Just Her Luck (23 page)

I spared a quick glance at the guys all watching us at the bottom of the stairs, then walked to my room, shutting the door quietly behind me.

I went through the motions, getting ready for bed, ignoring the soft tapping at my door as I shut off all the lights and climbed in bed, dreading the reality of tomorrow morning and the realizations that are sure to come crashing down along with it.

Why couldn't today just all be a dream?

I fought back the beginnings of the sniffles, willing myself not to cry.

A sob burst out of me and I stifled it, muffling it with my hand.

My door rattled for a minute and clicked open.

I looked up, surprised to see Ephraim sneaking into my room, a lock picking tool in his hand.

He walked over to me and kneeled down, studying me in the dim light.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, making me crack a little more with the sincerity I heard dripping from his voice.

Another sob escaped me and I shook my head.

He crawled into my bed without another word and held me, tucking me up against him, warmth filling me at his tight embrace.

The tears didn't actually start to fall until he whispered, “I'm sorry”, the soft sweet cadence unleashing the dam of pent up emotions I held onto so tightly, the quiet heartfelt apology the final straw that inevitably broke the camel's back.

I sobbed loudly, unable to muffle it any longer, crying about Ruthie and the unfairness of it all, crying for all the shitty things Reeve threw out at me and the sting as his words hit home.

I cried at the thought of waking up one day and Ruthie isn't there, isn't one car drive or phone call away.

The life line that she is for me being severed from me forever made my heart ache prematurely at the loss, and I cried for that too.

I cried for anything and everything, letting myself go until there was nothing left, clutching at Ephraim tight as he rubbed my back and murmured softly to me the whole time, a real friend when I needed one most.

"Thank you," I sniffled, hiccupping onto his chest.

"Shhh," he soothed, running his fingers through my hair, lulling me that much closer to sleep, "It's alright, Genny. It'll be alright."

I fell asleep sometime after that, arms wrapped around him in a smothering hug, my face pressed up to his heart, the steady 'thump' 'thump' a soothing balm to my wounded soul as I finally drifted off to sleep.

Sleep Overs And Raging Cowlicks

My alarm blared, but I ignored it, stuffing the comforter around my head to muffle it.

The bed shifted and Ephraim reached over me, warm smooth flesh brushing my arms.

I peeked my eyes open to find him settled back down beside me, facing me as he pulled me back to him, arm wrapped around my waist, the other reaching up to tangle in the strands of my crazy hair.

"You look pretty when you wake up." He smiled, running a hand over my cheek.

"I feel like warmed over poodle," I croaked hoarsely, running my hand over my face, relieved nothing was puffy or swollen feeling.

"What?" he chuckled, "Don't believe me?"

I snorted and played with the edges of my quilt, looking anywhere but at him.

"You're just trying to make me feel better."

He shook his head and ran a hand through my hair again.

"That or you're buttering me up for something special for breakfast," I added dryly, loving his barked out laugh as he suddenly grinned down at me, hand coming up to prop his head.

"Nope," he laughed, thickening his drawl, "you look purdy as a picture all disheveled and
pink
in the morning."

"Ephraim!" I huffed, trying to push him off the bed.

He scooped me up and pinned me down with a leg slung over me.

"When did you get all comfortable?" I squeaked when my smoothly shaved legs met his rather hairy ones.

"About an hour after you fell asleep," he answered casually, hugging my back to his front.

I immediately became subdued at the mention of last night, playfulness draining from me at the reminder.

"He's wrong, you know?" he whispered, resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Which part?" I asked bitterly, "Apparently, from what he'd implied, I'm just pierced white trash that will open her legs for just about anybody, including him."

"I don't care what Reeve thinks. He's always been stupid and quick to judge, especially since the whole Maura thing. I think it's how he protects himself. Sort of. But, fuck if he isn't wrong, Genny."

I got pissed at myself for sniffling up again.

"He's kind of right in a way," I told 'E', taking my fair share.

"Bull shit!" He turned me to face him, his youthful face hardening into a fierce scowl.

"No," I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. "I... uh... I kissed Sawyer back that one day at the pond... and that was the..." I tried to clear my throat, "That was the day that Reeve and I... that we..." I couldn’t finish, growling at myself in frustration.

"He did it too. So if that makes you a whore, then what does that make him since he scammed you up and stole you from his brother?"

"Horny?" I snorted, attempting to make light of things when I saw how angry Ephraim was getting.

He gave me a stern look, leaned over and pecked me quickly on the forehead.

"Genevieve Ferguson, I was wrong about you when I first met you. I'll be the first to admit it, and I apologize, but it didn't take me but one day with you to know you were a real genuine person, with a fun, yet odd sense of humor, and a big heart."

"Aw, Ephraim..."

I pecked his cheek and he turned pink, motioning for me to let him continue.

"Underneath all this unconventional window dressin’," he began, rustling a hank of my hair.

"Hey! I can't control my hair..." I burst in.

He put a finger to my lips.

"
And
smart assed mouth," he continued, "is someone I've grown quite fond of, someone who gave
me
a chance, when others wouldn't have. I stutter something terrible sometimes when I'm nervous,
especially with women,
and you just kept up with it, calling me out on my shit. Of course, I never have been good with words, but you waited me out and I'm grateful. I can't image my life without you, Genny, you've grown on me."

"Like a fungus?"

He rolled his eyes at me and tugged at my hair.

"Hush, up a minute, woman! I'm tryin' to say somethin' here!"

I mimed zipping my lips.

"If Reeve can't open his good eye big enough to see
you
,
the real you,
then fuck him!"

I hugged him thankfully, laughing when he gave a happy sigh and hugged me back.

"You know," I teased, "for someone who's not good with words, you said exactly the right thing. Thank you."

"Pleasure’s all mine," he replied.

His stomach gave an ungodly grumble, and I laughed, sitting up to get out of bed.

"Come on, sweet talker. Let’s get up and get dressed, then I'll take care of your stomach."

"Hot damn!" He hurried, getting up to shove his pants back on.

I laughed when he hopped around on one foot, trying to shove the other into the obstinate pant leg, tumbling around as he tried to keep himself upright.

He gave me a goofy grin when he caught me watching.

"What I lack in dexterity," he winked, "I make up for in size and enthusiasm."

My jaw went slack at his sexual innuendo.

"Ephraim Harrison!" I gasped scandalously, putting it on extra thick.

"What?" he asked innocently, stifling a cheeky grin, "Want me to prove it to ya?"

"You're terrible!" I laughed, chasing him out of my room with a pillow.

I sent a silent prayer up, thankful to who ever made kooky men like him.

Despite all that was going on right now, he somehow managed to make me smile.

God, I love that about him.

****

I dressed quickly and made my way to the kitchen, still sporting a silly grin about Ephraim's well-timed joke, blinking suddenly in disbelief when I found Sawyer manning the stove, placing a stack of pancakes onto a platter.

Noticing me, he turned off the stove and walked over to me, enveloping me in a gentle bear hug.

"Don't listen to him, brat," he consoled me, giving my hair a quick yank. "I don't want you to leave." He blew out a breath, the action ruffling my hair as he rested his cheek on my head. "I, uh, like havin' ya around, ya know."

"I don't deserve friends like you guys," I whispered into his hug, cursing my emotional state as of late, feeling truly blessed, quietly thanking Ruthie for sending me here and giving me a family of four great men, right when I'd need somebody most.

I knew right then, without it being said, that Bowen, Sawyer, Ephraim, and serious when it counts, Thatcher, would be there for me.

It’s like I could almost feel a connection with them, a rope like tether that keeps tugging me to them and them to me.

I can feel how much they care, almost touch it with both hands it feels so tangible, and it both thrills and chills me, scaring me sometimes with the intensity of it, the strength of it that I feel coming off of me for them.

Of course
- me being me-
I've been trying to pretend nothing’s up, going on my merry way and blocking it out.

But the more I'm with them, the harder it’s getting to deny.

"Don't cry, Vieve. It'll make the pancakes all soggy," he teased, smoothing a hand down my hair.

"God forbid I do that," I laughed, pulling away from him, fingers swiping under my eyes.

I helped him bring the food to the table, getting out the plates and silverware to quickly set it.

Ephraim came over, early to breakfast for the first time ever, and Bowen and Thatcher followed shortly after.

I tensed up when Reeve sat down to eat, determinedly ignoring him when he peeked over at me a few times, watching me, it seemed.

We ate in almost relative silence until Bowen spoke up.

"Mmm, almost forgot. A fella stopped by early this morning for ya and gave me these," he said, digging around in his pocket.

He pulled out my set of car keys, the familiar yellow sponge key chain, complete with square pants and buck teeth, dangling from his fingers as he held them out to me.

"Thanks." I reached over and took them, aware of Reeve glaring at me from his side of the table.

"What's his name?" Reeve asked after a few minutes, fork stabbing viciously into a pancake.

I winced, feeling sorry for a breakfast food as he mangled it into a mushy mass.

"Are you still going to town this morning?" I asked Bowen, glancing away from Reeve's pancake carnage.

"Yep, you need a ride?" he asked, scraping at his plate.

"I do." I nodded, grateful.

"I'll take her," Thatcher offered, "It's not too far from where I gotta go."

He didn't look at me as he sipped his coffee, not a trace of emotion on his usually jovial face, a curious wealth of beard growth sprouting up all over his typically baby smooth face.

Guess he's takin' a cue from Ephraim and going for adorably scruffy.

"How did you know I was..." I started, eyeing him curiously.

I never told him where I went, did I?

"Nah," Bowen cut in, "I'll do it. I'm headed that way anyways."

He didn't look very happy when Bowen shut him down.

What is Thatcher up to?

"Oh, shoot!" Ephraim exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

He hopped up from the table and ran down the hall, headed right towards Reeve's office and my bedroom.

He came back a minute later, waving his wallet.

"Almost forgot it," he rolled his eyes at himself, shoving it into his back pocket, "Don't wanna forget
that
."

"How convenient that you left it over
there
." Reeve glared at me, tossing his head towards the hall.

I gripped my fork, contemplating how many years I might get for stabbing him with it.

I wouldn't kill him, just maim him really,
really
badly,
somewhere where it would count
, I thought, eyeing where his crotch would be if I could see through the table.

Surreptitiously of course
, don't want the moron to think I'm eyeing his junk lasciviously while he glares at me, because I'm totally
not.

At this point, I'd tell the judge it was totally worth it and then ask him if I could please keep my weapon of choice as a souvenir.

"Wonder where it was..." he spat, "Wasn't in my fucking office..."

If looks could kill, I'd be toast, he was staring at me so hard, his gaze full of accusation and what could only be described as hate.

I stiffened up like a board and felt my fork bending under the tension I'd put on it.

I put my fork in my lap and tried to bend it back into its proper shape.

"Watch your mouth," Ephraim barked at Reeve, shocking everyone at the table as the usually happy go lucky Ephraim eyed Reeve coldly, leaping to my defense, "I don't care what your problem is, I won't have you bad mouthing Genny."

"
My
problem?" Reeve forced a laugh. "I don't have a problem! I'm just fine!" he fairly shouted it.

"I can tell," Bowen muttered dryly, staring him down.

"I got shit to do. I don't need this," Reeve waved his hand around, "any of this, from you clowns," he growled and shot up, stomping from the room. "Bunch of pussy whipped bastards, all panting after the same no good woman," he muttered, slamming things around as he went.

He's gone so far off the deep end he's accusing everyone of wanting a ride on the Genevieve express!
I thought, tempted to act like a train whistle and shout
'all aboard'.

I didn't, of course, he'd probably strangle me right now if I did.

I'm a smart ass, not a dumb ass.

I relaxed when a few minutes passed and he hadn't returned.

"Ignore him, brat. He'll cool off and get his head out of his ass." Sawyer nudged me, reached under the table and took my fork, setting his own in my hand, then wrapping my fingers over it.

I nudged him back, and he pecked me on the cheek.

"Eat your breakfast, its gettin' cold," he said, unbending my fork.

He then proceeded to use mine to finish eating his food.

It was kind of sweet, if you really think about it.