Page 5 of Lemon Crush

The echo of my mother’s voice rocked me so hard, I closed my eyes and felt myself shrinking right there in Morgan’s arms. I was a kid again, helpless and hopeless, and she was the big sister obliged to come save the day.

I hated it.

August Retta. The late bloomer, the directionless dreamer, the lemon in the bunch. As my goddaughter Phoebe—a fan of all things Swift—would’ve said,It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.

Morgan let me go and smiled sadly. “Take care of my sister.”

My heart stumbled as she went to hug Wade while Gene wrapped me in his beefy arms and gave me a warm squeeze, rumbling unintelligible words of comfort.

They’re leaving. She’s leaving.

“As long as you take care of mine,” I said quickly when he let me go, swallowing my panic so she wouldn’t see it. “Be careful, okay? I love you both. And text me as soon as you land, no matter what time it is here.”

With one last meaningful look in my eyes, Morgan nodded. Then Gene took her hand and they both turned, disappearing moments later through the glass doors of the terminal.

Leaving me alone with the two security officers, Myrtle the currently-on-my-shit-list car, and Morgan’s mechanic bff, Wade Hudson.

“This is what you get.”

“Morning, Gus.”

I swiped at an escaping tear and made myself look at him, exceedingly grateful that the crush I’d harbored for this man throughout my youth as well as the first half of my adult life was all but forgotten. Everything about him irritated me now.

His knowing tricolor eyes—the brown and gold flecked with jade were too compelling to be called hazel—annoyed me. The impossibly wide shoulders that seemed ideal for clinging to or carrying weighty problems on were exasperating. And the face that had gone from teen heartthrob to slightly-weathered-but-still-irresistible cowboy over the last few decades? That got on my nerves too.

He was the manly equivalent of a Venus flytrap, as far as I wasconcerned. Everything about him was one hundred percent lady bait, I always fell for it, and none of it was for me.Hewasn’t for me.

Not that I was fit for anyone in my current condition. I used to write about bold, confident women taking down restrictive magical monarchies and finding their soul mates in the process all day long. But even then, at the end of that day I would still be Only August. And Only August had been a flaming dumpster fire for years.

When I didn’t respond to his greeting, he looked concerned—or maybe he was wondering if there was any way he could get out of letting the dirty hobo woman into his nice clean tow truck. He did the enigmatic thing so well I honestly couldn’t tell with him.

Then he tipped his head in the security guards’ direction. “I’ve got the car hooked up, but those two might call for reinforcements if we don’t leave soon.”

He had a point—one had his arms crossed over his chest and the other looked like he might be reaching for his radio.

“Come on.” He opened the passenger door. “Hop in and I’ll take you home.”

After a terse “Thanks,” I ignored his outstretched hand and climbed into the cab of his truck on my own.

Once the door shut, I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes, hoping he’d assume I was tired or trying not to cry because my sister was going to Italy without me.

Both of those things were true. It was also true that I didn’t want to waste my time attempting inane chitchat with someone who would end up ignoring me the way Wade usually did.

I didn’t care how attractive he was or how good he smelled, there was only so much I could take in one pre-morning, and I was now at my limit.

After we pulled onto the freeway, a ringtone echoed through the truck, followed by a voice booming over the sound system. “Wade?”

“Rick. Any reason you inconsiderately fucked with Gene’s head right before he flew overseas?”

“Iwasconsiderate.”

There was a scuffle in the background and another male voice I recognized joined the call. “The car wasn’t in a fender bender, Wade,” Gene’s friend Lucy said flatly. “It’s toast.”

How were they all awake at this hour?

“Fucked up beyond all recognition and heading for the junkyard. Dave screwed us last night, and if Rick’s expression is any indication, he’s lucky he’s still spending time in the drunk tank.”

“Shit.”

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