Reckless Surrender

by R. C. Martin

  “Hey—stop hitting the door. You’ll wake her neighbors.”

  “She’s in there, Muscles. She’s in there.”

  “It’s late, jackass, she’s probably sleeping. Would you just hold on a second?”

  “Don’t call me a jackass—jackass. Wake her up!”

  I make it to the door just as another round of obnoxious knocking sounds. “Are you trying to wake the entire block, jackass?” I grumble once I’ve got the door open.

  Harvey chuckles and we both lower our phones away from our ears as I crack a smile. Trevor sighs in relief and props himself against the doorframe. He looks worse than he did a few hours ago, but I don’t feel sorry for him. I told him he shouldn’t have gone out.

  “Sorry, Daph. He insisted I drop him here. I didn’t want to leave until he got inside. Can he stay?”

  All three of us know it’s a waste of breath even asking the question. I could never turn Trevor away, no matter how annoyed I am at him. “Of course,” I murmur, reaching for Trev’s hand.

  “Don’t, under any circumstances, let him come into the shop tomorrow unless he’s gotten some decent rest. I’ll have Grace rearrange his schedule if need be.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “Hey—I’m the boss, too,” Trevor protests as he stumbles inside.

  Harvey and I exchange a look, filled with understanding, amusement, and thanks. “I’ll see you later,” he says with a wave.

  “Bye.”

  I barely have a chance to lock the door behind me and already Trevor is stripping off clothes on his way to my room. I free an airy laugh as I follow him, picking up his shoes, his hat, and his shirt along the way. I don’t bother picking up his pants, as those were kicked off just beyond the threshold of my room. Instead, I drop the remainder of his things into a pile on top of them and then close us inside. I hear him fiddle with my lamp on the nightstand. He knocks something over and curses before he manages to turn the light on. I then watch him climb into my bed, occupying the space I just vacated. He sits with his back against my pillows.

  A part of me wonders why he’s here. I know he went chasing ass tonight. I won’t ask him what happened, even though I am curious. It’s better if we don’t talk about such things. In any case, whatever his reasons, what matters is that he ended up here, in my bed, instead of in someone else’s. Even if he just struck out, I’ll take it—him—always.

  Dammit. I love him so much it’s almost pathetic.

  “I’m drunk,” he says, looking directly at me. “And I’m so fucking tired I can hardly see straight. But I’m pretty sure I watched Roman ask Logan out. On a date.”

  My mind goes blank for a second. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that!

  “What? When?”

  Given his current state of mind, my first instinct isn’t to believe him. Then my pesky heart chimes in and reminds me that Trev would never lie to me. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t make up something that crazy.

  “Tonight. Like, a half hour ago or something. At Cooper’s. We’re all going.”

  “We’re all going where?”

  “Come ‘ere,” he insists, lifting up his arms halfheartedly. “You’re too far away. Are you still mad at me?”

  “Don’t get all A.D.D. on me now,” I reply as I crawl into bed with him. “Where are we all going?”

  He yawns before he speaks. “You know what I kept thinking, watching them go back and forth?”

  I stifle a groan. He’s killing me with his scattered, intoxicated thoughts! I need the full story and I’m not getting it. But when he pulls me into his arms, pressing my back to his front, I don’t say a thing. He rests his cheek on top of my head and then continues to speak.

  “If they’re for real, if they really do like each other…maybe love can be enough.”

  My mouth falls open in awe of his confession.

  Is that why he’s here? Is he talking about us? Can our love be enough—enough to overcome all the reasons why we aren’t together? Is that what he means? Does he even know what he’s saying?

  “I’m so tired, Daphne,” he mumbles.

  I twist in his arms, not ready for him to fall asleep. There are too many holes in everything that he’s just said. He needs to stay awake for just a few more minutes, just so I can get a little more out of him. How in the world am I supposed to sleep after his ramblings?

  “Trevor—”

  My words get caught in my throat at the sight of his heavy lids. He can barely keep his eyes open. He’s ready for sleep and he needs it so badly. Him being here, it’s a message that has been spoken loud and clear. With me, he’ll get some sleep. Even if he wakes up in the middle of the night, he won’t run from me; he won’t run from his nightmares; he’ll find sleep again.

  As he drifts off, I know I can’t deny him, no matter how anxious his half-assed conversation has left me. I don’t pepper him with questions. I reach over and turn out the light before I scoot down under the sheets and encourage him to join me. He tangles his legs with mine and wraps me up in his arms. I try and relax along with him. I press my lips against the base of his neck and he sighs dreamily.

  “I love you,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

  “I love you, too.”

  On my way back to the house, my palms grow sweaty at the sight of his letter. I hate that instead of pure, unadulterated excitement I feel guilty and apprehensive about hearing from Rett. He doesn’t know what we did. What I did. He never will.

  We’ve decided that it’s not something worth telling. It happened one time. It was a mistake and we’ll never do it again. It didn’t mean anything, either—it was just grief—so there’s no need to hurt him with a confession.

  At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

  Doesn’t matter. I plan on making it up to him. I don’t know how or when, but I will. I swear it.

  It’s the first he’s had a chance to write since we were able to get word over to him about Grams’ passing. There’s a letter here for Crystal, too. He doesn’t know that she’s planning on moving out. She’s packing, even now. It took her a few weeks to find a place, but her new lease starts the first of June. It’s for the best, her leaving. We’re still friends, of course. We need each other more than anything, with Rett at war and Grams gone; but it’s better this way. We could use the space.

  “Crys!” I call as I reenter the house. “Mail!”

  That’s all I need to say. She knows I wouldn’t announce anything unless it was from Rett. She does the same thing. The last few months, it’s the only mail we care about, really. By the time I’m sitting on the couch in the living room, she’s made her way down the stairs. She plops down next to me and I hand over her letter. We rip open our envelops at the same time and pull out the pages of script.

  I devour his words as if they were my last meal.

  The hardest part about dealing with Grams’ untimely death has been having to face the reality of my life without her while Rett is a world away. It’s not just my selfish need for him that plagues me—it’s his need for comfort and support. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like for him over there, and to add this to all the other burdens he’s carrying?

  I’m halfway through the first page when I hear Crystal cough out a laugh and then sniff. It’s not a happy sound, which is odd. My curiosity pulls me out of my letter and I glance at her. She’s no longer reading. Her fingers grip the handwritten pages that belong to her, but they rest in her lap.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, you haven’t gotten to that part yet?” She sighs, wiping away a tear. “God. He found God. Keep reading, I’m sure he’ll tell you, too. He says, when he gets back, he’s going to make an honest woman out of me. Honest. What a joke. I—”

  “Hey. Stop. Please,” I beg. “Don’t ruin it. He loves you and you love him—that hasn’t changed.” She inhales deeply and exhales slowly before offering me a nod. “Keep reading,” I instruct before
doing the same.

  She was right. My brother did find God. He goes on and on about the peace he feels; the love, the hope, the freedom. He’s dealing the best that he can and he’s…praying for me. He hopes that I’ll give God a try, too.

  I draw in a deep breath and lift my head as I’m pulled out of my sleep. It takes me a second to get my bearings. It’s still dark out and I’m guessing I haven’t been asleep nearly long enough because my eyes are still heavy with exhaustion. Daphne is in my arms, her back to my front, and I pull her closer. The pressure of her body against mine clues me in to why I’ve woken up.

  I have to piss.

  As I get out of bed, I’m careful not to disturb her. I’m still a little drunk, so my journey to the bathroom in the dark takes longer than it should as I feel my way with outstretched arms to my destination. While I relieve myself, my latest dream comes back to me. My thoughts move slowly, but it dawns on me that I haven’t been back to church in a few weeks. I like to go every once and a while. I don’t know how I feel about God. After all this time, I guess I’m not convinced I deserve the absolution that comes with the acceptance of Him. But Rett did.

  I miss him. Damn, I miss him. Dreaming of him makes it worse. Going to church helps. It makes me feel closer to him, somehow. It’s comforting knowing that he got through the shit storm that was war and death because of his newfound faith. If everything that he believed is true, he’s safe and happy now. He’s with God now. He’s the reason why I won’t shun the possibility that Jesus is real.

  Daph believes in God, too. Her pain and her loss have turned her away from Him, but she’d never deny His existence. It’s the contradiction that has me stuck. The two people I love most needed God and they each experienced Him in a different way. Rett, He helped; Daph, He didn’t. If Daphne was pushed away by the very people who taught her who God was because of her actions, I can’t imagine the truth of my past would warrant a different outcome.

  I shake my head, wishing to discard such thoughts. I wash my hands and head back down the hall. Before I walk into the bedroom, my craving for a sandwich distracts me and I head for the kitchen. I make two PB&Js and scarf one down while I find my way back to Daphne. I start to eat the second one, but then I see my girl in the bed alone and I set it aside, needing to be close to her as my desire for more sleep overwhelms me.

  My girl. She isn’t. But…isn’t she? Who the hell are we fooling? Who the hell am I fooling, besides myself? Fuck. I went out tonight looking for something else and yet, here I am. It’s the second time this week that I’ve pushed my physical needs aside because of her. If I really wanted to have sex with some girl tonight, I could have—but something distracted me, something greater than my desire to sleep.

  Logan. No—Logan and Roman.

  As if Daphne has missed me in her slumber, she turns towards me and buries herself against me. I hold her close and think back to what brought me here. For as long as I’ve known Roman and Logan, I’ve only ever seen them bicker. Even when she flirted with him, it was more primal than friendly. Watching them tonight—it was like a fucking mind trip. It was also more than that, though. Honestly, if they are serious, if they are going to try to make it work…why the hell aren’t Daphne and I together?

  My thoughts become languid with drowsiness.

  Logan and Roman.

  Harvey and Grace with a…baby?

  I’m too old for this shit. I need to get my life together.

  I wake slowly. My eyes stay closed as I reluctantly discard sleep and accept that today is a new day and I have to get out of bed. Then I feel his breath across my forehead; I feel the weight of his dead arm across my torso; I feel one of his legs hooked around mine. Suddenly I remember that I’m not alone and, right now, I don’t have to get out of bed. Better yet, I can’t. Not without waking him.

  There’s no chance in hell that I’m going to risk that.

  I have the day off, which makes this moment all the more sweet. When I open my eyes and see that the sun is peeking through the curtains, I smile knowing that it doesn’t matter what time it is. What matters is that it’s late enough that the sun is shining and Trevor is still asleep. I’m not sure if he got up at all during the night, but he didn’t wake me with his restlessness. I’m hoping he’s gotten some real sleep.

  I tilt my head back and allow my eyes to rake over his face. He looks peaceful—as only those lost in a deep slumber can look—and his hair is a mess. I want to reach up and run my fingers through the tangled blonde locks, so I do. His lips are parted, just slightly, and I imagine kissing him. I don’t, of course, but my mind takes me there because I can’t stop myself from wanting him.

  I blame Logan for my increased awareness of my heart’s desire. I’ve gotten so used to pushing that feeling of longing away, because that’s what Trevor and I have always done, but it’s different now. This bet with LG has me thinking about my feelings more and more. Not that I have to worry about coming clean any time soon, but—

  I gasp softly as I recall the last conversation I had with Trev before he fell asleep. He said that Roman asked Logan out on a date. It sounds crazier now than it did last night. There’s no way that Trevor saw what he thought he did. My brother would never be interested in Logan. Yes, she’s gorgeous and smart and fun but Roman doesn’t see those things. He sees her arrogance, her flirtatiousness, and her bitchiness and that trumps all the good parts in his eyes. It’s the way it’s always been—since the moment he laid eyes on her.

  Logan, on the other hand, is just like every other girl on the face of the planet. She thinks my brother is hot. She’s been a part of the Corny fan club for years. However, his disregard for her has always left a sour taste in her mouth, which is fair. It’s also the reason why she doesn’t really like him much either. So, the two of them together? Yeah, that just doesn’t make any sense.

  Unless…

  Logan knows she needs a boyfriend in order for me to tell Trevor how I feel. I wouldn’t put it past her to go after my brother to get what she wants. If that’s what she’s doing, I’ll totally kick her ass.

  Except…

  Roman would never agree to be her boyfriend. I know my brother. Furthermore, he’d never fall for one of her tricks.

  Only…

  Trevor said that Roman asked Logan out—not the other way around.

  Ugh. This is too confusing. To try and figure any of this out before my morning coffee is a lost cause.

  Trevor blows out a deep breath and pulls me closer. I love it when he does that. Honestly, there’s nothing in the world that feels better than being awake while his subconscious reminds me how much he loves me; how much he needs me; how much we need each other.

  His breath, warm in my face, smells faintly of peanut butter. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. My head is too busy to think about breakfast and I can’t move, anyway. I’m just grateful it’s my stomach calling and not my bladder. Although, if I smell peanut butter that means he got up in the middle of the night. I look about the room, curious if there are any signs that he was up for a while. I breathe a laugh when I see his forgotten sandwich on the nightstand.

  Guess that means he wasn’t up for long.

  I reach for the treat, which is only missing a single bite, and decide that a little PB&J will be enough to hold me over for a while. I’m two bites in before the warm body wrapped around me moves again. I giggle when he flops on top of me and steals a hunk of sandwich.

  “You stole my PB&J,” he mutters with his mouth full.

  His morning voice is deep and gravely. The sound, coupled with the feeling of him resting between my legs, makes it extremely difficult to formulate a sentence.

  “You snooze, you lose,” I tease, my voice airy, before taking another bite.

  “Now you owe me breakfast,” he grumbles groggily. He takes out a second chunk before he rolls off of me and sprawls himself out beside me. I mourn the loss of his body against mine for only a moment. Then I snap out of it, turn onto my side, and in
quire about his sleep. “I slept really good,” he tells me. “You were right. I shouldn’t have gone out last night.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I say, speaking around the food in my mouth. I hold the half eaten sandwich up, signaling that he should take a bite. He does so without further prompting. “I was just thinking, when you told me that my brother asked my best friend out on a date—was that the alcohol talking or—”

  “No,” he states, turning on his side to face me directly. “I swear. I’m not making it up. He asked her on a date. Well, a group date. We’re all supposed to go.”

  “Who’s we? Where?”

  “We, as in the two of us and Harvey and Grace. Where? I have no idea.”

  I stare at him, perplexed, and nibble absentmindedly. “I don’t get it,” I say after a while, feeding him the last bite. “What exactly happened?”

  “I don’t remember, Wings. They were flirting and then he asked her out.”

  “Flirting?” I mutter, dumbfounded.

  He chuckles. “Yes. It was hell-a weird. But, you know what? Come to think of it, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “What? Are you still drunk?” I laugh. “They do not flirt with each other. I mean, Logan might flirt with him—but it’s like a reflex for her. She can’t help it. Every time he blows her off.”

  “Except for a few days ago.”

  I feel my smile slip as I recall the night he’s referring to. Monday. When we met up after the guys played basketball. Roman did flirt with Logan. It was masked in an insult, but he bought her a drink. He was being all weird about her hot boss, too.

  What the hell?

  “Where are you going?” asks Trevor as I jump out of bed.

  He props himself up on his elbows as I search and find my phone. Before he has a chance to repeat his question, I’m sitting beside him. I dial Roman without a moment’s hesitation and watch Trevor watch me as I wait for my brother to pick up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Corny. Got a minute?”

  “Actually, I just got home from yoga. I need to hop in the shower and get ready for work. Can I call you back?”