The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(61)

Too bad that wasn’t what she was putting on.

It’d started out so perfect. Dillon had gotten down on one knee, offered to love her for the rest of her life, and since there was nothing she liked more than a happy ending, she’d said yes.

But if she was honest with herself, over the past few months something was making her restless . . . and unhappy. Having her people here this week had been good for her. Watching her life with Dillon through their eyes had given her some perspective, not to mention a few hard realizations.

Somewhere along the way, she’d become the sidekick in her own story.

Not an easy admission, even to herself.

She was still sitting there sipping tea an hour later, when the back door opened and in came Maze. And Walker.

Together.

At one in the morning.

The dogs lifted their heads, eyes sleepy, and gave big yawns and a few squeaks. Walker pointed at them and they went back to sleep.

Walker and Maze weren’t speaking or touching, which was par for the course. What wasn’t par for the course: Maze holding her sandals in one hand, her other at her throat. She was missing her bra, which was obvious only because the dress she wore was thin and she was clearly chilled. Her hair was wild and clearly wind—or finger—tousled around her face.

And then she moved her hand to push her hair out of her face, which revealed a suspicious mark at the base of her throat that was maybe, probably, a hickey.

Caitlin turned her attention to Walker, in jeans and an untucked button-down. His body seemed loose and relaxed, but that was deceiving, because he always looked that way. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Walker shrugged and opened the fridge, pulling out all the makings for a late-night snack.

Maze went straight for the bottle of Jack on the counter, poured herself two fingers, and tossed it back. “Going to bed,” she said, and headed to the door.

Neither of them was acting particularly out of character, but Caitlin’s radar was buzzing. Something had happened, and she wasn’t an idiot. She could bet what that something had been, and she was happy for them, but why did they each seem to be pretending the other didn’t exist?

“Hey.”

Maze turned back.

“You okay?”

Maze softened. “Yes. And that should be my question for you. What are you doing up this late?”

“Not sleeping, that’s for sure.”

Maze drew a deep breath and let it out before coming back to the table. “You’re stressed. What can I do? What else can I take off your plate?”

Caitlin thought of the pregnancy test she’d bought at the pharmacy earlier, the one she hadn’t yet taken because she was a coward. Still, that was more of a solo project. “You’ve already done so much. Actually, you’ve done everything. I’m fine. Now you,” she said meaningfully, glancing at Walker.

Maze carefully didn’t look at Walker. “Nothing to tell.”

“Looks like we’re both big fancy liars,” Caitlin said with a laugh. “Come on, what’s going on with you guys? Where were you?”

Walker had three mile-high sandwiches going with everything on them but the kitchen sink. He brought them to the table. “Whoever doesn’t want theirs, I’ll eat it,” he said as he began working his way through his.

All while both he and Maze still didn’t look at each other.

Caitlin eyed Maze, who shrugged again and picked up a sandwich, taking a big bite.

“So . . .” Caitlin said. “Neither of you has anything to say?”

Maze pointed to her full mouth.

Walker chewed, swallowed, and paused in his mission of inhaling the sandwich to say, “We were off-roading up to Old Man’s Bluffs.”

Caitlin choked on her tea. “The make-out spot?”

“Is that what it is?” Walker asked innocently.

Maze turned to him and narrowed her eyes.

He kept eating like it was his job.

Caitlin just gaped at them. “Have you both regressed back to teenagers?”

“I blame the lake air,” Maze said seriously.

Walker snorted and eyed Caitlin’s sandwich. She waved for him to take it and he picked it up. “Are you going to say anything?” she asked him.

“You got any chips?”

Caitlin got up, dragged a chair to the narrow cabinet above the fridge, and pulled down her hidden treasure trove of salt and vinegar chips.

Walker reached for the bag, but Caitlin hugged it to her chest. “One question—and I’m not judging, because if the answer’s yes, then I’m happy for you both—but did you just sleep with my best friend?”

“I was under the impression that I was your best friend,” he said, and eyed the chips.

Caitlin held on to them and turned to look at Maze.

Maze shrugged. “If it helps, there wasn’t any sleeping involved.”

Caitlin sank back to her seat, gaping. Her eyes went to Maze’s hickey again, and she felt the teensiest, tiniest little bit of jealousy. Not because she wanted Walker to give her a hickey like that. No, she was jealous that there was a hickey at all. She and Dillon had a healthy sex life, but it’d been a while since it’d been hot and hungry enough for a hickey situation. And after earlier, it might be a lot longer. “What does this even mean?” she asked.