Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Sam

The world stops, and the air is sucked out of my chest. Wind and rain rage around us, and thunder booms when her full lips part, drowning out whatever she said. I blink, afraid if I look away she’ll disappear somehow, that maybe I’m just imaging all this.

She’s drenched from the rain, dark red hair hanging around her face, somehow highlighting her intense green eyes. Dressed in hiking boots, black leggings, and a white t-shirt with the words Shadowfall along the collar, my eyes go right to her breasts on their own accord and—fuck—I can see the faint outline of her nipples through the wet fabric.

I’ve wondered what Chloe looks like naked multiple times over the years. I’ve caught glimpses of her here and there, most happening innocently enough. But seeing her—all of her—has been the subject of my dreams more times than once.

The years have been good to her, and even standing here, barely out of the pouring rain, with wet hair, no makeup, and mud splattered on her feet and ankles, Chloe takes my fucking breath away. She’s even more gorgeous here than she is in photos—photos where she’s been professional done up, in fancy dresses that were made just for her.

The wind gusts, blowing rain into the covered shelter. The flames in the large fireplace, which were almost out, hiss in protest. More thunder rumbles overhead and lightning flashes across the darkening sky. I blink and the logical part of my brain kicks into gear.

It’s storming, and my phone buzzed with a weather alert not long ago, warning about a tornado in the next town over. Chloe is still at the threshold of the shelter, at risk for getting hit by lightning or debris. I think the shelter might hold up in the event a tornado actually went through here, but we’d need to move to the center, hoping the big stone fireplace will hold, and the structure won’t lose its integrity if trees topple over.

Chloe shivers again, pulling her arms in toward herself. If I had a jacket, I’d take it off and give it to her. But I’m out here in athletic shorts and a tank top, having slipped away from the house for a jog through the woods to clear my head. I made it to the shelter before it started raining, and I decided to play it safe and wait out the storm in the picnic shelter. There were a few families here, rushing to gather their belongings and get out before the storm hit.

They were roasting hotdogs over the fire and didn’t bother to put out the flames as they ran out. I’d been sitting here poking at the fire when I saw someone come out of the woods. There are a few more logs left to toss into the fire, and right now Chloe might be thankful for that. The heat of the day got washed away with the rain, and the constant wind is making even me a little chilled, and I’m not soaking wet from the cold rain.

Chloe reaches up, moving several strands of wet hair that are stuck to her forehead, and continues to stare at me, unmoving. For a second, I think maybe she doesn’t recognize me anymore. It’s been years, and the memory of the last time I laid eyes on Chloe is burned into my memory.

Did that memory fade for her?

“Chloe,” I say again, and those two syllables come out breathy, awakening something inside of me. Something I need to promptly fall right back to sleep. She slowly steps forward and regret weighs heavily on my chest.

“Sam,” she finally replies, inching in. “It’s…it’s been a while.”

“It has.” I don’t realize I’m walking closer until misty rain blows in, dampening my face. Goosebumps break out on Chloe’s arms, and her pert nipples become even more obvious beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. “You look good.”

“I’m wet,” she says, and then immediately realizes what she said could sound dirty. “From the rain,” she adds quickly. “Not because, well, you know—but not—it’s raining and…fuck.”

My lips curve into a smile, trying not to think about why else Chloe would be wet, but happily surprised to see she’s just as adorably awkward as ever. Leaves rip off the nearby trees, crashing to the ground in wet heaps.

“We should move to the center,” I tell her, finding comfort in being rational. Think about our physical safety, not about how it would feel to have her physically closer to me. Chloe nods but stands rooted to the spot, emerald eyes piercing into mine, and I hate that I can’t interpret the look on her pretty face.

We have so much history between us, history I left behind and couldn’t go back to because I burned that bridge.

“I didn’t think the storm would be this intense,” she says quietly, moving next to the hearth. She takes her backpack off and sets it on a picnic table. “Or else I would have brought a raincoat.”

“You knew it was going to storm and you still went out into the woods?” I ask. It’s something she would have done before, and I drove to this very picnic shelter more than once to pick her up during a storm.

She nods and turns, holding out her hands to the dwindling flames. “Yeah. I intentionally got caught in it. I figured it would be good inspiration.”

I’m smiling again, forcing myself to take my eyes off her and pick up two logs to carefully work them into the fire.

“Why are you here?” she asks, question coming out a little pointed.

“I went for a run and came here to wait out the rain. There was a family roasting hotdogs, hence the flames.”

She nods, staring into the fireplace, watching the smaller of the two logs slowly catch on fire. “I mean in Silver Ridge.” She snaps her head to the side to look at me. I see her there—the Chloe that I knew from our childhood—but it’s then I realize how much of a stranger she’s become.

And how much I fucking hate it.

I run my hand through my hair, brushing it back. I was hot and sweaty before stopping, and even with the temperature dropping a good ten degrees from the storm, standing here next to Chloe, and the fire, is making me hot again.

“Oh, we’re, uh, all here,” I say, confused as to why I’m suddenly so unnerved. “Mason and Rory too. Jacob never left.”

“He’s the town vet. My dad takes his dog to him. I didn’t realize Rory moved, but I suppose it makes sense since she got married.”

Chloe and Rory are still F******k friends, and Chloe sent Rory a card with a very large amount of money inside the week before her wedding. Rory was so excited Chloe not only remembered who she was but took the time to write her a personalized note inside the card.

“Mason moved?”

“Yeah. He’s an FBI agent now,” I tell her. “He’s all over the place.”

“That’s fitting for him.” She smiles. “What about you?”

“I’m a doctor. I’ve been at a trauma center in Chicago for a few years now.”

“Wow,” she says in a way that makes me think she actually had no idea what I’ve been up to. Not low-key stalking me like I do her…though really, I don’t have to put much effort into it. Shadowfall is a popular show and deserves the media attention it gets. “What kind of doctoring do you do? Is that even a word? Doctoring?” She laughs, and the smile on her face paired with the slight crinkling of her eyes is the most gorgeous thing fucking ever.

Dammit.

“I think so, and I’m an anesthesiologist.”

“Oh, wow,” she repeats. “That’s intense. And you said a trauma center, right?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod.

Her brows furrow and a sobering moment passes between us. “I’ve written about doctors before,” she offers with a half shrug. “It’s not the same, I know, but from my own research I know working trauma can be, well, traumatizing.”

“I have my days,” I admit.

“But we need people like you. God forbid I ever end up there…” She trails off, looking out at the trees bending in the storm.

I almost forgot about the wind and the rain. There’s a hurricane of emotion swirling inside of me, even more dangerous than the risk of an actual tornado.

“Cold?” I ask, though it’s obvious she is. Nodding, she leans closer to the fire.

“This helps. Too bad those people didn’t leave any hotdogs. I’m starving.” Smiling, she looks at the picnic area. “I haven’t had cookout food in a long time, and I miss it, though I don’t really know why. Lukewarm potato salad, hotdogs and burgers that you know had flies walking all over them, everyone reaching their hands into the same bag of chips…it’s rather unappetizing yet so good at the same time.”

“Don’t forget the taco dip that is always in direct sunlight.”

She laughs and rakes her wet hair back again. “It makes the cheese nice and melty, though I know that had to be terrible for the sour cream.”

“I’m surprised more people don’t get food poisoning from cookouts, now that I think about it.”

“We’ve built up an immunity, I’m sure.”

We both laugh, and then a moment of silence ticks by as we watch the storm and the fire. We’re barely out of reach of the rain, and with the wind gusting harder now than before, we might not be out of reach for much longer. Chloe gets up, going to her backpack, and unzips it.

“Did your stuff get wet?” I ask.

“It’s not too bad.” She checks her notebook, nodding approvingly at whatever she just read, and pulls out a hair tie from a little zipper pouch on the back. Flipping her head upside down, she gathers her wet hair into a messy bun, securing it at the back of her head. “Much better,” she muses to herself and goes back to the fire, standing with one foot on the hearth to try and dry her shoes. Each second that passes by grows more and more uncomfortable. An apology burns on my tongue, but I stop myself before the words leave my lips. I don’t want to bring up the past and make this even more awkward than it is. Chances are she doesn’t care anymore, anyway.

“You’re a doctor, Jacob is a vet, Mason’s in the FBI, and Rory is a nurse, right?” Chloe asks, untying the laces of her boots.

“Right.”

“How are your parents?”

“Good. Mom still does alterations here and there, mostly for wedding dresses, and my dad is still working, saying he’s going to retire every year but can’t take the plunge. But they’re good. How’s your dad?”

“Same. Working but happy. He has a girlfriend.”

“Is that, uh, good?” Chloe would want her father to be happy, but it could be hard seeing him with someone after her mom died.

“Yeah. I really like Wendy. She lost her husband, so they connected over being widowed, which sounds so morbid, but I guess it’s nice to have someone who understands, ya know? They’re both really happy.”

“I do, and it makes sense. It’s good he’s happy.” Another few seconds of silence pass between us and the wind starts to die down. It’s disappointing, knowing the intense storm will be over as quickly as it came. Chloe will have no reason to stand here talking to me. “What about you? How are you doing?” Of course I know what she’s doing, but I don’t know how she’s doing, and I mean it, I really do. I can’t imagine the turn her life took, and I hate that I wasn’t there to experience it with her.

“I’m…good,” she says, hesitating slightly.

“That doesn’t sound too convincing.” She’s never been a good liar, mostly because she doesn’t like to lie.

“I’ve been really busy, that’s all.”

“Is that why you came back here?” I ask, hoping I sound casual. She hasn’t come back to Silver Ridge in years—according to my sister, that is. “To take a break from everything?”

“Pretty much. My publicist is pushing for me to finish my next book a whole month sooner than planned so she can line up some promo for the book and the show. I’m officially behind now that I have a new timeline, so I thought it would be inspiring to come back to the place that started it all.”

“You based your Shadowfall series off of Silver Ridge?” What else—or who else—made it into the book? I was never able to bring myself to read them, though Rory and at least half the people I know love the series.

“I did,” she answers with a smile. “You haven’t read them then, I’m guessing?”

“I’ve, uh, intended to but haven’t found the time.”

She laughs. “They’re not really your cup of tea, and I’m fine with that. Not everyone likes paranormal romance, though the books have a ton of action in them—sorry. If you get me started talking about Kellie and Marcus, I won’t shut up.”

“You’re passionate, and that’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s the one time my obsessive personality comes in handy.” She casts her eyes down, and I hear echoes of the taunting in my mind of Chloe being teased for being “weird,” though I never saw a damn thing weird or wrong about her. Shame creeps over me like an itchy wool sweater, choking me and making me desperately want to claw my own skin off.

We were young.

I was lost.

And Chloe always knew exactly who she was.

Taking a seat on a bench of a picnic table, I’m just a few feet from Chloe right now. She picks a stick from the little pile of firewood and pokes at the flames, trying to get the second log to ignite. It takes a few minutes—and a lot of smoke wafting in both our faces—but she gets it.

“That feels better,” she says quietly, twisting and pulling the hem of her top away from her body, doing her best to get it to dry. She inhales deeply, and I can’t help but watch her breasts rise and fall. Chloe has always been beautiful, with her dark red hair and striking green eyes. She’s thin but fit, and I remember a video Rory shared on social media—that I watched against my better judgment—of Chloe and Charles demonstrating their workout routine, which they did together.

I watch her for a moment, and all the words I should have said way back then bubble up in my throat, wanting to spill out at a dizzying rate. I swallow them down, eyes wandering over Chloe’s body.

“The storm’s dying down,” she notes, voice soft, after a few more minutes pass. She gives the fire a final poke and gets up, reaching for her backpack.

“It’s still raining.”

“My clothes didn’t dry at all.” She motions to her body and, dammit, I’m staring at her breasts again. “It doesn’t really matter. And I like walking in the rain, though it is a little cold and I have a long walk back to the lake house.”

“I’m parked in that lot.” I point to the parking lot right behind the shelter. It’ll take only a minute or two for us to walk to the car. “I can drive you to your dad’s house.”

“I don’t want to get your seats all wet.”

“They’re leather, so it would be fine, and if you’re really worried about it, I do have a blanket you can put on the seat.”

“Why do you have a blanket in your car?”

“Sometimes I take a nap in my car in between surgeries. It sounds weird, I know, but it’s easier to relax in my car in the parking garage than the break rooms.”

“It doesn’t sound weird. I’d probably prefer to sleep in my car too than somewhere with other people.” She bites her lip, no idea how fucking sexy that looks on her, and turns her attention to the fire. “Should we put it out before we go?”

“Probably,” I reply and look around for something to use to extinguish the fire. We don’t have any water, so instead, I dash out near the edge of the woods, retrieving a small broken tree branch with a thick cluster of wet leaves. I put it on the fire, strangling out the flames.

“Smart,” Chloe says, eyeing me. She looks uncomfortable now, like the thought of getting in the car with me is unnerving. I wish I knew what she was thinking, or that we were still close enough I could just come out and ask her.

The clouds are just spitting out a drizzle of rain now. Thunder and lightning still rage on around us. The storm isn’t over just yet, but we caught a break in the rain.

“Which side of the lake is the house?” I ask, pretending like Rory didn’t point out her house like a stalker this morning.

“The quiet side. Dad’s been there for a few years already. We bought and restored that house I liked as a kid. The one my mom liked too.”

“I remember that house,” I say softly, noticing the sadness that instantly comes to Chloe’s pretty eyes at the mention of her mother. “Have you been out on the lake yet?”

She shakes her head. “No, just down to the dock. My dad and his girlfriend are leaving tomorrow for a romantic getaway, so I probably won’t get out there this trip.”

“They’re leaving when you just got here?” We start walking down the stone path to the parking lot.

“They had the trip planned, and me coming here wasn’t preplanned or anything. Though it works out, because as much as I love my father, he’s a talker, and I don’t get much work done when he’s around.”

“Yeah, I could see that. Having a lake house to yourself while writing a book is exactly what a movie about a writer would do.”

She chuckles. “It is a little cliché, but it will be really nice and quiet. They’re taking the dog too, so I’ll literally have no one but myself to take care of. Though when I’m deep in the writing cave—not a literal cave, but a mental one, I guess?” She shakes her head. “It’s just something us writers say. But when I’m in the writing cave, I can go like all day without eating and only drinking coffee and wine. And then it might be a few days before I shower, and I don’t know why I’m admitting this to you, though I also admitted it on TV last year so…”

“That’s also what I think of when I think of writers,” I joke and playfully nudge her. The second my skin touches hers, a shock runs through me. I look out at the woods, having to talk down my cock—and my heart.

“Write drunk, edit sober,” she says with a wink. “It’s a Hemingway quote and isn’t that terrible of advice.”

“I can’t imagine having a drink while working.”

She laughs, and I love the way that little dimple on her right cheek is still there when she smiles. “Yeah, I don’t think that would go too well.”

We get to my car, which is the only one left in the parking lot. I open the passenger-side door for Chloe and reach into the back, grabbing the fleece blanket. I really don’t care if she sits in the car all wet from the rain, but I know Chloe doesn’t like to inconvenience anyone in the smallest way.

“Thanks again for driving me to my dad’s,” she says, and I get a flash of driving her home after school. There were so many times when I wanted to pull over and kiss her.

But there were even more times when it just didn’t happen.

Her phone goes crazy with text messages as soon as we’re back on the road and within cell service range. I’m curious who the messages are from, mostly because I don’t see how Chloe could be single. Jealousy sizzles through my veins at the thought of her having a boyfriend, and I need to knock it the fuck off.

She’s busy replying to the messages on the short drive from the park to her dad’s house. The rain is starting to fall harder when I pull into the driveway. My heart jumps into my throat when I turn and look at her. I put my BMW in park and shove that fucker back down where it belongs.

“It was really good to see you,” I say slowly, resisting the urge to reach out and brush back that loose lock of hair that’s starting to curl around her forehead. “You look…good. Really good.”

“Even wet?” she asks and then closes her eyes, realizing she’s said something awkward yet again. “You know what I mean.”

I laugh, mind—again—going to her being a different kind of wet. “I do, and yeah, even after you’ve been caught in the rain.”

She blushes and unbuckles her seatbelt. “You look good too, though you always have. It’s not fair.” Her lips pull into a smile. “I’m glad I got caught in the rain when I did.”

“Me too.” The car is in park, yet we’re still sitting here, hearts racing. “Do you want to go out and catch up?”

“I’m having dinner with my dad and Wendy tonight or, um…yeah.” She leans toward me, just a bit, and the curl falls into her eyes. I can’t help it this time. I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. I sweep my fingers down along her jaw, and Chloe shivers again. Part of me wants to kiss her right here and now, just to see what would happen.

If it would feel as good as I’ve imagined.

Her phone dings with another text, startling her. She tenses, and I jerk my hand back. “How…how long are you in town?” she asks.

“Until Tuesday,” I say, though I’d only planned on the weekend. If she’s here, I want to be here, trying to make up for all the lost time. “Come over sometime if you can take some time away from your book.”

Her lips curve into a smile again, and the rain starts to come down harder. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I’m feeling entirely too vulnerable right now. She gets another text message, and when I shift my eyes down to the phone in her hand, I see someone named Charles is texting her. It has to be her ex. Are they back together? Maybe they—fuck—I need to give it up.

“Rory would really love if you came over. She’ll be here for a few more days and she has her baby with her, of course. You were always like a sister to her…to all of us.”

“Oh.” The smile disappears from Chloe’s face. “Yeah…a sister.” She lets out a sigh. “Thanks again, Sam. Tell everyone I said hi.”

Without another word, she gets out and walks away.