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“What are we doing with this?” I asked, holding up the sleeping kitten. I could sense Trap’s annoyed eye roll at my obvious change of subject. “Taking it to Anne, obviously.”
“Yeah, I’ll take it later.” He sighed, and I felt like I’d let him down somehow. Fuck. This wasn’t us. Our friendship wasn’t complicated. Yet I was making it that way. “I wanted Georgia to come with me, but she can’t leave her daughter. Apparently, she’s a flight risk.”
I arched a commanding brow. “You’re on shift today. That’s where your ass will be.”
His lips parted with a huff, but I caught the surprise that flashed behind his gaze. The fucker used to love it when I bossed him around when it was the three of us. Sometimes he wanted someone else to take control of his life, which, based on the shock on his face, I hadn’t given him in a while.
We were best friends, deeper than that considering our pasts, but there wasn’t anything sexual between us, though the need was there just the same. The need to share. Everything. Most didn’t understand our relationship, which was fucking fine. They didn’t need to because we did.
“Georgia,” I mouthed, liking the way her name felt on my lips. The clock on the microwave flickered. “Damn, it’s already past six. You go get ready for your shift. Oh, watch that construction site and those working. Some locals aren’t happy with all the people it’s bringing to town.”
“And you?”
“Me what?”
“What are you doing today?” He turned a pointed look toward the kitchen window that faced Georgia’s house. “Maybe wandering over and introducing yourself to the sexy new neighbor?”
I snorted and shook my head. “You playing matchmaker now?” Trap shrugged. “I’ll take the kitten to Anne before heading to the farm. Always shit to do out there.”
Keeping the kitten pressed against my bare chest, I strode out of the kitchen, a plan already forming.Even if it weren’t for Trap’s suggestion, I would’ve figured out a way to meet Georgia now that he had. There was this pull to her that I hadn’t felt in years. Trap wasn’t joking when he mentioned I went rock-fucking-hard the moment I saw her standing next to Max. At the moment, all I had wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and hold her tight until all that obvious tension and worry seeped from her stiff frame.
Yes, Trap was more easily angered, jumped to conclusions, the protective one out of us.
But me, once I was comfortable with someone, I needed physical touch—hugs, cuddles, skin to skin as much as possible. And even though I loved Anne and Caradee like sisters, I never showed that side of myself to them. Which meant the last time I’d touched someone, besides cuffing them and tossing them into the back of the cruiser, was three years ago.
A deep, longing ache built in my chest remembering the feel of a small frame wrapped around me, waking up with someone in my arms or even occasional brushes of hands, reminding me I was loved and wanted.
Fuck, I missed it.
Trap was right. This, what I’d been doing, wasn’t living. It was barely even surviving.
It was time to move on from the tragedy that took the love of our lives away. Maybe this new neighbor was the kick to the balls I needed, the emergency life support that could bring me back from the brink.
Only time would tell.
* * *
Hand balled into a fist,I pounded against the red-painted wooden door, cringing when the force made it rattle on the hinges as if the Hulk were beating it down. Everyone wanted to be bigger than the average male, have the size and strength to take down any opponent, but they didn’t understand the restraint it required or how cramped I always felt since most places weren't built for men my size.
Muffled female voices came from the other side of the door. I tilted closer, angling my ear toward the sound to hopefully catch what they were saying. Someone yelled, followed by a high-pitched screech that had me flinching even with the solid wood between me and the sound.
The next moment, the clang of the dead bolt snapping free sent me shooting to my full height, hiding my failed attempt to eavesdrop.
Warm, dry air burst from the house when the door swung open, shouts still ringing from somewhere inside.
The woman I saw on the front lawn yesterday—Georgia—blinked up at me, frustration clear on her tired face. But was it frustration with my knocking or her daughter still ranting about something behind her? Between blinks, I quickly catalogued her features now that I was up close and could see every detail. Wide, bright green eyes, rimmed red from either exhaustion or crying, fit perfectly on her petite heart-shaped face. A tiny, upturned nose above full lips, though the lower one was raw along one side. Her wild, curly, dark brown hair that hit the top of her shoulders highlighted fair, flawless skin, though paler than what was probably normal for her.
Tugging a cotton jacket tighter around her chest, she glanced over my shoulder, a flash of uncertainty flitting across her features. It was that uncertainty that snapped me into motion, realizing I was just standing there, staring like an idiot.
Damnit, maybe Trap was on to something when he said I was out of practice with women.
“Shade, right?” she offered when I still failed to utter a word, which I was grateful for.
I dipped my chin in a clipped nod.
Licking her lips, she glanced over her shoulder. I followed the worried look to find a tiny, much younger replica of her standing in the hall, watching our interaction with an annoyed scowl on her young face.
“Oh, so you get to have friends,” Georgia’s daughter huffed, “but I’m stuck in here alone.”
