Just Once (39 page)

“Hello?” I call warily.

The door swings open, but the hallway is dark and I can’t see who enters.

“Who is it?”

A pause. “Me.”

I sit up abruptly, heart racing. “Shane?”

In quick succession I hear the door click shut, three footsteps cross the floor, and the faint squeak of the mattress as Shane kneels beside me, his hands finding my face in the darkness. I can’t see anything, only feel, and the pressure of his mouth on mine is very, very welcome. I part my lips for his insistent tongue, and the heat he always stirs up spreads to every part of me.

He presses me into the mattress, my head landing on the pillow, and follows with his body, kicking off his boots until he’s covering me completely, his weight a welcome anchor.

“What’s happening?” I mumble against his mouth.

“Last time,” he answers, silencing me with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long. He swiftly removes my clothes before stripping out of his own, and uses his knee to spread my legs before slipping his hand between my thighs and pushing two fingers high inside. He groans, working his fingers back and forth, stretching me, drawing out the moisture.

I touch him everywhere I can reach, committing each muscle to memory, each indent, each curve of his body. Once he’s moving his fingers easily through my slick center, he finds my clit and teases it out from its hiding place, making me moan as he bites my neck and torments me before settling between my thighs, the thick head of his cock finding my entrance and pushing inside.

I stretch for his invasion, accepting, acquiescing, memorizing the feel of him. Belatedly I realize he’s not wearing a condom, and my blood rushes to the surface, making my skin flame, every thrust stoking the fires. I feel him everywhere, from my head to my toes, and curl my fingers around his as he holds my hands on either side of my head, tongue mating with mine.

It takes forever, and it’s over too fast—the simple friction of Shane’s body over mine, within mine—no games, no words, no pretense. He’s saying goodbye, the only way he can.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I’
M
N
OT
S
URPRISED
T
O
F
IND
Shane gone when I wake up the next morning. I’d woken up a few times during the night to feel him next to me, fast asleep. Perhaps it was simply because it was the last time, but the sound of his chest rising and falling, all the hurt feelings and anger forgotten—albeit temporarily—had felt right.

I pull myself out of bed and climb into the shower to wake up. It’s just after eight, and Lisa is entering the other bathroom at the same time. She looks like hell.

“Rough night?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes, then winces. “Gah.”

I laugh.

“What’d you do?” she demands. “Why do you look so good?”

“Good? I’m just getting up.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

She rushes into the bathroom, slams the door, and seconds later I hear her hurling. I’m not sure how O’Malley’s has managed to remain open this long when every time an underage employee goes in there they seem to come back over-served.

I clean up and dress, then go downstairs to begin my final inspections. I see Pete lugging his suitcase around to the porch, looking awful. “Late night?” I ask.

“I think I’m going to die,” he moans, dropping onto the steps.

“Drink some orange juice. It’ll help.”

“I’m not hung over, I’m heartbroken!” he cries.

I look at him closely. His shaggy brown hair flops into his face, and I realize the eyes I thought were bloodshot are actually filled with tears.

“You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll never see her again!”

“Maybe you can keep in touch.”

He swipes a hand across his eyes. “It won’t be the same. I love her, Kate. I love Lisa more than anything.”

I smile. “She’s a great girl.”

“The best.”

I pat him on the back and stand. “Try to enjoy the time you have left. You can cry on the plane.”

I find Hailey standing just inside the lodge with two cups of coffee. “If this ranch thing doesn’t work out,” she says, “you could be a counselor, advising young lovers on the ways of the heart.”

“I don’t have any advice,” I say dryly, accepting the coffee.

“Are you all packed?”

“Mostly. You?”

“Yep. I’ll go when you go.” Unable to stomach the idea of sleeping alongside horny teenagers for a minute more, Hailey rented a small house near the resort where she starts work next week.

“I can’t believe you’re staying,” I say.

“I can’t believe you’re going.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, but not for six months.”

“The time will fly by. You’ll see.”

Brandon enters from the kitchen, chewing on a bagel. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi.” I nod.

“Hey,” Hailey says.

We stand there awkwardly. “Almost ready to go?” I ask to fill the silence.

Brandon swallows his mouthful. “Yeah. Nearly done. Water’s off in an hour, so make sure you’ve got what you need. We’ll cut the electricity last. What time are you heading out?”

“About an hour.”

He turns his attention to Hailey. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When are you leaving?”

“I’m going to the airport with Kate.” This is not true. “When are you leaving?”

“A couple hours.”

“Well…safe trip.”

“Thanks.” Brandon lingers for a second before crossing the dining room and disappearing down the hall to the offices. We watch him go.

“He’s so pretty,” Hailey whispers.

“Just be strong a little while longer.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t want Shane as much as you do?”

“It’s called self-preservation. If I pretend long enough, maybe I’ll start to believe it.”

“I’ve been trying all summer, and it’s still not working.”

“You heard the man. He’s leaving in two hours. They all are. Soon they’ll be en route to Texas, I’ll be headed to Boston, and you’ll be, well, nearby.”

We turn around as Lisa enters, looking refreshed after her morning hurl. She’s wheeling two suitcases behind her.

“You look well,” Hailey remarks, “for the girl who threw up everything and anything just an hour ago.”

“Thanks.” Lisa shrugs. “I feel better.”

I think about Pete, lost and forlorn. “How’s Pete?”

“Sad.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m sad. Just not that sad.”

I look between my friends. “You two are like rocks,” I accuse. “Emotionless stones!”

Hailey looks affronted. “What are you talking about?”

“Both of your summer flings are coming to an end, and you don’t even care!”

Now Lisa looks offended. “I care! But I’m also looking forward to what happens next. I’m going to college, I’m going to pick out stuff for my dorm room, Janie won’t be there—I’m kind of excited.”

Again Stanley’s words come back to haunt me: I don’t have anywhere better to be, but I’m still leaving.

“I’m going to finish packing,” I say, polishing off the coffee. “We’ll leave in an hour.”

“Sounds good.”

Upstairs I tidy my room and double-check both bathrooms to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. I packed most of my stuff yesterday, so there’s not much else to do. I strip the bed, put the quilt in a plastic bag to protect it from moths and small animals, and wheel my suitcase to the door. Before I go, I turn to look at the room one last time, refusing to feel sad.
I’ll be back
, I remind myself. In just a few months this will start all over again.

I stare at the bed, feeling Shane moving over me, his hands stroking my hair, tongue twining with mine for the last time. I wish I could picture it, but all I have to remember last night by are the feelings. Memories that will fade with each day, week, month. Memories that will cease to comfort, and, hopefully, cease to hurt.

“It’s no use,” Pete says again. “They’re gone.”

We’re sitting in the van—Pete, Hailey, Lisa, and me—loaded up and ready to go. The ranch is locked, the electricity has been shut off, and the ranch hands are nowhere to be found. Pete mentioned that he heard them say something about checking the fences one last time, and Shane’s truck is gone, which supports the theory. All the same I peek inside the barn—empty—and knock on the trailer door. No answer. I try the knob: locked.

I nod to myself. Okay.

“All right,” I say before anyone can get restless. “Let’s beat it.”

“
Via con Dios!”
Lisa shouts as we drive under the arch. “Thanks for the memories, bitches!”

“What is it you’re going to study?” Hailey asks. “Poetry?”

Thirty minutes later we drop her off. She hugs each of us, blinks back tears, and promises to keep in touch. I watch her tiny form shrink in the rearview mirror, waving until she’s gone. Soon we’re parked at the small Dawson airport where I arranged to have Randy pick up the van later and drive it back to join the other vans at a garage for the winter.

We wheel our suitcases inside and check in. Pete’s flight leaves forty-five minutes before Lisa’s, but because mine isn’t for another six hours, I’m stuck with my bags. We visit the food court to get something to eat and sit at a small table, listening to Lisa chatter on about the jungle theme she’s decided on for her dorm room. Pete looks forlorn. He lives in Michigan. He’s never going to see this jungle room, and we all know it.

Finally it’s time for Pete to go through security. He tries to convince Lisa to come with him and wait at the gate, but she demurs, saying she doesn’t want to make a scene. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I play along, saying I could use the company. Pete’s lower lip trembles as he accepts the inevitable and says goodbye, clutching Lisa in a hug that garners stares. To her credit, she gives him a kiss that will keep him company on the long flight, and eventually he passes through security and disappears from view.

“Wow,” she sighs, slumping back in her seat. “That was exhausting.”

“You handled it well.”

“Onward and upward.”

“What?”

“I’m just starting. This summer was my renaissance.”

“You’re too young for a renaissance.”

Lisa laughs. “I’m starting fresh then. No more following people around. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You’re not afraid of arriving in a strange place all by yourself? You won’t know anybody or where anything is.”

“No. It didn’t bother you, did it? All the places you traveled?”

“No. I suppose not.”

“Then it’ll be fine.”

We sit quietly for a while, lost in our thoughts. Then I look over at Lisa. “Why’d you come back?” I ask. “When you left in the middle of the night, why’d you come back?”

After a moment she turns to me. We’ve already had this conversation, but I could use the reminder, or maybe the encouragement.

“I’d been following Janie my whole life,” she says, “doing the same thing, but getting nowhere. I thought about something
someone
had said to me the day before, about not leaving a place or a person, but leaving a pattern. And it was time to break the pattern.”

I flash back to our conversation in the lodge bar, when Lisa asked me why I’d stopped my travel writing. My answer may have been vague, but it was the truth. It was time to end the cycle of coming and going, loving and leaving, drinking and forgetting. I’d written about so many beautiful places, must-see beaches, must-eat restaurants, and told so many people how to enjoy their own lives that I’d forgotten how to enjoy my own. I’d left every beautiful place I’d ever been, and the one place that meant the most to me, Ponderosa Pines, I’d already left three times. And why?