Embrace (Evolve Series #2) (9 page)

“Come on, Kirb, down here.” He puts a hand on her
shoulder and encourages her downstairs. I follow, extremely thankful that
Sawyer is down there, just waiting like a sitting duck for Kirby’s attention.

“Good, they’re here. Oh, hey, Kirby. You pick first,
Whitley.” Laney directs the group from her side of a long table, Solo cups all
in a row down each side.

Laney and competition is priceless—her voice rises
in volume and pitch, she gets real bossy, and there’s legit fire in her eyes.
As long as she doesn’t tackle anyone this time, I fully support the game. I
still can’t even believe we’re here right now, all trying to act as civil and
non-uncomfortable as possible. I know there’s something to be said about being
the “bigger person” and all, but there’s also a saying about whacking a bee’s
nest with a big stick. I must be the only one who got
that
memo.

“Sawyer,” I hear Whitley say, interrupting my
internal philosophizing.

WTF
? Did she really just not pick me first?

“Smart girl.” Sawyer slaps her on the butt.

Well at least he’s being nice to her, right?

“Dane,” Laney picks, like she should. Even I, of all
people, know that should be her first pick.

“Evan.”

Now
she picks me. Everybody knows second
place is first loser and I’m not happy. Why is that? I don’t know and don’t
care, I just am. I must be talking with my face right now because she’s chewing
that bottom lip as I walk over.

“Not too smart, girl.” I slap her on the butt,
earning a laugh from Sawyer.

“Uh oh, Whitley. He’s all butt hurt you picked me
first.”

“Are you really?” she asks me, all doe-eyed and
innocent.

I lean down and brush her hair back, my lips low over
her ear. “You’re in big trouble, little lady.”

I have no idea where that line came from, but her
gasp and shiver tell me I needn’t worry that I actually scared her with my playful
threat—perhaps there’s more intrigue there than I anticipated.

Laney must have been watching our little show,
because she immediately and loudly chooses Bennett, and so it goes, back and
forth, until we’re ready to play. It’s Whitley, me, Sawyer, Avery and Kirby
versus Laney, Dane, Zach, Tate and Bennett. Whitley offered her driver to all
the others, so everyone’s playing, which is pretty awesome. Their team has
three guys to our two, but I’m not too worried about whether or not we
win…until Sawyer opens that damn mouth of his again.

“All right, Gidget, what’s the wager?” He’s talking
to Laney, who loves to bet, so this could get scary.

“I don’t know. Whatcha thinkin’, big boy?” She’s
just toying with danger now.

“God help us.” Dane rolls his eyes and walks over to
turn on some music. “Baby!” he calls out.

Ouch! Could’ve gone forever without hearing that
…

“Please don’t egg Sawyer on. No females are getting
naked, I mean it.”

All eyes in the room are on these two, waiting on
them to decide the fates of their team. Whitley is humming the theme to
Jeopardy softly beside me, and I grin hearing it.

“How about this? Losing team has to make the winning
team dinner?” It’s a great, safe, couth suggestion from Bennett.

“Borrriiinnnggg.” Sawyer feigns a yawn.

“How about if the girls wear bikinis while they
serve it?” Whitley adds and I flip my head to look at her, surprised at her
boldness.

“Game on!” Sawyer
yells.

~Laney~

“Y’all are fucking cheating!
Look at Whitley’s shirt!” Zach points a wobbly, drunken finger at her chest.
“She’s not drinking her beer, she’s wearing it!”

I giggle as I look at Whitley. She really has doused
herself in the hurry of the game, and in light pink, wet…well, she’s wearing a
black bra, let’s put it that way. “Come on, Whitley. I’ll get you another
shirt.” I hold out my hand and lead her upstairs.

We stumble a bit, laughing as we climb, until we
reach Dane’s room. I keep one drawer in his dresser filled with my stuff, and
dig her out a navy t-shirt. “You can change right there in the bathroom.”

“Thanks, Laney.”

When she’s in there, and I have the barrier of the
shut door between us, I unload. “Hey, Whitley?” I say, a hair above a whisper,
with my forehead braced against the door.

“Yeah?”

“I’m, uh, I’m really sorry I tackled you the other
day. It was mean and I shouldn’t have done it.”
Three times.
No, it’s
not just the alcohol talking. I really have felt bad about it for a while.

“It’s okay.” Her answer is as soft and hesitant as
my apology.

“You seem so different tonight, Whitley. More… Maybe
I’ve misjudged you. I’m sorry for that too.”

“Me too.” The door opens and she peeks around it,
her eyes watery. “I didn’t like you either, and I’ve antagonized you every
chance I got. I shouldn’t have drawn attention to the tattoo. And I…” she bows
her head and reaches up to wipe the now falling tears, “I’m sorry.”

 “Come on,” I walk over and sit on Dane’s bed and
pat the spot beside me, “let’s talk.”

She timidly walks over and sits as far away from me
as possible.

“Okay, so we’ve both been mean for no real reason.
How about if we start over—clean slate?”

A deep, dramatic breath escapes her. “I would
really, really like that, Laney.”

“Same.” I nod and smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m
Laney Walker,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’m a standoffish, mouthy smartass,
but once I have your back, I have it 200%.”

She shakes my hand and giggles. “Whitley Thompson,
nice to meet you too. I’m not athletic, but I can take a hit, or three, like
nobody else. And I’m a really good friend if you let me be.”

I’m not drunk enough to cry, hug her, or any other
huge jump past a good start, but I do wear a big smile and my soul feels
lighter. I start to stand up and head back when she lays a hand on my arm.

“Laney?” I turn back, giving her a curious look. “Can
I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I concede, sitting back down.

“Are you gonna hate me again if I really try to go
after something with Evan? I mean, we just made up, and I really want to be
your friend, but I also really like him.”

It is at this exact moment that I truly understand
how Evan has felt. Another girl will get to love Evan, with her heart, her
soul…her body. She’ll get his visits to her window, his sweet “Good Morning”
texts, and his movie snugglethons. Reality hits like a brick in the face, but
only for a moment. And in perhaps the surest sign I’ll ever have of exactly how
my love for Dane consumes me and how deep my friendship with Evan goes, the
little cloud that passed over my mind and heart now disappears and I realize
all the bullshit I’ve been feeding myself to make me feel better is true. I
really do only want Evan to be happy,
and
whoever he chooses to do that
better make damn sure she deserves him.

I can’t lie to myself, Whitley is a beautiful girl. She’s
obviously very forgiving and shy with some hidden funky, yet still proper,
refined, articulate…all the things I’m not. Evan seems very comfortable with
her, and if this girl thinks she’s the one for him, who am I to stop her? I’ll
tell you who I am—I’m the lucky girl who has Dane Kendrick, and the
non-hypocritical good friend who’s about to put her money where her mouth is!
That’s me.

 “Not only am I not gonna hate you,” I square my
shoulders and raise my chin, “I’m gonna help you. But Whitley, I’m warning you.
It’s kinda like, ‘I can say whatever I want about my family, but you better not
say a word?’ I may have hurt him, but if you do, I’ll come for you with a
vengeance. Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” she visibly shivers, “got it.”

“Great! Now that we’ve got that settled, let me give
you some pointers on Evan. Starting with that ridiculous outfit you put him
in.”

She falls against the bed, giggling. “He’s gonna
kill me! I thought it was going to be like a dinner party.”

“Whitley, anything I invite you to will
never
be
a stuffy dinner party. If I’m there, he’s safe to wear his ball cap, got that
too?”

“Got it.” She nods happily, biting back another
snicker. “I bet he’s uncomfortable. I should call our driver and end his
misery.”

“Yeah, it’s getting late,” I agree, moving to the
door. “Come on, let’s go wrap it up.”

Whitley follows me back down to the game, talking on
her phone as we go. I’m trying not to eavesdrop, but I can’t help hear the panic
in her voice. “Cancelled, what do you mean cancelled? Check again, please,
we’ve used your company for years.”

Evan’s eyes catch mine as we enter the room, and
they tell me he’s been panicking every second I was alone with Whitley.

“Come here,” I mouth, beckoning him with a back tilt
of my head, to which he rushes over. “Something’s wrong, she’s freaking out,” I
tell him under my breath.

He lays a hand on her shoulder. “Whit, what’s
wrong?” His voice is all things Evan, tender and concerned.

“Well, can I just pay you for this one time when you
get here?” she begs into the phone. “All right, thank you anyway,” her voice
quivers back after a slight pause. She hangs up, turning her confused and
pained face to Evan and I. “That was the car service company. They say our
service is cancelled. How weird is that?”

“Not that weird, Whit,” Evan scoffs with an easy
smile, “lots of people don’t have car services. Come on, we only played two
rounds, and there was wasn’t much in my cup. I’ll drive us home in an hour or
so, no biggie.”

“Y’all just stay here,” I offer, “there’s more than
enough room. Seriously,” I plead with both my voice and eyes.

“I’m okay with that plan if you are.” Whitley turns
to him and I back away, feeling like an intruder in their personal, private
conversation.

I see him nod his head and pull her by the hand back
to the game.

Guess they’re staying.

Chapter 12

Reubens and Fries

~Evan~

“
S
o you’re sure you don’t want to come? Last
chance…” I try to tempt Zach and Avery one more time to join us for Spring
Break.

“You don’t know how bad we wish we could, right,
babe?” Zach frowns and gives Avery’s ponytail a tug.

“Yes,” she answers in a whiny drawl, “but the minute
Coach announced Mrs. Coach got put on bedrest and we actually got a Spring
Break, we made plans with Kirby. I can’t trust her to go on Spring Break alone;
God only knows what would happen to her. You guys have fun, though. And just
think,” she smiles now, her voice more cheery, “when you get back, you’ll be
Zach’s roommate!”

I can’t even begin to tell you how happy that makes
me. My roommate is a douche, and the few times I’ve actually been in the room
at the same time as him were too many. Did I mention he’s a “naturalist”?
Whatever the fuck that actually means I’m not sure, but I define it as “dude who
doesn’t wear deodorant and whatever he eats makes his ass smell like…well, ass.”
Zach’s roommate, apparently also a douche, had gotten himself suspended, and voila!
After a little sweet talking from Whitley to Student Housing and I’m coming
back from Spring Break as Zach’s new roomie!

“Yeah, that’ll be great. Okay then, if you’re sure
you can’t—”

“Hold up!” Sawyer’s yell interrupts me as he comes
jogging towards us. “I’m in,” he announces, throwing his bag in the back of my
truck.

“How’d you get off work?”

He’d originally declined the invitation because of
his shifts at The K, so I was curious how he pulled it off.

“Dane’s in Hawaii, meaning Tate’s in charge. And
since he’s my man, he made some new guy pick up my shifts! Sucka! So here I am!
Now drive me to drunken co-ed paradise!”

 I just shake my head and chuckle at him.

 “Why are you shaking your head? Whitley said there
was hot ass and parties everywhere,
right
?”

“Yes, Sawyer.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not down to be a third wheel
unless I’m getting laid.”

“It’s not like that. No third wheel to it.”

“Uh huh, whatever.”

Sometimes he exhausts me. “Just get in the truck.”

We wave goodbye to Zach and Avery, climb in my truck,
and head to Whitley’s to pick her up. She’s invited us to stay at her family’s
beach house on Hilton Head, about an hour and a half from school, for the whole
week and damn if I’m not excited. Yes, Laney’s in
Hawaii
with Dane. I
did a shot of the hard stuff the first time I heard. I slammed the door the
second time it was mentioned. But now…now all I want to do is get to MY Spring
Break, lay back in the sun, take in the salty smell of the ocean and relax.

Whitley’s not ready when we get there—shocker. She’s
ticking things off on her fingers and talking to herself. I sure as hell can’t
understand the muffled feline rumblings, so I hope her list has nothing to do
with me.

“Whit? What can I help you with?” I ask for the
third time, and when she still doesn’t stop buzzing around to answer me, I dust
her face with the flower I’d snagged her on the way in, finally getting her
attention. “Chill out, woman. It’s all gonna be fine. Anything we forget, we obviously
don’t really need or we can run to the store to pick up. Now hand me and Sawyer
the stuff to load and let’s go.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. Get the pile by the door
and I’ll grab the stuff in my room, then I think we’re ready. And thank you for
the flower.” She sniffs it again. “This is the first yellow one.”

“She’s a busy lil thing, ain’t she?” Sawyer shakes
his head with a smirk when she leaves. “She’s gonna spin herself in the
ground.”

“Let’s not let her. We gotta make sure she has fun.”

“Oh, I think that’s your department, stud.”

I roll my eyes at him and throw him some bags. “Shut
up and help me load this stuff.”

Ten minutes later, all the gear is packed and
Whitley’s in the truck after she’d jumped out once to double-check that she
locked her door. I let out a chuckle when I think of my current situation.
Could you pack three more different people into the cab of a truck and send
them on vacation together? No, no, you couldn’t, and yet, I’m as at peace as I
remember being in quite a while.

My contentment turns into full-blown happiness when
I pick it up over the sound of the wind rushing in through my open window. Whitley’s
humming “On the Road Again,” the old Willie Nelson song. And before I know I
did it, I lean over and kiss the top of her head. She’s just so cute sometimes,
I can’t help it. I recover quickly and stare out in front of me, nothing more
fascinating now than the two yellow lines on the road. But I see her, out of the
corner of my eye, blush and smile. And about that blush…now I wanna do it
again.

Her hair was soft and smelt like clean and
strawberries, clean strawberries. And I noticed because…

“How long ‘til we’re there?” Sawyer asks.

“About thirty more minutes or so,” Whitley answers
him sweetly. “I’m so glad you came, Sawyer.” She pats his leg companionably. “I
brought the stuff to make your favorite—Reubens and fries. Maybe I’ll make it
tonight.”

Sawyer’s mouth drops open and his lip curls, his
brows completely vanishing into his hairline. I watch him out of one eye,
hating that I have to keep the other on the road and may miss what comes next.
“How’d you know that was my favorite?” he asks in a shocked, but tender, voice.

“You said it one time. You and I were sitting around
with Dane and Tate, eating pizza one night, and you said, ‘I’m so sick of pizza
all the time. I’d kiss you boys square on the ass for a Reuben and some
homemade fries.’”

I’m about to wreck I’m laughing so hard, because
when she quoted him in that story, she did it in her best deep Sawyer voice.
Classic.

And big ol’ Sawyer, crude, rude and socially
unacceptable, takes a minute to respond. When he does, it’s in a voice I’ve
never heard him use, and it’s so quiet, I hardly hear it now. “I remember that,
and you remembering it… Well,” hear his gulp vibrates off the inside of the
cab, “ah, come ‘ere, you sweet lil’ thing.” He pulls her in and bear hugs her,
kissing the top of her head.

Hey! That’s my move.

“Sound good?” she asks him, pulling subtly away from
him and shifting back to me, a little closer this time it seems.

“Hell yeah it does! You hear that, Evan? Whitley’s
gonna make us a feast tonight!”

Of course I heard it, I’m sitting two feet from
you and not paying near enough attention to the road because I’m watching your interactions
like a hawk.

“Yeah,” I laugh, “I heard.” I dip my head to her and
take one last, quick sniff of her hair. “I’ll peel the potatoes for ya,” I
whisper.

T
he three of us are laughing when we pull
up to the beach house, Whitley having treated us to a game of Name That Tune
the rest of the ride. She may be better at it than anyone else I know, and yes
I mean Laney. And Sawyer? Well he doesn’t know the right words to a single
song, no matter the year, the genre…the tune even, which is why we’re laughing
so hard. Seriously? Who doesn’t know the words to “Rockstar” by Nickelback?
Sawyer Beckett, that’s who. In Sawyer’s world, they play dirty Pictionary and
drive filthy cars.

This place is amazing—at least three stories with
white pillars and a balcony at the highest window. You can see the ocean right
behind it from the driveway and the tropical plants and trees planted around
the front certainly give it the “beach” look. It’s magnificent, marred only by
the sign in the yard. I look to Whitley, whose face is pale. Her eyes are
filled with pain, telling me she, too, has spotted it.

Sawyer gets out and comes up behind us, first
following Whitley’s stare to the glaring red word, “Foreclosure,” then looking
over her head to me with “shit, what do we do?” eyes.

“Whitley, it’s okay. We can go somewhere else.” I
put my arm around her shoulder and pull her to me. I have no idea where else we
can go, but it’s all I can come up with, since asking if she’s sure we’re at
the right house seems as dumb as it was the minute it crossed my mind.

I lean my head down to look at her when she remains
silent and see the tears trickling down her cheeks.  “Hey, shh…” I murmur, tucking
her head into my chest as she wraps her arms around my waist. “Sawyer, we’ll be
back in a bit. We’re gonna take a walk.”

He just nods and I take Whitley’s hand, leading her
around the side of the house, down to the beach. There’s a low rock wall that
starts off the sides of the patio, leading down to the water, creating a
barrier between their beach backyard and the neighbor’s, which appears to be
about a mile away. Pretentious? Probably, but handy now as I guide her to sit
down on it and take a seat beside her, rubbing her back.

We sit in silence for a long while just listening to
the waves crashing on the shore. I give her time, walking down a few steps to
break off a stalk of the eye-catching orange and purple plant I spotted as we
sat and hand it to her with a sympathetic smile. Her tears finally start slowing,
and as I look at her in concern, I force my lip not to curl at my thoughts—she
even cries with class and elegance. No snorting, no snot sucking…just beautiful
agony.

“I’m sorry you drove all this way for nothing. I
didn’t know,” she says sweetly, her shoulders shaking with a sarcastic chortle.
“They don’t tell me the important stuff, you know. Just how to eat, walk, dress
and
keep up the
act
that we’re perfect. The fact that they’re
obviously in financial trouble and losing my favorite place in the whole world?
Well, that slipped their mind.”

“It’s not your fault, Whit, don’t even apologize.
I’m just sorry this happened to you. Do you wanna call your parents or
something?”

“No,” she shakes her head adamantly, “they’d be
angry I came without telling them and found out. They’ll tell me when they want
me to know, I guess.”

“I can tell you really love this place.” I put my
arm around her shoulder. “I can see why; it’s great.”

Well shit, that probably wasn’t smart. No sense
rubbing it in her face. I see now why my dad is so quiet and rarely in trouble
with my mother. Noted.

“We’d come here every summer for two whole weeks.
Most of the time with Dane and his parents, and in the beginning, when we were
real young, Tate, too. Our dads wouldn’t work while we were here, and no
meetings meant they’d play in the water with us all day. My mom would always
make red, white, and blue cake for the fourth and all the boys would set off
fireworks for hours.” She sighs deeply and turns her head into my shirt, her
voice muffled and pained. “It was the only time of year when nothing came
before being a family. I was allowed to be a little kid and play outside with
other kids. My mother never noticed or yelled if I got dirty.” She sighs. “This
place represents everything I loved about my childhood.”

I sneak a finger under her chin and lift her face,
searching her eyes, as blue as the ocean beside us, for acceptance. “Whitley, I—”

“Y’all get lost?” Sawyer’s voice startles us both
and I drop my hand, standing quickly.

“Nah, we were just heading back.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he sniggers. “So, Whitley, I took
the dark blue room. That cool?”

Whitley has now walked over to us and stands beside
me, every bit as dumbfounded as I am. It’s like one half of my brain knows
exactly what he’s saying, and why, but the other half is screaming “oh surely
not!” She’s thinking the same thing, one hand raised to her mouth, her eyes
wide.

“So, my key still worked?” Her big grin is forced,
as though begging him to answer correctly. She and I both know the dreaded
response coming, though.

“Fuck no,” he replies with a shrug, “guess they already
changed the locks. No worries, though, the side door to the garage had a window
and the interior door was flimsy as shit. Presto! Minimal damage, maximum entrance.”

My head drops on its own, shaking, and I reach up to
rub my eyes. I hear Whitley’s sharp intake of breath right before she speaks.

“Sawyer…are you telling me you broke into my
parents’ foreclosed beach house?” She laughs, or chokes, it could go either way.
“That’s not what you’re saying, is it?”

“Relax, sugar, no one will know. I yanked the sign
out of the yard too.”

Oh,
well then
. Problem solved! Why
didn’t I think of that? Cause everybody knows if you yank up the sign that
cancels out the actual B&E.

I raise my head and block Whitley’s chest with my extended
arm, just in case she actually tries to give him the eye-clawing he’s earned,
and attempt to be the voice of reason. “Sawyer, you can’t just break in, that’s
illegal, dude. The cops are probably on their way. We could go to jail!”