Page 33 of Feels Like Falling
“Fine, I’ll go to your game night but don’t expect me to have fun.” My lips twitch but I nod solemnly.
“Course not.”
“Well, let’s go so I can shower and get dressed.” She motions down her still damp body. “Someone threw me in the pool, and I don’t want to bewetfor game night.”
Making no effort to hide her perusal of my body, Ellison grabs her things and then saunters out the side gate, leaving me to catch up in a hurry.
Whistling, I take my time because Ellison Mills is a hell of a view.
15
ELLISON
Montana can’t stop lookin’ at me as we take the ATV back through the fields to the house Mason and Bodhi are renting, and it’s got nothing to do with the fact he thinks I look pretty tonight.
Which he already told me.
No, this is because he knows I’m nervous. Because despite my upbringing and my practiced bravado, I really hate social gatherings and meeting new people. Events of any kind have me donning my mask before I even step foot through the door.
It’s engrained.
Reaching over, Montana takes my hand and squeezes. “It’s not like that, Eddie.”
I’m sure he’s right, but a part of me imagined we’d just live in this little bubble, and we’d never have to socialize with anyone but each other and one or two others here and there.
The idea is completely unrealistic, but it didn’t stop me from wishing it were true. Growing up in Blackstone Falls, I didn’t fit in. People mistook my standoffish demeanor for being stuck-up or prudish when it couldn’t be further from the truth. I desperately wanted friends who didn’t care about my net worth or how I could help advance them to the next level using my family’s connections.
It was lonely—so damn lonely—and after a while I was thankful that the invitations stopped. I hated pretending, but people here just didn’t understand what my childhood was like.
What my life was like.
But not anymore.
I squeeze Montana’s hand back, acknowledging that I did hear him even if it sent me spiraling. But tonight, for him, I need to try. He missed out on a lot growing up too, and I selfishly loved that he picked me over the field parties and tractor pulls down by the lake. Sure, he dragged me out sometimes, but Montana was the guy all the guys wanted to be and all the girls wanted to be with.
But for some reason he traded all of that for me.
Parking outside the cabin, I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. Montana’s mama had paid us twenty bucks to clean this place when some of their family surprised them from out of town and needed the cabin in a hurry. It wasn’t anything crazy—just changing the linens, mopping the floors, and cleaning the bathrooms—but Mrs. Greene had been so thankful, and I’d been filled with a sort of pride I’d never experienced.
I’dearnedmy share of the money and it feltgood.
My own mother had been properly horrified when I’d come home proud as a peacock to tell her what I’d done. My father had come to my rescue, mollifying her before pulling me aside and explaining that, like our special father-daughter dates at Boots On Bar and Grill, some things are better left unsaid.
“You ready?” Montana asks, startling me from the memory and bringing me back to the present.
“Sure I can’t convince you to go home?” I ask, biting my bottom lip and giving him a wide-eyed expression. “I’ll even show you my boobs,” I add for good measure.
His eyes drop to my chest as his mouth opens and closes before his gaze returns to mine. Turning, he jumps out of the ATV, a slew of curses leaving his kissable lips before he ducks his head and glares at me. “You got me all riled up. Now let’s go.”
“I could take care of that for you back at the?—”
“Out!” he barks, and I chuckle as I grab the tote at my feet that holds the buffalo chicken dip and crackers I whipped together. Montana said it was overkill, but it’d be a cold day in hell that I’d show up empty-handed.
The outside of the house is worn but tidy, the lap siding enduring years of Tennessee summers and just as many winters. Bright flowers line the window boxes, and a doormat sits perfectly in line with the dark blue door.
We’re halfway to the porch when said door flies open, revealing a guy much younger than Montana and me. His shaggy brown hair peeks out of his backward baseball hat, but I can’t get over how wide his smile is.
“You guys are the first ones here. Is this her? Oh man, this is so exciting.” He says everything without taking a breath before he’s bounding down the steps and wrapping me in a hug.
