The words caused a warm, liquid rush through her knees. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice a little husky.
Then he turned and left, raising his hand as someone called a good-night to him.
* * *
BY THE TIME LEVI GOT BACK from the call (the possum having been flushed out through the hole in the stone foundation, the hole temporarily patched with the help of young Andrew, and the cat found safe and sound, much to the sobbing relief of the Hedberg girls), O’Rourke’s was mostly empty. “Did my sister go home?” he asked Colleen, who was wiping down the bar.
“Faith said they were going out on the beach,” she said. “Don’t know if they’re still there.”
“Thanks.”
Levi went out the back door, past the parking lot where he’d pulled Faith from the window. That seemed like a long time ago. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in that black bra again, that was for sure. Or out of it.
Shit. He shouldn’t be having those thoughts again. Faith was...well, she wasn’t his type. Too—too much, that was all. Too delicious edible complicated. He should not have kissed her that morning. That had been really, really stupid. Hadn’t planned it, that’s for sure, but one kiss, and he’d felt an almost violent rush of lust slam into him, heavy and thick and immediate. Her mouth was so soft—all of her was so soft, like a bed you could sink into—and the smell of her, as inviting as cake warm from the oven, and when she’d made that little sound, he’d nearly lost it. Pulled back because if he’d kissed her another second, he’d have done her against the wall.
And that kind of thing, that got a little...out of control.
Faith was, first and foremost, Jeremy’s ex. Whatever the circumstances, Jeremy was her first love, and Levi didn’t like the thought of being runner-up to his best friend. And secondly, there was that overwhelming sense of being lost in the moment, being oblivious. He didn’t like that. He’d felt that twelve years ago when he’d kissed her, a kiss that had erased common sense and loyalty and whatever else that mattered.
And thirdly...she wasn’t even here permanently. John Holland had told him he was hoping Faith would stay in Manningsport. But the truth was, she had a whole life back in California. Once before, he’d fallen in love with a woman who’d left him. He shouldn’t charge head-on into doing it again.
Not that he was in love with Faith Holland.
The town beach was actually a little park—grass and some flowering trees, a few benches, a boat launch, a dock and a tiny sand beach at the edge of the lake. Stars dotted the sky, but no moon was out, and it took Levi’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness after the pinkish glow of the streetlights. There were Sarah and Faith, sitting on a bench, their shoulders touching, looking out over the dark water. Their backs were to him, so they didn’t see him approach across the grass.
He stopped at the sound of Sarah’s laugh. Hadn’t heard that for a while.
“No, but seriously, I know how you feel,” Faith said. “My mom died when I was young, too.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“Sheesh. That sucks.”
“Yeah. Car accident.”
“So no time for goodbye?”
“Right.”
Sarah chewed that over. “I guess at least I had that.”
“Both ways are tough. There’s no getting around it. It’s so hard.”
“Do you still think about your mom?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Faith said. “Every day.”
Levi did, too. Every day, some thought of his mom would cross his mind—her energy, her total lack of self-pity. Even when she was doped up on morphine, she’d make him and Sarah laugh.
There was an unusual tightness in his throat.
“There are days when I’m so sad, I don’t think I can even get out of bed,” Sarah said now, her voice small. “All I want is my mom, and I have to go to classes and listen to all that stuff, and it just seems so shallow and meaningless, when I’d trade in everything for just another regular day with her.” His sister’s voice broke, and Faith put an arm around her.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. Nothing else, just that. She stroked Sarah’s hair in an unconscious way, idly, her head tipped against Sarah’s. Just petted her hair and let his sister cry.
“I know I should get over it,” Sarah said. “It’s been more than a year.”
“Well,” Faith said, “you don’t really get over it. You just learn to carry it better. And the only way to do that is to do the regular things. Get out of bed. Go to classes. Try to be normal, and pretty soon all that grief you carry...it gets easier.”
“That’s what Levi says,” Sarah said after a minute.
“I guess he’s not always a dope, then.”
“Most of the time, he is.”
“Yeah, I’d agree with you there.” There was a smile in Faith’s voice.
“I just...I feel her more when I’m here,” his sister said. “That’s why I don’t want to be at school.”
A pain stabbed Levi’s chest. Why didn’t his sister tell him that? Why did she whine about hard classes and her lack of friends if that wasn’t the real issue?
He thought he might know the answer.
Because he didn’t let her.
“Do you ever talk to her?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, sure,” Faith answered. She was lying, Levi thought.
“Does she ever answer? Like, do you ever think her spirit’s with you or something?”
Faith was quiet for a few seconds. “Yeah, I do.” Another lie, telling Sarah what she wanted to hear. “How about you?”
“Definitely. Levi just looks at me funny when I say that, but I feel her around sometimes.”
“Well, he’s a guy. They’re pretty thick.” There was another smile in Faith’s voice, and Levi felt the corner of his mouth tug.
“Total cement,” Sarah said.
“Lead.”
“Exactly.” Sarah straightened up and blew her nose. “Were you homesick when you first left?”
“Oh, yeah. I missed this place so much it actually hurt. I had a stomachache for weeks.”
“I know!”
“But, Sarah, if you stayed here and passed up on the chance to live away and be your own person, rather than Levi’s little sister...wouldn’t you always wonder what you missed?”
Good girl, Faith.
“I guess. I mean, theoretically, I do want to go to college and stuff. Live away, at least for a while. But it’s hard.”
“I know, honey.” Faith was quiet for a minute. “You know the saying. Everything worthwhile in life is hard.”
“Yeah. Levi quotes it on a daily basis.” Sarah stretched her arms over her head. “I should get home.” She turned, and, seeing him there, gave a little shriek. “Jeez! Levi! You shouldn’t just stand there like a serial killer! Say something next time!”
“I just got here, so settle down,” he said. “You two ready to call it a night?”
Faith stood up and brushed off her skirt. “Chief. How was the possum?”
“Feisty,” he said. Her white shirt glowed