Puck sighed, then gave a low chuckle.
“We’ll have to figure it out later, because I’m really fuckin’ tired,” he admitted, falling back onto the bed. I snuggled into his side again, resting my hand on his chest as I closed my eyes.
EIGHTEEN
TWO MONTHS LATER
PUCK
I stepped out onto the roof, shutting my apartment window behind me. The air was chilly, and while it wasn’t freezing just yet, I still smelled fall in the air. It’d be time to put the snow tires on the truck soon. I’d have to park my bike for the winter, too. I still had the snowmobile of course, and it was a hell of a lot of fun. Just not as good as riding my bike.
“Did you remember the bread?” Becca called through her own open window. I held the French loaf up for her and she smiled. Ouch. Like getting punched in the gut every time. If anything, the gut punches were getting worse. Crazy about that girl.
“Thanks,” she said as I got close. I leaned over and kissed her, wondering whose bed we’d end up in tonight. I usually crashed at her place, but sometimes she liked to mix it up. She caught my hand as I stepped inside, tugging me toward the table.
“Come sit down,” she said. “Have a drink.”
“Wow, you went all out.”
She had. The table was covered in a deep maroon cloth that I recognized—she’d hemmed it with the brand new Singer sewing machine Regina had delivered last week. It wasn’t an antique, but it seemed to work all right. She’d bawled like a baby when she saw it.
That wasn’t the only crying she’d done. Becs had been terrified her foster parents would never forgive her for what she’d done, avoiding Earl and his wife for two days after we got home. Finally I’d had enough, so I put her on my bike and drove out to their place without any warning. There’d been an awkward silence, followed by hugs and tears and more dessert than should be legal.
Danielle had been less forgiving—she’d yelled at Becca for close to an hour before she decided not to hold a grudge. Blake stood behind her, arms crossed as he glared at me the entire time. I think he was somehow convinced it was all my fault. Maybe he’d just wanted in on the action. Either way, I was just thankful I didn’t have to fight him. Afterward, the girls erupted into tears and hugs, at which point Blake and I decided to join forces and get the hell out of there.
“So I’ve got your favorite beer here,” Becca announced, opening the fridge. “And I made you a pie. The spaghetti will be ready in just a minute.”
I took the beer and grabbed a chair, enjoying the sight of her cute little ass wiggling as she bustled around. Becca glanced at me, her face full of uncertainty. Then she blinked and I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“You have a good day at school?”
“Yes, it was fine,” she replied. “Um, speaking of school . . . I may be changing up my schedule a little. I’ve decided I really can’t wait four more months before graduation. They said I can start going full-time, accelerate things.”
I frowned. “You’re already crazy busy, between school and the Moose. How d’you figure you’ll pull that off?”
Becca frowned at me, but before she could respond the timer went off.
“Pasta’s ready.”
Five minutes later she handed me a plate full enough to feed the whole damned club.
“That’s a lot to eat,” I said, glancing at her. Becca smiled uncertainly, setting down her own plate. I waited for her to say something but she didn’t—just sipped her water, looking nervous. What the hell was going on here?
“You want a beer?”
Becca shook her head and sighed. “We should talk.”
“Words every man wants to hear,” I muttered. Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting. She twisted her fingers silently.
“Babe, you can just tell me,” I finally said, feeling something dark unwind deep inside. Had her mom been in touch? I knew Becca had mixed feelings about that bitch, but I didn’t. Sure, she’d stopped Teeny from killing Becca in the end. Of course, the only reason she’d needed to protect her was because she’d set her up in the first place.
I hoped she was dead. That’d be best for everyone.
“So, we’ve never really talked about the future,” Becca said slowly. “Sometimes I wonder . . . Where do you see us going, Puck?”
I frowned at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean do you see us together long term?”
“You’re my old lady,” I replied, taking a long pull of my beer. “What else is there?”
“We’ve got something good started here,” she said, her words careful. “And you know I love you. But I don’t want to trap you.”