Chapter Two

Kelly

Fuck.

Fuck .

"Fuck."

She's here and unless I'm dreaming, this is real. I lose muscle control and the shot glass slips out of my fingers. The second it crashes on the ground, Josie Beckett's eyes roll back and I watch her body crumble to the ground.

There's a gasp.

"Beck!" I call out, rushing around the bar, trying to ignore the panicked tightness in my chest. My hands are shaking. I think I'm going to be sick.

Pat's already kneeling beside her and a circle of worried faces have stepped back.

I slide onto my knees and gently touch her head where it's fallen against the dirty wooden floor. Her soft golden hair rises around her like a halo and that Tar Heels logo stings more than any other shirt would because it reminds me of why I can barely breathe right now.

Not now, Collins.

" Josephine ," I say loudly into her face. My thumb brushes a clump of hair from those full lips to her pink cheeks. Her round, warm eyes are closed. She still has a flicker of light freckles on the bridge of her nose and her temples. Only there. Every other part of her body is creamy and soft -

God dammit. Get it together, man.

I say to anyone with ears, "Someone call Lleyton, get him over here."

"Got it," Pat replies, standing.

Etta dips her head toward mine and hisses, "It's that gluten-free bread! She's not getting enough nutrients!"

"That's not what it is," I grumble, running my hand to the back of Josie's skull. There's already a bump.

"Should we get her upright?" Sloan asks from over my shoulder.

"No. Let's just wait for my brother." I meet her nervous, spray-tanned face and tell the forty-year-old woman who leaves at dawn for a bodybuilding competition to get me a cold towel. She hands it to me, and I press the cloth to Josie's forehead.

"Beck," I murmur, leaning closer. "Come on. Wake up."

With that, her eyelids wrinkle and her eyes open.

For the first time in ten years, I'm staring at a woman I've only seen in my dreams so I still have yet to rule out that potentiality. There's no reason for her to be here. She's never stepped foot in this bar before. I haven't heard her voice since she last left me a crying voicemail declaring that she doesn't hate anyone but she'll hate me for the rest of my life.

I hate myself too sometimes. But not for the same reason.

I hate that I still think about my best friend's former fiancé and wonder what she looked like in that white dress and if I could have convinced her to keep walking down that aisle, but toward someone different instead.

" Hey ," I say quietly.

Her eyes dart back and forth between mine. She would be able to feel my breath if I could make my lungs work. Her mouth opens. She whispers, "Am I dead?"

"No." I peel the towel off her forehead.

"I feel like I might be dead."

"Why?"

"Because you're here."

I pause. "Why would you see me if you were dead?"

Her eyebrows pinch. "I ran over a squirrel once. On accident. I don't think God takes kindly to homicide."

"The other guy's a big fan," I understand.

"Exactly," she whimpers.

I expect her to move. To push me away and sit up. To scream at me and tell every person in this bar, people I've known my whole life, how I ruined what should have been the happiest day of hers.

But, Josie doesn't move right away. She focuses on my eyes with disdain. Hopefully, no one else can see it.

Sloan mutters in my ear. "If looks could kill…"

Okay, so maybe they see it.

I clear my throat. "Can you sit up?"

"To throw a punch?" Josie snaps. Her hand touches the back of her head. She grimaces. "Bucket."

"Beckett?"

"No - bucket ." Her hand covers her mouth.

Someone announces, "Coming atcha!" and I'm handed a trashcan.

I accidentally look inside when it pauses in front of my face. "God dammit. Why is there a condom in here? Stop having sex in my bar!"

Josie covers her whole face this time. "Never mind. I don't have the energy to vomit."

"You will if you look inside this trashcan," I say.

Her voice comes out muffled. "Why is this happening to me?"

"Hey, grab me some ice, will ya?" I ask Sloan. "Beck, don't move too much. You might have a concussion."

Josie presses her hands into the ground and winces, biting her bottom lip. When she's sitting up, her legs tuck beside her and her clunky boots scrape a semi-circle into dust and dirt and pollen. Sloan hands her a bag of ice wrapped in a towel.

Pat snorts a laugh beside me and crosses his beefy arms over his chest. "Miss Beckett, you might have to finally take the day off tomorrow."

"Not a chance," she says with an exhale, bringing the ice to her head.

"Day off?" I wonder. Then, I see her shaking arm. "Let me."

She protests my taking of the ice bag, but I insist, "Beck, let me do this." I hold her head up with my left hand and carefully press the ice to her bump with the other. I drop my chin to force her eye-line. "What are you doing here?"

No response.

Pat answers, "She probably came for a drink, dude, this is a bar."

"No, I mean, why are you in Whistler?"

"She's renting the old sewing shop. Turning into a plant store. She's staying at the hotel."

That can't be real.

My eyes search hers and I beg, "For how long?"

We've made eye contact, but Josie still won't open her mouth.

Pat continues to speak on her behalf. "She's been here five days."

"The store opens next week," Etta calls out.

Christos announces, "You're not very neighborly, huh, Kell? We already fed her twice this week!"

"You should really be more aware of your surroundings," Sloan chides.

"Okay! Thank you, everyone!" I bark at the nosy gathering around me. "Could you all go back to your drinks? If you give me five minutes, everyone's got one drink on the house."

Someone clangs the bell and I assume it's Gerry. The man's afraid his newly twenty-one-year-old daughter will drink him into bankruptcy next week but I'd never let a virgin drinker like that have more than one hard cider per hour. He's going to do all he can to recoup his losses at my expense.

After the hollers die down, the crowd clears as best as possible and the atmosphere returns to normal.

Pat offers, "Kell, you can go back to the bar. I'll hang with her until Lleyton arrives."

Josie groans, "I'm going to go -"

"No," I stop her, holding my hands to her head. "Beck - you might have a concussion. My brother's an EMT, he's on his way to come look at you. And Pat - I'm good, man. I want to keep an eye on her myself."

He cocks his head and scratches his beard. "You two know each other?"

Her back straightens. She groans, "He ruined my life."

My chest falls.

"He stole my future," she says.

My jaw clenches.

"I hate him," she sputters. A blossom of anger spreads across her beautiful face and her lips tighten, her eyes turn glossy.

There's nothing I can say. If she thinks I ruined her life, then I did. I can't deny it. I can't even deny that I did a shitty thing to her, but she would never let me explain it. I couldn't answer her phone call after the wedding because I knew what she'd say, and I wasn't prepared to respond. When I tried to call back later, she was the one to let the effort roll to voicemail. I didn't leave a message. In person, I knew I'd stammer over an explanation, so there was no way I'd formulate a coherent sentence in a one-sided message.

I didn't want to hurt her. The last thing I ever wanted was for Josie Beckett to feel anything but joyful and that's why I talked Brian out of a quickie wedding with a twenty-one-year-old girl he barely knew and could never make happy. I wish he would've made up his mind before the actual wedding day. I wish he wouldn't have thrown me under the bus for it, but…what can you do?

Life is life.

The bar door opens, and Lleyton arrives with his curly black hair and the kind of swagger only a twenty-seven-year-old in a uniform who's slept with every single townie woman between eighteen and forty can possess. He holds a red medical bag at a ninety-degree angle so his biceps pop under his shirt. After several quick nods and winks around the room, he finds me.

His eyes light up when he sees Josie and her soft hair and her bare legs.

For fuck's sake.

Nausea rolls around my stomach at the thought this ogling might lead to something.

"No," I grit when he finally switches his attention from her to me.

Lleyton holds his hands up in peace and crouches down beside us. "So, what do we have here?"

Josie peels my hand from her cheek. She knocks away my other arm and snatches the bag of ice. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"She passed out and hit her head," I explain.

He asks, "What caused you to pass out?"

"Shock," she spits.

"Okay, let me check your pupils." He digs around in his bag. "Do you feel sick? Dizzy? Headache?"

"No," she answers.

I point out, "She almost threw up."

"Not from a head injury, from shock," she growls. "And repulsion. And anger."

I bite the side of my lip and force out, "That's a lot of emotions for one person."

"Um, you think?" Her expression is tired. "I don't think I have head trauma. I mean, my head hurts on the outside, but he was just giving me freezer burn."

"I was rice -ing it, Beck," I argue.

"My brother here is a regular hero," Lleyton mocks with a lift of the mouth. He shines a flashlight in her eyes. "That's your name? Beck?"

"Josie." She swallows. "Josie Beckett."

" Beck ," Lleyton murmurs, reaching back to feel her head wound. "Kelly only nicknames people he really likes. That must be the reason for the whole ‘no' thing."

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Lleyton does drugs, don't listen to a word he says."

He agrees, "Cold hard Ibuprofen. A little VapoRub under the nose every night."

She flinches from his touch. "Are you sure you're a medical professional?"

"Uh-huh." He removes his hands from her head. "But just an EMT, I'm not a pharmacist. However, I can supply you with antidepressants or over-the-counter pain meds but if you need something stronger, you're going to want to see Al over there. The big fellow by the map of Ireland."

She blinks. "You have Zoloft in your EMT bag?"

"Prozac." He throws her a signature smile. "It just saves Al some time. But, you should know, there are two types of pharmacists in town and you're a big girl, I'm sure you understand what the air quotes are for, so just holler if you -"

I grip his shoulder tightly. "Buddy, stop talking."

He shrugs. "Fine. Josie Beckett, don't go to sleep right away. Stay up, see how you feel, seek medical attention if you start getting woozy or your head hurts or your vision gets weird."

"Like if I'm seeing someone that I really shouldn't be seeing?" Her attention drifts toward me.

Lleyton frowns. "Like a priest?" He tenses. "Or…a ghost?"

"She's talking about me." I stand up, taking my brother with me. "Thanks, Doc. We got it from here."

He lifts his chin. "Cool. I'm going to go find pharmacist number two." He throws Josie a wink and walks away.

I reach down and take Josie's cold palms in my hands. "Careful. Go slow." I hoist her to her feet.

Her hands feel soft and light. Looking down at them tied up in mine, I resist the urge to hold her tighter and begin my rampage of apology, starting with the one thing I wish I had said during freshman orientation day at Chapel Hill.

I'm Kelly Collins and you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life and please, please go on a date with me.

Or what I should have said when my roommate asked her out six months later.

He's all wrong for you. You have nothing in common, you'll never be right for each other, go out with me instead.

I wish I told her my thoughts about their engagement and their wedding but I never had the balls to tell her my feelings. She didn't feel the same way. She was in love with my best friend. If I thought for one second that she could have loved me like that, I would have never convinced him to call off the wedding. I would have convinced her.

Please don't marry him. Choose me, and I'll love you for the rest of my life.

Josie snatches her hands from mine.

I croak, "You should probably stay."

She's already on her way to the door.

"Beck!" I plead, "You shouldn't be alone after a head injury."

She continues walking, slowly, toward the door and grits over her shoulder, "Leave me alone, Kelly."

I take a sharp inhale when she says my name and a deep exhale when the door closes behind her. It's quiet around me. When I finally return to the bar, the scrutiny is too unbearable and I holler, "What are you all staring at!?"

Gerry slams his pint glass on the wood. "That was longer than five minutes, buddy."

I roll my eyes and nod to Sloan. She clangs the bell. "One drink, on Kelly! And be reasonable people."