The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2) Page 7

  “That’s just … weird. He’s never met her,” Martinez said.

  “But he knew she was out there,” Harbinger said. “And he believes Darby is her. That’s a pretty big deal.”

  Martinez rolled his eyes. “It’s been nine days. He’d better get laid or something. I can’t take much more.” He turned to me. “You’ve been pissy too.”

  In truth, I hadn’t spoken to Zeke since he’d kissed me. He’d texted me a couple of times, then he had to go up on the mountain. I tried not to dwell on it, but I hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time. Trex helped keep my thoughts occupied while he whined about Darby, but I was in a vicious cycle of trying not to think about Zeke, thinking about him, pissed off that I was thinking about him, and then back to trying not to.

  Martinez’s gaze caught mine. “What?”

  With a pleading look on his face, he nodded toward me. “You should take one for the team. You probably need to get laid too.”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “You haven’t been laid in a while either. Why don’t you volunteer?”

  He shrugged. “Because I’m straight.” He jutted out his lip. “Isn’t Trex your bestie? Fix him.”

  “You best stop looking at me, Martinez,” I said. “Like, right fucking now.”

  “Martinez!” Kitsch growled.

  Harbinger cleared his throat. “That’s just disrespectful.”

  Sloan kicked him in the ass—hard. “Didn’t they teach you any fucking manners in the Navy?”

  Martinez laughed, hard, the whole way to his car and until he backed out of the lot.

  “Prick,” I said, glaring at his taillights until I couldn’t see them anymore.

  “You’ve been a little off today, Nomes,” Kitsch said. “Something up?”

  I shot him a half-grin, appreciative that he’d noticed. “It’s Becky’s birthday today.”

  “Becky…” Kitsch thought for a moment. “Your mother-in-law?”

  I nodded. “Grief is weird, isn’t it? Her birthday is messing with me, and I got through Matt’s just fine.”

  “You should go out. Have a beer. Call her first. It’ll make you feel better. I’d go with you, but Karen’s pissed about the drain. I gotta get some Drano or something.”

  “Did you tell Bianca? They’re supposed to be taking care of shit like that,” I said.

  He shook his head. “It won’t take but a minute. I can snake it if I have to. I don’t want a bunch of strangers over there working on it anyway. I promised the kids I’d watch a movie.”

  I nodded once, and Harbinger and I traded glances. Karen, Dylan, and Emily were killed in a car accident, hit head-on by a sleeping truck driver during one of our deployments. Kitsch refused to believe it, or to go back for their funerals. He never went home again and carried a folded, worn photograph of his family in his breast pocket through four continents and an entire war. I couldn’t blame him. I talked to Matt for the first two years after he passed. We’d had full-on conversations while I cooked dinner, while I took a shower, and while I lay in bed because I couldn’t stand to be alone with my thoughts. Being alone sucked, but the constant one-sided conversations made it harder.

  “Good luck with the drain,” I said, opening the driver’s side door of my FJ. I thought about Kitsch while I exited the Complex. I wondered about his evening, if he’d drink himself into oblivion until he couldn’t feel anything anymore, or if he’d settle in on the couch with his invisible kids, ignoring Karen’s bitching about the drain. I would be envious if he could see and hear them, and that recognition made me turn toward McCormack’s.

  My keys jingled around my index finger as I entered the bar. Because it was still daylight, the dimness and neon lights inside seemed off, artificial. The music wasn’t too loud to have a conversation, the tables and chairs mostly empty except for the two poor bastards who were trying to drink themselves to death the last time I’d come in. It wasn’t time for the party atmosphere yet.

  Jerry stood behind the bar drying a mug with a dishtowel. He smiled at me, recognition lighting his eyes. “Hey slugger. Beer?”

  “Yep,” I said, sitting.

  “IPA this time?”

  “Sure.”

  He sat the bottle in front of me, and I took a swig. He started off with small talk but realized quickly I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat, so he pretended to check on the silver-haired drunks at the other end.

  I was half-way through my second bottle when Zeke walked in with a stunning, curvy blonde and a few of his buddies.

  Zeke’s gaze met mine for a few seconds before he checked to see if the blonde had seen the exchange. She didn’t. They stopped at a high-top table near the dance floor, and I faced forward, determined not to stare. Every time their laughter carried over to my stool, I had to resist the urge to turn.

  Jerry stood in front of me, wiping down the counter next to me. “What’s going on with you two?”

  “Who two?”

  “You and Zeke. You fighting or something? One-night stand?”

  My nose wrinkled. “Fuck you, Jerry.”

  Jerry chuckled. “He keeps peeking over here is the only reason I ask.”

  “No idea,” I said, standing. “Smoke break?” I asked, tipping my pack of cigs toward him.

  “I don’t smoke. And I’m the only one here. If I left the bar unattended Gerald and Pat would raid the whiskey.”

  I popped a cigarette in my mouth. “Be right back.”

  “He’s watching,” Jerry said, just above a whisper.

  “Don’t care,” I said loudly, pushing through the door.

  The sun was lower in the sky, and more cars were pulling into the lot across the street. A few couples walked in, the men noticing me, their girlfriends trying not to. Not one of them knew what a gift it would be to touch each other, to wake up in the morning with a warm body beside them. I hated them for it.

  “Hey,” a man said. He was one of Zeke’s friends from nearly two weeks before. “Look, guys. It’s Rocky.”

  They all greeted me, following one another in line into the pub, except one.

  “How’s the jaw? That bastard hit hard, and you took that punch like a champ. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Go away.” I said, blowing out a puff of smoke.

  He chuckled. “Damn. I just came over to introduce myself. I’m Randon Watts. We’re in town for the Queen’s Canyon fire. We’re out of Estes Park.”

  I took another drag.

  “Zeke said your name is Naomi.”

  “Did he?” I asked. I looked at Watts. “I’m not interested in men with arms smaller than mine.”

  Randon paused, surprised at the insult, and then rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I trim down a lot during fire season. Can’t take much on the helo at regular weight. You try hiking up a mountain for endless miles every day.”

  “I’ve hiked mountains. And jungle. And desert. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Watts. I can eat alphabet soup and shit a more interesting conversation than this.”

  Watts frowned. “Damn. You’re mean as fuck.”

  “Yes. I am. Go away.”

  He hesitated. “Are you military?”

  I took a final drag and pinched the cherry off my cigarette, taking it inside with me when I left Watts standing alone.

  Jerry held up a small trash can, and I tossed my cigarette butt in.

  Just before I sat, Watts leaned against the bar beside me. “Wanna dance?”

  “Not interested.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Not interested.”

  Jerry smiled, amused at the exchange. “Watts has a sick fascination with women who don’t want him. You’re not getting anywhere with this one, Watts. She doesn’t care that you look like Zac Efron.”

  Watts ran his fingers through his gelled hair. He was pretty, and I was sure other women enjoyed his attention, but High School Musical and Baywatch
were terrible movies, and I wasn’t impressed.

  “I’m going to catch a table over there,” I said. “Alone.”

  Jerry waved at me, and I walked over to a high-top table fifteen feet away from Zeke and his date. Watts had at least distracted me for a moment from my strange curiosity with Zeke’s friend. She looked different than when she first came in—pale, exhausted.

  Jerry was clearly trying to talk Watts out of any future attempts at speaking to me, but he was undeterred. I pulled out my phone and texted Trex.

  I’m at a dive bar downtown. Save me, T-Rex.

  From boredom? Because it’s not that you can’t handle yourself.

  Yes. Two drinks in and it’s still not fun. And the men here are annoying af.

  K. Be there in 15.

  Make it 10.

  I sent Trex’s phone my location then watched Watts strut over. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me mess up your face.”

  He leaned an elbow on the table. “It would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ve seen you fight. I don’t want to piss you off, I just want to talk. You’re interesting.”

  “Not on purpose.”

  “That’s what makes you so interesting.”

  Watts set a beer down with the lid still on it, then he lay flat a bottle opener.

  I caught Zeke looking at me. He looked away, carrying on a conversation with the blonde.

  “Where are you from?” Watts asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay … just your name then. Naomi…”

  “No.”

  “Naomi No. Has a ring to it,” Watts said. I was getting the feeling he was more entertained by my rudeness than if I’d gotten on my knees and blew him.

  “Want to see a ring?” I said, outstretching my hand and showing him the gold band on my middle finger.

  The door yanked open, and Trex burst through, looking around and seeming relieved when his eyes settled on me.

  I smiled at him, resting the fist of my free hand on my chin, the other still blatantly telling Watts to fuck off.

  “Hey,” Trex said, huffing. “This is it? This is why I risked a reckless driving ticket?”

  “Is she uh…?” Watts began.

  “Of course!” I said, finally letting my arm fall to my thigh. “I must belong to him because I’m not interested in you.”

  “Who said you weren’t interested in me?” Watts said.

  “Me,” I said. “Twice.”

  “Watts,” Trex said, shaking his head. “You don’t wanna rock this boat.”

  “Is she your sister?” Watts asked.

  Trex and I looked at each other. I was half Armenian and tanned by almost a lifetime in the desert sun, my dark hair brushing my shoulders in air-dried waves; Trex was a white boy from Kansas. We couldn’t have looked more different.

  “Seriously?” Trex asked, just as baffled by Watts’ conclusion as I was.

  Watts sat. “I’m just trying to figure you guys out. Maybe you’re adopted, I dunno.”

  “We work together,” Trex said.

  “Trex,” I scolded. Watts needed exactly zero information about me.

  “Didn’t you notice the wedding band?” Trex asked. “She’s married, man, beat it.”

  Watts looked down. “It’s on her middle finger.”

  “Does she look like a conformist?” Trex asked.

  Watts shrugged and stood. “She’s fucking beautiful. If she doesn’t want guys thinking she’s single, maybe wear it on the correct finger.”

  I glared at him. “Or believe me when you walk up and the first thing I say is go away.”

  “You’re right. I apologize,” he said. He nodded to Trex once then walked away.

  I used the bottle opener to pop open the top of the beer in front of me and took a swig.

  “Why do you wear it on your middle finger?” Trex asked.

  “I lost weight after Matt died. It doesn’t fit on that finger anymore.”

  “Get it sized?”

  “No. Matt picked out this ring. It stays the same as he remembers it.”

  “Must have been hard for you to move here.”

  I shook my head, wishing smoking was allowed inside. I put an unlit cigarette between my fingers to help. “That part was easy. I couldn’t look at that apartment one more day. I didn’t realize it until I got the letter. Then I couldn’t pack fast enough.”

  I glanced over at Watts. He was talking to his buddies but happened to look over at me at the same time. Darby began to walk toward us then saw Trex’s hand on mine. She turned on her heels and returned to Zeke, standing with her back to us.

  “Shit,” Trex said, standing.

  “What?”

  “You know what she’s thinking. Go—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, Trex was already walking toward the small crowd of hotshots gathered with Darby and a few other women who’d joined them.

  Trex put his hand on the small of Darby’s back. She turned, a perfect smile on her face. She might have fooled Trex, but I could tell she was pissed off. I was happy for him. She liked him too.

  Trex greeted her, and after a short exchange, Darby looked past Trex to scan me for a few seconds.

  Trex and Darby returned to my table, both looking like they were about to throw up.

  “Nomes, this is Darby,” Trex said.

  I smiled wide. “It’s Naomi, actually. So you’re the famous Darby. Nice to finally meet you.”

  Trex’s eyes lit up. He knew immediately what I was doing.

  “Hi,” Darby said, holding out her hand to shake mine. “So you work in the Forestry Department?”

  “No,” I said, still smiling. She wasn’t getting shit out of me. “You work at the hotel?”

  Darby glanced at Trex. “Yes.”

  She was pissed, thinking Trex was at the bar with me—gross—but I had to butter her up. Trex could thank me later. “You’re as beautiful as he said you were. Wow.”

  “Thank you.” She said the words as if she’d heard them a million times. She probably had. She was stunning. No wonder Trex was so into her. But it looked like he had some competition. She was there with Zeke. “So … what do you do?”

  “I’m an independent contractor,” I said. It was the truth. That way, later when Trex ended up having to beg her forgiveness for lying, I wouldn’t be the bitch friend who’d helped him lie.

  “Oh, okay. Well, it was nice to meet you.”

  “Would you like to join us?” I asked before Darby could walk away. “I know Trex would love it.”

  Trex looked at me in disbelief. He had no clue what a kick ass wingman I could be when I wanted.

  “I’m here with friends, but thank you. I know Watts would appreciate it if I offered to have you join us.”

  “We were just here trying to distract me from my dead husband but thank you.”

  Trex closed his eyes, and I tried to care, but sometimes I just couldn’t help myself.

  “Oh. Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry,” Darby said, stunned. Her eyebrows shot up.

  “Nomes,” Trex said. “I’m sorry,” he said to Darby.

  “I can see why you’re friends,” Darby said with a smile. “You do prefer bluntness.”

  “Naomi is certainly that,” he said. “But that’s not it. Her husband, Matt, was a good friend.”

  I wasn’t prepared for Trex to say Matt’s name, and I had to swallow back the typical smart-ass remark that would hide the unique pain I felt when someone spoke about my husband in past-tense.

  “I should um … I should probably get…” Darby’s expression changed, and she sat in Trex’s chair, placing one palm flat on the table.

  “You okay?” Trex asked, grabbing her arm. The color drained from her face, and she stared at the table. She couldn’t have been drunk. I hadn’t seen a glass in her hand since she’d arrived.

  “Yeah, just dizzy,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

 
“You don’t look fine,” I said. “You look like you’re about to—”

  Darby leaned over and heaved, the water she expelled splashing on the floor. Trex and I watched in shock and confusion.

  Zeke and Watts rushed over.

  “Darby?” Zeke said, taking her arm.

  Watts saw the puddle on the floor and held the back of his wrist to his nose.

  “Don’t be such a pussy. Go get a towel from the bartender,” I said.

  “What the fuck, Zeke?” Trex barked. “You bring her to a bar when she’s sick?”

  “She’s sick?” Zeke asked. “I … I didn’t know.”

  “You knew she was puking in the hotel lobby earlier,” Trex said.

  Darby heaved again.

  “Was it something she ate?” I asked.

  Zeke shook his head. “She hasn’t eaten anything. She hasn’t felt great all night.”

  “So you bring her here instead of taking her home?” Trex growled, grabbing his shirt.

  “Stop. Stop! I’m okay,” Darby said, her head still down.

  The guilty expression on his face made me feel an unexpected empathy for him.

  “Nomes…” Trex said, pleading my forgiveness. He wasn’t asking to leave. I knew he’d take Darby home whether I was okay with it or not.

  “Yeah, go…” I said.

  Jerry walked over to scope the damage. “Oh man,” he said, disgusted at the puddle on the floor. “I should be used to puke by now, but…”

  Zeke shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Grab me a mop and a bucket, Jerry. This is my fault. I’ll clean it up.”

  “Cool,” Jerry said, leaving without hesitation.

  “Paper towels and a trash can too,” I called after him. I looked at Zeke. “I’ll help.”

  “You don’t have to,” Zeke said.

  I shrugged one shoulder. “I know.”

  “It’s not what it looked like, you know. We already had plans … before,” he gestured to the space between us, “and I hadn’t heard from you, so…”

  “Yeah,” I said, waving him away. “I don’t care, it’s fine.”

  His shoulders sagged, deflated.

  Jerry arrived with the mop, bucket, rags and trash bags.