11. Wade

eleven

wade

Despite a heavy day ahead, I'm back at the elementary school. It's the last place I want to be but Jean called this morning to tell me the sprinkler system outside—one that I installed two years ago—isn't working.

After walking out to see where it's failed, I head back to my truck to change my steel-toed work boots for my rubber ones. Thankfully, I didn't cave when Goldie said I needed yellow ones with ducks on the toes to match hers. Mine are a little more presentable for an adult.

Not that I want to be one with the size of the puddle forming on the field. The inner child in me wants to run, jump, and slide until I'm all muddy. The thought brings a smile to my face, and I feel sorry for the kids who won't be able to experience how much fun it is to puddle jump.

I lay the sprinkler plans out on the tailgate of my truck and take a picture of each page. It's the only way I'm going to be able to determine where the pipe has busted. Nothing says fun like digging up yards of earth because you're unsure of things.

Feeling confident, I head back toward the newly formed swamp, minus the bugs, with as much gear as I can carry. It sucks being short-handed, but I had to send my skeleton crew to a few other places who all have contracted service.

"You really need to start hiring more people," I say to myself as I clomp through the soggy earth. "You can't do it all." I've tried for years, but I'm at the point where I need more help. Especially now that Goldie is living with me. She takes priority and I'd really like to be off work by five every night so we can have dinner together.

At the valve, I twist the dial until the water stops running. I need to find the break quickly because if I'm not mistaken, when the water company came out and installed the water line for the sprinkler system, they tied it into the main line. No water inside means no school today. Although, I'm sure the kids would love to stay home.

I take my phone out of my pocket and scroll through the images, doing my best to line them up from the water main. I walk along the supposed path, praying I'm over the line. When I think I'm close to the issue, I stuff my phone in my pocket and slam my shovel into the earth.

Clearly, I'm not thinking with the right frame of mind. I curse as the hole fills with water and mud.

"Fuck." I can't believe I didn't think this through. All I should've done was tell Jean to cancel school for the day and pray for a freaking heat wave because we need the ground to be solidor at least not a swimming poolin order for me to fix the line break.

I stand there in dirty, calf-deep water, shaking my head. Lemon is going to find a way to blame me for this. I just know it. I figure the only thing I can do is break the piping at the water main. It won't be an easy fix, but it's the only solution right now.

After trudging out of the water and back to my truck, I gather the necessary and probably somewhat unnecessary tools I need to do some damage. The thought thrills me, only because I know Lemon is going to be beside herself. I love a fiery Lemon because that's when she shows passion and gets all flustered. Her cheeks turn red, and she stumbles over her words. At least she does with me.

Anger is the only way she'll communicate with me these days. It's better than nothing. After years of avoiding me, I'll take what I can get.

I make sure the water is off, just in case. The last thing I want is to pull this pipe apart and get blasted. I have a long day ahead of me, and while it's easy enough to go home and change, the effort to do so seems daunting.

Starting with the wrench, I twist, pull, wiggle, and do whatever else I can to loosen the casing over the valve. I'm starting to think they put some superglue on the threads before the water company tightened it up because it is not budging.

Out of frustration, I whack it a few times with my hammer. Deep down, I know this isn't going to do anything except it alleviates some of the frustration I feel like right now.

"What are you doing?"

I look up to find the love of my life and my worst enemy wrapped in a tight black skirt with a white blouse, standing inches away from the beginning of the giant ass puddle, wearing those sharp as hell high heels that make her legs look a mile fucking long. And two thoughts pop into my mind. One: she's going to kill me. Two: I want those legs wrapped around my waist.

"Trying to fix the sprinkler."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It broke."

"Clearly, or you wouldn't be fixing it. What's wrong with it?" She enunciates each word.

"Saying what's wrong with it more clearly isn't going to make my answer change. It broke. I'm trying to disconnect the pipe from the valve so the school can have water. If I can't, no school today."

"That's not your decision to make."

I shrug. "You're right."

"How long until you have this fixed?" She points to the massive puddle.

I look at it and grimace. "Well, it needs to dry out so I can dig."

"Why can't you dig now?"

"Because water fills the hole."

"Well make it stop."

I am really starting to love this game.

"I'm trying." I point to the valve.

"No, that," she says, pointing to the soaked ground. "Dig the hole or whatever you have to do and fix it."

"Right," I say as I adjust my ball cap. "See, here's the thing. There's a lot of water on the ground. If I dig a hole, water fills the hole."

"Like I said, make it stop."

"How do you suppose I do that, Lemon?"

"It's Ms. Walsh," she says sharply. "I know your parents raised you better than to disrespect someone of my stature."

Lemon's not joking. She tilts her chin upward, as if she's some type of royalty. I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"Fine, Ms. Walsh ."

I go back to the valve and pick up the wrench. Another tug and I give up. Pulling out my phone, I search my contacts for the water department. My call goes to voicemail. I leave a message stating the emergency, as well as the urgency because no one wants the wrath of Lemon, and I hang up.

"Look, I don't expect you to understand?—"

"I'm not stupid," she says as she crosses her arms. I wish, with all my being, she didn't do shit like this. The top two buttons of her shirt are undone and the way she has her arms cross pushes her breasts up. God how I miss touching and sucking on them. She's blessed with the perfect set of tits. Hell, everything about her is fucking perfect, right now down to her smart mouth.

"My eyes are up here," she says, pointing to her face.

"Sorry," I mutter. Except I'm not sorry. I could stare at her for days and not tire of what I see. "Anyway, I called the water department because the casing is stuck, and I need them to bring their tools out. Right now, the school doesn't have any water. When they—the city—installed this portion for the sprinkler, they didn't give you a bypass."

"What's that mean?"

"The bypass would allow you to shut off different lines, which is what we need to do now." I point to the small lake. "We don't want the water running to the sprinkler line because all it's doing is saturating the grass, but we need the water to run to the school so toilets can flush, hands can be washed, and kids can get a drink from the fountain."

"And you can't fix this?"

I shake my head, hating to admit defeat. "I need this piece here"I tap the casing with my rubber booted toe"to come off."

Lemon huffs. She then walks toward me, picks the wrench up off the ground, and starts beating the shit out of the dial.

"Stop," I shout and wait for an opening so I can hold her arm back.

Only the opening never comes. Water spurts, gushes, and streams in all directions. She gasps while I fight the rushing rapid of water spray to get the valve shut off again. The only saving grace is the pipe is now broken and the school will have water.

I glance at Lemon. She's soaked from head to toe, standing there sputtering.

"I told you to stop." It's a low blow, but one I can't resist taking.

"I hate you!" she screams.

She leaves me no choice but to stand and defend myself. "You hate me?" I ask as I get in her face.

Lemon nods.

Someday, I'll look back on this moment and ask myself, what the fuck were you thinking . The answer is clear.

I wasn't.

My hands encase her cheeks, pulling her forward. Our lips mash together. Eager, hungry, and finally reuniting in familiarity. Lemon hungrily pushes into me, her mouth open—inviting and welcoming me.

Her fingers trail into my five o'clock shadow and nails dig into my skin. It's a welcomed feeling, proving I'm alive and this is what my body needs. What I've been missing. This is where I belong—where I have always belonged—with Lemon.

Lemon grips my head firmly, keeping me from escaping as she works her mouth against mine. She moans, sending a jolt right to my crotch. I pull her closer, needing her to understand what she does to me.

"Don't," she says as she pulls away. "I can't go there with you." Her fingers touch her lips as she averts her eyes and pulls away from me.

"Why not? I love you, and I know you love me. I don't understand why you want to keep this wall up between us when there doesn't need to be one."

She looks at me sharply and I step back. This is definitely the look she gives kids who are sent to her office for making toilet paper bombs in the bathroom. "Because you cheated."

"The hell I did." I run my hand over my ball cap in frustration. "That night . . ." I pause not really wanting to remember the night shit went down between us because she needs to know I'm not the only one to blame. I step toward her and lift her chin so she's looking at me. She needs to hear the words I have to say, and I hope they sink in.

"That night you broke my heart, Lemon. You shattered it into a million little pieces. I was hurt and drunk and . . . I don't regret it because I got Goldie from it. But you devastated me that night and the weeks after when you wouldn't take my phone calls. We were together for seven years and you just closed the door like I wasn't standing on the other side."

Lemon steps back, leaving me no choice but to drop my hand. "And when I finally found the courage to call you back, you had moved on."

My head shakes at her words. "See that's where you're wrong. Ana and I have never been a couple."

If I hadn't been watching her, studying her, I would've missed her expression change from aggravation to shock. It was quick, but I saw.

"That . . ." She pauses and inhales. "That doesn't change things."

"Why not?" I ask, throwing my hands up. She stares at me while I wait for her to tell me why things can't change. I step closer, wanting to be near her.

"Why not, Lemon?" My voice is quiet, full of remorse and longing.

Lemon takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Because I don't like . . ."

"Me?" I interrupt her, hoping I'm giving her the easy way out by nodding.

Her gaze meets mine. I step closer to her and reach for her hand, my thumb caressing her soft skin. "I know that's not true, Lemon. I could tell by the way you just kissed me back. By the way you held me."

Lemon drops her hand from mine and steps back. I hate that she's insisting there needs to be space between us when there doesn't. She crosses her arms under her breasts again. "You're a good kisser. Always have been."

I can't help it but smile.

"But that doesn't change how I feel."

"How do you feel?" I fight the urge to close the ridiculous gap between us.

Her gaze penetrates mine. "I'm jealous," she says, spewing the horrible word out of her mouth.

I can't help it and scoff, regretting the action immediately. She doesn't need me to be a dick right now. "I already told you. Ana and I aren't a couple. Never have been. Never will be. You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of, Lemon." I run my hand over my hat again and shake my head. "If I had known this years ago, things would be so different between us."

She inhales deeply, shaking her head. "I'm not jealous of Ana. I'm jealous of Goldie."

I freeze and stare, certain I didn't hear her correctly. I asked her earlier if she was jealous of Goldie and she said no. "I don't understand."

"Because she should be my daughter. Not Ana's."