Authors: Casey Elliot
Slade
*****
I managed to resist punching a hole through the door of my commanding officer's office, but not by much. I knew that would only prove to him what he already suspected—that I was unhinged. Not that I was, but Christ, I didn't need to give him any reason to think so.
I stalked out of the building and across the yard with a pissed off air that caused people to look away when they saw me. I would have laughed at the sight of the uniformed officers deliberately walking out of my way if I weren't so irate.
A vacation, he said. You need to take a vacation.
What the hell did he call sending me off to the desert, if not a vacation? I couldn't imagine a better time than fighting for my country and raising hell with my friends. Being idle wasn't going to solve anything.
I struggled to remember that it was only two weeks, though even that felt like a lifetime.
I hopped on my bike when I reached the parking lot, feeling the engine come to life beneath me. At least, I had my Harley. I could probably find somewhere to go for the next couple of weeks; somewhere that didn't leave a bad taste in my mouth.
I rumbled off of the base, keeping my speed within the limit while I was in military cop jurisdiction. As soon as I was out of there though, I raced down the freeway to my place at the other end of town. Most of my buddies liked to stay on the base, but most of them hadn't inherited their mom's house in the suburbs. They teased me about being domesticated, but never complained when I through raging house parties after a return from tour.
There wouldn't be a party this time.
Lexa
The morning light drifted through the slats in my bedroom window, landing warmly on the pillow by my head. I scrunched my eyes and groaned, turning to the side to try and escape the glare.
My mom knocked on the door, calling out, "Lexa, honey. Don't you think it's time to wake up?"
I scowled against the blanket, hoping that she would go away.
She didn't. "You can't just lie in bed all day," she said sweetly.
Actually, I could just lie in bed all day. And, I would. There was no reason for me to do anything but lie in bed all day. No school, no job, no purpose. I was living back at home with my parents because I'd had to give up my apartment in the city. And now, here I was at twenty two, being woken up by my mother.
She knocked again.
"I'm up!" I cried, before she could say another word. "I'll be out in a minute."
I heard her footsteps retreating, and I pulled the blanket over my head. God damnit.
When I was out of bed, I staggered out to the kitchen. My mom and stepdad were just about to eat breakfast. I guessed that was why she had been so adamant about waking me.
"Sit down, honey," Mom said. "It'll get cold."
I looked down at the unappetizing brown mush in my bowl; God how I hated oatmeal. I felt like I was in a Martha Stewart nightmare.
I sat and ate anyway, exchanging small-talk with my mom and Frank, so they knew that I wasn't suicidal. I tried not to glare at my mom when she talked about her book club or when she asked Frank if he would take her to Costco after he got home from work. When Frank headed out, I took the opportunity to head back to my bedroom and crawl back under the covers to get away from my mom and her forced normalcy.
I chanced a look out my window, mostly to see what the weather looked like (I was hoping for rain. No dice.) I saw that Slade Ronan was loading up his bike in his driveway. Our moms had been friends before Slade's mom kicked it. They'd gotten to know each other in that neighborly way that parents do when they have kids around the same age and live close to one another.
My heart sank as I remembered all the smiling photos of my brother and Slade that had been taken over the years. They'd met as awkward teenagers, but they'd turned into roguish hellians in no time at all.
Where the hell was Slade going?
I tore out of my room and down the stairs, surprising my mother who'd been dusting something or other. "Where are you going?" she called out after me.
"I'll be right back!"
"Lexa," she said, mollified. "Put some clothes on!"
Only my mother, the desperate Stepford wife that she was, wouldn't have considered my pajama shorts and tank top clothes. I didn't care.
I flung open the front door and ran across the road, my heels slapping against the pavement. Slade's eyes jolted up toward me as soon as he heard me moving in his direction; soldier instincts.
"What the hell are you doing out here, Ginger?" he asked. "You'll fry to a crisp on a day like this."
I frowned at his reference to my red hair and pale skin, but otherwise, ignored it. "Where are you going?"
He shrugged. "Don't know… been told to take a vacation."
I looked at his bike, then back at him and made a snap decision. "I’m coming with you," I said.
His green eyes filled with amusement, and he fixed me with a wide grin. "Oh, are you now?" he asked.
I nodded.
He laughed gruffly, and then his expression turned hard. "No."
I crossed my arms over my chest, conscious of the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra. That might not have been an issue if his laugh hadn't sent a shiver through me. My nipples felt dangerously close to hardening.
"Please," I said.
He cocked his head and the light played with the facets of brown in his tousled hair. "Well, now that you've said please," he teased. "It's still a no."
I didn't want to beg, but God, getting out of town seemed like the only thing that was going to keep me sane.
I didn't think Slade had ever been particularly fond of me. It wasn't that he disliked me, just that he and my brother were seven years older and I'd always been a kid to him. But, we had both loved my brother and that was the one thing I knew he'd respect.
"Slade," I said. "I'm going crazy here. My mom's on me all the time with her cheery go-getter attitude and I feel like I'm suffocating in my own house."
For a brief moment, his eyes softened. It softened the hard, rugged lines of his face; made him look human for a minute. Then, he hardened once more. "What exactly do you think we're going to do?" he said. What he meant was, there's nothing that we have in common.
But, we had one thing.
"I want to scatter my brother's ashes," I said. "We just got them yesterday. Mom barely looks at the urn. I think Joel would have wanted us to take them together."
Mentioning my brother's name nearly visibly hit him. He took a moment to study me. "And, do you know where you want to do that?" he asked.
I nodded. "It'll only take a few days, and then you can drop me off and get back on with your solo adventure, as much fun as that sounds."
He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Go get your shit. We leave in an hour."
I smiled and nodded, turning around before he had a chance to change his mind.
"And, for God's sake, Ginger," he called after me. "Put some pants on. I'm not taking you on my bike like that."
*****
My mom was none too happy about me absconding with our roguish neighbor. She wasn't terribly pleased about me taking Joel's ashes either, but I could tell she understood. The two of them had never been close; not like me and Joel had been. She missed her son as much as any mother would, I was sure, but we were each dealing with it in our own ways.
Also, it seemed she was just happy that I was staying out of bed.
I gave her a brief hug before I left, swinging my backpack over my shoulders and crossing the road. Joel's urn felt heavy on my back. It seemed fitting.
I knocked on Slade's door, stifling a gasp when he opened it. God, I would never get used to how hot he was. In slim-fitting jeans, biker boots, a tight white tee, and a black leather jacket, he could probably stop the hearts of an entire girl's school all at once.
But, this wasn't the time; it wasn't the place. And, it certainly wasn't the right person. I'd be damned before I messed around with a guy like Slade. I'd heard all about the way he was with women.
And anyway, he wasn't interested. Though, when he saw me in my tight jeans and leather jacket with my hair freshly washed and hanging in long, loose waves around my shoulders, I thought for a second that he looked at me a little too appreciatively.
"I'm ready," I said. "With two minutes to spare."
He wordlessly came out and locked the door behind him. He'd already packed up his bike.
He thrust a helmet into my hands, and I followed him to his bike. I'd never ridden on one, and I had to admit I was excited. I also didn't hate the idea that I'd be pressed up against Slade's body for the next couple hours or so—though that was purely because his body looked like it had been sculpted from marble. Who wouldn't want to have a feel of that?
He swung his leg over the bike and gestured for me to hop on. I did, and as I anchored myself to his back and felt the vibrations of the seat as the bike roared to life, for a moment, I forgot what we were going to do.
Slade
Life is full of unexpected surprises. Sometimes when you open your fridge, the stench of food that seemed to have rotted overnight hits you like a truck. Sometimes when you go to put your shoe on, there was a scorpion inside, and sometimes, the girl who had never been anything other than your best friend's little sister turned into a gorgeous woman while you were off doing other things.
The feel of Lexa's tits pressed against my back, her arms circling me tightly and gripping harder as I made turns was nearly too much to take. I hadn't expected to have a companion on my little journey nor had I particularly wanted one. But, what was I supposed to do when she turned those big, blue eyes on me and talked about how hard it was without her brother around?
I felt guilty, and the only way to alleviate my guilt seemed to be to let her tag along for the ride. Besides, having the opportunity to put Joel to rest in his favorite place seemed too good to pass up. The guy could've used a little rest.
I soared south on the highway, keeping our destination in mind. I went to a little suburb on the outskirts of Harthill, the town that Joel and Lexa had grown up in. I'd heard him talk about it before. He'd always said once he was out and settled down a bit, maybe with a wife and a couple kids, he wanted to live there. He'd talked about the house they lived in before his dad cut out, and I ate it up because it sounded like an awesome way to grow up, and there was nothing else to do in the cold, desert nights.
It took us a few hours to get there. We stopped for some food halfway and ate mostly in silence. I didn’t have anything to say to this girl. The last time I’d talked to her was when she was graduating high school, and Joel had dragged me along because her mom had had to bail at the last minute because their water tank blew up and she couldn’t leave the plumber alone in the house. We’d just finished basic training together, and he promised me a few beers after if I came, so I did.
Lexa had been a tall, skinny redhead with a set of braces and some sort of academic achievement award. She saw me watching as she walked across the stage and tripped. I’d had to suppress a laugh, watching the gawky teenager right herself and continue on to collect her diploma.
I congratulated her afterward, and we took her for ice cream. She had seemed so young then. The girl who sat across from me in the diner that June afternoon was a completely different person to the woman sitting across from me now, dipping french-fries in ketchup and scrolling through her phone. We hit the road again, stopping for dinner once we’d hit Harthill.
“So, here’s the plan,” Lexa said, sipping on her Coke. “We’re going to Joel and my childhood home. There’s a tree out back that his dog, Hank, is buried under.”
I nodded along, trying not to stare at the cleavage peeking out from the hemline of her tanktop.
“We’ll go after dark, sneak over the gate, dig a hole over top of Hank, and pour some of the ash in.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “We’re sneaking in?” I asked.
She nodded. “Of course.”
“The great thing about houses,” I said flatly “is that usually, they have front doors. You can knock on them and ask the person inside whether it’s okay for you to dig up their backyard.”
She shook her head. “Do you want to show up on a motorcycle, looking like you do and ask to go dig a hole in their backyard to dump some of my dead brother’s ashes into?”
“Looking like I do?” I questioned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shoved another fry into her mouth while she gestured at me with her free hand. “You know,” she said, chewing, “all rough and what not.”
“Rough,” I repeated, amused. “and what not.”
“Never been a problem for me before,” I purred.
Shit. I had just hit on Joel’s little sister. For a moment, I’d forgotten who she was. She now stared at me across the table, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. I decided to change the topic.
“So, what’s next after the midnight escapade?” I asked.
She shook her head. “State secrets,” she replied. “I’ll let you know once we’re done here.”
“Fine,” I said. “Seems a bit covert for an ash-spreading mission though.”
She shrugged.
After our meal, it was starting to get dark, so we headed out toward the house. At Lexa’s instruction, I parked down the street and we walked the rest of the way. By the time we got there, it was nearly full darkness. The lights in the house were on, spilling radiance out onto the lawn. Lexa frowned as we approached. She hadn’t been expecting that.
“I hope the back’s not as lit up,” she complained. “Have these people ever heard of curtains?”
I chuckled and looked over at her. Damn, she was nearly as tall as me. She must’ve hit some sort of late growth spurt out of high school. I was six-three, so that put her at just under six feet I would’ve guessed. And, with long legs like hers, I doubt anyone ever complained.
“What are you looking at?” she asked. Her tone indicated she was still irritated that the owners of the home didn’t have curtains.
I shook my head. “Just memorizing what you look like, so that I can tell the police who my accomplice was when I get caught later.”
She laughed, leading me down the side street that went behind the house. “Who's to say that you’re going to get caught but I’m not?”
“You’ve got legs that look like they were made for running from the cops,” I replied unthinkingly. I was glad I left off the last bit of what I was going to say; sinful.
She went quiet again, and it made me smile. Trying not to hit on her wasn’t the most fruitful of causes, but who was I kidding? If she weren’t Joel’s kid sister, I would’ve had her up against the backs of one of these houses by now. Even letting out the little bit that I did, I was still holding back an awful lot. And, I was beginning to think she wouldn’t have minded if I gave her my all.
Lexa
In my head, I had started a mantra. It went a little something like this: Don’t sleep with Slade. Don’t sleep with Slade. Don’t sleep with Slade.
The fact that I had to repeat that over and over again in my head is indicative of just how much of an effect he was having on me. Anytime he looked at me, his eyes shot right through me. The feel of his hard and muscular back against my chest as we drove caused me to be hyper-aware of the way he moved and rippled under his clothes. And, his voice—that low, gravelly tone, sent shivers right to my core.
Then, when he made the offhand comments that he sometimes did, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he felt it too. But, I had to remind myself that he was just a guy looking at a tall redhead, and that I was just feeling like this because of a crush I’d once had on him.
Who wouldn’t have had a crush on the guy that came to her high school graduation when her mom bailed? Not to mention he showed up looking all clean-cut and soldiery with his close-cropped hair, and his pressed shirt with his tattoos showing from where he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.
He was every teenage girl’s forbidden fantasy.
It was beginning to feel like nothing had changed. He was still the super hot bad boy with the motorcycle who was only humoring me because he pitied me, and I was still the awkward, lovestruck kid.
So, I started a mantra to keep myself sane.
We snuck around the back of the house to where the big, white fence bordered the public park that Joel had broken his arm in during the first grade. There was a gate, but it was locked from the other side. Slade took a peek over.
Padlocked.
Guess whoever these people were, they didn’t have kids.
The fence was about six feet tall. After tossing my backpack over, I looked over at Slade. “Give me a boost?” I asked.
He laughed. “You want me to boost you over the fence?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He shook his head with a bemused expression, but put his hands out for me to step onto.
I’d never been particularly athletic. Besides going for the odd run now and then, I didn’t do a lot in terms of exercise. I certainly wasn’t athletic enough to gracefully make it over the fence. That probably showed when I went over the top and toppled onto the other side.
With my face in the grass, I let out a low groan.
“Are you okay?” asked Slade, from the other side.
“Yeah,” I replied.
I picked myself up and, within a moment, he came down on my side, landing in a crouched position. Of course, he would be skilled at jumping over fences.
“It’s that tree there,” I whispered, trying to get over my embarrassment.
He followed my gaze to the willow about twenty feet to our left. I slung my bag back onto my back. We hunched over and kept to the shadows, keeping a watchful eye for any activity from the house. Once under the tree, I pulled off my backpack and searched for the little trowel I’d hidden inside.
Slade’s eyes were glued to the silver urn that I pulled out while I hunted. I had forgotten that he’d never seen it before.
“You okay?” I asked.
He looked at me like I was stupid for even asking. “Of course.”
I dug the first couple of shovelfuls, but as I went to stick the spade in the ground for the third dig, Slade sighed and grabbed it out of my hands. I would have protested, but I didn’t want to cause any sort of ruckus that might give us away.
“How deep do you want it?” he asked in a husky whisper after a few more minutes of digging.
I felt my heart rate zoom before I realized he was asking me how deep I wanted the hole to be. “Uh, about a foot and a half,” I replied.
I saw his lips curve into a smirk. It was obvious what had been on my mind.
When the hole was dug, we took off the lid of the urn and together, carefully poured a third of its contents into the ground. Then, we filled it and slid the clump of grass from the top back into place.
“All done,” Slade said, tapping the earth.
“Should we say something?” I asked. My eyes swam with tears, as the realization that we’d just buried a part of my brother hit me. I knew it was what he would have wanted, but it made it seem so final, so real.
“Let’s save that for the last place,” he said.
For a second, I thought he looked pretty raw too.
Then, the porch light came on, bathing most of the backyard in its glow. Slade roughly grabbed me and shoved me against the tree, pressing his body against mine. I was enveloped with his musky, intoxicating scent. It was salt and dirt and something all his own. God it was good.
A dog raced out into the yard. At first, it didn’t see us, and Slade and I communicated in a look that we were going to wait it out. We tried not to breathe too heavily, but I was having difficulty considering just how much I was enjoying the unexpected contact.
Then, the dog sniffed the air, turned its head, and looked right at us. We bolted just as it began to bark, sending up a flurry of noise into the night. It was only a little dog, and didn’t charge us or anything, but within moments, its owner ran over to the patio to see what was happening.
Slade practically threw me over the fence as a man’s voice called out, “Who are you and what are you doing in my backyard?”