Not Sure I Can Do This

Kelly

Sitting in the car outside Crash's mansion, staring at this massive man, I wonder what possessed me to come here.

How did I ever convince myself that this was a good idea?

I'd have to turn the car back on to make the windows move, so I open the door instead. The guy dances back far more nimbly than I'd expect of someone his size, one hand at his waist, his face expressionless as he watches me get out of the car.

"H-hello," I say, grabbing my bag as I get out and clasping my hands at my waist because they always shake when I've had a shot of adrenaline like that. "I'm Kelly. I'm here to see Crash. And Tommy?"

"Miss Berkstram," the guy says in a voice even deeper than Tommy's. "The guys call me Merv. I'm the Crash Happy security director. I'll take you inside in a moment, but before we go in, I'll need to search your bag. And I have a form for you to sign." He pats his pockets like he's looking for something.

My stomach sinks. Dan has told me countless times I'm not to sign anything without him. I know he's eager for me to be a part of Crash and Tommy's world, but I'll have to call him to check, just in case. And what if he says no? A familiar wave of anxiety starts at the back of my neck and washes down my arms as Merv says, ". . . And you'll need to submit to a gentle frisk. I can call one of our female officers to the house if you'd prefer, though that will take about twenty minutes—"

"Merv, for fuck's sake!"

I snap my head around to find Crash stalking around the side of the house—as much as a person can stalk when storming over a gravel path in bare feet. But the humor of that wincing tip-toe won't hit me until later. At this moment, my heart skips a beat because I think I'll be forced to go home, and Crash might assault someone before I do. He looks furious, pointing at the huge man to my left, the veins in his forehead standing proud.

Merv chuckles and his hands come up as Crash steps onto the cobbles and hurls himself across the driveway, shoving at Merv's massive bicep. "You're scaring her, asshole. I'm serious!"

Merv puts one humongous paw on Crash's shoulder, giggling. Giggling. This man-mountain is giggling like the girls in the bathroom at school.

I stare at them in shock. The laughter slides off his face like butter off a hot pan.

"Did I scare you, Kelly?" he rumbles, concerned for me, but not even registering Crash's cursing shoves.

My mouth is open and I can't seem to close it.

"I told you to leave her alone!"

Merv's forehead furrows. "It was a joke, Ms. Berkstram. I'm sorry if I scared you. I was teasing."

Crash has stopped trying to hit him, but glares. I look back and forth between them for a second.

"You aren't security?"

"Oh, yes, I definitely am," Merv says with a smile, white teeth flashing behind broad lips. "But I'm off-duty. And you don't have to sign anything. Or be frisked. I was just playin'."

"Not. Funny." Crash glances at me, his anger softening to hesitation. He's no longer pale with blue shadows under his eyes like he was last week in the hospital. He's back to his golden-tan, vital self, a sleeveless band t-shirt only emphasizing the iron cords of muscle winding up his arms.

Merv holds out the hand he doesn't have clamped on Crash's shoulder. "I'm Merv."

"Hi, Merv."

The huge man claps Crash's shoulder. Crash almost overbalances. "Nice to meet you, Kelly," he says solemnly, then offers me his arm, winking when that side of his face is hidden from Crash. "Can I walk you up?"

"That would be lovely, Merv," I say, patting his arm like I'm not sinking in dread and self-doubt.

A tiny noise leaves Crash's throat, but I grab my bag and let Merv lead me around the side of the house—along the gravel path that forces Crash to hobble because of his bare feet—towards some stairs that climb the side of the house.

The bi-level deck.

And the lawn that will be on the other side of it.

And the house looming to my right.

And, hell, I'm back in this place where the very best and very worst days of my life happened.

I stumble on nothing and Mervin's free hand presses mine into his steel arm. "Watch your step, Kelly. Crash's insurance is patchy."

Crash snorts behind us.

"I'm fine," I say, but it's faint.

We climb the stairs—Merv insisting I go first—and the massive deck that runs almost the entire length of this house, opens up ahead of me.

It's broad, gray-stained wood, a matching wood railing a couple sails attached to the house that cast shade all day long, and the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of—

"Coda!" I gasp, dropping my bag and kneeling as Crash's gorgeous old labrador cross, his muzzle much grayer than last time I saw him, gets up from under a table and limps over to me, ears down, his bottom tucked in, tail whipping a happy circle.

Coda reaches me and sniffs my outstretched hand first, then his tail rotors even faster and he huffs every few seconds, bathing my face with his soft, sticky tongue and shaking his head when I laugh and push his wet nose away.

"Coda, you sweet thing." I put my arms around his thick neck, heedless of the dog hair that will cling until this shirt is washed.

Coda presses his broad head into my chest and sighs.

I sigh too, using my fingers like combs, up and down his back and shoulders the way I know he loves. He nudges me under the chin a couple times, but doesn't try to back away, or get out of my arms.

Coda will never hurt me. But I can see how crooked his hips have gotten, how unevenly he walked when a year ago he would have trotted to greet me.

It makes me sad. Not just for him, but for all the things we both lost a year ago...

*****

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