by Dee Palmer
“Why is he here?” Tug asks the dumbest question that still needed to be answered.
“Why do you think he’s here?” Pink’s tone holds a mix of condescension and concern. I echo the latter sentiment.
“He can’t have her, she’s ours.” Toxic grabs the bottle roughly, his petulant remark more suited to a spoilt child, though I echo the feeling too.
“It’s not our choice to make, Tox. We all want what’s best for her,” I say, rubbing my hand down my face and around to my neck, dragging the tension to a different part of my body.
“We’re what’s best for her,” Tug chips in.
“And we have to hope she chooses us, because the only thing that matters is Finn is happy. Whatever her choice, we have to accept it.” I grit the words out, but I mean every damn one. I hope to heaven and hell she chooses us; ultimately, though, I just want her to be happy.
“And you could do that? If she chooses him, I mean. You could let her walk? Because I sure as shit can’t.” Pink narrows his eyes at me, and I fire the same look right back.
“Yes, you can,” I state, my tone as cold as the glacial chill which runs through my veins at the thought. “We all could. Finn is what matters in this fucked-up situation, understand?”
“She won’t choose him though, right?” Tug’s voice holds all the certainty I wish I felt.
“She was with him for nearly ten years, Tug. She loved him for a long time. You can’t just turn those feelings off, and, besides, all she ever wanted from him was for him to choose her. As grand gestures go, flying thousands of miles could only be topped by him giving her a fucking ring.”
“Shit.” All of them exhale the word at the end of my unpleasant theory.
I down the remaining amber liquid but don’t bother to say anything. I would only be echoing that too.
I stretch my legs out, my boots hooked over the rail of the porch, feet crossed at the ankle. I suck in the sweet smoke of my cigar to the back of my mouth and hold it for long seconds before I let it drift in a thick swirl of white cloud. On any other night this would relax me. Not tonight. Then I doubt a horse tranquillizer would work I’m wound so tight. Dammit. I hold my breath when I hear the screen door creak open and tilt my head when I hear the soft padding of bare feet above me.
“Is that you, Charge?” Her soft voice is a mere whisper, and my cock twitches at her breathy, nervous tone. Not my proudest reaction, given the circumstances, but there’s fuck all I can do about it. She does this to me—end of.
“Yeah, angel, it’s me.”
“I smelt your cigar.” She shuffles and the next minute I can see her delicate toes dangling from the balcony, having threaded her legs through the spindles.
“Sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” She lets out a deep and heavy sigh, which raises my anxiety up a notch. She’s struggling, and that’s the last fucking thing I want. I need this decision to be the easiest fucking one she’s ever had to make; not just a no-brainer, but the only fucking choice.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything,” I reply without hesitation.
“What happened with you and Chloe?” Her voice is barely a whisper, but I have to suppress a choking sound that rips from the back of my throat. I did not see that coming. But she asked, and although this isn’t something I particularly like talking about, it’s not a secret.
“I can tell you, angel, but I’d like to know where this came from first.”
“Oh, I was mulling over thoughts about my past, you know? What with Dave showing up, I guess I got to thinking this could be Chloe sitting here and—”
I scoff with my interruption. “It was never going to be Chloe, angel; let me make that clear. We took a long time to find you, but it’s only you. This isn’t a list we’re ticking off, you know.” My tone is clipped, and I have to tamp down my rising irritation that she would even entertain the thought.
“Oh, I know. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Her tone is deeply apologetic, and it goes some way to lessening the sting of the misunderstanding. “Flick said something the other night about Chloe messing with you specifically, and I just…” She hesitates and then rushes a retraction. “Forget it, I’m being nosy. It really doesn’t matter.”
I shake my head, which she can’t see, and I let out a heavy sigh.
“Angel, it’s fine. There’s no big secret with Chloe.” I take a drag off my cigar and feel the heat trickle down my throat. I welcome the burn before I let it out in a soft curl of smoke. This is an unpleasant conversation at the best of times; tonight, it feels like a lead weight around my neck. I sigh again and answer her question. “She’s a manipulative, gold-digging bitch, that’s all. But since you’ve asked, I’ll be specific. I was her brother’s co-pilot, and we experienced a malfunction on a test flight. I was injured pretty bad, but not like Duke. He was in a coma, and Chloe would visit him every day. I did, too, since I was recovering. I think I liked having someone to talk to at the time, and I felt for her. She was very good at playing the heartbroken little sister. I’d lost my own family, and it was touch and go for Duke for a long time.
“We became close, and over the next few weeks we started to explore the idea of our unique situation with her. It wasn’t working as we had hoped, and there were red flags shooting up left and right, but even then, I still didn’t think too much of it. A few months later, however, I was out drinking and ran into Duke. We started talking, and he told me he didn’t have a sister. He had an ex-stalker girlfriend who wanted to marry a pilot. I just didn’t see it at the time, but once he said that, all the warning signs made sense. It all clicked into place, the fact that she stopped visiting once Duke came out of his coma, and she was always busy when we were likely to run into him at the bar or at a social gathering.” I let out a humorless laugh that falls silent in the dark night. I wait a moment to let that particular nightmare fade before I clarify in my most deadly serious voice. “But Finn, she never got further than a trial weekend. And trust me, she was never going to get any further than that.”
She doesn’t respond, other than to give a low hum, but I can almost see the furrows on her brow as she picks through the information I just supplied her with. I’m relieved when she doesn’t ask any further questions about Chloe, since we have more important issues to address. Chloe is not worth a spare second’s thought, and I’m glad Finn seems to be in agreement. Her next question certainly changes the subject.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
“What’s wrong?” She follows her ridiculous question with an apologetic scoff; I answer her all the same.
“Your face.” I drop my head back and close my eyes, picturing her face, that cute wrinkle in her brow when she’s confused, her soft pouty lips pursed, and her cheek moving as she bites on the inside.
“My face is wrong?” Her tone is an audible confirmation of her troubled mind.
“When I opened the front door, your face—your expression wasn’t of someone seeing a person they no longer had feelings for. You love him.” I grind my jaw; I had to force the words out. They sound like they’ve been pushed out between my teeth.
“I met him when I was sixteen. He’s all I’ve ever known until you guys. I was with him a long time, Charge.” Her soft voice drops a little lower, trying to soothe, but I know there’s only one thing that will. “I would have to be a masochist to stay with someone that long if they didn’t have some redeeming qualities. You have to give me a little credit; he wasn’t always an arsehole.” Her lame attempt at humor in this dark time is appreciated, even if it’s fruitless at lifting my hopes.
“He doesn’t deserve you.” I can’t sound any more emphatic. My flat, serious tone holds nothing but the truth. In my heart, in my fucking soul I believe this.
“Charge,” she says my name like a warning, but I don’t listen.
“He doesn’t, and you know it.”
“And you do?�
�� she bites out, and I can hear the hurt in her defensive tone.
“I do. We all do,” I counter, trying to keep my control, though my chest is in agony with every broken beat her reticence evokes.
“He never lied to me.”
“I never lied.” I sit up, my boots crashing to the floor.
The noise shakes the silence of the night, but her whispered words are much more of a violation in this quiet night. “Semantics, Charge. Lying by omission is still lying.”
“Low blow, Finn. You have no idea what you’re asking.” I drop back in my chair, my lungs empty all at once from the sucker punch and truth of her accusation.
“That’s because you won’t tell me. You’re making this really hard, Charge.” She is pleading, but my shields have already dropped into place.
“No, Finn, its real simple. I need a little more time, that’s all. He had ten years, and how did that work out? I just need a little more than a few fucking weeks,” I grit out.
“Touché with the low blow, Charge.”
“Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, angel. I saw the way you looked at him, Finn, and that’s something I have no control over.” I rush my words out to try and stop this train wreck.
“I understand,” she says, and I find myself letting out a flat chuckle.
“Man, it is frustrating when you say that.” The tail end of my laugh dies, though, and she simply agrees.
“Yep.”
The silence returns, save for the insects and critters in the yard, safe to scurry in the cover of darkness. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to listen to him. He came all this way, and I want to hear what he has to say.”
“I under—I see.” I correct myself and relax when I hear her light chuckle followed by a sleepy yawn. It will be dawn soon. “Go to sleep, angel. You have a big day tomorrow.”
“And you?”
“I hope not.”
“No, I mean you should go to sleep, it’s late..”
“I’m good here. You’re not the only one who can’t sleep alone anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounds so sad, it’s like a fucking dead weight on my chest.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, angel—nothing. Whatever you decide, I only ever want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Then that’s all that matters. Goodnight, angel.” I try to end this conversation before I climb that vine creeping from the ground floor to her window, wrap her in my arms and never let her go. Especially not to talk to that douchebag.
THIS BREAKFAST COULDN’T BE MORE awkward if we were all sitting naked with angry erections, me included. I twist my neck to the side and welcome the pop in the bone, releasing some of the ache from a sleepless night. Removing the palpable tension will take more than a mere muscle stretch.
Dave was already seated when I came downstairs, and Charge had made a mountain of pancakes and coffee. The aroma of the sweet treats lured me down, even if my tightly knotted stomach made me reluctant to leave the sanctuary my bedroom became last night. I hate having reacted the way I did when I saw Dave at the door. I hate it more because Charge saw it. I couldn’t hide that I was happy he’d come for me, but that momentary high drifted off with flood of painful memories.
Nevertheless, nothing stopped my mind from hurtling, skipping and jumping to conclusions left and right. He’s here. He wants me. He wants me back. He’s going to ask me to marry him. I think that last thought actually deserves a full-on punch in the face for even entertaining the idea.
I push my plate away with the half-eaten pancake and stand.
“Moment on the lips,” Dave jokes, and I have to reach over to stop Tug from knocking the comment back through Dave’s teeth. My hand covers his clenched fist and my wide, panicked eyes ease him down. “Jeez, I was only joking. Does no one have a sense of humor here?” Dave scoffs.
“Sense, being the key word there, asshole, because passive-aggressive, shitty comments like that aren’t funny.” Pink shoots back, but I know from the display of dark scowls and hard glares they are all sharing the same level of animosity, and to be fair, Dave really isn’t covering himself in glory. He’s certainly not coming across as the guy I fell in love with.
“Let’s go for a walk.” I nod to the back door, and Dave is quick to jump to his feet. The tension in the room is both hostile and volatile, and I need to remove the dumbass detonator.
“It’s nice here. I can see why you like it.” His hands in his pockets, he looks as uncomfortable and nervous as I have ever seen him. His eyes barely take in the glorious view of the farm in the morning sunlight.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen much of the state, but this part is stunning, and Charge did take me to Hollywood on one of our dates.” The way the words rush out are an indication that I, too, am a little nervous.
“Our date?” His brow drops in a heavy frown with the question.
“Hmm… what?”
“The way you said ‘our’ was very strange,” he clarifies, and it’s my turn to frown.
“It’s complicated, but I’m happy.” I shrug off the opportunity to clarify, and he quickly fills the silence.
“We were happy once, weren’t we?”
“Yes, Dave, we were.” He takes my hand and my tummy flutters. He could always do that, but somewhere along the way he stopped. I look up, and my eyes meet his. His dark, thick brow is still heavy, but this time with uncertainty. His normally light brown eyes are almost black, but I can see the sadness; it’s raw and honest, and it slices right through my heart. This man was the love of my life for most of it, and I remember most was good, at least. He was my reason to smile for so many years, and I’m winded by the surge of emotion that look and his tentative touch have resurrected. Gone, but not forgotten.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Finn. So fucking sorry.” He steps in front of me and cups my face. His strong jaw is tense, and I can see the dark circles under his eyes. His voice cracks along with my heart at his continued confession.
“I’ve missed you so damn much. I tried to give you some space because I fucked up so bad, then I found out you’d left the country. I didn’t know what to do. It was like a part of me wasn’t there anymore. You’re my soulmate, Finn.” His words are heartfelt and hopeful. I slap that hope right off his face with my next question.
“Did you go?”
“Go where?” His brows shoot up and his expression darkens. He really can’t think I’d forgotten. “Oh, yes, but only because I’d already paid for it.” I step back and shake from his hold. “Shit, no, not the prostitutes—prostitute.” He corrects. Doesn’t it make me feel better that we’re not talking in plurals. “I had paid for the holiday; I never went with a hooker. The others did, and I almost did. I won’t lie to you, Finn, but I couldn’t. All I could see was your face, your heartbroken face, and I fucking hate myself for that.” He steps forward and I step back.
“So you were there the whole week?” I cross my arms, feeling a chill the sun’s rays beating down can’t warm.
“I got high, but that’s it. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.” He reaches for my hand, and then metaphorically punches me full in the chest with his next move. I did not see this coming. He drops to his knees and pulls a small velvet box from his back pocket. I’m breathless, my chest hurts, my stomach rolls, and I get a sudden urge to purge with the hideous sense of déjà vu, but he unclips the box, and this time it’s perfect. It’s a stunning solitaire diamond on a white-gold band. The sun catches the facets, and it shines and sparkles against the dark cushion. He really does want me.
“It’s beautiful.” My fingers twitch, but I don’t reach for it.
“Please, Finn, you have to forgive me. I want to marry you. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you now.” He pleads, and I feel it rock my very fragile core, but I hold firm, gripping my fingertips into my flesh to make sure this is real.
“I—I’ve changed. You might not like the n
ew Finn, Dave.” He sniffs with a playful laugh and tips his head.
“We were together for nearly ten years, there’s nothing I don’t know about you, Finn, however much you think you’ve changed. I know you, and I love you.” He’s saying all the things I would’ve died to hear just a few months ago, and at this moment, I have this unbearable pain ripping me apart that he’s too fucking late.
“Charge isn’t just my boyfriend.” He stands but still holds my hand, and with his other, he awkwardly holds the ring I won’t take.
“Sorry, but that’s a good thing, then? I mean, if he’s not really asked you out.”
“They are all my boyfriends.” His face is unchanged and still filled with confusion, so I lay it out. “I’m dating all of them at the same time, and I get to pick which one I’m going to marry.”
“Marry?”
“Yes. I came here to marry one of them.” I straighten my back and steady myself for the backlash of vitriol I know Dave is capable of when he’s hurt, or worse, rejected.
“You’re fucking four guys!” His confusion is replaced with a mix of intrigue and disgust—mostly disgust. “But he said you were his girlfriend.”
“Yes, he was protecting me because, funnily enough, people are very quick to judge what is none of their fucking business,” I snap, and he balks at the strength of pride in my retort.
“I’m sorry, Finn; this is a bit of a shock. Give me a minute.” He drags his hand through his hair, and I watch as he tries to process what I’ve told him.
I feel an unpleasant claw and twist in my gut when the sadness and hurt begin to filter into his dark eyes. I hurt him, I can see it as clear as day, and I’m ashamed to say I knew I would when I spewed the words like I did. He’s a proud man, but if he really wants me, he has to know the truth. I won’t lie, and I may not be proud of the way I told him, but I’m not ashamed of where I am and who I’m with. He straightens his shoulder after a moment and inhales a deep, steady breath, and for the second time in almost as many minutes he renders me speechless. “I don’t care, Finn. I want you back. I love you, every part of you. Please be my wife.”
