13. Keats

13

KEATS

I don't hate my job, but right now, I kinda hate my job.

It was a long night, but I survived like always. Needing fresh air, I decide that maybe a run is in order. Maybe that sounds crazy, but I'm on an adrenaline high, and normally it wakes me up. Grabbing my running shoes from the basket next to the front door, I slip into them and glance at my watch that says 11am. In an ideal world, I would be waking up with a woman in my bed, but that was not in Esme's and my cards last night.

Closing the front door behind me, I inhale a deep breath of fresh air on this sunny day.

Except it seems that today will be anything but shiny.

In the corner of my eye, I spot a hellbent Esme storming my way.

"You!" she snarls.

Oh man.

"Yes?"

"I'm so angry."

Scratching my cheek, I point out the obvious. "I'm so confused. I thought you said that you wouldn't be angry that we didn't consummate our date that was going pretty well."

Her arms splay out in the direction of the driveway. "That was before you decided to ruin my driveway."

My eyes squinch to examine what she could possibly mean. Maybe I'm still too groggy for this all, but I'm not catching on.

"The sand," she snipes. "The fucking sand."

Ah crap, I see it now. Piles of sandbags.

"I'm going to guess they got delivered to the wrong address."

"No, really? Could have fooled me." She stands in her traditional stance, hand on her tipped-out hip.

I groan up to the sky. "I'm sorry."

"Who the hell orders sand?" she squeaks.

Stepping forward, I raise my palms in an attempt to calm her. "It's supposed to be for the sandbox in my backyard. I wanted to make a play area for my nephew when he visits."

For a millisecond, her eyes soften, and I'm sure I just gained a point from the less-pissed version of Esme. That's the power of little kids and hot guys. Except…

"Sand? Really?" Her voice pipes up. "You realize that it's the worst possible thing you could do. A swing would probably be better. But no, someone wants to make their life complicated by inviting sand to get freaking everywhere in their house."

She doesn't appreciate the grin now on my face. "One, why do you care about my house? And two, sand is educational, he can build things with it."

Esme continues to glare at me. "Get the sand off my driveway," she gripes. "I don't have time for this. I need to get to a shoot then dinner with Hailey."

"And calm down a bit," I add on, one-toned .

Her eyes gawk at me, and she jabs her finger into my chest. "Don't be cute right now."

My grin stays tight. "I will fix it, okay. Now, can we sweep this under the rug?"

"Sweep it off my driveway," she deadpans.

"That too."

We both pause, and I take my chances by touching her shoulder. "Don't want to talk about last night?" Her face doesn't flinch, but her eyes have a glint of joy. "No? Too soon?"

"Move. The. Sand."

I'm trying not to laugh, but Esme is too freaking adorable because I can tell she would rather we rip one another's clothes off right now. I've come to learn her body language now that I've been inside her a few times.

I see the signs of a smile on her lips creeping through, but before she commits to showing me, she walks away, not even looking back. "Better be gone before I get back," she reminds me. I can tell by the tone that she's grinning to herself.

"A pleasure as always," I call out.

She's exhilarating, that one.

My eyes shift to the sand pile, and I sigh.

Shit. That's going to be a pain in the ass to move.

Liam and Oliver both have blank faces as I just finished explaining the last 24 hours. We're sitting outside on Oliver's deck, and he pauses as he cuts into a steak.

"You two are a little strange, not going to lie. The hot-and-cold thing is kind of exhausting even to watch," he mentions then takes the plunge into dishing up some salad.

"Very true. I thought we were going in the right direction, then this morning she returned to being Godzilla. I kind of thought our new unidentified state would mean we could talk in a civil way, but apparently not. The saving grace is that she desperately wanted to smile."

Liam chuckles as he flips off the cap of another beer. "You two love the back-and-forth."

"Could be a problem then, because mellow us might not be compatible."

"Or you could be even better. You might end up with a ring on your finger, too," he replies.

Oliver offers me the salad bowl. "Liam might be biased since he is in a cloud of pre-wedding adventures that his fiancée drags him through. He doesn't know how to answer," he jokes.

"Oh yeah? Then what do you think?" I face Oliver.

A smirk draws on Oliver's mouth. "That you've been pining for Esme for months. And for a man who is glued to his job, then boom , now you are finding that maybe you can balance it all. Heaven forbid you have a woman who waits for you and can send you in surprise directions. Keeps you on your toes, just like a deadline."

"Seriously, get a girlfriend, and then I won't have to hear your philosophy. I hear Liam has a sister." I give Oliver a fake smile because I know that bugs him.

"Nuh-uh. My sister is off-limits," Liam reminds us both.

Oliver clears his throat. "Of course, I'm just waiting for a crazy neighbor. I knew I should have brought the house up the street. I could be closer to daily entertainment."

Tossing the salad in the serving bowl, I highlight the obvious. "Look, I will let this all play out. It's new, and it's been a while since I've been off the market. My sister is insistent that a wife and kid are on my horizon, and she prefers if it's sooner than later. "

"You have sourdough starter in a jar in your kitchen. Trust me, you're on your road to marriage," Oliver comments.

That causes me to laugh. "Anyhow, I should have this weekend off since we pulled a late one last night. I shall test the waters again with Esme. I'm fairly confident that she really was just pissed off about the sand, which is fair enough."

"Well, I would be also. Sandbags are hell to carry." Liam takes a drink from his beer.

"I know. It replaced my run, and I'm positive my arms will hurt tomorrow."

We all get comfortable at the table. It's great that Oliver lives so close. It makes meetups easy.

"Admittedly, I do have difficulty seeing you domesticated, but Esme isn't your typical woman, and besides, I need her in your life so I can get another pie."

My eyes whip to Oliver. "You got a pie, too?"

He shrugs as though I'm crazy. "Of course. She makes one for everyone on the street when they move in or have a special life event. Not my fault you got on her shit list. You bad boy you." Now he's just provoking me.

Liam laughs at our friend's humor.

"Can we please switch topics? For example, who will host the Fourth of July BBQ?" It's an insanely busy time for me, with free agency having started on July first and players needing to be locked down before next season. In work terms, it isn't a great time for hosting duties, but I guess I'll be able to breathe for a hot second.

"Not me," Liam is quick to answer.

Oliver doesn't answer, instead giving me the look that it will be me, and I sigh. "Fine. I'll do it. But one of you has to bring the beer."

"Deal. We'll just have to keep our phones on standby." Oliver nods. "Alright, boys, eat up as we have the finals highlights to watch. No more mention of those who shall not be named."

Finally.

We didn't make it a long night. In fact, it's only nine, but whoa, it's been a long day, and I'm exhausted. A good night of sleep is in order. Shutting my laptop down, I just leave it on the coffee table since tomorrow morning I'll probably need to reply to a work email. My bad.

My nose tingles, and with one sniff, I smell something. Is that smoke?

Huh. I didn't use anything today that would cause smoke. I double-check my phone charger, and then in the kitchen, but I don't see anything. The smell is getting stronger.

Hearing people outside, I walk to my living room window, and then I see it.

Shit.

Esme's house.

Not a second goes by before I'm running out of my house to the street where everyone is congregating. My eyes search for the issue, but the bright glow from the fire on the side of the house speaks for itself.

The side of Mrs. Tiller's house is on fire, and it seems to have spread to Esme's house.

Esme.

Panic and alarm hit me, and I crane my neck in a desperate search. She can't be in her house. Esme would have noticed right away and gotten out. A smoke detector would work. It has to work .

My stomach and chest do a flip in unison. Where is Esme?

Only a slither of relief comes to me when I see Esme driving up. Thank God, she had her shoot then dinner with Hailey, I remember her mentioning it.

I'm not even sure she bothers to turn the engine off when she parks because she doesn't close her car door and terror fills her eyes.

For a second she stands motionless as she grasps what is happening, and time stands still while the sound of sirens approaching mix with the fire blazing. It doesn't matter that in my peripheral view, Mrs. Tiller is weeping in our neighbor Kelly's arms. Shock wears off Esme's face, and horror kicks in.

"My pictures," she yells right before she begins to run toward the fire. I don't waste time before I'm after her, grabbing her from behind, pretty much tackling her. She wiggles in my arms, desperate to escape. "I have to go in there."

Falling to the ground, I grip her arms tight to her body, and I huddle around her from behind, pulling her as close as humanly possible. "No."

"Let me go," she cries out.

"Not a fucking chance." I grind my words out into her ear. I'm not even sure she realizes whose arms she is in, as she's focused on the scene before her.

She repeatedly tries to push me away to no avail. "No."

Her struggle causes me to loop my arms around her chest to hold her down with more restraint. "Listen to me. You can't go in there, I won't let you."

Esme sobs, and I feel her entire body fall into a thousand pieces.

I kiss her hair and begin to rock her gently in my arms, as if that would actually calm her; it won't, especially as the fire department arrives.

"I'm not letting you go," I whisper into her ear. I have no clue if she even hears me as disbelief takes over her body from the scene before her, but if she understands anything, then she would know…

I mean every word.