Page 21 of Unlocked Dive
I grunt, trying to smooth my features. I know a gig like Big Top takes a lot more than artistry and out-of-town star power to stay afloat, and Josha is the carpenter, mechanic, and engineer in one dedicated package. More than that, after growing up as close to next door as exists around here, he’s part of Shilo’s family.
He doesn’t deserve my scowls, and I know better than most the electric lure of Echo’s charm.
“How’s Milla’s big crush these days?” I ask, softening slightly and tearing my eyes away from the blue glow of Echo’s hair. Shilo laughs.
“Dead and buried. Or at least buried,” she amends. “Josha came out to his family last year, and she had to stop pretending he was going to change his mind someday.”
“How’d that go? The coming out part?” Like Shilo, I’ve known Josha was gay for years. I should be proud of him, not wondering if this makes him more of a threat.
“About as expected.” She shrugs. “His parents hardly noticed. His brother gave him shit for a couple of days—Jeremy is fourteen and still learning how to be a decent humanbeing—but his sisters rallied around him and put the little punk in his place.” She follows my gaze back to where both guys are now fussing over Milla while she preens. “Think Echo might teach him a thing or two before we head out for the season?” There’s no threat to the curious question, but I almost choke on the growl that rumbles in my chest.
“Maybe.”Too stiff. I can feel her eyes on me, and I take a swig of my forgotten beer.
“Or maybe not,” she muses.
I shift my shoulders, awkward and edging toward miserable. Echo is leading Josha through the heavy backstage curtains, leaving Milla cross-legged on the mat, playing with her phone.
“You know Cheyenne was only twenty-five when I met her,” Shilo says, freeing me from her gaze to spear me with words instead. I guess I’m not fooling anyone today.
“But no one was paying you to evaluate her.”
“No. Hals and I were paying her to perform. And still married to each other with two kids.”
“So, what?” I ask, sharper than she deserves and trying not to picture someone else’s mouth on Echo’s skin. “You win the inappropriate relationship trophy?”
I’m immediately ashamed. “I’m sorry. That was a shit thing to say.”
“It was, but I’ll forgive you. And I won’t tell Cheyenne you said it.”
I absorb the gentle rebuke, but before I can apologize again, she continues. “My point is, no one here will judge you, Byrd.”
“Except myself.”
And maybe Josha. Fuck.
“Always your own worst critic.” She squeezes my arm. “And that’s saying something, considering your marriage.”
“Now who’s being a dick?”
“Hey, like I said—no judgment. But you deserve to be happy, Byrd, no matter what that looks like.” She gives me a nudge with her elbow and collects my half-empty beer, and for the second time today, I go in search of what I’m not allowed to want.
I find him with Josha, of course, leaning against the box truck by the 4-Runner. Echo is smoking one of his damn cigarettes, and their heads are tilted together, shoulders brushing.Too fucking close.
“Time to go,” I say, climbing into the driver’s seat and fishing the keys out of the cupholder. Josha blinks at me, no doubt surprised by my uncharacteristic rudeness, and pushes off the truck.
“Nice to meet you, Echo,” he says, all country manners and shy smile, impossible to hate. “See you later, Byrd.”
Echo waves him off with a wink and takes another drag before dropping the butt and stubbing it out with his shoe.
“Pick that up and get in the car.” Jesus, I sound like an angry father.Or a jealous boyfriend.He walks over and rests his elbows on my window, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his regrettable, delectable mouth.
“What happened to you?” he asks.
“Nothing. Get in the fucking car.” I can’t look at him when he’s this close without remembering his taste on my tongue.
“Not until you tell me why you’re so pissy all of a sudden.”
“I’m notpissy.” It’s such an obvious lie I could laugh at myself. If I wasn’t so pissed.
