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“No, you’re taking it wrong. I didn’t mea—”
“I’m taking it wrong?” I’m in full meltdown mode now. “How the hell else am I supposed to take it? First you tell me you see me as your kid sister, and now you don’t even think we’d be friends? I’m not some charity case—some helpless damsel in distress you have to burden yourself wi—”
Before I can finish what I’m saying, he pushes against the counter, grabbing me. His hands are in my hair, his lips against mine as his tongue demands entrance. It takes me a few seconds to realize what’s happening—to actually grasp that Ranger Slade is kissing me. In an instant, my anger melts away as he presses his body against mine. I grip his shirt with both hands, pulling him closer like I can’t get enough of him. I know this is probably toxic and he’ll regret it the second we stop, but I’ve wanted this for so long—craved it, needed it. All rational thought of what this means and what happens next disappear.
“Why’d you do that?” I ask as he finally steps back and we catch our breath.
“To get you to shut up and calm down.” I open my mouth to protest, but he presses his finger against my lips. “And before you snap at me, you were wrong. I don’t see you as an obligation. It was a question that’s been burning in my mind and I just had to ask it. I see you as my best friend.”
I smile, my belly doing that little flip again.
“And for the record, Idon’tsee you as my kid sister, because that would be all sorts of fucked up. Never have, trust me. I just said it in the moment to try to calm myself down when you were standing there in that swimsuit. Now I’m going to step out and chop more wood before things get too out of hand.”
I can feel him pressing against me, and my eyes slowly drop down to the erection that’s straining so hard against his jeans. “Looks like you’ve got some other wood to attend to as well.” I giggle and he rolls his eyes.
“Still got that crass sense of humor.” He lifts his hand to lightly grip the tip of my chin as he looks at me. “I’ll be back inside in a bit, okay? We can talk more in front of the fire.”
“Okay.” I can’t keep the smile off my face as he leans forward, pressing the softest kiss to my forehead.
* * *
We settleon the floor in front of the fire, using the small coffee table as a dinner table. I made us some tomato soup and grilled cheese while Ranger chopped wood.
“Were you angry at me when I started moving on after Dean’s death?”
“Angry? No.” He shakes his head as he takes a big bite of his sandwich.
“I mean, like, when I started dating again.”
“Oh.” He chews, taking his time before he speaks again. “I think so . . . a little bit. I’m not proud of it. I had no reason to judge you. God knows you’d been through so much.”
I’m not surprised by his answer, but it does sting a little. I didn’t jump into anything or even consider a date with anyone until almost two full years after the accident. I was broken and devastated. I needed to grieve and I did.
“I think I was still young and stupid for sure. I knew you weren’t betraying him. I think it was just hard to realize that if you were moving on, it meant he was really gone. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I get it. That was one of the hardest things for me in the entire process as well. I knew I couldn’t stay sad forever, and when I finally did feel ready to think about moving on with my life, I felt so much guilt. I felt like I was moving on too quickly—like I wasn’t fully healed yet. It was very confusing.”
“And now?”
I pause, my sandwich halfway to my mouth. “I still struggle with guilt, but for a different reason.”
“Anything you want to share?” He reaches his hand out and places it gently on mine, giving it a squeeze.
I take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I haven’t shared this with you before, or anyone, actually.” He stops eating, settling back against the couch as he gives me his undivided attention. “Before I found out I was pregnant, I was considering leaving Dean.”
“Shit, seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah, things had been bad for a while between us. We’d always had ups and downs, partially because we were so young and immature, but his drinking had gotten out of hand and he refused to get help. There were a lot of tearful fights—me begging and pleading, but it didn’t seem to change anything.”
“Fuck.” Ranger shakes his head.
“I told myself I’d try harder one last time, and thingsdidget better for a few months. That’s when we conceived. When Dean found out, he was so ecstatic that he promised he’d change—that this time he’d get serious and stop drinking completely. I think he actually did for a while, but soon the realization hit that we were going to have the added stress of being parents, and added financial pressure, so he started sneaking alcohol again. I’d smell it on him and he’d deny it. I’d find empty bottles in his truck or hidden in the garage. Then when I lost the baby, it spiraled so quickly for him. We were both so lost and hurting; I felt hopeless and ashamed.” I wipe at a stray tear that tumbles down my cheek.
“I had no idea, Doll. I’m so sorry.” His expression is heartbroken. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have tried to help him.”
“I was ashamed and embarrassed. I was also worried that it would come between you two if I went to you behind his back. I knew that you were one of the only people in his life who had been consistent for him. Then when I lost the baby, I blamed myself. I thought that if I’d reached out for help, I wouldn’t have been so stressed and I would’ve been able to have a healthy pregnancy.”
“No, you can’t think like that.” Ranger pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around me as a few tears turn into many. I haven’t allowed myself to think about this stuff for so long—to really feel the pain and anguish I’ve carried with this guilt over the years.
