Blackmail
Keegan
It's like I'm underwater. My arms and legs feel heavy, barely able to move.
"What are you..." I stammer. "Did you...did you read my..."
I want to lunge at Megz, get my hands around her throat; I want to pull her hair out.
But I can't seem to do anything.
It's taking my brain a minute to catch up, to fully understand what my best friend is saying to me with that infuriating, gut-turning sneer on her face.
"Yes, Keegan." Megz rolls her eyes. "I read your pathetic diary."
In high school, I used to correct Megz every time she called my journal a diary.
I knew she was doing it on purpose, just to yank my chain. But it stung my pride, every time.
It felt like she was dismissing something that meant a lot to me as childish and irrelevant.
"Are you..." I huff, the fog in my head slowly lifting and the reality of what she's saying hitting me like a sledgehammer, "...are you blackmailing me, Megz?"
My voice is squeaky, pathetic, and I can't make my lips stop trembling.
One question keeps ricocheting through my mind: How could you be so stupid? How could you be so fucking stupid?
Megz doesn't immediately answer.
Instead, she makes a show of flipping through the journal's pages.
"You know," she finally drawls, "when I came up here and saw this stupid thing on the bed, I thought 'I'll just check to see if she's been writing about me.' I wanted to see if you were being your usual judgy self."
She closes the journal with a snap and grasps it by one corner, holding it up and shaking it at me again.
"But holy fucking balls of fire, KeeKee," she goes on. "I did not expect to find what I
did."
How could I have been so unbelievably fucking stupid?
I lunge toward her, trying to snatch the journal out of her hand.
But Megz twists it away from me and springs off the bed.
"Oh, no you don't," she says, moving toward the door to put distance between us before opening the journal again. "I'm not done reading. Let's see, what do have we here?"
She turns the pages until she finds what she's looking for, then starts reading, her voice soaked with acid, mocking what I wrote.
"Poor Blue. I wish I knew how to help him. How to make him see what happened over there is not his fault."
Her eyes, full of rage and contempt, lock onto mine.
"Not his fault?" she sneers, flecks of spit flying out of her mouth. "Not his fucking fault? He got three guys killed, Keegan. Three American soldiers. And then he lied about it! How could you even think about saying it's not his fault?"
I step toward her, the breath I inhaled faltering before it can reach my lungs, my heart pounding in my ears.
"But you judged me for shoplifting a few things?" Megz goes on. "Seriously, Kee? You fucking judged me?"
My eyes fall for a second to the scars on Megz's forearms.
She told me once during high school she used to scratch herself with safety pins, especially each time she got sent to a different foster home.
It relaxed her, she said, gave her a sense of control.
I remember feeling sorry for her.
"He's the son of a goddamn billionaire," Megz hisses. "And yet you make excuses for him. But you look down your nose at me. What a total hypocrite you are."
Her words are like a punch to the gut, maybe because some part of me feels a little truth in them.
For a moment, my rage falters.
"You do nothing to help me," she goes on. "I bet you'd be able to get that old bitch to save your coward of a boyfriend if he needed it."
"That's not true!" I growl, any sympathy I felt for Megz vanishing. "I tried to get Virginia to help you. I did everything I could! She wouldn't—"
"Oh bullshit, Keegan! You're a goddamn liar!"
She snaps the journal shut and again waves it in my face.
"Yes, I am absolutely blackmailing you. Let's see if this time, you'll make more than a half-assed attempt to help me."
"Virginia will never go along with this, Megz."
I'm trying to keep my voice calm and even. "In fact, she'll probably go to the police and have you charged with extortion."
I'm hoping to scare her into retreating. But it doesn't work.
"Then I'll go public with all of it," she says, raising her chin and staring me down.
"I'll tell everyone all about what Blue did. All it will take is a couple of posts on social media. How long do you think it'll be before the U.S. military shows up at his door?"
"You. Monstrous. Bitch."
I have to force the words out; it feels like they're clogging my throat.
Megs shakes her head, scoffing at my gritted-out insult.
"You going to wait for him to get out of prison, Kee? Years and years of waiting? I doubt it. You are not that loyal."
I clench my fists, so angry I cannot speak.
"That's why I'm pretty sure this time you'll get Granny Dearest to help me out. This time, you'll try a little harder."
Her eyes shift away from me for a second and then snap back as she smiles.
"Besides, Virginia Cooke will not want it known that her family is covering up a crime against three soldiers. Not with an election coming up."
"Get the fuck out of my room!" I shriek, rushing at her and finally managing to snatch the journal away.
I clutch it tightly in both hands, prepared to hold on to it at all costs.
Megz shakes her head, laughing as she pulls her phone out of her jeans pocket and jiggles it in my face.
"You really think I'm stupid, don't you, Kee? First thing I did, when I realized what I had, was take pics of all the good stuff in there and email it to myself. So you can have your diary back. I don't need it now."
I stand there for a moment gasping as if the oxygen has suddenly vanished from the room.
"How could you do this to me, Megz?" I finally say, blinking back tears and trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"Why would you do this? I thought we were...I thought you were my best friend."
I hate hearing the despair and hurt in my voice, but I keep going.
"You think things have been easy for me? My mother died, my dad fell apart, my brother went to prison. You think that was easy?"
Megz stares bitterly at me. For just a moment, her mouth trembles, and I think I see regret pooling in her eyes. But it's only a second.
"I'm sorry your mom died, Kee" she says. "I really am. But at least you had a mother who gave a shit about you. I've been a charity case my whole fucking life."
I shake my head, dismissing her self-pity with an angry wave of my hand.
"And you know what?" Megz goes on. "If the situation were reversed, and it was you who needed my help, I would've moved heaven and earth. I'd have done whatever it took to help you. You know I fucking would. And I wouldn't have judged you."
"What utter bullshit," I scoff, feeling the tears slip down my face. "What a completely disgusting, garbage lie."
Again, for just a second, I think I see a flash of regret on Megz's face.
But then her expression hardens as she turns toward the door.
"You didn't give me much choice," she says, her words cutting into me. "You have no idea how some of us have to live, do you, princess? What some of us have to do?"
Enraged, I lunge at her, bringing us both crashing to the floor.
I straddle her before she can get up, smashing my fists into her face.
"You're just making excuses, you fucking thief!" I scream, pinning her arms to the floor as she tries to claw at my face. "You fucking criminal!"
Megz wriggles one leg free and brings her foot up to my stomach, shoving me off her and then grabbing me by the hair.
We roll around, alternatively flailing and kicking and shrieking.
I manage to get my legs free and try to shove a heel into Megz's stomach.
But my foot hits the nightstand instead, sending the lamp on it crashing to the floor.
By now, my robe has come open.
Megz jumps on me, again sinking her hands into my hair as I aim my fingers at her eyes.
And then we're both being lifted off the floor.
Blue is restraining me, and Hunter has Megz.
Kendra's standing in the doorway, her jaw practically on the floor.
"Yee haw!" Hunter chortles, grinning as he ogles my naked body visible through the open robe. "A catfight!"
He tightens his grip on Megz as she steps forward and tries to take a swing at me.
We stand there, panting and glaring at each other.
Hunter is still chuckling.
"Okay, I like a good catfight as much as anybody," he says, still running his eyes over me. "But what the fuck is going on here?"
Blue sends Hunter a menacing look, then blocks his view as he hastily reties my robe.
He cradles my face in his hands.
"Keegan," he says in a low, somber voice, "are you okay?"
I nod as my breathing slows.
Megz jerks her arm out of Hunter's grasp, but otherwise doesn't move. She's still trying to catch her breath.
Blue pulls me against him, crushing me into his chest; I can feel his heart beating.
"What's going on?" he whispers in my ear.
Burrowing into his body for a moment, I spot my journal on the floor near my bed. I dropped it when I pounced on Megz.
Oh, God.
The journal: all the stuff I wrote in it about Blue, about his secret; all the stuff that Megz read.
That she's now using against me. Against us.
Blue lifts my face up, and his eyes search mine. "What's going on?" he asks again.
My mouth bobs open twice, but nothing comes out.
How am I supposed to tell him what's happened? What I've done.
Megz barks out a harsh laugh.
"Hey Blue," she says, straightening her cashmere sweater. "Did you know your girlfriend writes absolutely everything in her diary?"
It's a journal. Not a diary, you fucking bitch.
Some stupid part of my brain is actually making that correction, as if it matters.
Blue looks bewildered, his gaze shifting from Megz to me and back again.
I glare at her, my teeth clenched so tight it sends a painful jolt through my jaw. My expression is probably alternating between a murderous death stare and a desperate plea for Megz to keep quiet.
Please, don't say anything.
It feels like I can't breathe. I need time to figure out what to do, how to explain this to Blue.
My eyes stay locked on Megz's.
"What are you talking about?" Blue answers Megz, his dislike for her obvious in his tone.
Any bit of decency I may have detected earlier has vanished from her face.
She gives us a cold, defiant stare.
"Oh," she says, her tone brittle and fake, "it's just something Keegan doesn't want anyone else to know. Something she was stupid enough to write down."
The air seems to leave the room as my heart starts pounding in my ears again.
Blue's eyes narrow as he looks down at me.
"Blue," I whisper, unable to say more.
I'm terrified Megz is going to pick up the journal and start reading it out in front of Blue. In front of Kendra and Hunter.
"Okay, well, as fun as this has been," Hunter says, turning toward the door, "I've got shit to do."
I twist out of Blue's arms and, still barefoot, move toward the bed, trying to avoid stepping on the shattered pieces of lightbulb.
Snatching my journal off the floor, I slide it under my pillow. I just want to get it out of sight.
I can feel Blue's eyes on me and feel his thoughts spinning toward the obvious conclusion.
God, what do I say? How do I tell him what I've done?
I throw a hateful look at Megz, which just makes her laugh.
If I could kill the bitch right now, I'm pretty sure I would.
"Wait up, Hunter," she calls. "I'm going to need a ride home tonight."
Hunter, already halfway out the door, turns with a groan.
"You can't be serious," he says. "I thought you were staying here tonight."
"Change of plans," Megz snaps. "I'm leaving now."
"Aw, come on," Hunter whines. "You're leaving over some stupid chick drama? Really? You girls can't work it out? I'm tired."
"No. We can't."
Megz pauses at the door and turns back.
"I'll text you," she says to me. "Don't forget what I said."
She shifts her gaze to Blue and has the gall to give him a mocking little wave.
"Bye, soldier boy."
I'd like to break every bone in her hand.
Megz and Hunter brush past Kendra, who is staring at all of us like we've lost our minds.
"Well," Kendra drawls, eyes narrowing as they dart from me to Blue and back again, "I guess the excitement is over for now."
She turns slowly and gives us a thoughtful look as she pulls my bedroom closed behind her.
I just stare at the door for what feels like a long time, not wanting to meet Blue's gaze.
My guilty-as-fuck expression is probably telling him everything.
Finally, I force myself to look at him.
He is staring at my bed, at the pillow hiding my journal. His jaw muscles are working overtime.
And then I see it: the moment he puts it all together.
The moment he realizes what I've done, and what it might mean for him.
His eyes cloud over, and his face goes pale; his mouth falls open.
"Blue," I swallow hard, struggling to speak, "I...I'm so sorry. I didn't—"
He holds up a hand to stop me and stands there looking stricken, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Blue..." I say urgently, hearing the squeal of tires as Hunter's BMW tears out of the driveway. "We need to talk."
"Not right now, Keegan," he responds, his words careful and slow, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Just give me a few minutes. Or a few hours. Just give me some time."
He turns and walks out the door.
I'm trying to try to catch my breath; I feel light-headed, with black spots popping up in front of my eyes. It feels like I'm going to faint.
I slump down on the bed as my phone, knocked to the floor when I kicked over the nightstand, buzzes with a text.
I reach out and pick it up.
It's a text from Megz: I'll give you 3 days. All I want is for the charges to be dropped. Considering I could probably get a shit ton of money from your rich ass boyfriend, I think I'm being fucking generous. 3 days.
I throw the phone into the wall.
Show Me a Hero
Keegan
Show me a hero, and I'll write you a tragedy.
That F. Scott Fitzgerald quote pops into my mind as Blue grips the steering wheel.
I read the quote somewhere a few years ago and scribbled it in the margin of my journal, liking the irony and poignancy of it.
But until just this minute, I don't think I fully understood its meaning.
Staring at Blue's tense face as he drives away from his mother's house in Tulsa, the words hold new meaning.
To me, Blue is a hero. He served his country; he tried to help a young girl facing a terrible fate.
And it all went horribly wrong.
Yes, he lied about it. But I understand why.
I understand why he was so scared and grief-stricken that he made a rash decision.
In my mind, Blue is a good guy. He always will be.
But I know not everyone would agree with me.
I know that if other people found out what happened, he might be in danger. His freedom might be threatened, or even his life.
And that scares me.
Riding away from the cabin yesterday, I was so frustrated with Blue, so hurt by what seems like his refusal to trust me, to fully open up to me, that I thought about breaking up with him.
For about a minute.
But by the time I reached the stand of Ponderosa pines surrounding a cluster of boulders that mark the trail's turn toward the river, I knew I couldn't do it.
I love Blue: wildly, deeply, with every part of my being. I can't walk away from him.
I won't walk away from him.
And by the time Lucy and I reached the river a quarter mile away and she waded in to get some well-deserved gulps of water, I was wondering why I had pushed Blue so hard to tell me his secret.
Why I was still pushing him to tell his mother.
It was an act of faith for him to tell me, for him to trust me like that.
He's under so much pressure. So why am I adding to it?
Why can't I just be there for him and let him deal with things in his own way and his own time?
I'd just slid off my horse and knelt to splash a handful of icy water on my face when I heard the sound of pounding hooves on the trail behind me.
I looked up to see Okie coming down the trail at almost a full gallop, with Blue clinging to his back.
When he spotted me, Blue slowed the horse, and I saw the look of relief that crossed his face.
I fumbled with Lucy's reins, needing something to divert my attention, my heart pounding in my ears.
I was wondering what Blue would say to me. And what I should say to him.
He jumped off before his horse even came to a full stop and ran toward me.
At the same time, I dropped Lucy's reins and rushed into his arms.
We clung to each other, Blue covering my face with kisses.
"I'm sorry," he gasped. "God, I'm sorry, Keegan. I tried to give you some time. I did try. But I couldn't let you ride away, not like that. I couldn't...I don't know why I shut you out, I don't...I can't lose you."
"Shhh," I whispered, gripping his cheeks in my hands. "It's okay. It's okay, Blue. It's my fault. I should never have pushed you the way I did."
Now, sitting in Blue's car with the heat from the vent hitting my face, I smile, remembering how we put our foreheads together then and how our icy breath mingled as we kissed for a long moment after that.
"Keegan? You with me?"
Blue is waving a hand in front of my face.
He draws a finger down my cheek, and I think of how he did the same thing yesterday while he was wearing my brother's work-roughened gloves.
The gloves that smell like everything I associate with the ranch and my family and my place in it.
It did something to me, that moment, that smell.
It's like a lifetime of conflicting memories and emotions got shrunk down into a bittersweet pinpoint that was almost too much to handle.
"Where'd you go?" Blue asked, giving me an amused smile.
I blink several times to clear my eyes.
"I was just thinking about yesterday," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. "How you came galloping up on Okie. How we walked the horses back along the river.
How good it was, how...how close I felt to you."
I break into a teasing grin. "And about you wearing Buick's big-ass gloves. You were so cute, like a little boy wearing his Daddy's gloves."
Blue rolls his eyes.
"Jeez. Way to wound a man's ego. It's not my fault your brother's got freakishly huge hands."
Then he throws a sly smile at me.
"Hey, if I were you, I'd focus on the fact you may end up with Kendra as a sister-in-law."
I throw my head back against the headrest and groan.
"Don't remind me," I say, thinking of the way my brother and Kendra seemed to be smitten with each other almost from the moment they met.
Buick even insisted on driving Kendra and Max back to Hickory Flat.
"They've known each other for all of two days. It's ridiculous. And just plain weird."
Blue shifts his eyes back to the road as his smile fades.
"I got the feeling Buick and your dad didn't like me much."
His plaintive tone tugs at my heart.
I cup the back of his neck with my hand and tug playfully on his hair.
"Don't worry," I try to reassure him. "Those two are just alike. It takes them a while to warm up to people. It's not just you. Soon they'll like you almost as much as I do."
We spend the next several minutes sparring over what music to listen to.
I win, eventually, and select the Swiftie playlist I know will drive Blue crazy.
He playfully pretends to vomit and then focuses on driving.
"One thing we don't have to worry about is my mother liking you," Blue says after a while, turning the music down a notch and fiddling with the fringes of my scarf.
"She definitely did. She told me so."
Smiling, I squeeze his hand. "I liked her too."
I glance away from him, studying the small clusters of buildings that make up the place we're driving through.
What my grandpa used to call a one-horse town.
I did like Blue's mother, Maria, from the moment she rushed out the ornate front doors of her sprawling, Tudor-style mansion in Tulsa and pulled me into her arms.
She was plump and warm, her eyes the same heart-stopping color as her son's.
"Mama, give her a chance to get in the door." Blue had sounded impatient, on edge.
His mother placed her soft hands on my face.
"Blue told me about your mama, you poor thing," she cooed in a pure Oklahoma twang.
I'd closed my eyes, wanting to melt against her comforting body like a little kid, my breath snagged by the sharp longing for my own mother that sliced through me.
Maria planted a kiss on my forehead, then turned to throw her arms around her son and bury her face in his chest.
"It's about time you came home," she half-sobbed. "I've missed you."
She said it without a trace of bitterness, but Blue still flinched as if she'd slapped him, and a look of shame settled over his face.
"I'm sorry, Mama," he whispered. "I didn't mean to stay away so long."
He could barely look his mother in the eye the whole time we were there.
We spent one night in Tulsa, and this time, it was me sneaking into Blue's room, although I doubted Maria would've cared that we shared a bed.
She didn't seem the type to worry about stuff like that.
When we left, Maria hugged Blue so long I thought she wasn't going to let go.
When she finally did, she turned to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
"Take care of him, hon," she whispered in my ear, her voice wavering. "I know something's wrong, but he won't tell me what it is. Just, please, take care of him."
I'd squeezed her hand, promising I would.
But now I'm wondering how exactly I go about doing that.
I don't want to pressure Blue into telling his mom the truth. But I don't get why he doesn't like to go home. His mom is so nice.
"I don't go home very often because I can't stand the way my mother looks at me,"
Blue says, as if he's reading my thoughts. "Like I'm some fucking saint, like I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread."
He swipes his fingers over his eyes, and I blink away the teary film that's clouding mine.
"I know it hurts her. I know she's lonely, in that house all by herself. I know what a shit I am, letting her think she's done something wrong."
It's on the tip of my tongue to suggest again that he just tell her the truth.
But I don't want to say it. I don't want to start a fight about it.
Blue pounds the steering wheel with his fist.
"I know I need to stop being such a chickenshit and tell her the truth," he grits out.
"I just...she's the last person on earth I wanted to disappoint. She's been through so much already. I can't stand to let her down."
"Oh Blue," I say. "The woman I just met, there's no way that woman will ever stop
loving you. There's no way she'd ever not be proud of you."
I curl my fingers through his. "No. Way."
I'm wondering whether to say more when my phone buzzes.
I pull it out of my purse and stare at the notification of a text from Megz.
It's the first time I've heard from her since I told her my grandmother refused to get the shoplifting charges dropped.
"Oh shit," I mumbling, opening the text.
Hey Kee. Just me, your friend who's a total bitch but hopes you'll forgive her. We'll be back at the house tonight and then H is gonna drive me back to OU tomorrow. OK if we talk when I get there?
She's added a bunch of praying hands and pleading emojis.
I can't help feeling relieved to hear from her.
It was terrible to think my friendship with Megz might be over.
It surprised the hell out of me when I found out from Hunter that Megz was going home with him for Thanksgiving.
I'd started to ask if she'd like to come to the ranch for the holiday like she'd done in years past, but then I decided it would just be too awkward.
"Everything okay?" Blue asks.
"I think so," I respond with a sigh. "It's Megz. She's spending the night at the house tonight, and she wants to talk. I assume it's about the shoplifting stuff."
Blue glances away from the road for a second, his face full of concern.
"She shouldn't be putting this kind of pressure on you," he says. "This is her mess to figure out."
"Yeah, I know. But I'd like to help her if I can."
I stare out the window, letting the lyrics of All Too Well wash over me.
"It's so weird that Megz went home with Hunter for Thanksgiving," I add. "I didn't know they even stayed in touch after the Halloween party."
Blue nods in agreement. "Another thing I did not see coming."
His smile melts into a smirk, and I consider unbuckling my seatbelt and covering the side of his face in kisses.
But that probably wouldn't be safe.
We stay mostly silent the rest of the way back to the house.
Blue pulls into the gravel driveway and shuts off the car, letting out a long sigh before he turns to me with a smile.
"Fuck would I love to take you to bed right now," he says, drawing a thumb across my lower lip. "But I've got a virtual violin lesson in 10 minutes. And I have a Music in Society exam tomorrow morning I haven't even done the reading for."
"Oh, Blue."
He grins as I unbuckle my seatbelt and shake a motherly finger at him.
"I didn't know you played the violin."
"I'm a total beginner," he says with a shrug, pushing open the driver's side door. "Just needed another instrument and thought I'd give it a try. I pretty much suck at it, though."
He pulls me hard against him when we reach the front porch.
"I am so tempted to blow it all off," he playfully growls in my ear as I feel his hand slide around to my ass.
"Oh no you don't."
I steer him through the front door, giving him a little shove toward his bedroom.
"You get in there and get to work."
Max races into the living room and rears up excitedly, first on Blue, then on me, and then back to Blue.
Then he starts running circles around us.
"Aw, look how happy he is to see us," I coo.
I'm happy to see him too and not just because I've come to love the dog.
Max being home and Buick's truck not being parked out front means he's already dropped Kendra off and headed back to the ranch.
So at least I won't have to spend any more time watching him and my prickly roommate moon over each other.
Blue stops at the entrance to his bedroom and turns back to me with a plaintive look on his face.
"Get in there!" I order, trying to look menacing. "I'll see you when you're done."
I run up the stairs, thinking I should straighten up my room a bit, pull out the air mattress Megz brought with her the last time she stayed over.
I have no idea if she plans to stay in my room or with Hunter. It bothers me she didn't say anything about her and Hunter being something.
I mean, if she's going home with him for Thanksgiving, they at least have to be friends, right?
But she's never even mentioned him since Halloween.
It just adds to my sense that things have changed between us. The whole shoplifting thing put a chilly distance between us.
Slumping into my bed with a heavy sigh, I pull my journal out from its hiding place under my bed.
I didn't take the journal to the ranch. I didn't want to worry about the housekeeper—or worse, my grandmother—finding it.
And I decided it was time to stop holding myself to a rule I created when I was frickin' 14.
Writing in the journal could wait until I got back after Thanksgiving.
Now though, I'm anxious to get everything from the last few days in there.
I unhook the pen from the top and start writing, describing all that's happened: Thanksgiving Day, my meeting with Virginia, the ride to the cabin and my fight with Blue, our trip to Tulsa, the whole weird Kendra-Buick situation.
When I've finished, I flip back through the last few months, reading all the entries about Blue, noticing how my tone starts to change after I met him.
After I started to fall in love with him.
A silly little tear spills down my cheek, and I wipe it away with a chuckle.
"Oh, man, I've got it bad," I mutter, slowly turning the pages, experiencing again some of the roller coaster emotions I've had since the day I moved into this house.
Reading all the details of what Blue went through in Afghanistan—what he's still going through—makes my stomach clench into knots.
I have to find a way to help him.
Sticking the pen into the journal and hopping off the bed, I grab the towel off the back of the door and head into the bathroom.
I'm feeling achy and just kind of off, and I'm hoping I'm not coming down with something. That's the last thing I need.
Maybe a shower will do me good.
And after the shower, maybe Blue will be done with his stuff, and he will wrap me in his arms and hold me all night long.
That will definitely make me feel better.
I let the hot water stream over me so long I'm surprised Kendra isn't screaming at me to get out.
I think at one point I hear footsteps in the hall, but nobody pounds on the bathroom door.
As I'm drying off, I think again about the Fitzgerald quote; I want to add it to today's journal entry.
Being a hero always comes at a cost. I think that's what the quote means.
That's certainly been true for Blue.
Combing back my wet hair with my fingers, I wrap the towel around my body and pick my clothes off the floor.
When I step into the hall, I pull up short for a second, surprised that my bedroom door is closed.
Did I close that before I showered?
I push open the door.
Megz is sitting on my bed. My journal is open and face down on the bed next to her.
Is that how I left it?
"Hey," I say, smiling uncertainly at her. "You're back."
It takes her a moment to look up at me, and when she does, her eyes are cold and accusing.
"Hey... buddy," she says sarcastically.
"Um...how was it at Hunter's?"
I hang up my towel and hastily sliding into my robe, feeling uncomfortable.
It's not like Megz has never seen me naked before. I've changed in front of her plenty of times.
But the look on her face now is freaking me out. Something is wrong.
"Oh," she smirks, flicking her fingers in a gesture of dismissal, "it was pretty weird. All his family is pretty fucking weird. Like totally mental. No wonder Hunter has issues."
Her voice is oddly flat, with a sharp, angry edge to it.
I wait for her to ask about my Thanksgiving. But she says nothing.
After a moment, I sit next to her on the bed and try to coax a smile out of her.
"So I'm really sorry about Virginia," I say. "I did try my best to get her to help you. I really did."
She's still got that skeptical, almost sneering look on her face.
I pick up one of her hands and hold it between mine.
"But I'm not giving up, Megz. We'll figure something out. It'll be okay. I promise you that."
My other hand is itching to pull the journal toward me, away from her.
I'm sure now that I did not leave it like that when I went to take a shower. I closed it and left it next to my pillow.
And now it's been moved.
Did Megz read it?
She's staring hard at me. Then her face softens, and for a moment, she looks so sad that I can feel the prick of tears in my own eyes.
But just as quickly, her expression goes stony again, and she gives me a contemptuous glare.
What the hell is going on?
Unable to stand it any longer, I slide my hand toward the journal.
But Megz snatches it away.
"Somehow, KeeKee" she says, dangling the journal in front of me, "I think that nasty old bitch is going to change her mind about helping me."
A Wall Between Us
Blue
Keegan pulls me to the four-poster log bed, unbuttoning my flannel shirt and yanking off my undershirt.
Naturally, I reciprocate, pulling off the three layers she's wearing.
She climbs into my lap, then closes her eyes as I slowly ease each bra strap down her shoulders and slide my hand around to release the clasp.
"Blue."
I'll never get tired of hearing her say my name like that, half word and half moan.
I toss the bra on the floor and brace my body with one hand, rolling my entire face over her beautiful breasts and swirling my tongue around her nipples.
Then I run my tongue from her collarbone up her throat, tasting the cold air on her skin.
"God, Blue."
She grabs my face and kisses the hell out of me, tightening her thighs against my
abdomen as her breasts tickle my chest.
"Keegan," I sigh into her mouth. "God, Keegan. I love you."
"And I love you."
My chest feels tight, like I can't get a decent breath.
Hearing her say she loves me helps me believe things will be all right, that somehow
I'll pass through the dark cloud that seems to follow me all the time.
I flip her over, pull her legs apart, and drive into her.
Here I am again, deflecting with sex.
There are so many things we should be talking about; so many thorny issues we ought to be working through.
But it's so much easier to do this.
And it feels so goddamn good.
"God, you're so wet," I gasp. "You're so wet for me, Keegan."
She smiles, her eyes hooded, the tip of her finger running over her lips.
My tongue catches her finger and pulls it into my mouth for a moment.
"So good," I pant.
It's not just me deflecting this time. Keegan's doing it, too, dealing with our shit—
more accurately, my shit—by fucking my brains out.
That can't be healthy.
But I don't ever want it to stop.
I part her lips with mine, feel our tongues battling.
Then I close my eyes, trying to slow the building release that's...um...coming.
I want to make sure Keegan finishes before me. I want to see that look of sudden elation that takes over her face.
She gets it every time she orgasms.
And every time, she looks kind of surprised, like it's the first time she's experienced it.
I absolutely love watching her: every emotion; every sensation; everything about this girl.
I want to be here for it all.
Keegan tightens her legs around me, and I can feel her start to shudder.
I squeeze my eyes shut; I need to slow down.
But out of nowhere, unwelcome images crash into my brain: the CASEVAC chopper ride where my seared back had me in agony; the debriefing on base when I realized that everyone thought I was the lone survivor of yet another insurgent attack.
When I realized they didn't know what I'd done.
Don't think, Blue. Just act.
My eyes fly open. Did Keegan say that again?
Or did I just think it?
Her eyes are closed, and her face is tilted up, her lips softly open. She's lost in her own pleasure.
I drive harder, and her hips rise to meet mine.
"I'm so close, Keegan," I gasp. "I'm so close."
Her thighs grip me even tighter, and her encouraging smile is all I need to completely let go.
After a moment where I'm trembling above her, I collapse at her side, curling my leg over hers.
"God," I pant, "that was so good."
She nods, weaving her hand through mine.
A few moments later, we hear the horses neighing outside.
Keegan stretches her arms above her head and then sits up, her chest hunched over her knees in the chilly air.
"We probably need to get back," she sighs. "Virginia wants to have a pizza and game night."
She scoffs as she gazes up at the ceiling.
"It's her that's playing games. I just can't figure out what she's up to."
I run my fingers down the satiny skin of her bare back.
"You know, it is possible," I venture, "that she is genuinely trying to make amends."
She skewers me with a sour look and a cocked eyebrow.
"I suppose it's possible," she drawls, "but not likely."
She stretches again and takes a deep breath.
"I need to find time today to do some studying. I'm so behind, and finals start in a week."
I haven't even thought about finals; probably won't until the night before.
I'm a mediocre student, at best. All I really care about is the music.
But Keegan is a different story.
She seems to be on fire at the newspaper. She's got a piece in almost every issue.
I've started picking up a copy, just to read her stuff. She's a damn good writer.
And she seems to get such joy out of succeeding in her classes. She's carrying straight A's, while I'm happy just to pass.
She's so unbelievably smart and passionate. I'm in awe of her mind and heart.
My eyes drift to her breasts, mashed against her thighs. That's all it takes to give me another hard on.
I'm in awe of her body, too.
I flip the sheet to cover myself, trying to dampen things down.
"Hey," I say, "if you've got too much to do tomorrow, I can drop you back at the house before I go on to Tulsa. You can meet my mother some other time. She'll understand."
Keegan pivots to face me, covering her breasts with the sheet, her eyes narrowed.
"No way," she says firmly. "I want to meet your mother. I can work my studying in today and Sunday."
She's scrutinizing my expression.
"Blue," she asks slowly, "is there some reason you don't want me to meet your mom?"
I stare at her a second, my mouth dropping open, not entirely sure how to respond.
I mean, I do want to spend all the time I can with Keegan.
But I've had a knot of dread in my stomach for days, thinking about being around my mother and Keegan.
I'm worried she'll let something slip about Afghanistan.
And I'm scared that Mama will be super emotional and freak both of us out.
She has good reason to be emotional. But I'm not sure I can handle it, especially in front of Keegan.
"Blue?" she says again. "Is it because of who my grandmother is?"
"What?" I stammer, shocked. "No! Of course not."
I sit up and grab her hand.
"It's not that at all. Do you really think I care about that? And Mama doesn't either. I promise you. No, no. It's..."
My face is heating up.
Dammit.
"It's just the whole Afghanistan thing. My mom doesn't know, and I—"
"And you think I'm going to tell her?"
Her sharp tone tells me she's offended. "Jeez, give me a little credit, Blue."
Her eyes narrow again. "Do you not trust me?"
"Of course I trust you!" I thrust my fingers through my hair, feeling my face turn hot.
"That's not what I meant. It's not...it's not you, it's me. It's just that, I..."
The way I'm fumbling around makes it sound like I'm lying.
Jesus. How did this go wrong so fucking fast?
I force myself to take a deep breath.
"I've been a shit to my mother since I got back, okay? And I'm kind of dreading seeing her and—"
"And you don't want me there," Keegan snaps, jumping off the bed and hurriedly putting on her clothes. "Obviously."
She slides on her socks, shoves her feet into boots, and heads down the stairs.
"No! Wait! That's not it!"
I jump out of bed and look around for my underwear, but I can't find them.
Finally, I just thrust my legs into my jeans and then frantically throw on my sweatshirt as I hear the cabin door creak open.
"Keegan!"
By the time I catch up with her, she's untying Lucy and leading her away from the hitching post.
"What are you doing?" I cry out, wriggling my bare feet in the icy air. "Just come
back inside. Please."
She ignores me, mounting the horse and turning toward the trail we came up only an hour ago.
"You know, Blue," she says, a tremor in her voice as she holds the horse in place, "this whole time, ever since you told me what happened to you, I've felt this...this wall going up between us. Like, so many times, when we're together, it feels like you are trying to block me out, keep part of you separate from me."
The horse stamps and snorts, impatient to be off.
"Why did you even tell me about Afghanistan if you were just going to shut me out afterwards? Do you know what it does to me, to see you suffer, to listen to your nightmares? Do you w—"
"That's why I should never have fucking told you!" I scream, cutting her off.
Even as I'm losing it, I know how much I'm going to regret this. But I cannot stop.
"It wasn't your burden to carry, Keegan!"
I'm waving my arms around like a lunatic.
"I should never have put this on you. You're not prepared for it. You're not—"
She shakes her head, jaw clenched.
"Stop talking about me like I'm a fucking five-year-old, Blue. I know I'm younger than you. But I'm still a goddamn adult."
I drag my hands down my face. "Keegan—"
"Maybe I can help you," she goes on. "Better yet, you could talk to a professional
who could help you. But you're too proud or stubborn or whatever to accept help. It's like you want to wallow in—"
"You don't have a clue what you're talking about!" I shriek. "Not one fucking clue!"
There's a long, agonizing moment of silence.
I'm blinking away tears, and through them, I can see Keegan has her eyes squeezed shut.
What the fuck have I done?
"Fine," she says, opening her eyes after a moment and gathering the reins. "Make sure the door is closed when you leave, okay? Just...give me a head start first. I need some time to think."
"Keegan. Please. Don't leave without me. Just let me get my coat and shoes and—"
"I need a little time, Blue."
Each word is clipped and cold and rips a hole in my chest.
"I don't want to ride back with you right now. If you don't remember the way, just give Okie his head. He knows how to get home."
She gives Lucy a light kick, and the horse disappears down the trail.
The Cabin
Blue
The cabin is full of what looks like hand-carved furniture and homemade quilts.
There’s an old-fashioned, wood-burning stove in the corner. A staircase made out of logs rises to a loft. I see a quilt-covered bed up there.
“I used to feel like nothing bad could reach me here,” Keegan says with a wistful sigh.
“I’d sit up there in the loft, or out on the porch, and write everything in my journal.”
She walks around, running her fingers over old photos hung on the log walls. Then she taps a black-and-white picture of a somber-looking girl with a long brown braid.
“That’s Virginia as a little girl, with her parents.”
I step closer to the picture and stare at it in amazement.
“She looks exactly like you,” I say. “Or you look exactly like her, I guess would be more accurate.”
Keegan groans. “Everybody says that,” she says. “I hate hearing it.”
Her eyes narrow as she stares at the picture.
“Apparently, Virginia had an awful childhood, even though by then, her family was rich, compared to most others in the area. But her dad was really mean. She was an only child, and he seemed to hate that she was a girl.”
She shakes her head and moves away from the picture.
“According to her, anyway,” she adds.
I spot another photo, this one a close-up of a pretty, smiling blonde on a horse. Next to the blonde is what looks like a much younger Mark Crenshaw, also on a horse.
“Is that your mother?” I ask.
Keegan nods and swallows hard, then puts her hand over mine so that our intermingled fingers rest on the picture.
“Yeah. Wasn’t she beautiful? My dad says he fell in love with her the first moment he saw her. At a bar named Keegan’s.”
She smirks. “It was after a rodeo, when my mom was still in high school, and she and a group of her friends used fake IDs to get in.”
The pained smile on her face makes my heart ache.
“My dad was there with some of the other bull riders,” she goes on. “He used to be really good, ’til he broke his back. And his leg, in two places. And a bunch of other bones.”
I’d noticed when Keegan’s dad got up from the Thanksgiving table that he walked slowly, with a limp.
“They named me after the place they met, and they named my brother after the place he was conceived. As in the back seat of a Buick.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “My parents.”
I let my arm drop from the photograph, but Keegan’s fingers continue to trace her mother’s face, her brows knitting into a pained frown.
“God,” she whispers, “I miss her so much.”
“Keegan.” I try to load the word with compassion as I run my hand down her back.
I don’t know what else to say. It makes me sad that I don’t have the same ache, that same sense that a piece of me is missing, when I think about my dad.
But we just didn’t have that kind of relationship.
“Virginia never forgave my dad for talking my mom into getting married right out of high school,” Keegan sighs, turning away from the pictures. “Mom never went to college, never got a chance to meet the ‘right’ kind of husband. Right in Virginia’s mind anyway.”
She piles her hair on top of her head before letting it cascade around her shoulders again.
That’s all it takes to make the crotch area of my pants tighter than a duck’s ass in a windstorm, as Monti used to say.
“When she found out they’d gotten married,” Keegan continues, “Virginia cut my mom off. They were really young, and then they had me and Buick right away, and neither one of my parents was very good at keeping a job or managing money, so we kept having to move.”
She takes a deep breath in and blows it out slowly, and I can’t stop staring at her luscious, plump lips.
She’s talking about her dead mother, and all I can think about is getting a blow job.
Classy, Blue.
I turn away slightly to try to hide my erection.
“They’d make up with Virginia, and she’d let us all move back here to the ranch. Then, after a while, they’d get in another huge fight, and we’d move out again. It went on like that for years. It was ridiculous.”
She shifts her gaze again to the picture of her grandmother as a little girl.
“They were on the outs again with Virginia when my mom started having all this pain. We had no health insurance.” Her mouth twists bitterly. “You know what it costs to get cancer treatment in this country if you have no health insurance?”
“Keegan.” I wish I could think of the right words to say.
She takes my arm and turns away from the pictures again.
“Mom waited too long to go to the doctor,” she says in a resigned tone. “She was worried about the bills. And then, when she was diagnosed, they waited way too long to tell Virginia about it. Mom didn’t want to ask her for the money.”
I start to say something soothing, but Keegan cuts in.
“I don’t know what they were thinking. They waited ’til we were about to be evicted from the trailer park we were living in. ’Til my mom was beyond saving. Virginia paid all the medical bills.
"God knows how much money that was. And just before Mom died, she made me and Buick move back to the ranch. But not my dad. She was so angry at him. That’s why I’m still shocked she invited him here for Thanksgiving.”
“She’s had some time to think about things,” I murmur. “Maybe she’s a better person now than she was then.”
Keegan gives me a look.
“Maybe. But if Virginia hadn’t been such a shit about them getting married to begin with, maybe things would’ve been different.”
Her voice hardens, then wavers. “Anyway. I don’t want to think about all that right now.”
She pulls me toward the back wall, where a faded black-and-white, clearly much older than the other pictures, hangs in an elaborate frame.
“Look at this one,” Keegan says. “These are my great, great grandparents, who founded the ranch back in 1893. Funny how no one smiled in pictures back then, huh?”
I peer at the woman in the photo, clothed head-to-toe in some god-awful black dress.
Even in the blurry picture, I can still see the family resemblance.
“She looks like you, too,” I say, reaching out for a strand of Keegan’s hair and twirling it around my finger. “A long line of strong, beautiful women. Too bad about the clothes they had to wear back then.”
That makes her smile. Then she shivers.
“I wish we had time to light the stove,” she says. “It really makes it cozy in here. But I don’t want to ride off worrying about the wood stove still being hot.”
She throws a seductive smile at me and tugs on my arm, guiding me up the log stairs.
“We’ll just have to think of another way to stay warm,” she adds.
Up in the loft, I look out through a circular window cut high up in the front wall of the cabin. I can see over the bluff to the gleaming river below. Beyond the river, hundreds of cattle are scattered across winter-brown pastures.
“This place is so cool,” I say.
Keegan runs her hand down my back.
“It means a lot to me, Blue, to show it to you. It’s always been important to me, and I wanted to share it with you. The way you...”
Her voice falters for a moment. “I know it’s not the same thing, but you shared something so personal with me, and I...”
I realize I’ve closed my eyes. I force them open and try to give her an encouraging smile.
“I guess it sounds silly,” she goes on, ruefully. “But I wanted this place to mean as much to you as it does to me.”
There it is again, that sweet, girlish tone in her voice that makes me want to sweep her up in my arms and never let her go.
At the same time, though, her words rankle a bit.
I know it’s irrational. It’s sure not Keegan’s fault that I’m such a headcase. But it feels like she has no real understanding of what happened in Afghanistan.
Like she just doesn’t get how bad it was, what I did.
“Blue.”
She’s watching me, a pained frown on her face, that wary look back in her eyes.
“Stop it. Stop thinking about what I know you’re thinking about.”
She grabs the front of my coat and yanks me to her, and I feel her breath on my cheek.
“Don’t think, Blue. Just act.”
“Keegan.” I’m shaking my head. I can barely get the words out. “You don’t understand.”
I catch the flash of anger on her face.
“I understand a lot more than you think,” she snaps.
Then she tears off my coat in one swift movement and crashes her lips into mine, giving me a long, deep kiss.
“Now warm me the fuck up.”
Rough Ride
Blue
She’s going to have to live with the consequences.
I can’t believe I said that with a straight face. Or that it took me a couple of hours to realize how nauseatingly hypocritical it was.
Megz the shoplifter needs to live with the consequences. But Blue, who got three good men killed and lied about it, gets off scot-free.
I keep hearing myself say those words. They get beat into my brain along with the sound of the horses’ pounding hooves. I can’t get away from them.
I spur my horse into a gallop to keep up with Keegan. I’m riding Buick’s gelding,
Okie. Keegan assured me her brother wouldn’t mind; I sure hope that’s true.
Buick hasn’t been overly friendly to me. He may not want me riding his prized horse.
The rough ride and my sick feeling of shame have turned my stomach. If I was alone, I’d probably stop the horse and vomit into the brown grass that covers the gently rolling hills as far as the eye can see.
Get yourself together, for fuck’s sake.
I try to focus on how good it feels to be out here, barreling across the prairie, enveloped by a clean, grassy, cow-shit-laced scent that smells like freedom.
I try not to think about anything else.
After about ten minutes, Keegan slows to a trot and turns east toward the river, following it for a couple of miles until she comes to a spot where the water is shallow.
She urges her horse across, and I follow, squinting into the late morning sun. The temperature has dropped dramatically.
On the other side, we break into a gallop again, racing up a heavily wooded hill.
When we reach the ridge, she slows, turning back to smile at me.
“We’re going down there.”
She points about a hundred yards down, where I see a rocky bluff jutting out beyond the trees.
Way below the bluff, I can see sun-speckled water.
“Is that the same river we just crossed?”
My words sound heavy, froggy, like I can barely get them out.
“Yep, it sure is,” Keegan responds, a proud smile in her voice.
Her breath is visible in the ice-cold air.
“The Illinois. It curves back around and runs under the bluff. See that old cabin down there?”
She points at a weathered A-frame that faces the bluff and is just visible through the trees.
“That’s where we’re going.”
I stare down where she pointed, trying to summon a smile.
“You okay?” Keegan is staring at me. “You look a little...off.”
I nod, twisting my face to the side so she can’t see it until I can blink back the goddamn tears that are threatening to spill down my cheeks.
I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me.
“I’m fine,” I manage to mutter. After a moment, I turn to give her a bright, fake smile.
“Any time I’m with you, baby, I’m always going to be fine.”
She grins, thankfully missing the false note I hear in my own voice and turns her mare, Lucy, down a steep, rocky path toward the cabin; my horse follows.
There’s a hitching post next to the cabin. We tie up our horses, then climb two log steps to reach the front porch.
“Wow,” I say, letting my gaze sweep over the cabin and then to the river and the sweeping prairie beyond. “This is beautiful.”
Keegan lifts her face into the weak winter sun and closes her eyes for a moment as a chilly north wind whips her hair around her head.
It feels like the weather is changing.
“My great, great grandfather built this cabin,” she says. “Virginia’s grandfather. This was the original homestead when they came here in the late 1800s.”
“Amazing,” I say.
“I wanted you to see it,” she goes on as I pull her into my arms. “It’s always been one of my favorite places. I used to ride out here and hide when I was upset or pissed or whatever. Or sometimes I’d just come here to think.”
“I get that,” I assure her. She sounds so young, like an innocent, idealistic kid, which is exactly what she is. Something I keep forgetting.
I kiss the top of her head and try to tamp down the bile rising from my stomach.
So many times in the weeks since I told Keegan what happened in Afghanistan, I’ve wished I kept my big mouth shut.
Even though she begged me to tell her; even if it meant that I would lose her. I should not have put that burden on her.
She’s been so supportive. And it helped me to get it out. Being able to talk to somebody about it felt like a load of bricks was lifted off my shoulders.
But what about what it’s done to Keegan? Or might do to her in the future? How on earth could I have been so selfish?
Sometimes when I wake up from another nightmare, or when a memory from that terrible day forces its way into my brain, I see the look on Keegan’s face.
I see the fear, the dread, the feeling of helplessness she lives with now. And I feel so fucking guilty.
She tightens her grip and tucks her face into my neck. It’s a loving, trusting gesture, but I can’t help letting out a gasp.
It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest.
Keegan pulls back and studies my face.
“You okay?” she asks again, frowning. “What’s up with you?”
She cups my cheek in her hand, and I almost burst into tears.
So, as usual, I deflect with lust. Playing the horny-ass cave man always helps change the subject.
“What’s up is me,” I growl, pulling her hard against me and grinding into her body.
“What’s up is that I want you. Right. Fucking. Now.”
Keegan laughs and stands on her tip toes to kiss me.
“Is there a bed inside this cabin, woman?” I ask, still acting like a Neanderthal. “Or should I just take you over to that stand of pine trees?”
“Hmm...” She strokes her chin like she’s thinking it over, her eyes twinkling.
“Doing it against a pine tree sounds kind of wild and crazy. Kind of exciting.”
Thankfully, she seems to have no idea I came close to totally falling apart.
“But maybe we’ll save that for when it’s a little warmer,” she adds with a teasing grin as she pushes open the cabin’s creaky wooden door. “Right now, I have a better idea.”
Tangled Up in You Know Who
Keegan
The early morning sun is lighting up my room when I open my eyes.
The fire has died, but the smoldering smell reaches me. It’s comforting, somehow.
Deep, regular breaths touch my shoulder. A leg is thrown over mine, and a pair of strong arms have me wrapped in a warm embrace.
I am tangled up in Blue.
I want to imprint on my memory the wonderfully heavy feel of his body coiled around mine. I want to spend the day right here.
But I’ve got an 8 a.m. meeting with Virginia Cooke.
I stretch my hand to the nightstand to check the time on my phone. It’s 7:35; I’ve got just enough time to clean up a little before I walk into the lion’s den.
I’d half-heartedly tried to talk to my grandmother about Megz when we first got here Wednesday night.
She gave me a sharp, assessing look when I said my friend’s name and suggested it was a conversation better left until after Thanksgiving Day.
I didn’t have the nerve to argue.
Then she said she could see me at 8 sharp Friday morning, penciling me into one of the leather-bound planners she’s used forever.
I slip out of Blue’s embrace, careful not to wake him.
He looks so peaceful in his sleep, so untroubled. That’s not always the case.
I sigh as I head for the shower.
A few minutes later, my wet hair slicked back and wearing yoga pants and a wrinkled hoodie, I head downstairs.
The light under her office door tells me Virginia is already there.
I knock, and as I enter at her summons, I wonder what it’s like to have a more normal grandma: a pillowy soft one who fills the house with the smell of baking cookies and makes you feel like you’re the center of the universe.
I can tell by the slight curl of her lip as I slouch into the office that my grandmother does not approve of my attire.
Even at home, even on a holiday, Virginia Cooke is dressed immaculately, her only concession to informality being a pair of tailored wool slacks and what could almost be described as comfortable shoes.
Uncharacteristically, she doesn’t mention how I look.
She does, of course, let out a resigned sigh to signal her displeasure as I slip into one of the elaborately carved chairs in front of her desk.
Even more surprisingly, Virginia doesn’t bring up Blue. I’d expected her to start yelling about me dating—and, as she quickly figured out, living with—Bill Daniels’ son.
Yesterday, I thought I was going to have to lunge across the Thanksgiving table to keep her from tearing Blue’s eyes out.
But now, she’s just sitting there wearily, waiting for me to go on.
“So...um...Megz has a problem.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “See, well, she was arrested.”
My grandmother’s lips compress into a tight line, and her gaze hardens to stone as I tell her the whole story, ending with Megz’s request for help getting the charges dropped.
Virginia doesn’t say anything for several moments, just lets her eyes stab into me, her veiny hands clasped together on the desk.
She’s wearing her grandmother’s wedding ring on her right hand, where she moved it the day her divorce was finalized.
As far as I know, she never takes it off.
The rose-cut diamond flashes as her fingers tense.
“Keegan,” she finally sighs with a disparaging shake of her head, glancing out the window toward the river that meanders past the ranch’s main house.
I can feel the lecture that’s coming, and already, I’m pissed and defensive.
“Meghan has always used you. Always been able to manipulate you.”
“You know what, just forget it,” I snarl, throwing up my hands just as Virginia’s Siamese cat jumps into my lap.
One of my hands knocks into the side of his head.
“Oh, sorry, Boots,” I murmur, holding the cat as he lets out a couple of cranky meows.
I hadn’t even noticed Boots before. He must have been curled up in the chair in the corner.
He gives me an arch look that’s remarkably like the one his owner is directing at me as I take a deep breath.
Virginia and I start speaking at the same time.
“I really don’t need—”
“You should grow up and see things—”
We both fall silent. Now it’s my grandmother’s turn to inhale a calming breath.
“I’m not going to save Meghan from the consequences of her own actions,” she says firmly. “I’m sorry if that upsets you.”
I lick my dry lips and then start speaking slowly, trying to keep my words measured.
“She’ll lose her scholarship. She...you know what her life has been like.”
Virginia gives me a disgusted look.
“Keegan. Stop making excuses for her. She earned a full scholarship to OU. She did that on her own. She had a bright future in front of her.”
Boots jumps off my lap and disappears behind the desk.
“And then she threw it all away.”
“She made a mistake,” I plead, hating the whine in my voice. “Like we all have. But unlike us, Megz can’t just buy her way out of her mistakes. Or have someone powerful pull strings to get her out of it. People like us always get second chances. Why shouldn’t she?”
We’re glaring at each other.
“Megz is my friend,” I go on. “You could easily make the charges go away. You could easily help if you wanted to.”
The weariness in Virginia’s eyes is gone, replaced by a spark of anger.
“Yes,” she says evenly. “Most likely I could. But I won’t.”
I roll my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.
“And for the record, Keegan,” she continues, “if it was you in this situation, I wouldn’t save you from the consequences of your actions either.”
I flounce out of the room, barely resisting the urge to slam the door like a petulant teenager.
Blue is building a fire when I walk back into my bedroom.
He’s wearing only a pair of sweatpants, and the sight of his muscular, scarred back sends a flood of conflicting emotions through me: the lust I always feel at the sight of him; pain, at the thought of all he has gone through; and fear of what the guilt that I sometimes see etched on his face might do to him.
What it might do to us.
“Hey.”
He smiles as he straightens and slides the poker into the brass bin next to the fireplace.
“You disappeared on me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“I wanted you to sleep. I had a meeting with my grandmother.”
A quizzical look crosses his face. “A meeting?”
I nod, wondering why I didn’t tell Blue about the whole Megz thing earlier.
“Aw,” I say, turning toward the bed, glad for the distraction, “you even made the bed. What a good boyfriend you are.”
I raise a seductive eyebrow at him as I flip back the covers and crawl in.
“How about we mess it up again?”
I don’t have to ask twice. Blue is across the room in a second and sliding in next to me.
He threads his fingers through mine and raises my arms above my head. Then he kisses me: long and slow and delicious.
“Maybe we should be a little quieter than we were last night,” he quips. “I’m kinda surprised your grandma didn’t send Buick and some of the ranch hands up here to drag me out to the barn for some country justice.”
We laugh together for a minute and then fall silent. Blue drags a finger over my lips and down my neck.
I feel his erection against my hip.
But then he pulls back and studies my face. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod, brushing his mouth with mine before pulling myself into a sitting position. I can’t put off telling him any longer.
“I need to talk to you.”
The way his face freezes in dread has me rushing to explain.
“No. It’s nothing like that. It’s about Megz.”
For the second time this morning, I spell out the whole shoplifting story, adding a little rant about my grandmother’s refusal to help.
Unlike Virginia, though, Blue doesn’t start lecturing me.
Instead, he stares at the ceiling for a few moments without saying anything.
“Did not see that coming,” he finally mutters, playing with a strand of my still-damp hair.
“You mean Megz shoplifting or Virginia refusing to help?”
“Megz. I’m not at all surprised Madame Ball Breaker wouldn’t bail her out.”
He grins as he sits up next to me. The old wooden headboard groans under our combined weight.
“Sorry. That’s what my dad used to call her. He meant it as an insult. But I don’t. She’s a tough old bird. She’s gotten to the top in an old boys’ club. I admire that, even if she does hate my guts.”
He sighs and runs his fingers through my hair.
“And the thing is,” he adds, “I think she’s right on this, Keegan. She shouldn’t make the charges go away. And Megz shouldn’t have asked you to fix it for her.”
My phone buzzes from the nightstand while I’m still processing Blue’s response. I stretch my hand out to check it.
A text from Megz.
Well??????????
“Shit,” I say, showing the phone to Blue. “I don’t know what to tell her.”
“Tell her the truth. She’s going to have to live with the consequences.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I type out a response.
She said no. I’m sorry. I’m still at the ranch, but let’s talk on Sunday ok? We’ll figure something out. It’ll be ok.
I add several kissy face emojis. Then I erase them.
Then I let my thumbs hover over the lines for several seconds, but before finally pressing Send.
Megz doesn’t respond.
Blue and I sit there in silence a while, holding hands and staring at the crackling fire.
After a few moments, I hear voices out in the hallway.
“Probably Buick and Kendra,” I scoff, pushing Blue down on his back and curling into his body, my head on his chest.
“He was planning to take her on a drive around the ranch this morning. I can’t get my head around it. My brother and Kendra? They have absolutely nothing in common.”
Blue’s chest vibrates with laughter.
“Yeah. That’s another thing I did not see coming,” he says. “But hey, to each his own.”
He tilts my chin up and grins at me.
“Told you not to bring her.”
He shuts off my protest by kissing me.
That quickly leads to more kissing and before I know it, Blue is tugging my hoodie and yoga pants off, and I’m helping him shuck his sweatpants.
I straddle him, enjoying the way his face goes slack with desire.
He’s focused entirely on me as I slide on to him, both of us gasping at the same moment.
And then I take it slow, rocking back and forth, smiling as Blue’s mouth forms an O and he says my name like I’ve just performed a miracle.
I could listen to him say it like that forever.
“Pretty sure this is my favorite position,” I coo.
We go on like that for a few more moments, until Blue suddenly flips me over on my back and drives into me as I shriek, not even caring who hears us.
“This position is very nice, too, you have to admit,” he whispers, grinning wickedly.
Later, sated, he tightens his arms around me, inhaling the scent of my hair.
“I’m starving,” he says. “How about we raid the kitchen for leftovers?”
I raise up on an elbow, suddenly seized by a desire to share something with Blue that I’ve always kept private.
“Do you know how to ride?” I ask.
“You mean, a horse?” he responds, surprised at my abrupt change of topic. “Yeah, I took lessons in middle school. My dad seemed to think it was necessary.”
“Will you come riding with me after we eat?” I continue, getting out of bed and reaching for my hoodie. “There’s something I want to show you.”
If Looks Could Kill
Blue
If looks could kill, I would have died right there at Virginia Cooke’s Thanksgiving table. I thought my old man was good at freezing people out.
But he had nothing on Keegan’s grandma. It felt like the blood in my veins turned to ice the moment she realized who I was.
“You’re Bill Daniels’ son?” she snarled. “Bill Daniels of Bootstrap Enterprises?”
I’d just shoved a forkful of turkey and stuffing into my mouth, and I almost choked as she glared at me like I was a rodent scurrying across the floor.
When I managed to nod in response to her question, I half-expected her to throw me out right then and there. I think Keegan did, too.
Keegan’s face turned red, and she glared at her grandmother so ferociously I almost laughed. I’ve never seen her that angry.
The irony is that the two are almost mirror images of each other. They have the same features, the same coloring; even some of their mannerisms are the same.
Truth is, Keegan looks like a softer, younger version of Virginia Cooke. Much softer and much younger. But still. The resemblance is remarkable.
I plan to keep that observation to myself, though. Keegan would probably kill me if I said that to her.
I’m sneaking up to her room from the downstairs guest room, trying to find spots where the old wooden stairs don’t creak loud enough to wake the dead.
I didn’t have the guts to just brazenly share a room with her at the ranch. Not with her grandmother, father, and brother all staring after us when we said good night a couple of hours ago.
Oklahoma’s most powerful politician would really shit bricks if she knew my complicated sexual history with both Keegan and Kendra. Buick might not be too pleased either. So here I am, sneaking around like a horny teenager.
A cranky meow startles me, and I have to grab the railing to keep from tumbling over. It’s Virginia’s standoffish Siamese. The cat’s eerie blue eyes flash at me as he rushes through my legs and down the hall.
Virginia’s room is the closest to the top of the stairs. It would be my luck to wake her while I’m trying to slip into her granddaughter’s bed. The woman’s probably got a hit man on speed dial.
If I was smart, I’d be running for my life right now. But I’m not smart; I’m in love. And not even Virginia Cooke is going to chase me away.
Max—no doubt smelling the cat—starts barking from Keegan’s room, and I scramble the rest of the way to her door. “Max!” I hiss as I ease the door closed. “Be qu—” The words die on my lips.
Because all my mind—and my suddenly raging cock—can focus on is the gloriously naked girl sitting on the canopy bed in front of me, the flames from the room’s fireplace throwing flickering shadows on her skin. She’s smiling; she’s obviously been waiting for me.
She shakes her hair, and it cascades over her shoulder, over one breast. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Every once in a while, I seem to step out of myself, like those near-death experiences you hear about where somebody’s spirit rises out of their body and lingers, watching what’s going on.
Not to get too mystical, but that’s how it feels: like some other Blue steps out of my body and stands there looking at the other me, the one who is standing here gawking at Keegan.
And that other, shimmery Blue—the one without a hard-on, the one with a functioning brain—thinks: You will remember this moment for the rest of your life.
The same thing—except that it was one of the worst moments of my life instead of one of the best—happened to me back in Aziza’s village, when I felt the muzzle of the AK-47 pressing into my side.
In the hours that followed, it sometimes felt like I was outside my body, watching what was happening to it.
My back burns as the two moments—past and present—become intertwined. Not that I notice my back much at first. I’ve turned into a walking, throbbing penis.
But after I whip off my shirt and lift Keegan into my arms, she puts her hands on my back, and I can’t help crying out.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “I didn’t mean to—“
“It’s okay.” I kiss her. “You didn’t.” I carry her over to the fireplace, dropping down on my knees and laying her gently on the plush white carpet.
Ignoring my sizzling scars, I pull off my jeans and underwear, kicking them aside.
My mouth finds Keegan’s breast, sliding to the nipple, where I let my tongue linger as she arches her back and moans. I move to the other breast, nuzzling the side nearest the fire.
The skin’s warmer there, kind of smoky tasting.
She moans again and says my name, and I close my eyes, biting my lip so hard I taste blood. Better blood than the tears threatening to spill all over her body.
Just the sound of my name coming from her lips is enough to make me want to cry.
Fucking hell. Act like a man.
“Keegan.” I fall on top of her, kissing her mouth, chin, neck, stomach, running my hands and my face through her hair, dragging my lips down, all the way down, until my breath exhales against her thighs.
My tongue searches for the spot I’ve learned sends shudders throughout her body. And after a few minutes of working my magic, a bolt of electricity seems to lift her off the floor.
I fucking love being able to do that to her.
After a few more delicious moments, I stretch out above her. We’re both panting as I stare into Keegan’s eyes. They glow, reflecting the fire next to us. They’re soft, happy, full of life. So different from her grandma’s cold, dead gaze.
“Keegan.” I’m not even fully aware of forming words; they just seem to suddenly be there between us. “I never want this to end. I never want us to end.”
She melts her lips against mine.
“I love you,” I add, clenching her hands in mine and rolling on to my back, pulling her on top of me and closing my eyes as her hair tickles my cheeks. “Keegan.” There’s a tremor in my voice.
She kisses me and gives me that beautiful, soft smile.
“I never want this feeling between us to end,” I go on as she kisses me again.
“I love you, too, Blue,” she whispers. Her smile deepens she slides her body down mine.
Until, suddenly, I’m inside her, where it’s so unbelievably warm and tight and all-encompassing.
God, it’s the best feeling in the world.
I want to be far inside Keegan, so far that I stop being me, at least the me that ever has to be apart from her.
Several times in the last month, I’ve lain awake, wishing I’d never told her my deep, dark secret. I hated myself for being so weak that I needed to unburden myself to her, even if she insisted she wanted to hear it.
But other times, like right now, it feels so good to know she loves me, just as I am. To have nothing unsaid and unknown between us.
I don’t want to be the phony with a burning back. I don’t want to be Blue the failed hero.
Blue the lying coward. I want to start over. And when I’m with Keegan, when I’m inside and a part of her, I believe I can do that. I believe I can do anything. I believe I can put the past behind me.
“Keegan.” I can’t seem to stop talking.
She shushes me by lifting her head and, at the same time, grinding into me, and I make some kind of cartoonish wolf howling sound.
I think I do anyway. Or maybe I just hear it in my head.
We move together then, a slow sensual rhythm that Keegan is completely in charge of. I watch her—eyes closed, lips parted, hair falling across her face, almost oblivious to my presence—this girl who only a few months ago had been so uncertain and inexperienced.
Now she is using me as a very willing sex toy.
Keegan’s eyelids flutter, and she’s gasping, running her hands through her hair, down her neck, over her own breasts as flame shadows dance across them. She says my name, over and over.
I can’t hold off any longer; I stop thinking clearly. I know I call out Keegan’s name more than once. It’s blinding, white-hot bliss. And it’s loud.
But in that moment, neither of us cares.
Back at the Ranch
Keegan
I study Blue’s profile as he drives: strong jaw, straight nose, thick black eyelashes. And that talented mouth; just looking at it leaves me throbbing.
He slows the Coupe to exit the highway. The entrance to the Cooke Ranch is about five miles ahead down a winding county road.
Blue turns down the Swiftie playlist I put together last night. I’d been determined not to listen to Frasier Bryson on the trip to my grandmother’s place.
“Sorry to interrupt this estrogen infusion,” Blue drawls. “But I just want to ask you one more time, are you sure—”
“Yes, Blue,” I interrupt, turning the music back up, “I am absolutely certain it’s okay with my grandmother that you come for Thanksgiving. She’s totally fine with it.”
Okay, that’s a lie. She is so not fine with it. But I told her I wouldn’t come if she didn’t allow me to bring Blue.
And Kendra. Yeah, Kendra’s in the backseat. She’s currently dozing, her head leaning against Max. Of course we had to bring him, too.
All my relationships seem to be changing. My friendship with Megz has soured. We haven’t talked or texted since she hung up on me. I’m so pissed at her. I can’t believe she got herself into this situation. I still plan to ask my grandmother to help her, but I have no idea how that will go.
Virginia and I butt heads over everything. Even though lately, it does seem she’s trying to make things better between us, it’s hard for me to trust her. She’s pulled so much manipulative shit over the years.
My relationship with Blue is good. Really good. But we haven’t talked about the Afghanistan thing—his secret—at all. I can’t quite figure out how to bring it up. I think about it a lot though. I’ve filled pages of my journal trying to work out my thoughts—and fears—over what he told me.
Sometimes I catch him looking at me with the strangest expression on his face. Like he’s drowning, and I’m standing a few feet away, doing nothing to help him. It makes me shiver to see it, but I haven’t said anything to him about that either. I guess I don’t want to dig any deeper; I want to enjoy how things are with us right now.
And then there’s my relationship with Kendra. She shocked me the day after the Halloween party when she apologized for what happened on the deck.
“I’m not as big a bitch as everyone thinks,” she mumbled. “I know it’s not your fault Blue wants you instead of me.”
I just stood there with my mouth open.
“He never told me anything about what happened to him,” she added, bitterly. “He never let me in at all.”
Kendra and I aren’t exactly friends now. But we’re not sworn enemies either. At least I don’t think we are. When I found out Kendra had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, I invited her to the ranch.
Blue was not happy. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sputtered, throwing his arms up and stepping back, then tripping over Max.
“Dammit, Max, watch where you’re going!”
The dog and I gave Blue our sternest you’ve-got-to-be-kidding looks. But he ignored our silent rebuke.
We’re spending two nights at the ranch. Then we’re going to drop Kendra off before going to Tulsa for a delayed Thanksgiving with Blue’s mom. I’d suggested we invite her to the ranch as well, even though I hadn’t cleared that with Virginia. But I hadn’t even finished my sentence before Blue started shaking his head.
“She’s going on some trip with this widows group she belongs to,” he said, his face tightening like it always does when he talks about his mother. “They go away for Thanksgiving every year.”
Secretly, I was relieved Blue’s mom already had plans. I want her to have a good first impression of me. And I have no idea how much drama might be served up at my grandmother’s table this year. It feels like a big step that Blue and I are meeting each other’s families. I’m nervous about it.
My phone buzzes; it’s a text from Megz. Sorry KeeKee. I know I’m the world’s biggest bitch. And a fool. I wanted those girls to accept me so much I just lost my mind. None of them know I’m a foster kid.
The three dots on the phone tell me she’s typing more.
I sigh and shake my head, staring out the car window at the gentle hills and pastureland we’re driving through. Everything we can see belongs to my grandmother.
In the distance, I spot one of the herds of wild horses the government pays her to keep on the ranch.
When I was about 12 and crazy about horses, I used to dream about somehow getting close enough to make friends with one of them. I’d picture myself racing across the plains at breakneck speed on my beautiful, spirited mare. But those horses were meant to stay wild.
My phone dings again: Thanks so much for asking your grandma to help me. I owe you one. I won’t forget it babe!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
I decide not to answer right away. It feels like Megz is using me; I don’t know what to think.
“You okay?” Blue is glancing back and forth between the road and me.
I haven’t told him about Megz yet.
He runs a finger down my cheek, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingertips brush one of the beautiful diamond earrings he gave me for my birthday.
I’d tried to insist they were way too expensive, and I couldn’t accept them, but he insisted. And who am I kidding? I love them.
I’ve just opened my mouth to respond to Blue’s question when Kendra makes a vomiting sound from the back seat. “You know,” she says, sitting up straighter and stretching her arms over her head, “I’m trying to be better about this.”
She does a little circle with her finger to include me and Blue. “But do you two have to be so all puke-inducing right in front of me?”
Max gives a short bark as if he agrees with Kendra, and she hugs him.
Blue rolls his eyes and shoots an I-told-you-so side-eye at me.
“You getting enough heat back there?” I ask Kendra, holding my hand in front of the vents and ignoring her comment. The temperature dropped overnight; a light snow has been falling all morning.
“Yeah,” Kendra responds, snuggling into Max. “I’m fine. I just...holy shit.” She’s staring open-mouthed at the massive gate looming before us.
I’ve seen the ranch entrance so many times, it doesn’t even register. But I have to admit it’s pretty impressive. Huge logs make up all three sides, and they are set in stone bases.
A large, wrought-iron sign—Cooke Ranch—hangs from the top. The Cooke brand is carved into each log, along with 1893, the date the ranch was established.
Blue pulls through the gate and follows the road as it climbs a ridge and then curves around a hill. It has stopped snowing. The sun’s just broken through the clouds, and the river that winds through Rosewood Valley sparkles in the sunlight. Even in the winter, with the grass a dull brown and the trees stripped of leaves, it’s a beautiful sight.
On the banks of the river, the main house twinkles with the Christmas decorations Virginia always has the ranch hands put up in early November. In this weather, all the fireplaces will be blazing, and the inside will be as beautifully decorated as the outside.
Despite my conflicted feelings about its owner, I love the ranch as much as my brother does. As much as my mother did. It’s the only place I’ve ever really thought of as home.
“Your family owns this?” Kendra whistles. “Jesus.” She unbuckles her seat belt and leans her forearms on the front seats. “Must be nice.” She sounds a bit like Megz: jealous, resentful.
I guess I take it all for granted. I don’t feel privileged, but I guess I am.
“Hey,” Blue asks as we near the house, “what about your grandfather? I never hear you mention him.”
“I’ve never met him,” I respond. “He left Virginia before I was ever born, when my mom was just a little kid. The ranch belonged to her family, not his.” I stare at the series of barns behind the main house, thinking about how Buick and I used to play there for hours.
“He went back to New York. Told Virginia he’d only married her for her money, and it wasn’t worth it to him anymore.”
“Ouch,” Kendra murmurs.
There’s a lot more to the story, but it can wait until another time.
I point toward one of the barns, which has an open garage door. “Pull in there. The heat’ll be on, and you can leave the car there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Blue drawls. Suddenly he’s talking like Cowboy Blue; it’s cute. He shuts off the car inside the barn, and I’m slipping my socked feet back into my boots when Kendra grips my shoulder.
“Who is that?” she hisses.
I turn to look at her, surprised, then direct my gaze out the front windshield. My brother Buick is standing in the back of a pickup on the other side of the barn, pulling down bales of hay from a stack that rises to the ceiling. He’s shirtless and seriously bulked up since the last time I saw him.
He pauses to wipe sweat off his face. Virginia always wants the heat up too high, even in the barn.
“That’s my brother.”
Kendra pivots so she can see herself in the rear-view mirror, running a finger under her eyes and smoothing her hair into place.
“Why didn’t you tell me you have a brother who looks like that?” she barks. “Did I ever tell you I’ve always had a thing for cowboys?”
Blue snorts as I open the door.
I’ve heard girls go on about Buick for years. But I didn’t expect Kendra to be one of them. “He’s a lot younger than you,” I tell her as we all step out of the car.
“So?”
“And he...well, he has a lot of issues.” I feel bad telling her that. Kind of.
Her withering glare makes me flush with shame. But I don’t want her messing with my brother.
“Who doesn’t?” she snaps.
Buick jumps from the truck bed to the ground. He’s grinning at me, and I look down at the hay-covered floor, suddenly unable to meet my brother’s gaze. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately.
About how I treated him when he got into trouble. How cold I was to him when our mother died. He’s made a lot of mistakes, and he’s been through a lot. And I wasn’t there for him.
I can be a selfish, judgmental jerk sometimes.
I rush toward Buick and throw my arms around him. When he squeezes me back, I feel a rush of relief and regret and love for my little brother.
“Hey, sis.”
I can barely respond. “Hey.” And then the tears come. We stand there, my forehead tucked into his chest. Finally, I pull back and look up at him. “How are you?”
He smiles. “I’m okay. Better than I’ve been in a while.”
I wipe my eyes, clearing them in time to see Kendra doing this strange little sashay across the barn floor toward us. Toward Buick. What the hell?
I introduce them, and Buick puts his hand out to shake hers. It’s painfully obvious Kendra would like to jump my brother’s bones. I’m embarrassed for her. Good grief.
What is she thinking?
I take a step back toward Blue, and he curls an arm around me. “I should have listened to you about bringing Kendra,” I whisper. “Look at the way she is acting around my brother.”
“Pretty sure he can take care of himself,” Blue responds, his teeth nipping my ear and his hand wandering down to squeeze my ass. “Let’s talk about how you are going to take care of me. Or vice versa. I can’t wait ’til bedtime.”
I’m blushing. And smiling. “Me either.” I’m waiting for Kendra to finish prattling on to Buick so I can introduce him to Blue. But then I hear footsteps.
Virginia strides into the barn, wrapped in a Pendleton blanket, that disapproving look on her face.
“Oh shit, here we go,” I mutter.
Blue squeezes me against him. “Steady.”
A Call From Megz
Three weeks later...
Keegan
I hear my Megz ringtone—Calm Your Tits by The Offsailors—just as I hit Submit on my story. Stretching across the table in the newsroom to grab my phone, I send up a quick prayer that Megz isn’t in one of her prickly moods. I’m feeling good, and I don’t feel like tangling with her.
After the Sorenson debacle, I’ve been eager for another front-page opportunity. And last week, I got it. Jason assigned me a story involving possible wrongdoing in the Ikana Admissions office.
It’s evolved into a series of stories that will require a lot of digging, a lot of lead-following. It’s exactly what I wanted. And I don’t think my grandmother could in any way be involved.
There’s been a weird silence between me and Megz since Halloween. No calls. Only a couple of texts. I’ve picked up the phone a few times to check on her, see if she’s ready to tell me whatever it was she was holding back.
It’s been bugging me, though I can’t pin down exactly why. But something feels off.
Each time, though, I’ve put the phone back down. I guess I feel like the ball is in her court, and she’ll tell me when she’s ready. Maybe she’s ready now.
“Hey!” I say, pressing the phone to my ear, “I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”
“Yeah, right back at ya, bitch.” It’s one of Megz’s standard lines and normally a sign she’s in a playful mood. But this time, there’s a flat, sour edge to her voice.
“You okay?” I ask. “What’s up?” I put my feet up on the table, glad the newsroom is deserted so we can speak freely.
Most of Ikana’s students left town last weekend. I guess I’m the only one crazy enough to still be working two days before Thanksgiving.
Megz still hasn’t said anything.
“Megz?” More silence. This is not like her. “Okay, now you’re kinda scaring me,” I say, only half in jest.
“Keekee.” Her voice wobbles.
What the hell?
“I need your help.” In all the time we’ve spent together, Megz has never once asked for my help. Not that I can remember, anyway. I pull my feet off the desk and sit up straight, clutching the phone tighter.
“Megz, of course. What’s going on?”
For a few long moments, all I hear is the soft sound of her crying. “Megz?” My mouth feels dry, and my heart is thudding. “Did someone hurt you? Tell me. I’ll help you.”
She lets out a harsh laugh. “No one hurt me.” After another long pause, she sighs heavily. “I fucked up, Keekee. Big time.”
What on earth is she talking about? I hear her take a deep breath.
“I got arrested,” she says on the exhale. “For shoplifting. At Nordstrom’s. Like, for a lot of stuff. I kept going back into the store and bringing more shit out, and I kept it all in the car I was borrowing. They caught me with all of it.”
My mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but no sound comes out.
“So fucking stupid,” she adds.
I’m stunned. This is so totally not what I was expecting.“What are you talking about?”
I finally manage to say. “Why on earth would you be shoplifting?”
Another harsh laugh. “Why on earth?” Megz scoffs, suddenly sounding furious. “What do you mean, why on earth, Keekee? Why do you think I would do it?”
I’m stunned into silence again.
“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t need to do it. You wouldn’t have any clue what it’s like to be somebody who has to do that. You’ve never had a clue.”
I drag my hand down my face in frustration.
“I told you all the shit I needed for AChiO,” Megz goes on, a whine creeping into her voice. “I told you how expensive it is.”
For a moment, I can’t even make my mouth form words. But then I tear into her. “And your only option was to steal to stay in some stupid sorority?” I slap the table in front of me, then shove my chair away from it. “Give me a fucking break!”
Megz is silent; I can hear her breathing over the phone.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” I go on. “I could have found at least some of the money you needed. Somehow.”
“Because I didn’t want to ask you for help, Kee,” she snaps. “I didn’t want to have to beg from you or anybody. I know all your money comes from Granny Dearest. I didn’t want to put you in that position.”
I make a disgusted sound.
“I didn’t think I needed to,” she adds, defiantly. “Cause I was good at it. The shoplifting. I’ve been doing it for months, getting all kinds of great shit.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this; I can’t believe the note of triumph in her voice. “Well, gee, you weren’t that good at it, though, were you?” I snarl. “Since you got caught.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath as a door slams in the background of the dorm or wherever she is.
“Jesus, Megz,” I go on, blinking back sudden tears. “I could have helped you somehow. There had to be an answer that didn’t involve you turning into a goddamn criminal.”
For a second, I regret saying that; but only for a second. “What the hell makes being in a sorority worth all this, huh?” I’m frustrated by her silence. “Seriously. What is the big deal?”
She still doesn’t respond.
I look at my watch; I told Blue I’d be back at the house by now. We’re going on a run together.
Things have been so good between me and Blue for the last three weeks. We’ve gotten so close that when I’m not with him, it almost feels like I can’t breathe.
Like I’m only half alive.
Right now, I desperately wish he was here with me.
“So why did you say you need my help,” I ask, “since you’ve got it all figured out?” I guess I’m deliberately trying to provoke her, get her to speak up.
Megz probably won’t go to jail, not if it’s the first time she’s been arrested. But she’ll still have a criminal record unless the charges are dropped.
She’s going to need a lawyer, and that could end up costing her thousands of dollars. I know that, even if she doesn’t yet.
Like she said: So fucking stupid. As mad as I am at her, though, I want to help if I can. We’re friends. But there’s only one place I could get that kind of money.
“It’s not just about the money, Kee,” she finally says, her voice more tearful and less defiant now. “I can probably borrow that from...various people.”
I don’t even want to know who she means.
“I need your grandmother’s help, her...influence.”
What the hell is she talking about?
“I tried to get them to drop the charges,” Megz goes on, the self-pity in her voice grating on my nerves. “But they won’t. I’m probably going to be convicted.”
She sniffs a couple of times, and I hear someone on her end yelling something about beer pong.
“Even if I pay all the fines and stuff,” she adds, her voice lowered, “it’ll be reported to the group that pays my scholarship.”
Oh shit. Now I know what she’s asking for.
“It’s in the contract I signed, Keegan,” she cries. “They’re very strict about it. Any criminal conviction means I lose my scholarship. The whole thing.”
“Megz—”
“Your grandma is the only person I know of who could make the charges go away.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I don’t know if I meant to say that out loud. But seriously, what the fuck? The last thing I want to do is try to get Virginia to bail out the girl she’s always insisted was nothing but trouble.
“Megz,” I groan, “I have no idea if she will agree to do it. Hell, Virginia might make sure they send you to jail and throw away the key.” Another pause. I can feel her frustration.
“She’ll do it if you ask her,” she says evenly after another moment of silence, “if you make it clear how important it is to you. I know she will. You told me yourself she seems to be trying to repair your relationship.”
I wish now I hadn’t told Megz that. It’s true, Virginia has invited me and, surprisingly, my dad, for Thanksgiving. My brother went to work for her at the ranch after I left for college. So he’ll be there, too. Virginia even went along, after putting up a fuss, with my insistence that I wouldn’t come unless I could bring Blue.
She might just be trying once again to stir up family drama. But I really want to see my brother. Things have been strained between us for a long time. And I’ve missed the ranch a lot more than I thought I would.
“You’re going to see her tomorrow, right?” Megz prompts, breaking into my thoughts. “You’re spending Thanksgiving there?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, I’ll see her tomorrow.”
I stand and push the chair under the table, picking up my backpack and shutting off the lights. I need to get back to the house. “Look, Megz, I will ask her. I will do my best to get her to do it.”
“Thank you, Keekee.”
“And if she says no,” I go on, firmly, “we’ll find some other way. If you lose your scholarship, it won’t be the end of the world. We’ll—”
“It will be the end of my world!” she suddenly screams into the phone, stunning me. “How can you not see that? It will be the end of my whole fucking life!”
And she hangs up.
Something to Say
Keegan
Megz is out on the roof. I nudge my bedroom door open further with my foot, then walk in slowly so I don’t spill the two cups of coffee I’m carrying.
“Hey there,” I call out, “I’ve got coffee.”
She turns at my words and stretches her arm through the open window to take one of the cups.
“You read my mind, KeeKee. God, do I need coffee.” Her voice is hoarse, and her face, squinting into the rising sun, looks a little tense.
My face probably looks the same. I’m already wondering if I should have stayed in Blue’s room and forced him to keep talking to me.
At the very least, maybe I should have insisted on giving him a big, comforting hug. Why didn’t I refuse to leave his side?
He asked me to leave, so I left. Now I regret it. But I don’t have the guts to go back to his room right now. Instead, I just want to talk to my best friend.
I’m not going to tell her Blue’s secret. As much as I would like to unburden myself, I understand I can’t tell Megz or anyone else.
If I did, and the story got out, Blue could get into serious trouble. I know that. But I also know just talking to Megz will make me feel better; it always has.
I crouch and step through the window, grateful for the warm air on my skin. Oklahoma weather is always topsy-turvy. One day, you’re in the middle of a blizzard; the next, you’re reaching for a pair of shorts.
I sit beside Megz on the roof and take a sip of my coffee, staring at her tie-dyed pajama bottoms. I have a matching set that are around here somewhere; we bought them together sophomore year.
“Sorry about last night,” I say, curling my free arm around shoulders. “I didn’t mean to abandon you.”
She’s staring into the rust-colored leaves of the oak tree, seemingly preoccupied. For a moment, I’m not sure she heard me. Then she smiles and clutches my hand in hers.
“No worries, bestie,” she says, slanting her eyes at me. “Hunter and I hung out for a little while, got to know each other.”
“Did you—?” I ask, shooting up my eyebrows.
Megz laughs and shakes her head, taking another sip. “We just made out. We didn’t even get close to, you know, actual fucking.”
Her lips hover over the steaming coffee for a second. Her tone is light, but her expression is something different.
“I just wasn’t into it,” she adds with a shrug. “Had other things on my mind.” She nudges me and makes a face. “And since you were off boffing the rock star, I decided to get a good night’s sleep in your bed.”
I give her a faint smile. I’ll just let her think I was having sex with Blue all night.
It’s too complicated to explain about Jason and the profile and Kendra’s bullshit. Not to mention Blue’s gut-wrenching story. My head is still spinning over all of it.
Megz lets out a long sigh and gives me a sidelong glance; it feels like she wants to say something else.
“Everything okay?” I prompt.
She doesn’t respond, just stares into the tree again.
After a few moments, I change the subject, pointing at the compact red car that’s parked in front of the house.
“Hey, is that yours?” I’ve never seen it before; far as I know, Megz has never had a car.
It’s one of the things that really bugged her in high school. It bugged her even more when everyone else headed off to college in some kind of vehicle.
As long as I’ve known her, Megz has always had some kind of job. But the money she earned ended up having to go to other things. Like rent, after she was able to live on her own when she turned 17.
She used to borrow my car a lot. She even got into a minor accident with it once, and Virginia hit the roof over that, even though it was none of her business. No one asked her to pay for the repairs.
My grandmother disliked Megz from the first time she met her. She started calling her “trash” almost as soon as our friendship began. Just thinking about that now makes me squeeze my eyes closed for a second.
Nobody can make me as furious as Virginia Cooke.
“Nah, it’s not my car, Kee,” Megz answers my question as I open my eyes. “I borrowed it from a friend at school. Just to come see you.”
She brushes a strand of hair out of her mouth, and the bracelet on her wrist—it looks like a diamond bracelet—flashes in the morning sun.
I lean into her shoulder. “And that bracelet? That come from a friend, too?” I’m teasing her, mostly. But a ripple of worry twists my insides.
Guys like to give Megz stuff. They fall in love with her; they feel sorry for her.
Sometimes, at least in my opinion, she plays the victim when she shouldn’t. When we were in high school, she had a sugar daddy for a while, some older guy with plenty of money to throw around.
At first, Megz liked him. She definitely liked all the gifts he gave her. But then, when she got tired of him and tried to end it, the sugar daddy turned into a violent dirtbag.
She had to get a restraining order against him. Fortunately, that’s as far as it went. But it could have been so much worse.
Megz is glaring at me, obviously picking up on what I’m thinking about. Sometimes she accuses me of being too quick to judge her when I have no idea what her life has been like.
I suppose that’s true. Still, she should be more careful.
“This belongs to one of my sorority sisters, Keegan,” she interrupts my thoughts, twisting her wrist to show off the bracelet. “And so does the car.”
Her arch tone tells me she’s pissed. And she only calls me Keegan when she’s irritated.
Megz had been so proud of getting into the Alpha Chi Omega sorority at OU. She must’ve sent me 100 texts about it. I was truly happy for her, even if I don’t get the appeal of sororities.
“You don’t know how it is, being in Alpha Chi,” Megz goes on, stretching out her legs and lifting her face into the sun. “You have to always look a certain way. You have to wear certain things and shop at certain places, and it’s all so goddamn expensive.”
The wobble in her voice makes me put a hand on her arm.
“Megz, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be judgy. I know what a big deal AChiO is to you. I just want you to be safe.”
She throws me a bitter look I don’t understand and seems to struggle with what to say next.
“We all borrow from each other,” she goes on, finally, “all of us sorority sisters, it’s what we do.”
I’m trying to be kind, but there’s that hint of superiority in her voice again that’s maddening. I look away, trying to ignore it.
“Not that I have a fucking thing anybody wants to borrow,” Megz adds bitterly.
I know about all the foster homes she’s cycled through; about carrying everything she owned around in a trash bag; about having to adjust to yet another family over and over again.
I know about the agony of living with the knowledge your biological parents basically threw you away. And about aging out of the system because no one ever wanted to adopt you. I know about it. But I will never know how it feels. Not really.
Megz used to open up to me more than she does now. Over the last six months or so, we’ve become more guarded with each other. I don’t exactly know why.
Now, though, hearing the anger and resentment in her voice, I wish I’d tried harder to break down the wall that’s grown between us. We’re still close; she’s still my best friend.
But something doesn’t feel right.
I hook my arm around her, pull her close to me. “Megz, I—”
“Hey, there’s your little boy Blue,” she exclaims, pulling away from me and pointing toward the front yard where Blue has just jumped off the porch. He’s wearing running clothes and heading for the street.
“Hey, Blue!” she shouts, “Your girl is up here!” There’s no way he didn’t hear Megz. But he doesn’t look back.
After a moment, she turns to me. “Well, that was weird,” she huffs.
And then she takes a hard look at the expression I’m sure is on my face. So many conflicting emotions about Blue right now probably have me looking shell-shocked.
“Hmm,” Megz muses. “Is there trouble in paradise, KeeKee? Already?”
I shake my head, brushing away some kind of flying bug. “It’s complicated, Megz,” I sigh. “Like, seriously complicated.”
She laughs. “Isn’t everything?”
We talk for a while longer. I don’t tell her what Blue told me. But I change my mind and tell her about the profile and Virginia ruining things again. And about Kendra’s mind games.
“Holy fuck!” Megz bursts out. “What is that bitch’s problem?”
We spend a few minutes speculating about the extent of Kendra’s evil nature, and yeah, that makes me feel better. Then Megz slaps her thighs and announces she has to get back to OU.
We crawl into my bedroom, and she quickly gets dressed. Then we head downstairs as she pulls the car keys out of her black duffel bag.
She opens the driver door and slings the duffel into the passenger seat, then turns back to wrap me in a tight hug.
After a few seconds, she pulls back, her hands on my shoulders, and I sense her hesitation. Again, it feels like she wants to tell me something.
“Megz?” I decide to try humor. “Calm Yo Tits, Gurl.”
It seems to take forever, but finally, a grin appears on her face. “That’s my line, bitch,” she retorts, fluffing my hair, then sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Gotta go. Hope you can work things out with that hot hunka man.”
I lean into the car window as she starts to pull away. “Give me a call,” I say. “I can tell you’ve got something to say.”
She waves at me but doesn’t respond.
A few minutes later, I’m up in my room, writing in my journal, when I hear someone on the porch. The front door opens; then I hear feet pounding up the stairs.
I slap my journal shut and jump off the bed, running to crack my door in time to see Blue heading into his room. Hurt that he didn’t come to see me, I close the door and just stand there resting my forehead on it.
A couple of minutes after that, I hear the bathroom door screech open, and the shower being turned on. I stare at the wobbly door handle for a long moment.
Just leave him alone.
Disregarding my own thought, I yank the door open, striding toward the bathroom, determined to make Blue talk to me. Or make love to me. Anything but ignore me.
The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and steam is rising from the shower. I step inside and quickly take off my clothes. But then I freeze, because I hear a choked, agonized sound.
Peering around the shower curtain, I see Blue, standing under the water, his face buried in his hands. He’s sobbing. I slip into the shower and wrap my arms around him as tight as I can.