Page 71 of Everything You Hate
The firefighter.
I remember that smile from the photo Henry showed me at dinner.
Dean hasn’t seen me yet. He holds his beer bottle by the neck, and he’s listening to whatever Knox is saying, but his body is angled toward the path, like he’s been watching for something.
I step into the firelight, and his head turns. He smiles, and butterflies take flight in my belly.
“Hey.” He meets me halfway, but the closer he gets, the more his smile fades. By the time he reaches me, he’s all-out scowling. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I set my bag down. “Is that Knox?”
“Yep. Flew in this afternoon. Heading back to Montana next week.” He looks over my face. Too carefully. “You okay?”
More than okay. “Yes.” But tears spring to my eyes, and his narrow. His expression darkens.
“Did someone say something to you? Hurt you? Who was it? Malcolm? Jasper? It was fucking Jasper, wasn’t it?”
Dammit. I swipe at my eyes and draw a fortifying breath before answering. “Dean, no.” I place a hand on his arm before he can stalk off and find a Merrick.
“It’s not Jasper. It’s not Malcolm. It’s nothing like that.”
His jaw works. “Then what is it?”
I open my mouth to tell him, but the words won’t come. And then Knox is walking toward us, and I lost the opportunity.
“The famous Scarlett Crawford.” Knox Haven wraps me in a hug before I can extend a hand, lifting me off the sand and spinning me in a half-circle like we’ve known each other for years. When he sets me down, his grin is all teeth and warmth. “I’ve been hearing about you since I landed. Dean won’t shut up.”
Dean scowls. “I haven’t said a word.”
“Your silence is deafening, man. That’s how we know.” He winks at me. “Nice to finally put a face to the recent main topic of our family group chat.”
I glance at Dean. “So I’m the topic of your group chat?”
“I don’t chat,” he mutters.
“He refuses to participate. But the rest of us have been texting about you for a week straight. Piper started it. Then Shea. Then Colter sent a gif of that cartoon wolf with the heart beating out of his chest. It escalated from there.”
Dean’s jaw is doing that thing where it looks like he’s trying to crack his own teeth. “Knox.”
“What? It’s true. Bodhi even weighed in, and Bodhi never weighs in.” Knox claps Dean on the shoulder hard enough to make him rock forward. “Said you’ve been ‘unusually present.’ Those were his exact words. Unusually present. For Dean, that’s practically a love sonnet.”
“Knox.” Dean’s voice drops to something adjacent to murder. “Go somewhere else. Now.”
Knox holds up both hands and ambles off toward the cooler, whistling. Dean watches him go like he’s calculating where to hide the body.
“Don’t,” I say.
“He started it.”
I bump his shoulder with mine. His arm brushes my back, and the contact runs through me like a live wire. He turns toward me and hauls me into his arms.
“Don’t,” I say again. “Your family’s watching.”
“My family’s been watching since you showed up.” He doesn’t move his hand from my back. “They’ve got bets.”
“On what?”
“Whether you’ll last the week. Whether I’ll say more than four words to you voluntarily. Whether Bodhi will actually let you near No Name again after the storm.” He cups my face in his hands, and his thumbs swipe my cheeks as if brushing away tears. “Piper’s winning so far. She had you pegged from day one.”
