Let It Breathe (11 page)

Among other things.

Reaching for the bread, Clay grazed Reese’s arm with his and watched her bolt right out of her chair.

“More scampi, anyone?” she asked in a shout.

Clay drew his arm back, not sure if it was the kiss the other night or something else making things so tense between them. He settled for smiling and holding out his plate.

“Sure, I’ll take more—unless anyone else wants it?”

“There’s plenty,” Reese said. “Stop being so polite.”

Larissa snorted. “Bet that’s not something you ever thought you’d say to Clay.”

Clay forced his smile to stay in place and tried to keep his eyes on his food. The sound of ice sloshing drew his attention to the chill bucket at the center of the table, where Reese was replacing the empty Pinot Gris bottle with the Sauvignon Blanc Larissa had brought.

“More wine, anyone?” she asked.

Eric hoisted his glass, putting it right at eye level for Clay. Clay looked at it and swallowed hard as the pale liquid sloshed onto the table. He stared at the droplets for a second, then forked a shrimp into his mouth.

“How’s Leon holding up?” he asked Reese.

“Good,” she said. “I just checked on him. He seems pretty much like his normal self.”

Jed nodded and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Went right for my nuts when I came up the walk. I blocked him with the cobbler.”

Clay grimaced and made a mental note to avoid the cobbler.

“I’m glad Leon is okay,” June said. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with your grandfather.”

“Um, how about dismantling his medical marijuana operation?” Reese suggested.

“He insists it’s legal. There’s no arguing with him. As long as it doesn’t get out of hand—”

“Out of hand?” Reese asked. “Have you ever known anything with Axl
not
to get out of hand?”

“Could you pass the bread, Clay?” Eric said.

Clay nodded and handed it over. He studied his old pal for a moment, curious why he seemed so quiet.

“You okay?” Clay asked.

“Sure, why?”

“You’re not talking much.”

Eric shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just got into it with Sheila on the phone earlier, no big deal.”

Reese frowned. “Everything’s okay, right?”

“Of course,” Eric grumbled. “She’s just been nagging about moving back to New York to be closer to her family. She got a job offer from some big ad agency out there, says she has a lead on a job for me.”

Everyone stopped talking at once.

“What?” Larissa snapped. “You might be moving?”

“Of course not,” Eric said around a mouthful of bread. “It’s just this wild hair Sheila had. She’ll get over it.”

June dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin and pushed her plate aside. “Even so, honey, make sure you give us plenty of notice if you’re considering it at all. Without you as our winemaker, I don’t know what we’d do.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eric said. “Really, there’s no chance of it. It’s just Sheila being—well, Sheila. Who’s ready for huckleberry cobbler?”

Clay set his fork down and stood up. “Let me help clear some of these plates.”

“I can get it, Clay,” Reese said. “Let me.”

“No, sit down. Really. You’ve hardly touched your food, you’ve been so busy serving everyone else.”

Reese frowned at him but sat down and forked up the last of her salad. Clay began gathering plates, and Larissa stood to help.

“Hey!” she said as she grabbed Reese’s salad plate out from under her. “Anyone want to play a game over dessert?”

“What sort of game?” Eric asked.

“I brought a board game,” she suggested.

Eric grunted. “
Bored
being the operative word?”

Larissa rolled her eyes. “Fine, something else, then. Something fun.” She trudged to the kitchen sink looking more wobbly than normal on her high heels, and Clay made a mental note to keep an eye on her. The line between social drinking and a genuine problem could be squiggly and blurred, which he knew damn well from experience.

Clay set the plates beside the sink and turned back to the table to gather another batch while Larissa got to work running the sink full of soapy water.

“I think we’re out for the games,” June said as she stood up and piled her plate on top of Jed’s, smiling as she grazed her husband’s hand. “There’s a meteor shower tonight, so we’re taking a blanket out to the north pasture to see if we can spot any shooting stars.”

“Should be a great night for it,” Jed said.

June grabbed another plate and nodded. “I call dibs on picking the spot this time.”

“Deal,” Jed said. “I call dibs on making the cocoa.”

Clay watched the private smile that flashed between Reese’s parents, marveling at the intimacy simmering in that small exchange. He slid his gaze to Reese, wondering if she noticed it, too, but Reese had already glanced away.

“Let us help with the dishes before we go,” June said, brushing her daughter’s shoulder as she moved past her into the kitchen. “That way you kids can get started on your game.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Reese swallowed her last bite of scampi and reached for her water glass. “Don’t you want dessert before you go?”

June slid her arm around Jed’s waist as the two turned toward the door. “I have all the sweet stuff I need right here.”

Jed beamed and pulled his wife closer, and Clay wondered if they’d be able to fit through the doorway linked like Siamese twins. Something like longing flickered in Reese’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly, Clay decided he’d imagined it.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” Jed called. “Thanks for dinner.”

As the door shut behind them, Larissa pulled her hands out of a sinkful of soapy water and rinsed them beneath the tap. “Okay, then,” she said. “Screw the board games. Let’s play something fun like ‘I Never.’”

“What’s ‘I Never’?” Clay asked.

“A drinking game,” Eric muttered.

“A
sexy
drinking game,” Larissa amended.

Clay shrugged. “Can’t say I remember it. Of course, I was probably too blitzed to play.”

“Don’t worry,” Larissa assured him. “It’s more about sharing secrets than getting drunk. You can have water.”

Reese stood up and started gathering her dishes with a clatter. “We don’t have any secrets. We’ve all known each other forever. Let’s play something else.”

“Come on, you guys!” Larissa pleaded. “We haven’t done anything fun together since Clay came back. It’ll be like old times.”

Eric grunted and glanced at Clay. “Aren’t we all supposed to be doing supportive shit so we avoid things being like ‘old times’? Doesn’t seem like a drinking game would be the best idea.”

Clay felt a sharp pang in the center of his gut. He knew Eric was aiming for helpful, not accusatory, but the words still stung. “Actually, admitting past failures is part of the recovery process,” Clay said. “I haven’t played ‘I Never,’ but it sounds like the same idea.”

“Sure!” Larissa said. “I mean, you kinda want to avoid words like ‘failure’ if you want it to be fun, but it’s all about revealing salacious things you’ve done.”

Clay shrugged. “I’m game.”

Reese bit her lip but didn’t meet Clay’s eyes. “It just seems like a bad idea. Isn’t this—what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Dumb?” Eric offered.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Reese waved a hand in Clay’s direction, flinging soap on Larissa’s shirt. “A
trigger.
Something that wouldn’t be good for Clay.”

Larissa rolled her eyes. “You guys, he’s been sober four years. Don’t you think he’s capable of deciding for himself what’s good for him?”

All three pairs of eyes shifted to him, and Clay stood frozen in the space between the kitchen and the living room, the space between the fun guy they remembered and the responsible guy he knew he could be. He hesitated, not knowing what the right move was here, but knowing he wanted to prove to all of them that he could do this. He could be fun and spontaneous and still be a responsible adult who didn’t end up ruining everyone’s evening either by passing out or passing up a chance to do something enjoyable.

He folded his arms over his chest and met their gazes one by one. Larissa, Eric, Reese. “Let’s play.”

Eric shrugged. “Fine by me. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Larissa looked at Reese, who had started ladling huckleberry cobbler into bowls. “Reese?”

She sighed. “This all seems a little awkward. Come on, Eric and I used to be married. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“No weirder than you being BFFs with his second wife,” Larissa pointed out.

Eric refilled his wineglass and stood up with a shrug. “Isn’t awkwardness the whole point of the game? I’m not endorsing it, just saying.”

Reese sighed, looking defeated. Larissa gave her a one-armed hug, then grabbed a bowl of cobbler and a glass of wine before flouncing into the living room. Eric shrugged, then picked up a bowl of cobbler and followed. Clay watched him sink into the center of a leather sofa the color of an old saddle, while Larissa curled up in a bright-orange armchair lined with flowery turquoise pillows. Clay stared at them for a moment, his throat welling with a flood of nostalgia for his lost college years. If only he hadn’t fucked everything up—

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Reese murmured.

Clay turned to look at her and felt the wistful pang grip him tighter. He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I’m not talking about the alcohol.” She shot a nervous glance toward the living room, then lowered her voice. “I’m just thinking about that time in college when—”

“Come on, you guys,” Larissa yelled. “Hurry up!”

Clay looked at Reese, still wondering what the right move was. She stared at him, her expression unreadable. He turned back to the living room. “Why don’t you guys play and I’ll finish up the dishes?”

“No way,” Eric said. “I’m not going to be the only guy playing. Get your ass in here. You, too, Reese. Come on, we’ll get the dishes later.”

Clay looked at Reese. He took a step closer, making his voice low. “I promise I’m okay with this,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about it being a trigger.”

He watched her throat move as she swallowed, and she took a shaky breath. “Okay. That’s fine, I mean. I just—how do you want to handle—”

She broke off there, not finishing the question, but Clay watched her gaze flit to her wineglass on the counter. Right, the alcohol. This was a drinking game, after all.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I’ll drink water. ’Riss seems drunk enough not to notice who’s drinking what anyway.”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, her gaze drifting out to the living room. Part of him ached to reach out and touch her the way he had in the kitchen or at Vineyard Grill. He glanced at Eric, who frowned at him.

Right. Touching Reese would be bad.

At last, Reese nodded. “Let’s play.”

She marched past him into the living room and Clay stared after her, admiring the sway of her hips. She chose a spot on a comfortable-looking love seat that matched the couch, and Clay watched her tuck her delicate bare feet up under her as her caramel-colored braid slipped over her shoulder. He saw Eric watching him and quickly feigned interest in a potted fern on the edge of the counter.

“You coming, Clay?” Larissa yelled.

Not anytime soon, dammit.

Kicking his inner pig in the head, he cleared his throat and headed for the living room. “Yeah, sure.”

He picked a seat as far away from Reese as he could get, settling on the end of the sofa near Eric while he ordered himself to grow the fuck up and stop ogling Reese. He could do this. He could renew friendships and revisit old memories and go home with no regrets. This is the way normal people functioned, right?

Across from him, Larissa began to explain the rules, though Clay suspected he was the only one who required a refresher. “Okay, so someone starts and they have to make a statement that starts
I never
. It has to be true, and it’s always best if it’s a little bit dirty. Like I could say,
I never had sex on an airplane
, and anyone in the room who’s done that would have to drink.”

Clay shifted his water glass in one hand. “So how do we know who wins?”

“There’s no winner or loser,” Larissa explained with exaggerated patience. “It’s just about learning people’s deepest, darkest secrets. The more you drink, the less inhibited you become, the more you cough up the dirt.”

Eric nodded at Clay’s glass. “Probably good the guy with the most dirt is drinking water.”

“Come on,” Larissa said. “Let’s just play.”

Reese sighed and settled back onto her love seat with a glass of wine beside her on an end table. Clay watched, wondering what she was thinking. This was awkward for all of them, but probably more for Reese, who tended to be a private person. Maybe he still had time to put a stop to it. Maybe—

“Why don’t you start, ’Riss?” Reese suggested. “Show us how it’s done.”

“Okay, fine—I never had sex with two people at once,” Larissa declared.

“Oh, come on,” Reese said. “That hardly seems—” She stopped and stared at Clay as he took a slow sip of water.

Everyone’s attention swung to him, and Clay froze mid-sip, pretty sure he’d just started things off on the wrong foot. He set his glass down and frowned at Eric. “What?”

“Stud!” Eric slapped him on the shoulder.

Larissa laughed. “There’s a story I’d love to hear.”

Clay grimaced, feeling like an idiot just thirty seconds into the game. Everyone was staring at him, which was the last thing he wanted. He felt awkward in his own skin, and remembered how easy it used to be to grab a beer at a party to make that feeling go away.

“I thought that’s how the game worked,” he said, wondering if it was okay to take another sip of water. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden. “That’s how we’re supposed to play, right?”

“Right,” Larissa said. “And no one is allowed to judge, so quit looking at him like that, Reese.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “Just surprised, that’s all.”

Clay scuffed his toe across the rug. “Alcohol may have been a factor.”