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Chapter Five
BRIGGS
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The sincerity etchedinto his dark features is enough to convince me, but not without a small skip in my chest. That blip that tells me I’d trusted him before and he didn’t pull through.
I match his gaze and remind myself that it’s my mother that convinced him to not show up that night. But it doesn’t make it any less painful to think about. How young and dumb we were. How easily manipulated.
But it’s not like that anymore. We’re adults. We can make this work for all of us.
Somehow.
“We need to go somewhere neutral but informal. Millie doesn’t like when all eyes are on her. She’s plenty outgoing but on her terms.”
“Okay, Neutral.” Xan pauses to think, and I study his face. His gorgeous face that went from boyishly handsome to ruggedly sexy in the last decade. Damn him and damn my body for betraying me so soon. We’ve occupied the same space for ten minutes and he has me shifting back into his orbit.
“What about the school’s spring barbecue? People, kids, hot dogs...”
“And a whole town of Rastonites who see you walking around with a kid that looks like you. The gossip mill will be spinning out of control by noon.”
“You’re right. What about Morleau? They have that little sports restaurant there. The one where you can draw on the tables.” Xan scratches the stubble on his jaw and the breeze swirls around us, wrapping me up in the scent of pine and damp dirt that tangles with his smell—spice and crisp laundry.
“That could work,” I say, forcing myself to scoot further away from him.
Morleau is the ski resort town about twenty kilometers up the road and the bitter rival of Raston, a real BC town. There are no busses of arrogant and rude travelers passing through here to take a few pictures and pick up a few trinkets to be able to say they ‘experienced’ the wild. No horde of wealthy skiers and groups of drunken snowboarders crowd the streets of Raston.
Morleau is a manicured town. A town my parents loved for its perfectly painted houses and quaint little downtown where everything matches and everyone wears the same painfully artificial smile.
Welcome to the wild heart of British Columbia.They would say.
Raston is a run-down—divided and mismatched. It’s imperfect and truly wild—real and messy. A place that used to make my feet itch to move.
“Yeah, Morleau is good. Tomorrow for dinner then?” I say, suddenly needing to get out of here. The sun disappears behind the tall mountain range and darkness stretches across the sky. I stand and dust off my pants, but Xan stays seated.
“I need to get home before Millie heads to bed.” I continue and Xan startles as if I interrupted a thought.
“Right, of course. I’m going to stick around here for a bit.” He leans forward to rest his forearms on his knees, his broad shoulders stretching out his old t-shirt. His arms flex with the strain and a whole new sensation floods me as I realized that while I was busy being pulled in by his familiar Xan energy, I’d completely missed the changes in his body. No more lanky frame and string bean muscle. He is solid, strong, and fucking sexy. He’s also watching me gawk at him with a quirk of amusement on the edge of his mouth.
I shift my gaze to the multicolored stones that line the shore of the rushing creek and clear my throat.
“You okay to drive?” I nod to the beer at his feet.
“Yeah, just going to hang out here and let everything settle.”
I shift through my discomfort, one foot to the other. I move away as if an invisible wind is guiding me, whispering to keep moving. To run. Because even though my daughter deserves to know her father, doesn’t mean I want her to.
Because Xan is fire. He lures you in with the perfect mix of charm and brokenness. He keeps you warm and safe, but get to close...
“See you tomorrow then,” I say and swallow the rush of attraction I felt moments earlier. Those feelings are completely off limits. We need to make this work for Millie.
Striding over to him, straddling his lap, and crushing my lips to his is not the best thing for our daughter.
So, I walk away.
#
Isit on the back porch and hold a steaming cup of coffee in two hands. There’s nothing but me and a beautiful little songbird hidden in the tree line chirping a pretty song. It could have been a calming way to spend my morning but the bags under my eyes indicate my lack of sleep and the bounce of my knee holds all the nervous energy I’d been building up since yesterday.
