Page 16 of Best of Me

Problem is, my fridge and my pantry are empty. I could probably talk Nate into taking me home with him, but even Jenny’s cooking isn’t worth the four-billion questions they’ll ask. As far as Nate knows, I reacted poorly out of shock, but God knows what Mallory has told his fiancée. And even if she is still in the dark, Jenny will pepper me with questions until I crack like an egg. Which means I can either hit up the Piggly Wiggly or a drive-thru.

Seeing as I have no desire to really go anywhere other than home, a drive-thru it is. Only, when I pull into the parking lot, there’s a sign taped to a caution cone in front of the menu, saying that the speaker box is broken and to order inside.If that ain’t just my luck.Shaking off my irritation, I steer my truck into a parking spot next to a sporty little blue crossover. Going into the dining room still beats going to the actual store.

I’m looking down as I walk toward the door, not really paying attention, so it’s a total jolt when I collide with a small, feminine body. Instinctually, I reach out, my arm banding around her waist while her hands fly to my shoulders. To an outsider, our position is downright intimate—a lover’s embrace.

“Oh!” she gasps. “I am so sorry!” I drag my eyes up to her face, my green eyes meeting her golden brown—Mallory. Subconsciously, I squeeze her tighter to my chest, pressing all of her soft into my hard, before stepping back and placing much-needed space between the two of us.

“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter, trying to step around her. Seeing her, touching her, has my brain whirring, my blood fizzing, and my heart beating double-time.

But she matches me step for step, blocking my path. “Um, don’t you want to apologize as well?”

She’s right. Ishouldapologize, but there’s something about this girl that evokes a visceral response in me, and as much as it pains me to admit, I don’t think it’s because she reminds me of Val. And that sets me on edge. She’s a virtual stranger to me; I shouldn’t feel anything for her other than disdain for her not being around the past eight years.

“Sorry.”

Mallory rolls her eyes, which I’m now noticing are several shades lighter than Valorie’s. “Anyone ever tell you that you really have a way with words?”

I shrug and move to go around her again. “I’ve heard it a time or two.”

“Whatever.” She lets me pass. “Have a nice night, Duke.”

But I can’t, not now. Seeing her is the cherry on top of the shit sundae that was today. And hearing her say my name in that sweet, honeyed voice of hers…it’s the extra fucking sprinkles.

I’m up bright and early the next morning, as per usual. I used to be able to sleep in until at least eight in the morning on my off days, even later if Valorie was curled into my side. My lack of sleep hardly bothers me anymore; it definitely beats the dreams of her that plague me. Sometimes it’s visions of her bruised and bloody body that haunts me; other times, it’s memories of the life we were building together. The worst ones, though, are dreams of the future we could’ve had—dreams of our wedding day and of her belly rounded out with our first child. Val wanted two kids, a boy first and then a girl.

As fucked up as it was, right after her death, I was so desperate to have more time with her that I used the sleeping pills my doctor prescribed just to catch a glimpse of her smiling face. Thankfully, I realized how unhealthy that was and put a stop to it before it became a habit I couldn’t break—too bad Nancy didn’t do the same.

I fly through my morning routine, wanting to get to the gym and the grocery store before either get too busy. After a thorough workout, I hit the showers and head to the Pig. I detest grocery shopping, but I’m too set in my ways to try the online pickup. I mean, how do I know they’ll do a good job? Plus picking out ripe melons is one of my superpowers.

Inside the store, I grab a cart and head toward the meat section. I know most people do produce first, but I don’t like everything sitting on top of my veggies. There’s a method to my madness. I load up on lean proteins before hitting the dairy section. A carton of eggs, some butter, cheese, a gallon of milk, and a bottle of that bomb-ass Reese’s-flavored coffee creamer and chocolate whipped cream, and I’m on my way. I grab a few snacks and drinks from the inner aisles before making my way to the bakery—there’s nothing better than those big-ass loaves of French bread toasted and drenched in butter.

Finally, with my cart damn near overflowing, I mosey over to the produce section. I go to stock up on my usual veggies, reaching for a crown of broccoli with one hand while trying to shake the little plastic baggie open with the other. Only, instead of a cold and waxy green stalk, my fingers meet warm, smooth flesh that sends a zing up my arm and to my chest—almost as though I’ve touched a live wire. I yank my hand back; my eyes dart up, once again bringing me face-to-face with Mallory fucking Parsons.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” She offers me a weak smile, her thumb rubbing small circles over the patch of skin I just touched on her wrist.

“That implies it’s intentional.” My voice comes out gruffer than I intend, and when she shrinks back, I cringe internally. Something about this girl brings my inner-asshole out in full force.

“Actually, it’s the opposite. It’s a stock phrase, typically used when two characters keep meeting in awkward or dangerous situations.” She nibbles her pouty bottom lip, and I’m wishing I wasn’t wearing workout shorts, because they hide nothing—especially not the inappropriate reaction I’m having at the moment.

I shift behind my cart to hide said reaction when she adds on, “Though, we’re definitely more awkward than dangerous.” If only Mallory knew just how dangerous she really was to my mental, physical, and emotional health. I’ve worked hard to build up a suit of armor since losing Val, and here her damn twin is, all soft words and sweet smiles—a chink in my armor. A weakness. A threat, and I don’t do well with threats.

When I offer her nothing more than a stony blank stare, she draws in a shaky breath, grabs the crown of broccoli we were both after and scurries away, leaving a sinking feeling in my gut.

Two days later, I’ve finally managed to shake thoughts of Mallory loose from my mind—mostly. Nate is content, for now, to keep talks of her in our no-fly zone, which has made our shifts thirty times more enjoyable. There’s nothing worse than working with a pissed-off partner. I know eventually he’ll push for details, andeventually, I’ll give them. But for now, I’m still at a loss on how to even broach the subject. There’s no good way to explain our past, much less that I suddenly find myself having thoughts about her that leave me feeling all kinds of twisted up inside.

“You want burgers today?” I ask as he pulls us back into the station parking lot for our thirty-minute lunch break.

“Actually, I’ve got plans with Jenny today. I must’ve forgotten to mention it.” He kills the ignition and we both get out. “You…can join us,” he offers politely, but his tone implies otherwise. Sounds to me like Nate has plans for some afternoon delight, and that’s definitelynotsomething I want to be invited to.

“Nah, I’m good.” I give him a smirk. “You have fun though.”

He winks and heads off toward his car with a skip in his step.At least one of us is getting some.I mean, I haven’t been totally celibate since losing Val, but I haven’t actually slept with anyone either. I’ve had exactly three bedmates since if you could even call them that since we never ended up in a bed and I never sealed the deal...with any of them. We’d get hot and heavy, usually in the back seatof their car, and I’d make sure they got off and then I’d bounce. It’s like my brain is totally on board with providing pleasure, but something about actually fucking someone other than Valorie makes me feel dirty.

With half an hour to spare, I find myself hitting up my favorite little café, Oh, Sugar. They make an out of this world caramel macchiato float. I’m talking two scoops of homemade vanilla bean ice cream, topped with two shots of espresso, milk, and enough caramel drizzle to hype up an entire classroom of kindergarteners. Basically, it’s a giant sugar-fest that’s so bad for my body but so,sogood for my soul.

I place my order at the counter and step off to the side to wait for it. I’m scanning the space for a free table when my gaze snags on a certain golden-skinned blonde tucked away in the back corner.She’s fucking everywhere.

Irrational anger thrums beneath my skin. How is it I managed to go over eight years without ever seeing her, and now I can’t catch a break? It’s like the universe said,Oh, you’re struggling with your loss still? Here’s some more shit to wade through.Mallory’s my own personal brand of torture, and yet, she sparks something to life in me that I thought died with her sister—hope—and that just pisses me off all the more.

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