36. Skyler

The only thing that’s stopping me from going back in there and kicking that guy’s ass is the fact that I’d be leaving Reese alone… again.

She’s having a terrible time and I can’t help but to feel like I’ve failed her in some way.

I’m supposed to be demonstrating what a fantastic date I am and instead I’ve got her shivering and sad standing outside. “Tell you what, from now on, you can wear whatever the hell you want, and I’ll act as your official bodyguard.”

She pulls away, tugging at the sleeves of her jersey. “That’s sweet, Skyler, but what fucking year is this? Why do I need a bodyguard to go into a bar?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Yeah. I know. And I shouldn’t be afraid to walk through a dark parking lot.”

She peers up at me. “When you get in your car, do you check the back seat?”

“Check it for what?”

“Murderers. Rapists.”

She tosses her hands. “That’s my point. Do you know how they teach us to walk to on a dark night? With your keys between your fingers. As though you could stab anyone with a set of keys.”

“Who taught you to do that?”

She shrugs. “It’s common knowledge. Never go to a party alone. Use the buddy system. How about, instead of us women having to figure out how to protect ourselves, the men of the world learn to control their base instincts?”

My first impulse is to point out that I’m not one of those guys. My mama taught me manners. I open the door. Pay the bill at dinner. I always get consent before I take a woman to bed. To my knowledge, I’ve never pressured or intimidated a woman.

Have I?

Is it possible to get consent from someone who’s intimidated by you? An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach as I replay each and every hookup I’ve had in the last year. I’m fully confident I had consent, but what about the way I treated them after? Casting them off like litter.

Her expression softens. “I’m not talking about you, Skyler. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

“You don’t have to apologize for speaking the truth, Reese.”

I run my hands up and down her arms. “Do you want to head home?”

She looks down the street, frustration in her eyes.

I release her from my hold. “How about coffee instead? No drunken football fans in the coffeehouses, I’m willing to bet.”

She brightens at that. “There’s a little place around the corner. I used to go there all the time in college.”

“Crescent Moon?”

“Yeah. You know it?”

I take her hand in mine, and we start down the sidewalk. “I used to study there, too.”

“You did? I’m amazed I never saw you there.”

We round the corner. I could tell her that I saw her there. Multiple times. She’s hard to miss. Bright and cheerful, she always had a group around her. I never wanted to intrude.

Crescent Moon is on the lower ground of the old creamery building. It’s exposed brick and ductwork and still feels cozy as hell. Maybe it’s the mishmash of antique velvet chairs and couches.

She takes a seat on a purple velvet couch while I go to the bar to order her matcha latte and my coffee. There’s a folk singer strumming on her guitar on the stage and it’s a pleasant contrast to the jock jams that were pulsing through the last bar.

Reese has settled into the cushions looking relaxed and cuddly. If I squint, I can almost imagine this is her downtown loft, and she’s chilling in her sleep shirt.

I’m kind of amazed she wasn’t drawn to a city setting in the first place. Clark seemed like an odd place for her to land. I know why I’m doomed to live out my days in Silver Bend. What’s her excuse? As if on cue, my leg starts to ache, a deep, irritating feeling like a sore muscle, but bone deep.

I set our drinks on the coffee table in front of us, surreptitiously rubbing at my sore thigh. Reese misses nothing, per usual. I let my hand drop away and she lets the issue drop.

This old injury is not something I like to talk about, and she knows me well enough not to bring it up.

I settle in next to her, putting an arm around her small shoulders. “We should have come here in the first place.”

Her fingers slide onto my lap. She peers up at me with a skeptical look. “And miss the game?”

I almost groan with pleasure when her fingers start kneading my aching muscles. I swallow hard, trying to stay on track. “Is that what that sorry affair was?”

She laughs, snuggling closer.

I let my arm fall along her side, curving around her middle. “I’d rather spend time with you, anyway.”