Half Truths: An Opposites Attract Romance

by Rachael Brownell

  He’s propositioning me. I can feel it in my bones. He hasn’t said the words, but the implication is there.

  And then he’s gone. A quick goodbye as he stood, tossing me a smirk over his shoulder before closing the front door behind him.

  It all happened so fast. One second we were chatting nicely about ourselves, our past. Sure, I was mostly lying my ass off, but he didn’t know that. Then, as if someone turned on the lights, he was not-so-subtly letting me know he wanted to take me to bed. That the option was on the table, and the decision was in my hands.

  Fuck me.

  Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I stare at the door contemplating my next move.

  Go over there and throw myself at him. Get it over with because we both know it’s going to happen sooner or later. There’s no denying the chemistry between us.

  Or tamper down the feelings that keep trying to surface and pretend I’m oblivious to the entire situation for as long as I can. Keep my distance and constantly remind myself why it shouldn’t happen.

  His sister.

  My situation.

  It’s going to be a long couple of months with him living so close. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to ignore my growing desire. I’m only so strong, and I have to reserve some of that strength for my daily fight.

  My fight to protect Phoenix. To remember the lies that have become my life. To survive.

  11

  Alex

  * * *

  I’m not sure what came over me, but the more we talked, the more I wanted to know about her. It didn’t matter what she told me. I was invested. I needed details of her past. Wanted to know all her secrets, her desires.

  I craved information almost as much as I craved her touch. The feel of her skin. One taste of her lips.

  Information I could get, the rest was up in the air. I’ll have her, I know that. It’s only a matter of when. It’s like I’m walking a tightrope right now, sixty stories above the ground. One wrong step and I’m going to fall to my death, destroying everything I’ve worked for.

  Yet I couldn’t help getting inside her head. Touching her bare skin. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until it was done and over with.

  The questions popping in my head were overwhelming. I knew I needed to leave before I blew it. Asked too much. Pushed her too far. Or worse. Before I opened up to her and told her the truth about everything. Things she’d be obligated to report to the state. And if that were to happen, Daphne’s stint in rehab would come to an abrupt halt.

  I couldn’t validate the want. The need to be with her. Not at Daph’s expense.

  So I walked away.

  In the back of my mind, I was hoping she’d ask me to stay. That she’d run after me and jump into my waiting arms, begging me to take her. She had that look in her eye as if she was contemplating the very idea.

  It’s been hours. I left my door unlocked. It hasn’t happened.

  I did learn a lot about her tonight. Ammunition. I’m stockpiling everything so I can use it when needed. To get closer to her. So close she’ll miss me when I’m not within reach.

  For instance, she runs in the mornings before work. Before the sun comes up. Before the temperature threatens to melt your skin. I’m not sure why I never thought of it before, running in the morning instead of at night, after the sun has set but the air is still warm and humid.

  It’s something I think I should try. And I plan to.

  Not tomorrow. Harley will be up in a matter of hours, bounding down the beach, the wind off the ocean blowing her long ebony lock around. It’s a sight I can’t wait to see for myself but one I need to work up to. In a few days. After I’ve adjusted my sleep schedule.

  Not to mention, I want to give her time to cool off. To think about me. I saw the look on her face when I propositioned her.

  God, I still can’t believe I did that. What was I thinking? Inviting her into my bed.

  Oh, yeah. I want her. Beneath me. As much as I want to take my next breath, maybe more.

  I’ve never wanted a woman this badly. It’s the thrill of the chase that has its hold on me. Being this close but not being able to have her. Knowing that being together is a bad idea. That she could be my ultimate undoing. Wanting to risk it all for one taste of her perfection.

  I wonder if it’s the same for her, if wanting me is driving her as crazy as it’s driving me. Is she suffering sleepless nights? Constantly masturbating to maintain a level of sanity?

  The thought of her touching herself… fuck!

  Tossing back the sheets, I pace the length of my one-room apartment. I need to talk myself down because right now I want to beat down her door and take her. Bring her the pleasure she deserves.

  Going caveman on her is not the right move, though. There are too many other people involved to consider. Mainly, Phoenix, but Daphne as well.

  It’s going to be a long night. Again. One where I doubt I’ll get much sleep, and even when I do, I’ll dream of her. My ebony-haired beauty. The woman who was conceived on the back of the motorcycle she’s named after. Once I do finally have her, I guarantee she’s going to be a hell of a ride.

  Sundays are meant for relaxation. It’s the one day of the week my parents never left the house when I was growing up. Not because they didn’t have better things to do, I’m sure they did, but because it was the one day they graced us with their presence. The one day we could count on seeing them, even if they weren’t actively hanging out with us.

  In the summer, we’d all be outside by the pool, doing our own thing but as a family. My mom would read her magazines and drink her froufrou drinks. My father would be on his laptop and taking calls, all while in his swim trunks as if he was going to get in the pool.

  He never did.

  Daphne and I would play Marco Polo or have diving contests, trying to get my parents to judge them. To get them to acknowledge us for even a few minutes. It worked maybe ten percent of the time. My mom watching us over her magazine for a split second. My father barely glancing in our direction before focusing on what he was more invested in.

  In the colder months, we’d hang out in the game room. Monopoly was Daphne’s favorite. She and I could spend all day on one game and neither of us would give up, even if we were practically bankrupt. Neil’s don’t quit, I’d remind her when she’d get down.

  Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t have encouraged her to keep going. I’d have her right where I wanted her. She’d be low on money, most of her shit would be mortgaged, and she’d be pouting, arms crossed over her chest, staring at the board. That’s when I’d push her to try, and she always managed to find a way to come back and kick my ass.

  While we played, my father would be glued to whatever football game was on TV and my mother would be painting her nails or curled up with a cup of tea and a book.

  Occasionally we’d play a game of pool together or watch a movie if the Bears started to lose and my father got upset. It was rare, but in those moments, I’d forget how disconnected my parents were. We felt like a real family. Almost.

  The next day would always come way too soon, and life would be back to normal. The house would be empty again. My parents would be off doing what they do best, socializing with the elite of Chicago. We’d be back in school, going through the motions, attempting to hold on to the warm and fuzzy feelings we had the day before.

  Still, I find that making Sundays a day of relaxation is a good rule of life I’d like to stick to. One that I imagine Daphne is missing, which makes me feel guilty.

  Instead of having this day to myself, I pack a bag with snacks and head to visit her, making a small detour to the store on my way. I want a rematch of our last Monopoly game. She destroyed me in less than two hours. I cringed every time it was my turn to roll the dice, praying I landed in jail instead of on one of her properties.

  She’d managed to score all the best ones. Avoided landing on any properties I had built on. Saved up all her money from the rent I was pa
ying her and passing GO and then made her move.

  Hotels.

  They felt taller than the little red pieces on the board actually were. Especially as I’d round the corner of the board and slowly approach them, unable to avoid landing exactly where she hoped I would. Three trips around the board and I had mortgaged everything I had. My bank was running low on cash, and I knew if I didn’t make it past GO, I was doomed. So I rolled, counted the spaces, and was about to celebrate until I realized I counted wrong. I wasn’t landing on GO, I was passing it, landing on Mediterranean Ave.

  No big deal, right? Wrong. Daphne had built a hotel, and although rent was nowhere near what it was when I landed on Park Place or Boardwalk with their hotels, it was still more than I had left.

  She beat me.

  With the crappiest property on the board.

  Checking in at the front desk, I make my way to the common room while the receptionist lets Daphne know I’m here. It wasn’t a scheduled visit, so I’m not allowed to go get her myself, which is fine. I have time to set up the game while I wait for her.

  Catching sight of her as she walks in the room, I’m thrown off kilter. My sister has always had a strong air of confidence surrounding her. Even in her weakest moment, I could still see it. Part of that is from how we were brought up, to always hold our head high and appear strong and in control. The other part being she normally exudes those characteristics. That’s just who she is and how she sees herself.

  Today, she looks frail. Uncertain. Her anger from the other day is gone and has been replaced with a lack of resolve. It’s as if she doesn’t care about anything. She’s given up.

  I’m sure this is normal. She has to hit rock bottom before she can stand back up, right?

  That doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about her. About what this place is doing to her. Anyone who knows her would take one look at her right now and be frightened by what they see.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, flopping into the seat across from me.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Tossing her the dog, her signature playing piece, she catches it but doesn’t place it on the board like I expect her to.

  “I’m not in the mood, Alex.” She doesn’t have to say the words for me to hear she’s not interested, but that’s not going to stop me from pushing her to play.

  “I can see that. Doesn’t mean I’m going to leave. You promised me a rematch, and I’m here to collect.” I’m trying to keep my voice lighthearted to mask my concern, but the look on her face makes me wonder if it’s working or not.

  Daphne knows me as well as I know her. Even with a five-year age difference, we were close growing up. We didn’t have anyone else, only each other. We relied on one other for everything. Physically and emotionally.

  I continue to set up the board and count out cash for each of us as Daphne thinks it over. We play by our own rules, always have. We made them up when we were young so the game would last longer. Double the amount of money the rules state. You get four hundred every time you pass GO. Oh, and my favorite—we never pay any money to the bank. No matter what the yellow or orange cards say, you pay to the middle of the board. Free parking rewards you with all the money everyone’s paid in.

  It’s the greatest space on the board.

  “You know,” Daphne starts, finally placing her piece on GO, “Monopoly’s not the same without—”

  Cutting her off, I pull the bag of double stuffed Oreos I brought from my bag.

  “Cheater,” she mumbles.

  “If I recall correctly, I’ve never been caught cheating, unlike someone I know.”

  “One time,” she whines. “And I was seven. I think I’ve grown up since then. Plus, it’s more fun to kick your ass straight up. Nothing says sisterly love like taking you for all you’re worth.”

  “Not this time,” I tease. “Today is going to be my day.”

  “Wanna bet?” The challenge in her voice sets off warning alarms.

  She doesn’t want to make a friendly wager. I bet I know what her terms are going to be. She wants out of here. She wants to go home. And as much as I’d love to say I’m going to win, I can’t guarantee it, not even if I cheat. Still, she knows I’m a betting man, so I can’t back down.

  “As long as I can make the terms,” I say, resting back against the chair, shaking the dice in my partially closed fist, the sound bringing back fond memories.

  “I need concessions, Alex. This place is like a prison.”

  That, I can work with. Whatever she needs, as long as it’s allowed, I’ll try and get for her. It’s the least I can do. It’s what I’d hope she’d do for me if the situation were reversed.

  “What kind?”

  “Food. Freedom. The ability to go to the bathroom without being monitored.” Raising an eyebrow at her, she rolls her eyes and continues. “Fine. Maybe they don’t watch me pee, but it seems like it. They’re everywhere I turn. There’s no privacy around here and nothing to do. I miss the gossip rags and reality TV. I need to feed my social side, and it feels like I’m losing touch with the outside world.”

  Magazines I can do. Books, games, puzzles. The TV is their property, and I’m sure they don’t have every channel, which is something Daph is used to. Having anything and everything her heart desires. More than she needs. A variety of ways to entertain herself.

  I can see how this place would be confining compared to the life she’s always led.

  “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll talk to Harley tomorrow and see what’s allowed and what’s not. As much as I’d like to give you everything you want, to make things a little easier for you, Daph, I don’t want to promise you something I can’t follow through on.”

  “Harley?” she asks, wrinkling her nose. “Who the hell is Harley?”

  Shit. I’ve outed myself and didn’t even realize it.

  12

  Harley

  * * *

  It’s been days since I’ve laid eyes on Alex, and not for lack of trying. Phoenix has been hanging out at his place every day after school, but it seems whenever I’ve gone over there, he’s either hiding from me in the bathroom or he’s having serious bowel issues. Both of which are concerning for different reasons.

  I tried to wait him out last night, but I already had dinner in the oven and couldn’t stay any longer. Phoenix hollered goodbye to him through the door and didn’t even get a response.

  Something’s up.

  I can feel it.

  Hell, I can see it. Either he’s suddenly decided he doesn’t want to be around me or he’s found someone else. Someone who doesn’t have to lie to him every time she speaks. Someone who was willing to jump into bed with him the moment he asked.

  If that’s the way he wants to be, fine. I lived a normal life before him, and I’ll lead a normal life long after he’s gone. It’s the in-between that I’m concerned with.

  And his sister.

  Because she’s been acting odd this week too.

  We’ve had two sessions. She’s talked during both but hasn’t given me any new information. She hasn’t opened up about her first time experimenting with drugs, what they were, or how things spiraled from there. I’ve asked. She’s changed the subject every time.

  When I pushed, I expected her to blow up on me again. It would be the standard response when trying to get a patient to talk about something they’re not comfortable with yet. Not Daphne. She’s been nice. Sweet. As if acting a certain way will get her what she wants. She’s made it perfectly clear what that is.

  She wants to go home.

  They all do. That doesn’t change from day to day. They have to work for it. For the chance to get out of here. I know it probably feels like a punishment to them, but it’s not. It’s a selfless act by their loved ones to get them the help they desperately need. Even if they can’t see that.

  And I will help her. No matter if she wants it or not. A large part of being able to do that is to get to the root of her problems. Talk about them. So I keep push
ing with the hope she’ll let me in a little. Even the smallest tidbit of information can start the ball rolling, but she refuses.

  There’s a knock at my door as I’m packing up my things on Friday afternoon. Looking up, I’m surprised to find Daphne standing in my open doorway for the second time today. It’s a little after five o’clock, and most of the patients are probably filling their plates with pizza, a special treat on Fridays to celebrate another week of accomplishments. It gives them hope and reminds them what they’re fighting for.

  The opportunity to eat at their favorite restaurant or cook in their kitchen. A reminder of the outside world that’s waiting for them as soon as they’re ready.

  “Daphne, come in.”

  “I won’t keep you,” she begins, taking a seat, looking comfortable in my office for the first time. “I just wanted to know if my brother talked to you about anything this week.”

  “I haven’t seen him. Was there something important he wanted to discuss?” I want to elaborate, tell her he’s been avoiding me, but that would be inappropriate and more than likely cause problems. Not just for me.

  “Important to me but maybe not to him. I won a bet, and he was supposed to talk to you about the possibility of me getting a few provisions.”

  She’s calm, cool, and collected. Well-spoken. Part of that is guaranteed to come from her upbringing. The other part is more than likely to put on a show for me. One that says… “Look at me. I’m doing better. Please give me what I want.”

  I’ve seen this show before. It always ends the same. An upset patient and me stuck at work later than I had planned.

  “What kind of provisions?” I ask, intrigued by her choice of wording.

  “Food and such. Basics for survival.”

  Her ‘basics’ probably include her phone. I hope Alex didn’t promise her that because it’s against our policy to release phones until the patient has been discharged. He knows this. We’ve found it stunts their progress. Not because they’re calling their dealers or planning an escape. It’s more about the emotional aspect of their recovery.