I’m wiped. Seriously.”
She glanced at the house then to him and asked, “Feb livin’ here?”
Fucking, f**king hell.
He looked into the night then at his ex-wife. Melanie was everything Feb wasn’t, dark-haired, quiet, thoughtful, patient. She didn’t dance because she was worried people were watching and more worried about what they’d think. It took her weeks to come to a decision about anything, no matter how large or small because she didn’t take risks, she treaded cautiously. He’d liked all that about her when he fell in love with her, he thought it was cute and it was. Until she took her time making the decision about leaving him, pulling away the whole time she took to make it. Then it wasn’t f**king cute.
“Come into the house,” he said. He didn’t want to but he also didn’t want to have this conversation at ten thirty at night in his yard.
He led the way, hearing Melanie’s feet hit the turf as she walked beside him and partly behind him something else she’d always done and something he never understood, why she’d never walk right beside him.
He unlocked the door and went to the security panel.
When he made the beeping stop, he walked to the lamp by the couch as she asked, “You have an alarm?”
“She got her shit together?”
“Does Darryl?”
Feb’s eyes slid to Darryl then they hit the floor and she whispered, “Fuck me.”
“That’s later.”
She looked at him and her face cracked. She didn’t want to smile and she didn’t want to laugh but she was having a hard time not doing either.
When she won her struggle against her humor, she declared, “I take her on, then you’ll owe me.”
“I’ll pay.”
She shook her head before she tipped it to his beer. “Ready for another?”
“When Shanghai gets here.”
“All right, babe,” she said and turned away and again Colt watched her ass when she did.
* * * * *
It was after they shared their food while sitting in the office and shooting the shit during Feb’s break, all of which lasted less than twenty minutes.
It was after the crush hit the red zone, everyone in town buzzing and wanting to be out. Spring was there, weather was turning warmer, days were longer and dead bodies were being found. It was time, if you were alive, to be alive and get your ass to J&J’s, have a drink, see your friends and neighbors and have a good time.
It was when Colt was feeling a fatigue he hadn’t felt in a long time, with stress and broken sleep, all through riding an emotional roller coaster. He just wanted to go home and go to bed with Feb and, yes, with her damned cat draped on their feet.
It was when he thought this that he saw Feb slide through the crowd toward the jukebox. She found her song, put in a coin and pressed buttons. He’d seen her do that on occasion in the last two years. She did it more before, when she would be home visiting and wasn’t working.
It was when she turned and headed toward a table where they were calling her name, Colt decided he could stay awhile. If Feb was in the mood for some of her music then Colt wasn’t too tired to sit on a stool, drink his beer and watch her enjoy it.
It took five songs for Feb’s to come on. She was behind the bar at the other end but Colt still knew it was hers. It wasn’t what he was expecting or anyone would expect. The music came loud because the box was set loud, but it wasn’t rowdy Friday night bar music by a long shot.
The minute he heard the guitar his eyes went to her to see hers come to him. Then she dipped her chin, looking away while she tucked her hair behind her ear, bashful at showing her emotion.
And that’s when Colt knew it wasn’t Feb’s song. It was the song Feb chose for him, or the song she chose to say the things she couldn’t say.
A lump hit his throat, he looked down at his hand wrapped around his beer which was sitting on the bar and he paid attention to the lyrics to a song he’d heard time and again, lyrics he knew and could likely recite if asked. Lyrics he’d never paid any real attention to in his life.
Staring at his beer, his hand tightening on the bottle, fighting that lump in his throat, he listened to Stevie Nicks singing “Landslide”.
Colt’d always liked it, it was a great song. Listening to it then he thought it was the most beautiful f**king song he’d ever heard in his whole f**king life.
He saw her hand wrap around his wrist the second Stevie quit singing and his head came up.
She leaned in close and whispered, “Go home, baby, get to bed. Someone’ll drop me home later.”
She didn’t want to make a big deal of it, what she’d just given him, but her face was soft, her eyes especially, her lips tipped up at the ends, just slightly but it was all there, nothing held back, everything she felt for him showing clear on her face.
He wanted to go home, he definitely wanted to go home, but only if he was taking Feb home.
But that wasn’t the way she wanted to play it and she just handed him everything, he could give her this.
“Whoever brings you home walks you in,” he ordered, she nodded and he said, “all the way in, Feb.”
“Gotcha.”
He lifted his beer and her hand fell away. He took one last pull and put it on the bar before he tagged her around the back of her head, leaned in and brought her mouth to his.
“Later, baby,” he said against her mouth when he finished giving her his kiss.
“Later, Alec.”
He pulled away but his hand slid through her hair to her cheek, taking hair with it but he didn’t care and neither did she. She pressed her cheek into his hand as he ran his thumb along her cheekbone. Then his hand dropped away and he turned away before he did something asinine like carry her out of the bar over his shoulder.
Calling his good-byes to a dozen people as he went, Colt exited J&J’s, walked to the Station, got in his truck and went home.
He saw Melanie’s car parked out front as he turned into his street. He drew in an annoyed breath and decided his first order of business the next morning was putting in for vacation time. He’d just had time off but he didn’t give a f**k, he’d take it unpaid if he had to.
He parked the truck in the drive and by the time he slid out of it she was walking across the yard toward him.
“Melly, it’s then thirty at night,” he said when she was four feet away.
“Gotta talk, Colt.”
Fucking hell.
“Mel, I’m wiped. Seriously.”
She glanced at the house then to him and asked, “Feb livin’ here?”
Fucking, f**king hell.
He looked into the night then at his ex-wife. Melanie was everything Feb wasn’t, dark-haired, quiet, thoughtful, patient. She didn’t dance because she was worried people were watching and more worried about what they’d think. It took her weeks to come to a decision about anything, no matter how large or small because she didn’t take risks, she treaded cautiously. He’d liked all that about her when he fell in love with her, he thought it was cute and it was. Until she took her time making the decision about leaving him, pulling away the whole time she took to make it. Then it wasn’t f**king cute.
“Come into the house,” he said. He didn’t want to but he also didn’t want to have this conversation at ten thirty at night in his yard.
He led the way, hearing Melanie’s feet hit the turf as she walked beside him and partly behind him something else she’d always done and something he never understood, why she’d never walk right beside him.
He unlocked the door and went to the security panel.
When he made the beeping stop, he walked to the lamp by the couch as she asked, “You have an alarm?”
