Page 68 of Thirst For Me
We both come to a stop. We’ve reached the entrance to June’s property, theTwisted Tree Orchardsign wrapped in fairy lights.Small lanterns light the way up the drive, toward the cider house and beyond.
Sophie stands next to one of the lanterns, waiting for me.
Layne and Trish are farther up the road, maybe oblivious that they’ve lost us. Trish’s laughter floats to us on the breeze and skitters away into the trees.
A shiver runs up my back.
I can feel Mason watching me.
When I turn to him, our eyes lock. “This isn’t about our ‘war,’” I tell him. “I promise.” I feel disarmed. My weapons, for the moment, tucked away. My armor laid down.
If he wants to take a jab, now would be the time to hit me with whatever he’s got.
But I can feel his weapons withdrawing, too.
“That’s ...” He seems to search for the right word to respond to what I just told him about my own loss. Then he admits, “Terrible.”
A bubble of laughter floats out of me. If he only knew; “terrible” is the absolutely correct descriptor for the way my biological father treated me that one time I got to speak to him in the last twenty-seven years.
“I’m sorry,” he adds softly.
I don’t know what he’s sorry for. His loss of words? The fact that my own father crushed my self-esteem into a snarl of shame and uncertainty and self-doubt that I’m still trying to untangle?
I kind of laugh again, and there is absolutely no reason for it.
Mason stares, like he’s trying to make sense of me. His gaze weighted and dark, his hands crammed in his pockets. And neither of us moves.
I feel rooted to the road, to this moment where neither of us says another thing as the night air between us charges with potential energy. A lock of hair dances across my face, and I swear he’sabout to reach out and smooth it aside for me. Or move closer. Or say something else, good or bad, that I willnotbe able to handle.
An impulse throbs deep in my chest, overwhelming and dangerous.
It’s the urge to touch him.
Followed quickly by the urge to push him away.
I take a step back before I can do either.
He waged war on you.
He told you to leave town.
You have to be tougher than this, Sierra.
“Anyway,” I blurt. “We’re in charge of the food and drink area at the festival. You and me. You know, together.”
His eyebrows pinch together. “What?”
“So, I guess we have a meeting with Power Mom in the morning?” I bite my lip. “Shit, I mean Pamela. I’ve been calling her Power Mom all night in my head,” I explain, though I know that’s not the part he’s confused about. “So. See you tomorrow, I guess!”
Then I turn and run. Up June’s driveway, where I know he won’t follow.
Chapter 13
Mason
Pam and Sierra are already waiting at the pier when I show up in the morning, five minutes early. When I see that each of them has a large Cutie Fruitie cup in hand, I drop one of the two takeout cups of coffee that I brought from the bar into a trash can before Pam can see it.
Yeah, so maybe I brought her a coffee to kiss up.
