Clash

by Aurora, Belle

  My heart skipped a beat. My throat thickened.

  Connor appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, speaking through them as they came. “She is smart. And sweet.” He smiled softly. “And so funny.”

  Oh, God. He was killing me.

  “You love her.” A statement.

  Connor puffed out a laugh, nodding. “Yes. Yes, I do. More than anything.” Running a hand through his unruly hair, he added warmly, “My wife is an amazing person. She literally saved my life.”

  Joe Reno’s eyes widened. “So, you are married?”

  Connor blinked then frowned. “Did people not know this?”

  “Not officially, no,” laughed Joe.

  “Really?” Connor turned to look at me and when he saw me laughing silently, shaking my head, he winced, “Oops.” The audience laughed as Connor groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Sorry, baby.”

  Thankfully, Joe changed the subject before the situation could become any more awkward than it already was. “We’re curious, Connor. Life as a rock star. Your wife is the manager of the Ultra Violet Vixens. Surrounded by celebrities. Your life must be pretty out of control.” Joe lifted a single brow. “It must be something.”

  “Oh yeah. Every night’s a party,” Connor replied. “It’s wild.”

  “Look at this one,” Connor said into the darkness, shoving his phone into my face as we lay in bed.

  The kitten on the screen had his bottom in the air. He gave a little booty shake before pouncing on his mother.

  “Aww,” My nose squished at the cuteness. “He’s so liddle.”

  Connor’s voice rose three octaves. “I know, right?”

  Yeah.

  Our nights were wild alright, all right.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Family Affair.

  Emmy

  The question that shot out of my mouth was something I’d been meaning to ask for a while now.

  “When do I meet your parents?”

  It was dinnertime at Casa de Clash and although I wasn’t the best cook, I was getting better. Actually, it was Ricky who was teaching me. On tonight’s menu was chicken marsala served with couscous and steamed greens. And I didn’t like to toot my own horn, but… drool. It looked great.

  Connor took the seat opposite me on the island and picked up a fork, his reply immediate and abruptly stern, “You don’t.”

  Confusion settled deep within my gut, causing it to twist. Suddenly, I was back in high school and the unworthiness I’d been made to feel by every single beautiful person came flooding back.

  He’s embarrassed of you. That’s why.

  Oh, shut up, brain.

  Clearly, I still had some issues that I wasn’t sure I’d ever overcome.

  “Oh.” I recoiled as if I’d been hit. “Okay.”

  That sucked. I would’ve liked to have met the people who had given me the greatest gift I never knew I wanted but, oh well.

  Silence passed between us and as I pretended to be uber interested in the quality of the broccolini on my plate, I felt Connor’s eyes on me.

  My husband was not a silly man. As always, he sensed a disturbance in the force.

  “Look, Emmy,” it took him a moment but Connor explained almost reluctantly, “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them but they’re…” he struggled to find the word. “They’re assholes, okay? I haven’t seen them in two years and I don’t plan on seeing them in the near future. If the chance comes up, you’ll meet them but—trust me on this —you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  Uh oh. Family drama alert.

  My brow furrowed in puzzlement. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” Connor shrugged before stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken harder than he needed to, “It’s just who they are. They can’t help it.”

  It was evidently a touchy subject so I dropped it. For now. With a single nod, I uttered, “Okay.”

  A few moments of quiet went by before Connor burst out with, “They put us through some bullshit, baby. Things no kid should have to worry about. Things that scared us. And no child should be afraid of their parents. Not like that. They were hard, cold, and cruel…” The familiar sound of his foot bouncing began, “What kind of parent tells their kid they hate him?” His expression icy, he sneered, “Mine would.”

  Oh, wow. My heart.

  “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” How could anyone hate Connor, let alone his parents? My attempt to make him smile was small and weak, “If it makes any difference, I love you more than carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”

  When his sad eyes met mine, he shook his head in exasperation. “Not me, baby. Ricky.”

  “Ricky?” I was baffled. Ricky was so cool. “How could anyone hate Ricky?”

  I had a special place in my heart for my brother-in-law. Up until a few weeks ago, Ricky had still been living with us. We spent most nights hanging out in front of the TV after cooking a meal together. He was a great listener and seemed to have a solution for just about any problem. He told the most amazing stories, straight out of the E.R. He could be an absolute smartass but Ricky was about the most kind-hearted person I’d ever met.

  It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be awkward living with a couple who had just rekindled their physical relationship until after one rather long—and loud—bout of sex that Ricky burst into our bedroom and screamed, “I can’t take this anymore!” With the sheets up to my neck, I blinked at him as he yelled, “All you guys do is fuck.” He threw up a hand, “Fuck here.” The other hand joined the first, “Fuck there.” When he cradled his head in his hands and let out a muffled, “Fuck everywhere!” I almost laughed.

  I would’ve if he weren’t so distressed.

  “You’re so inconsiderate,” Ricky dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. When his hands dropped to his sides and he bellowed, “I’m horny too, you know?” I lost it.

  Covering my head with the sheet, I couldn’t control the body-wracking laughter that made me sound a little like a hyena.

  As Connor joined in, not even bothering to hide how gleeful his brother’s misery made him, I peeked out to see Ricky stared. He stared and stared until finally, he snapped, “Fuck this shit. I’m moving out.”

  He stormed out the room and found himself an apartment two days later.

  I knew Connor and I were a bit much at times. I was sad to see him go. I mean, who would help me gang up on Connor now?

  At my question, Connor scoffed and when he said what he said, I fumed. “They said they couldn’t accept his lifestyle choice and for as long as he insisted on dating men, they would have nothing to do with him.”

  My heart began to race. I could feel the blood rushing through my ears and I spoke so low, it was a near whisper, “His lifestyle choice?” My plate clanked when my fork fell from my fingers. I leant in, across the table and asked a quiet but menacing, “They think being gay is a choice?”

  Connor’s brows rose and his lips tightened. “According to their church group, it is.”

  Slumping back in my chair, all I could say in response was, “Unbelievable.”

  “Baby,” he recalled grudgingly, “when he was sixteen, they caught him in is room with a friend from school. They were making out.” My chest squeezed because I knew whatever was coming was bad. “They beat the shit out of him. Drove him to the church in the middle of the night, were talking all kinds of shit but when the pastor convinced them to put Ricky through conversion therapy, that was it.” The look on his face, the tone of his voice, it was childlike. “I couldn’t let them torture him.”

  And, quite suddenly, Connor Clash was no longer an enigma wrapped in a riddle.

  Things began to make sense.

  My voice was small. “What did you do?”

  “I snuck into his room in the middle of the night, helped him pack a bag, packed one of my own and we left.”

  It was as though the final puzzle piece slipped into p
lace but instead of ovation, a thick silence blanketed the room.

  Yes. Things swiftly made sense and the realization of why Connor was the way he was… well… heartbreaking.

  Let down and betrayed by the people he trusted to take care of him, it was no wonder that Connor chose to live alone for as long as he had, filling his life with meaningless flings, pushing forward a never-to-be-taken-seriously attitude. Perhaps it was easier to be alone when the only significant relationship you had memory of hurt so badly, the pain seared into your side.

  Oh, my love. “Where did you go?”

  Dinner forgotten, he pushed his plate aside and recollected, “Not far. When we turned up on our Aunt Kim’s doorstep, she took one look at Ricky’s bruised face and knew my mother had finally lost it. There was no hesitation. She let us in and that was that.” A slight warmth lit his features. “Aunt Kim never had children. She was single and only worked part-time but she always made sure we had what we needed. She pretty much used up all her money putting us through school and sports. We didn’t have the best of everything but she made it work.”

  “And your parents?”

  “Aunt Kim called mom and told her where we were. Know what my mom said to her?”

  Oh no. The single word stuck in my throat. “What?”

  “They’re your problem now.”

  My gut sank. “Oh, sweetie.”

  Connor attempted to hide his hurt, straightening in his seat and clearing his throat. “It could’ve been worse. We got Aunt Kim and she loved us like our parents should have. I mean, she taught me to play guitar. Taught Ricky how to cook. And you know what sucks the most, baby?”

  “What’s that, honey?”

  “We didn’t notice it as kids but when we grew up, we started to see it. And,” the words stuck in his throat, “I think she’s gay, too.”

  Oh no. I couldn’t handle it.

  I could not.

  With a short and sharp whine, my chair was pushed back, I was rounding the table and then I was in Connor’s lap. His arms snaked around me. I hugged him hard and pressed soft kisses to the side of his neck.

  What a cruel world we lived in.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re good, baby,” he stroked my back softly. He breathed in the scent of my hair and hugged me tightly, “You’ll meet Aunt Kim someday and I know she’s gonna love you.”

  My throat tight, I couldn’t speak.

  No. I’m going to love her.

  How could I not?

  It was only five days later that I met Aunt Kim. I wished the circumstances had been different and her first impression of me didn’t include me calling for help while standing on the kitchen island wearing nothing but a towel.

  I also wished I had a husband with half a brain.

  Alas, it was what it was.

  The car squeaked lightly as I pulled into the garage, turned off the car and hit the button on the white remote. I glanced into the rearview mirror just in time to see the garage door descend then stepped out of the car, locking it behind me.

  I spent the afternoon at Cherry’s with the Vixens, Amber, and sweet little Tom as they discussed the grueling schedule that was to come with the release of their highly anticipated third and new album.

  The good news was the schedule wouldn’t fully come into effect for three whole months. The bad news was that I would have to explain to Connor that I would have to leave town for a while and it was already making my stomach turn. I wasn’t sure how he would take the news. Also, I wasn’t sure how I was taking the news. With therapy, the progress he was making was phenomenal. All I could keep thinking about was, what if I were the reason he relapsed?

  With a light sigh, I internally scolded myself for thinking so negatively and used my key to enter the side of the house. I walked into the small hall by the kitchen and called out, “I’m home.”

  No answer.

  Weird.

  My slides walked me past the living room and into the foyer. Looking up the staircase, I yelled out, “Connor?”

  But again, no response.

  Hmmm.

  It was a rare thing for me to be home alone. We always had people over, at all times of the day. Noah and the guys or Micah and Amber. The Vixens were always welcome too and quite often, we had Beth or Ettie or Pearl or all three sitting on our deck, drinking imported beer and shooting the breeze. Sometimes when the wind blew right, Cherry would come by. And that meant a lot. As much as she hated Connor for what he had done to me, she was reaching out for the sake of our friendship. It showed me how important our relationship was to her and I loved her for that.

  With such a full house, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be alone which seemed silly considering that less than a year ago, I’d basically been solitary my entire life.

  Little did I know when I took the job with Left Turn that I would learn a small but important lesson. Once you had the company of some great and funny people, alone just wasn’t enough anymore.

  The silence bothered me so I busied myself. Being that nobody was home, I started to undress on the way to the ground floor bathroom.

  Screw it.

  I was going to have a nice, relaxing bath. With bubbles.

  Why stop there?

  Yeah. Who knows how crazy I’ll get?

  I might even light a candle or two, or have a glass of juice in there.

  So that’s exactly what I did. I put my hair up into a knot atop my head, sat in the bath a while and relaxed before the shit storm I had a feeling was coming when I told Connor The Vixen’s good news. And somehow during that half hour, if it were even possible, my anxiety managed to go from a barely-there acoustic riff to a squealing electric guitar solo. One that made every amp shake and whine.

  Ugh. Cool.

  With a towel around me, I stepped out of the steaming bathroom and made my way into the kitchen for a glass of cold water. My focus shot, I sipped on it slowly, silently stressed about things I had no control over, as one did. But when I arrived next to the dining room table, my semi-wet feet stopped suddenly, squeaking on the polished floor boards.

  The back door was open.

  My brow furrowed. “Um…”

  I thought back. Had it been open before I went to bathe?

  No. I would’ve noticed.

  The pit of my stomach grew heavy and my heart beat hastened. “Connor?” My voice shook.

  I took a slow step toward the open door and cleared my throat, this time trying not to sound as scared as I felt. “Connor?”

  Another step forward.

  Mouth dry, I stilled as I heard rustling in the back yard.

  Where is your phone, dummy?

  Oh no.

  It was on top of the pile of clothes I’d left in the bathroom.

  Holding the knot of the towel together, I was just about to head back and retrieve said phone, when the doorway filled and my breath left me in a whoosh.

  Petrified, I stared at the intruder.

  The intruder stared back at me, unflinching.

  On shaking legs, I began to walk backward.

  The trespasser followed my every step, matching them in distance and pace.

  When my back hit the island, I didn’t hesitate to swiftly climb it and stand in the center of it. And when I opened my mouth, a shaky, “Help,” left me. Actually, it was more of a squeak. Also, I was sure no one had heard my desperate cry.

  The interloper’s brown eyes held mine a long moment before their head tilted to the side and their tongue lolled out. Gently panting, they sat and watched me in what I assumed was pure perplexity.

  Swallowing hard, I watched Connor approach the back door and pause in his steps when he saw me standing in the middle of the white marble island. He blinked at me. “Babe?”

  My nose began to tingle and out came a pitiful sounding, “Help.”

  Connor looked down at the Doberman then back up at me. He did this again and when the Doberman lo
oked up at him and wagged its tail, Connor smiled. His smile turned into a grin. And then, God help him, he chuckled.

  This, as anyone could have guessed, did not please me. And so, I did the only thing a normal person would do.

  I cried. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  Connor sucked in his lips, trying in vain not to laugh again. “I’m not laughing.”

  Tears blurred my vision. Of what? Fear? Mortification? A little of both? Who knew? “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, straightening his expression but his lips remained remarkably pinched.

  Using one hand to hold up my towel and the other to wipe away the single droplet of snot that dared escape my nose, I tried to sound less pathetic.

  I did not succeed.

  A childlike, “I was scared,” peeped out of my quivering mouth.

  And, just like that, Connor’s humor was wiped clean from his face.

  “The door was open. You weren’t there. I called out but you didn’t answer.” Blinking away a fresh batch of tears, I rambled, “And the door was open. And you weren’t there. And it was a little scary.” I finished up on a nod and a shrug.

  “Aw, baby.” Connor’s long legs took three wide steps over to me and held out his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  I took his outstretched hand while holding the towel with the other and snuffled when I hadn’t noticed the person at the door materialize. “Now what in the shit is going on here?”

  At the brash statement, my brows rose. Even more so when I noticed it came out of a pristinely dressed forty-something-year-old blonde woman, and she was looking between me, Connor, and the Doberman like we were all deranged.

  Connor smiled at the lady and squeezed my hand. “Aunt Kim, this is Emmy.” He looked up at me adoringly, that crooked smile settling sweetly on his lips. “My wife.”

  Aunt Kim?

  What?