Page 3 of Renegade
It’s almost midnight when I let myself into the downtown Charleston apartment I share with my best friend McKenzie. My flight back was uneventful, but after this afternoon’s fiasco, I’m just glad to be home. The apartment is dark, not surprisingly, since McKenzie has been in the Philippines for the last ten days. Ever since her brother Liam died a few months ago on a Navy SEAL mission, Kenzie’s been gone more than she’s been home. Always a daredevil who believed in living life on the edge and to the fullest, Liam had left behind the ambitious and unfinished bucket list he’d kept since he was little, and McKenzie has thrown herself into methodically checking everything off the list as if her life depends on it…or like it will somehow bring Liam back. Or keep her from falling apart. Liam was the only family she had left, and I’ve wondered if the bucket list is just a way to distract herself so she doesn’t have to deal with the fact that he’s gone.
Kenzie and Liam were close, and I know it’s her way of dealing with her grief and feeling closer to him, but some of the stuff on that list is crazy. And ifIthink it’s crazy, it’s crazy! Of the three of us—me, Kenzie, and Charlotte—I’m the one who will take any dare, the one who likes to push the boundaries, not McKenzie. Prone to panic attacks, she’s always been the careful and cautious one, afraid of what might lie around the corner.
Not that I blame her. Caring for a sick parent for years and then having both of your parents die within six months of each other when you’re in high school, one from a long battle with cancer, definitely changes a person. And now Liam…
Of course, she has me and Charlotte. The three of us have been best friends since our sophomore year at Wake Forest, and after we graduated, we decided to open our own wedding business—Tying the Knot. With McKenzie’s design skills, my talent for photography, and Charlotte’s ability to organize everyone and everything, we’re a good team, and we’re quickly building a reputation for ourselves in the business. But we’re more than business partners; we’re family.
However, Kenzie’s made it clear the bucket list is something she has to do on her own, and someone has to keep the business running while she’s busy traveling the globe. So far, in addition to sailing around the Philippines and diving in Malaysia, she’s jumped off a waterfall in Costa Rica and spent a crazy weekend in Las Vegas, although Charlotte and I did tag along for that one. We couldn’t let her have that much fun without us!
I frown, remembering her trip to Costa Rica. It was the very first thing on Liam’s list that she tackled, and she was caught in the middle of some sort of gun battle while she was there. She shrugged it off, certain she’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but something about it niggled at me, and I finally asked Walker to look into it, just to be sure. Always a badass and now a certified card-carrying one with the Navy SEALs, my best friend Walker has been fixing things for me since high school. If anyone can get to the bottom of it, he can.
I realize I haven’t heard from him since I called him a couple of weeks ago to talk to him about McKenzie, but that’s not all that unusual. Although we used to be practically joined at the hip during high school (at least when he wasn’t with one of the endless line of bimbos attracted to his bad-boy good looks), we haven’t seen each other regularly since he went to BUD/S training and I won an art scholarship to Wake Forest. Since then, I don’t think there’s been a time we haven’t had an entire continent between us, if not an ocean or two, since he’s frequently deployed to the Middle East with his special forces team.
I smile to myself. Who knew the boy who was failing out of school when I met him would one day become a platoon leader in the most elite branch of the military? Well, I did. But I was probably the only one, and I’m still incredibly proud of him, even if I’m not surprised.
I don’t have to talk to Walker every day, or even every week, to know that we’re solid. He will always be my best friend. No one else knows me better, other than maybe McKenzie and Charlotte. Still, he doesn’t usually let more than a few weeks go by without checking on me, and when he’s in the States, I text him almost every day, even if it’s just to tell him the crazy, random stuff going on in my life. I’ve always joked that he’s my guardian angel. He’s even responsible for me meeting McKenzie and Charlotte. Freshman year at a fancy school like Wake was hard for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks like me, and I hadn’t made many friends.
Walker and Liam had become friends during BUD/S training, and when Walker found out Liam’s sister also went to Wake Forest and was looking for a second roommate sophomore year, he introduced us and the rest was history. Last year, the five of us—me, Walker, McKenzie, Liam, and Charlotte—even went on vacation together. I like how all my friends are connected. They make up for the family I never had. My mom doesn’t really count. She’s always been far more interested in her man du jour than her daughter.
I make a mental note to call Walker tomorrow and see what he’s found out. I lock the front door behind me, kicking my shoes off and dumping my bags on the floor of the living room. I don’t bother turning on the lights. All I want is a shower and bed. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. I wouldn’t even shower, except I have the overwhelming urge to scrub every last reminder of my horrible encounter with the videographer away so I can pretend it didn’t happen.
I reflect on my sad love life as the bathroom fills with steam. All I’ve ever wanted is a man who could handle me, who wouldn’t bow to the take-charge attitude I’ve had to cultivate to survive and thrive, who could be stronger than me, who could appreciate my strength while stripping me of it, allowing me to hand the reins over to someone else, if only for a short time. A man I could trust unequivocally, who would take me in his arms and say, “I’ve got you, baby,” and really mean it.
But no one’s come close. And I’m tired of looking, tired of being disappointed.
And, I remind myself as I slather my body with fragrant bubbles, it’s not like I haven’t been taking care of my own sexual needs already. I have some weird thing that I can’t come with a guy—I’ve never been able to—so it’s just the rest of the stuff I’ll miss. Or rather, I think as I shut off the shower, I’ll miss the idea that what I crave is really possible. That someone really can make me feel the things the faceless man in my fantasies does. The only thing I’m really giving up is hope.
I towel dry my hair, brush my teeth, and apply moisturizer, studying my face in the mirror. I just need a good night’s sleep in my own bed and things will look better tomorrow. It’s been a long week, and I’m suddenly exhausted. Leaving the towel on the floor of the bathroom, I cross the hall to my darkened bedroom. My bed is calling me like a siren. I have the apartment to myself, so I don’t even bother with underwear or a T-shirt. With a sigh of pleasure, I slide between the cool, comforting sheets of my bed.
