by Jessica Roe
What I need is a hookup. An easy, simple, uncomplicated hookup. I don't care about names or faces or personality. All I need tonight is a woman who isn't her. Who isn't Phee fucking Quinlain.
Doesn't take me long at all to find one. The black dress wrapped around her body is tiny, showing off those amazing legs; miles and miles of skin the color of creamy coffee. Her nails are sharpened into long, red talons – this woman right here means business. She's a man eater.
Perfect. She'll do.
She acts tough at first, a total ball buster who don't take shit from no man, but it’s not long before those talons are resting on my thigh and she's giggling her ass off at all of my jokes like I'm the funniest guy she's ever met.
Phee never laughed at my jokes if they weren't funny. She'd roll her eyes and call me lame and then, like she just couldn't help herself, she'd lean in and kiss me sweetly, as if my lameness was part of the appeal for her.
I purse my lips in annoyance at myself. Why can't I stop fucking thinking about her? She's been back in my life a day. A day. We've spent the equivalent of thirty minutes together combined. She should not be causing me this much inner turmoil.
My man eater is talking, but I stopped paying attention a while ago and she doesn't seem to have picked up on that just yet.
Hearing a familiar throaty chuckle over by the entrance of the bar, I perk up with interest, trying to spot Ivy and wondering who she's here with. Pretty sure Nash mentioned something about dinner with clients tonight so it can't be him. Still ignoring. . .yeah, I don't know her name. . .I crane my head, catching a glimpse of Ivy's blonde hair as she makes her way through the crowd to get to the bar. It's surprisingly busy in here tonight for a Sunday, but this place has always been pretty popular.
The bar counter is shaped like a large semi-circle that stretches from one end of the room to the other, and the stool she sits herself on is almost directly opposite where I'm sat.
Ivy turns to glance behind her, then tips her head back and laughs at someone – her companion who must have gotten caught up in the crowd. With a grin, she hops back off the stool and sticks her arm into the throng of people, pulling it out a second later with a person attached.
I almost bang my head against the bar in frustration. “Phee,” I murmur to myself. She is everywhere. Makes sense, I guess. The memory of her has been shadowing my every move for the last ten years and torturing me, so why wouldn't the real version be here to do it in the flesh?
Thanks, life. We are absolutely winning.
“Are you even listening to me?” the man eater asks, waving a slender hand in front of my face.
“No,” I reply distractedly, because I'm too busy watching Phee as she takes a seat at the bar to care. She smiles sweetly up at the bartender when he hurries over to take her order, and something inside me clenches. That smile, it has the power to light up the whole room. It always did.
Her long hair has been pushed in front of one shoulder, and tonight she's clad in a little silver dress – has Ivy's signature marks on it, so I'm guessing it's one of her designs. Clearly Ivy's intention in putting that dress on Phee was to drive every man who saw her mad with fucking lust. The bitch.
The two of them are having some kind of girls' night out. Probably to talk about me. Or to rip me to shreds.
As if sensing she's being watched, Ivy glances up and catches sight of me almost immediately. Her eyes widen just a fraction when she sees the man eater now practically draped across my lap as she tries her darned hardest to regain my attention. It occurs to me that there's no way I'm coming out of this looking like any kind of a good guy.
Ivy's disappointment in me is practically palpable.
It's only seconds before Phee notices something up with Ivy. She follows Ivy's gaze until she finds me too. Her eyes flicker between me and the man eater, and for just a moment she looks absolutely stricken. But only a single moment. I watch as she pulls herself together only a second later, straightening her shoulders and smoothing out her face, replacing her hurt with a careful, blank mask. It's enough to be believable – to anyone who isn't me, that is. Because I'm the man who knows every inch of her body, knows every expression on her face like they've been forever imprinted on my mind. She can't fool me.
I saw that hurt.
And it fucking destroys me inside knowing I made her feel that way.
God, that's crazy. She's the one who went off and got herself engaged to some schmuck, but suddenly I feel like I'm betraying her by being sat here with another woman all over me. The hand on my leg suddenly feels dirty, sleazy, cheap. I brush it away and pull back from the man eater's clutches. Not like it matters – the damage has already been done.
But it's not important, because for the first time in a very, very long while, I know I won't be taking anybody home with me tonight.
Ivy and Phee hurriedly finish their drinks and scuttle out of the bar twenty minutes later. I'm sure Ivy suggested they leave right away, but Phee would have refused, determined not to show any signs of weakness. Even once they've left, I still can't bring myself to find another woman to charm into coming home with me. I've lost the will to fucking hook up and ain't that just the sign of a coming apocalypse.
So I sit, alone, for the rest of the night, nursing my drink and wondering how in the fuck it's possible I've gotten myself into this situation. Wondering how it can even be possible that Phee has only just re-entered my life and yet has already managed to screw me up just as bad as I ever was when it came to her.
God, I'm fucking fucked.
I’D BEEN EMBARASSINGLY excited for my date with Phee. Like, ridiculously fucking eager in a way I definitely hadn't been with any of the girls I'd dated before. I'd taken a lame amount of time getting ready that night, even going so far as to let Ivy come over and pick me out an outfit. Gotta admit, girl knew her stuff. Being best friends with a chick definitely had its advantages.
Fortune and Norson Lake weren't too far apart so it didn't take me long to drive over there. Despite being a little out of the way from the rest of town, Phee's house by the woods wasn't all that hard to find. I was early, to my fucking shame, but I couldn't bring myself to drive around and come back a little later.
I climbed out of my car, immediately liking Phee's little house, with its wooden shutters and the vines crawling up the outer walls. It had character. The real kind, and not the fake as shit character bought with copious amounts of money like we had at my house. Our fucking ridiculous pillars, for one thing. . .
Phee's mom was the one to answer the door. She smiled brightly at me and invited me in to wait while Phee finished getting ready. I followed her inside to the living room, only half listening as she chattered nonstop, too busy trying to quell my nerves to really pay all that much attention. Phee's dad was her mom's polar opposite. He was quiet and stony, and the largest, most imposing guy I'd ever met in my entire life. He was terrifying. Glancing over at me briefly from where his eyes were glued to the TV, he grunted at me when I entered the room in some sort of greeting. It wasn't until his wife cleared her throat pointedly at him that he heaved a sigh and actually stood from his recliner.
Jesus Christ, he was even bigger than I'd realized.
“Wes Quinlain,” he told me, taking my hand in a grip that was definitely tighter than necessary. His large hand was rough and calloused. It was the hand of a man who'd worked hard physically in his life. This man hadn't spent years sat in an office chair like my father. “But you can call me Sir.”
Something about his name nagged at me, but I was too busy trying not to crap my pants at the threatening tone to his voice to figure it out. I wondered briefly if he was this tense with all of Phee's dates, or if he was just being especially delightful with me because I was from out of town. I winced when he squeezed my hand even tighter. “Nathan Alders, Sir. It's real nice to meet you.”
Both Phee's mom and dad froze exactly where they were stood the moment I spoke, and his death grip on my hand became painfull
y tight until thankfully he let go, dropping it like it had scolded his skin.
“Nathan. . .Alders?” Phee's mom asked faintly. “From Fortune?”
I was about to reply when it suddenly hit me why the name had sounded familiar.
Quinlain.
As in Micah Quinlain, from Norson Lake. The boy my brother had been doing drugs with before he'd overdosed.
Well if that wasn't just a giant kick in the gonads.
A noise of distress to the side of the room caught my attention, and I glanced over to see Phee standing in a doorway, gripping the edges tightly with white fingers. Her face was pale and she looked. . .horrified. “Alders? You're from. . .you're from that family?” she demanded accusingly. “The one who ran my brother out of town?”
My mouth fell open but no words spilled out. I wanted to deny it, to claim innocence of them, but I couldn't lie to her face. I was in shock, finding it hard to believe the utter shitty coincidence of who this girl had turned out to be. This girl who I already liked more than any girl I'd ever met before. This girl was the younger sister of Micah Quinlain? The actual fuck?!
I had never hated the Quinlain boy the way my parents had, had never blamed him for Spencer's death. In fact I'd always felt kind of sorry for the guy and the way he'd been harassed until he'd escaped town. I'd seen my brother that day in his room, snorting coke like he couldn't get enough of the damned stuff. If anything, it'd seemed like Spencer had been the one doing the encouraging and not Micah. Spencer had definitely needed no encouragement when it came to drugs – he'd been all for it.
My brother's death had been a horrible accident caused by his own actions and his own stupidity – not that I'd ever dared say that out loud, especially not to my parents. That was not the way they felt at all. But I'd always felt bad the other boy had been treated unfairly by my parents and all of the people they influenced.
Of course, I'd never said that to anyone bar my friends. Not ever. I'd been far too much of a coward.
And I didn't say any of it to Phee or her family. I almost did, but I couldn't find the words and by the time I was ready to speak, her dad was cutting me off before I could get out a single word.
“Out!” he boomed gruffly. He didn't shout. Didn't even need to with such a deep voice. But that one word was as effective as if he'd screamed it in my face. Phee's father wasn't the kind of man who needed to raise his voice to get his point across. “Get out. Now. I don't know what kind of game you people are playing or why you've decided to start this up again now, but you did your job three years ago. Our son is gone and we haven't seen him since. Congratulations. Now leave!”
“But, Sir-” I tried.
“No,” Phee interrupted quietly in a choked voice. She was overcome. Whether by memories or by a disappointment as great as I was feeling, I didn't know. She no longer looked at me but at the floor near my feet, like she couldn't even bear the sight of me. A delicate hand rested at the base of her throat. My stomach dropped at the expression on her face. It was like she was sickened by the very knowledge of who I really was. “Daddy is right. You need to leave. I don't want to go on a date with you.”
I tried desperately to catch her eye, even as her mom took a hold of my arm and practically dragged me back to the front door, but she never once looked up from the wooden floor.
+++
DEJECTEDLY, I MADE my way back home that night only to find my parents stood waiting for me in the foyer wearing matching expressions of displeasure on their half plastic faces. Everything had to be perfect with them, and if it wasn't, then money could always fix it – even their skin.
Turned out Phee's parents had called mine in a fury, told them to make sure I stayed away from their daughter like they really did believe it was all just some kind of sick game we'd cooked up to mess with them. My parents were pissed. They didn't care when I tried to explain that I hadn't known who Phee was, that I sure as hell hadn't done any of it on purpose.
Did they really think I'd want to stir all this shit up again?
“You are not to see that girl again,” my father instructed coldly. I could already tell he had a whole lecture prepared for me, and was surprised when all I did was shrug my shoulders. Clearly he'd been expecting a fight. “Is that. . .is that understood? Nathan! Look at me when I'm talking to you, you insolent boy!”
I dragged my eyes up to meet his and glared at him sullenly, holding my hands up in the air in a 'fuck it' kind of gesture. “Don't worry about it,” I snarled, stalking by him and mom to climb the grand staircase that led up to the second level of the mansion and the safe haven that was my room. Over my shoulder, I threw, “No girl on earth is worth any of this crap anyway.”
Chapter 11
Nathan
THE NEXT MORNING I take a rare day away from the gallery and drive up to the city to hang with Blair. We like to get together just the two of us every now and then; eat crappy food, play some pool, shoot the shit. And today I need some of her straight talking like I never have before.
We grab lunch in our favorite greasy diner and I watch on in avid fascination as she demolishes the biggest burger I've ever seen with a hunger so ravenous I have to wonder if Silver's been bothering to feed her. For such a tiny little thing, the girl sure packs away more food than any chick I've ever met. Just one of the many reasons I fucking adore her.
Blair might be younger than the rest of our little gang, but in the past few years I've really come to appreciate having her in my life in a way I don't with most people. I'd always known I was going to like her, right from the very first night I met her back when I'd gatecrashed her and Silver's 'non-date' in Corbin's Bar all those years ago. I'd suspected there was something between the two of them that night, although at the time she'd still just been Nash's new little sister to me. And in the years it's been since then, I've come to consider Blair one of my best friends. She's as close to me now as the friends I've known since I was just a kid, the kind of friend I would do anything in my power for if it came down to it. I'm an all-around friendly guy, but it takes a hella lot for me to feel that way about someone. Hell, if not for this bothersome everlasting love of mine for Phee and the fact that Blair is engaged to one of my oldest friends, she'd probably be the only girl in the whole world I could've ever imagined being awesome enough to take the plunge and settle down with. Silver sure is one lucky son of a bitch, that's all I can say. He'll never get bored with her around. But that's why the two of them are perfect together – they balance each other out. Blair brings Silver out of his shell and Silver calms the storm inside Blair in a way no one else can. He eases the pain in her eyes.
One of my favorite things about Blair is that she's a straight talker. She never gives it easy to anyone – especially not me. I can always rely on her blunt honesty, even if I don't always listen and usually don't appreciate it.
“So Phee is back in town,” Blair surmises when I've finished recounting all my shit. She's done devouring that burger and is busy wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin.
“And driving me fucking crazy.” I shake my head and laugh up at the ceiling, though I can't think of anything less funny. “Which is crazy in its fucking self, right? I shouldn't be feeling like this about her, not after all these years. I should be over this shit by now.”
Blair raises one dark eyebrow as she regards me across the table. Shrugging one shoulder leisurely, she leans back against the booth. “Love is love,” she states easily, like it's the simplest damn concept on earth. And hey, maybe it is. Who am I to know? “When it's real it's real, no matter what shape or form or how crazy it might seem. When love decides it wants you, there's not a whole helluva lot you can do to get in its way.”
She's right, of course. I mean the proof of her words is sat right here in front of me. She and Silver weren't exactly the most obvious match on the planet, but they made it work. And then there are all the other people in our lives who fell in love despite how crazy it seemed to everyone around them – Jemma of the et
ernal pep and cheer and tattoo artist Reid, dark storm cloud Walt and the pure sunshine that is Ibbie, and even their friends Dahlia and Fábia. Up until she met Dahlia, Fábia had always been attracted only to men.
“You're not crazy,” Blair assures me, splattering so much ketchup on a plate of fries that it's more red than yellow at this point. Girl's a freak. “Not for still being in love with Phee, anyway. It just means that what you felt, what you feel, was real. Is real.”
I nod slowly as I take in her words. She's making a whole lotta sense and it eases something within me. “You think?”
“Yeah, I do.” But she sighs then, dropping the fry she'd been about to pop in her mouth so she can give me her full attention. She watches me from across the table with those big brown eyes of hers. “But. . .when you have that kind of love for someone, the kind that's really real, you hafta love them enough to put them above yourself. You have to do right by them, do what's best for them and not for you.”
I rest my elbows on the table and drop my head into my hands. “I already know I'm not gonna wanna hear this next part.”
“Phee is engaged, Nate,” she points out bluntly. I guess she decided against sugar coating this for me in any form at all. “And if she's truly happy then you need to love her enough to let her have that, to let her go. It's harsh as hell and will probably be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do, but if it's the right thing and you love her as much as you say you do then you'll do it. Just like Silver did when he left me.”
Back at the beginning when Blair and Silver had first fallen in love, he'd been her teacher and she'd still been a high school student. In the end, Silver quit his job and left town so Blair could finish the remaining months of school without him around, so that when they could finally be together, it would be right. So I guess if anyone knows what they're talking about, it's her. “That was different though,” I remind her sullenly. “You guys were only separated a few months. You both knew at the end of it you'd have a future together. I've got. . .nothing. At the end of this I've just got nothing.”
