Why Now? Page 2

  There is no way we’re discussing that right now.

  Moving on. “What should I do?”

  Her eyes widen. “Are you seriously considering it?”

  Shrugging, I glance at my feet.

  She moves to sit next to me. “You can’t marry Heath fucking Mackey.”

  My head snaps up. “What’s wrong with Heath?”

  Shaking her head she replies, “There’s nothing wrong with Heath except for the fact that you don’t love him. Date him, fine. Feel each other out and then after a year or two get engaged.”

  “But his mom,” I argue.

  She bumps my knee with hers. “Heath should not have put that on you.”

  Mrs. Mackey was a nice woman, and living in a small town we all knew things weren’t looking good for her health wise. Reilly was right that I shouldn’t take her wanting to see Heath get married before she died as my responsibility. That didn’t stop me from feeling sorry for her and wanting to help.

  “We could always get divorced.”

  She smacks my arm in response and even I know I deserved it.

  “You don’t understand what it’s like,” I sigh.

  Her arm moves to wrap around my shoulders and tug me to her. We’ve been friends since forever, growing up on the same street together. My dad still lives on that street, not that I visit him anymore, and Reilly and Jake’s grandparent’s house is still diagonally across the street from it.

  Renters live there now. After their grandparents passed away, Jake found out how underwater it was in comparison to the rest of the market. They couldn’t sell it and they didn’t want the bank to foreclose on it. That house and Reilly’s tuition were the reasons Jake went away. He got a job working on an oilrig off of Santa Barbara making bank to cover both.

  Stop thinking about Jake I command myself.

  “This is too extreme, babe,” is her reply.

  She wasn’t the town joke, though. In fact, since she’s a lifestyle reporter for our local news channel she’s basically a celebrity in town. Not only is she outgoing and drop dead gorgeous, she has never been the butt of a joke. While I don’t doubt she knows some of what I go through, she’ll never fully understand it looking in from the outside.

  I’m not sure I want to risk losing a good thing. Heath Mackey is a good thing. He’s not only hot as hell, but he’s also a good guy with a great job who cares about his family and friends. And after that kiss, and the way Heath looked at me, it felt so unbelievably good to be wanted.

  Reilly has dated plenty of great guys who were sexy as hell. I haven’t.

  That means she’ll never understand what it feels like when the cute guys around town look knowingly at each other when they see me. Or what the girls Jake dated mutter under their breath every single time I’m within earshot. Even the nice ones who don’t say anything look at me with pity.

  If I were married to Heath that would all go away. People would stop thinking there was something wrong with me. Based on that kiss, maybe we could even be happy together.

  “I need to think about it,” I grumble before standing and heading toward our kitchen.

  I need some ibuprofen and a cup of Earl Grey. The worst of my hangover may have been gone but that didn’t mean I didn’t still have a headache. Thinking about Heath’s idea makes it pound.

  Reilly silently watches me. Once my tea is made and my ibuprofen taken, I make my way back over to her.

  She waits until I sit to say, “You can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” I argue.

  Cocking her head, she smirks. “You can’t even sleep with a guy you don’t love, how are you going to marry one?”

  After taking a fortifying sip of my tea, I reply, “I love Heath.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Since when?”

  “I love him like a friend.”

  Her face relaxes. “That’s not the same thing.”

  “How many relationships start by being friends first?”

  Squinting at me, she asks, “What, do you want an actual response to that question? I’ll have to Google it and get back to you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “You don’t have to be such a smartass; you know it was a rhetorical question. People who started as friends before they started dating are more likely to stay together.”

  “Key word there is dating. I’m not arguing with you about dating Heath, just marrying him.”

  It hits me right then and there what I should do. “We can date during our engagement. If neither of us is feeling it before the wedding, we can call the whole thing off.”

  She squints at me again. “Call the whole thing off? Did you watch my report on how expensive weddings are?”

  I wave off her concern. “We can go low budget. Think about it, I can wear my mother’s dress and we can have an outdoor ceremony in Heath’s parent’s backyard. Even if we have it catered, as long as we keep the guest list small it shouldn’t be that expensive.”

  “This is a gigantic mistake.”

  “What’ve you got planned for your time off?”

  Shrugging, I shove my shit into my duffle. “I need to meet with the realtor who’s been listing my grandparent’s place. The renters that are living there didn’t renew their lease. Might be able to finally sell the place.”

  Erik’s brows lift. “That’s good news man.”

  Pausing, I push away any hope. “We’ll see. If I can’t, or don’t get another renter soon, it’ll fuck up my finances.”

  When he doesn’t reply, I look up at him. Erik Sonderveik, my roommate on this rig, is one giant-ass Danish motherfucker. One look at him and you know without a doubt one of his ancestors was a Viking. We’re both floorhands, roughnecks on this rig. He’s out here all the way from Denmark. He got the gig since a company based there owns this rig.

  He’s one of the best workers and friends I’ve ever known. One thing he is not, though, is a rushed thinker. He quietly deliberates almost everything. When I first met him it drove me nuts. It sucks to admit it, but I figured he was dumb, all brawn and no brains. Turns out, he’s one of the smartest guys I’ve ever known. He just takes his time before he speaks.

  When he finally does speak, it’s to ask a question. “Have you told your sister?”

  Directing my attention back to my bag I reply, “Fuck no. She’s got enough shit to worry about. I’m not adding this to it.”

  “What shit does she have? She has good job and a decent apartment. I’m Facebook friends with her.”

  That gets my attention. “When did you become Facebook friends with my little sister?”

  One meaty shoulder lifts in a shrug as he reaches up to tug at his beard. “Last time I went with you to visit.”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I growl, zipping up my bag. “She’s dealing with exactly what a girl her age should be. I’m not adding this to it.”

  “Your sister is no longer a girl. She is a beautiful woman.”

  Pinning him with a glare I warn, “I know you can take me but I can still get a few good ones in before you do. So, drop it about Reils before I really get pissed.”

  My threat only seems to bore the giant motherfucker. “What about her roommate, the little redhead? She was hot and single when I visited. Do you know if she’s seeing anyone?”

  Dropping my bag, I cross our room and get right in his personal space. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  He laughs, “It is easy.”

  I’m a fucking idiot. If he was looking for proof that I liked Reilly’s friend I handed it to him on a silver platter. One thing about working on a rig is you have to come up with ways to entertain yourself. There’s no Internet or cell signal; there are no TV shows. We work our asses off and make damn good money doing it. When we aren’t working, we fuck with each other.

  Turning around, I snag my bag and head for the door, “See you later, asshole.”

  His laughter follows me.

  During my ride back to the mainland, I try to get a handle on why
what he said set me off. Kacey Albright has been my little sister’s friend forever. In the beginning, her little crush on me was funny. Whenever she was at the house to play with Reilly, she would always find a way to see me. At times, she was my little shadow.

  Shit, she scared the crap out of me more than once sneaking up on me. One time, I woke up and she was standing over my bed watching me with her big brown eyes. She followed me around like a quiet little puppy. People noticed, the guys gave me crap about it, but I always thought it was endearing.

  It drove the girls I dated through high school crazy. It only bothered me when I was trying to get laid. Nothing like an eleven-year-old girl walking into your room without knocking and getting an eyeful to discourage a girl from hooking up with me at my grandparent’s house. My grandparents were old and had a first floor master bedroom so they never came upstairs.

  The fact that there were plenty of other places to hook up kept me from getting too annoyed with her. It was flattering knowing she liked me so much. It only became an issue when she became more aggressive with the crush she had on me.

  Showers were no longer sacred. She seemed to have a finely tuned radar to detect when I was naked. During high school and my first year at state, I think she saw my dick more than I did. Her crush was less cute then. I was still nice to her, especially after she lost her mom in a car accident, but I had my limits.

  All of the guys gave me a hard time about her infatuation. Some of them even told me to fuck her so she could finally get over hero-worshipping. There was no way I was about to touch jailbait. She was goofy looking, in a cute way, but not in the way that would get my dick hard.

  She always had a lot of hair. After her mom died, she cut it all off and during the three or so years it took to grow back out it looked like a frizzy red mushroom on her head. She also had big teeth that didn’t fit her face and her thick glasses didn’t help. I’ve always had a thing for tits and ass and she absofuckinglutely had neither.

  When I quit school to go work on the rig, I didn’t see her for a while. The first time I came back to visit, I didn’t even recognize her. Her hair was long, almost halfway down her back and no longer resembled a frizzy mushroom. She also lost the glasses. She graduated early and started working at one of those laser eye places and didn’t need them anymore. Her teeth no longer looked too big for her face, either. She could model for toothpaste ads, her teeth look so perfect.

  Speaking of perfect, just picturing her ass was all I needed to do if I was going to jerk off, which is a necessity living on a rig. These days to take care of business, I either pictured her or that mystery girl who kissed me. They were both so different. Kacey was always awkward around me, but in a cute way that made me want to take care of her. Then there’s the girl from a party Reilly had. I never got her name but I’ll never forget the way she kissed or her long blonde hair.

  My mystery girl is just that, a mystery and Kacey isn’t the type of girl you mess around with if you aren’t ready to settle down.

  She’s not the kind of girl who deserves being stuck with a guy who’s never around, and that’s what I am. Unless I can get out from underneath this mortgage, that’s all I’ll ever be.

  I’ve made my peace with that. The reason my grandparent’s had to mortgage their house to begin with was to take care of us. Sure, I could have ignored their debt after they died, or make deals with their creditors, but Gramps wouldn’t have liked that. I have no idea what happens after someone dies, whether it is heaven, reincarnation, or some kind of never ending purgatory. All I did know was that no matter where he and Gram went, I wanted them to be at peace.

  Their debt and Reilly’s tuition is what got me on that rig. Now that Reils is out of school and all that’s left of their debt is that house, I’m almost free.

  Depending on what the housing market in Ferncliff looks like, I might finally be able to sell the house. Hell, I’d be thrilled if I could break even on it, instead of it being the never-ending noose around my neck that it currently is.

  From Santa Barbara, I take the train south back home. What would take five hours by car is closer to three by train. If not for the train, I’d have to rent a car every time I had to go home. There’s no point owning a car. I don’t even have my own apartment. On the few days I have off, I either crash at an extended stay motel in Santa Barbara or go home.

  I’ve known guys who came to our rig from other rigs, ones where you have more time off. Ours is different, it’s part of the reason we’re paid as well as we are. The guys with kids never last long, but for guys like Erik and me, the money is worth having little to no time away. If I need to go home, I use Heath’s spare bedroom. He’s cool like that and said I’m welcome to it any time I need it. I’ve got a ton of time off built up so I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town.

  There’s no point having a smart phone while working in a place that will never get a signal. A piece of shit pay as you go phone is all I have for whenever I’m off the rig. It gets no Internet but I can make calls and send texts. Pulling it from my pocket, I send Reilly and Heath each a text to let them know I’m going to be in town.

  Heath replies back right away letting me know he’d leave a key for me under his doormat. Reilly doesn’t text back; she calls.

  Glancing around, I look to see how full the car I’m in is. Luckily, there’s only a small group of people, who seem to be traveling together at the other end of the car.

  “What’s up, Reils?”

  “Hey, big bro. How long are you going to be in town for?”

  My eyes shift to the window. “No clue, it depends on how fast I can get stuff done with Gram and Gramps’ house.”

  “What’s going on with their house?” She asks.

  It only takes a couple of minutes to catch her up. She doesn’t need to know everything, only that the current renters didn’t renew their lease.

  “Will you have time to hang out with me?”

  “You’re the big shot reporter. You got time for me?”

  Her laugh is a welcomed salve to too many days away. “Big shot? Please. Today I got to interview a woman who has not clipped her toenails in ten years.”

  Shaking my head, I chuckle. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  She sighs. “People love stories like that. Besides, it’s not like anything interesting ever happens here.”

  “You getting sick of Ferncliff?” I ask.

  There’s a pause before she replies. “Yes and no. Don’t listen to me; I’m in a weird mood.”

  Her tone concerns me.

  “What’s going on?”

  There’s another pause before she says, “Heath asked Kace to marry him.”

  My head jerks in surprise. “Kacey Albright?”

  “Yes, and she said yes. It’s the craziest thing.”

  Heath and Kacey?

  Married?

  “I didn’t know they were seeing each other,” is all I can say.

  “They weren’t.”

  She then spends the next fifteen minutes explaining it all to me. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the two of them together long after Reilly and I hang up.

  Heath isn’t a dumbass so I don’t blame him for making a play for Kacey. She’s a sweetheart and gorgeous. If things were different . . .

  It’s better that I don’t finish that thought. I only have time to worry about two things—the house and seeing Reilly. I settle more comfortably into my seat and focus on the passing view out my window.

  The realtor’s office is closed by the time I make it to Ferncliff so I head straight for Heath’s place. In case he’s home, I knock.

  It was a good call because a minute later he opens the door.

  “Shit man, you look even bigger than the last time I saw you,” he says greeting me.

  Frowning, I shake my head. “Maybe you’re shrinking.”

  He laughs, “Come on in, asshole.”

  I drop my duffle in his front hall. He lifts his mat to retrieve the
key he left and passes it to me. I slip it into the pocket of my jeans.

  “Want a beer?”

  Nodding, I follow him to his kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he passes me a bottle and gets one for himself. I twist off the cap and send it sailing into his trashcan as I lean against his counter taking a long pull of my beer.

  “Feel good to be home?”

  His eyes are on me but I’m looking out into his living room. Heath isn’t living large or anything, but he does have a nice place. It seems like a fucking castle compared to my current living arrangements. Priorities have a way of shifting over the years. When I went away to state on a full scholarship to play ball, I couldn’t see past the life I thought I deserved.

  Everything came so easily in those days—friends, girls, and people just begging to have a chance to kiss my ass. This place would have seemed like a dump to me back then.

  Shaking my head I reply, “This place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

  My head turns back to him in time to catch his look of confusion before he schools his expression. “You don’t think of that rig as home do you?”

  He waits while I take another pull from my beer. “Nope, it’s not home which makes me homeless, I suppose.”

  “Hell, man, I don’t know how you do it. Don’t you go crazy out there?” He asks.

  My first year out there, I didn’t have time to think about myself. It was a whole new world and the work was so intense I crashed every night and didn’t budge until my next shift. Money was the only thing I thought about and the oilrig was the only legal way I could make what I needed.

  The isolation of living on the oilrig didn’t hit me until my first Christmas there. It was more than being hundreds of miles away from home; it was my first Christmas without Gram and Gramps, without the man and woman who raised me. No matter how big my ego got, my Gramps had no problem reminding me my shit still stunk just like everybody else’s.

  I didn’t only want to be home, I wanted them to be there too. Sure, I have a jacked up semblance of a family on the rig, but it isn’t the same. A few of the guys knew I played ball and was destined for the NFL but they could give a rat’s ass about it. As far as they were concerned, I was no better than any of them and turns out they were right.