by R. C. Martin
“Trev, why do you live here all alone? Why don’t you have a girlfriend or something? Any girl would be lucky to have you.” I can’t look at him as I say the words and I wonder where all my courage disappeared to.
“I’m not so sure about that. The last girl I loved, or thought I loved, I don’t know—I fucked it all up.”
“What happened?” I ask, lifting my eyes to see his face. He exhales forcefully and then looks over at me. He doesn’t speak right away and I’m worried he isn’t going to tell me. “You can trust me,” I assure him.
“I know,” he says, reaching up to cup his hand around my cheek. “Lucky for you, I’m just drunk enough to want to tell you.”
“So tell me,” I plead. I take his hand from my face and hold it between both of mine, giving his fingers a squeeze to express my encouragement.
“She was my brother’s girl.”
“Crystal?” I do a horrible job of concealing my surprise.
Damn alcohol.
He grimaces and nods. “It was nothing, at first. We were just really close. We spent a lot of time with one another. We lived together, for Christ sake. When Rett was deployed, she was there for me, and I was there for her, and we were both there for Grams. Then Grams died.
“Crystal—”He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t even know if I was really in love with her or just confused and sad and lonely. Some days, I swear up and down it wasn’t love, which makes me an ass for sleeping with her just to make myself feel better. It doesn’t make it any better to admit I fell for my brother’s girlfriend while he was away at war, either.
“It doesn’t really matter how you look at it. After we slept together, nothing was ever the same. It was a mistake, a mistake that tarnished our friendship. We pretended that it wasn’t all that bad. We agreed that we’d never tell anyone and we’d never do it again. Our love and devotion to Rett meant way too much. But then he…I didn’t even get a chance to make it right.”
His eyes are glassy with tears as he finishes speaking. Somehow I know that he’s trying so hard not to let a single drop fall. Watching him fight for control now makes me completely aware of how out of control his feelings were back then. He couldn’t help it! Whether he loved Crystal or not, he couldn’t help how he felt or control what he needed. He was grieving the loss of the only parent he ever knew. I might not speak to my parents anymore, but I can’t imagine losing them forever. And the idea of losing Roman—my God, just the thought!—it breaks my heart.
My eyes roam over his arm once more and I feel sad, too. I hate that Trevor is the lone wolf. I don’t care what he did. Mistakes happen. Bad choices get made. I know, I really do. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t deserve to be trusted again—to be loved.
I love him.
I’m in love with him.
I choke out a sigh as realization strikes.
He thinks he’s alone but he isn’t. I know without even mentioning them that Harvey and Grace don’t count. They matter, of course they matter, but they don’t love him like Rett did; like Crystal did. Probably because he won’t let them. Maybe he thinks his betrayal means he’s no longer worthy of that kind of love, but he’s wrong.
He’s. Wrong.
I’m proof.
I eliminate any remaining space between us as I lift his arm and wrap it around me. I snuggle against him, resting my cheek on his bare chest, and reach around to place my hand over his wolf.
“You’re not alone, Trevor Aiden Rockwell. You have me.”
Daphne’s still sleeping after the movie is over. We lost Grace and Pete to slumber, too. Granola, Muscles and I decide that we’d rather not wake anyone, so we pick another movie to pass the time. I’m barely aware of what’s happening on the TV, too caught up in the feel of Wings in my arms. While I fidget with her hair and gently massage her head, I look about the room.
I don’t know why I’m just now noticing it, but we’re all coupled off, except for our baby rascal, Coder. I couldn’t say for sure if Willow and Pete are officially a thing now, but I imagine they’re not far from it. Daph and me, even if we aren’t together, the chances of either of us choosing to be with anyone else are slim to none. The truth behind that statement gets me thinking…
Harvey and Grace got it right. They’re happy. They’re getting ready to start a family. If I’m going to take relationship advice from anyone, it would be from them. What have they been telling me for years, now? Go for it with Daphne. Well, that’s how Grace would phrase it. Harvey’s advice is more along the lines of—“Stop being such a chicken shit, find your balls, and stake your claim already. If you don’t, someone else will.”
No one else has—but how long can I rely on that? What would I do if some guy came along and swept her off her feet? I’d rip my fucking heart out is what I’d do. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing her with anyone else. Yeah, I know—that makes me a selfish bastard for not simply making her mine. It just doesn’t seem that simple. I love her. She has my heart and I would never even dream of giving it to another, but the what if’s—
“I have a theory,” says Granola, interrupting my thoughts.
“About?” I ask, giving her my attention.
“Why she’s such a basket case today.”
“Okay. Care to elaborate?”
“Apparently, there’s a real chance that Roman and Logan are actually into each other.” She pauses and I furrow my brow and shake my head, implying that I need more. “A week ago, if someone asked you if it was possible that the two of them would ever get together, the answer would probably be—yeah. When hell freezes over. Well, apparently, hell has frozen over and the last two people in the entire world that anyone would match together have matched themselves together…Yet, on the other end of the spectrum, the two people who have been madly in love for over three years? They are, strangely, still just friends.
“Take it from me, that stings. She might not have figured out what it is about this whole situation that sucks so much, but it won’t be long before it becomes clear to her, too.”
Fuck. Me.
She’s right. Even if, by chance, Daph is freaking out about something else, that doesn’t make Willow wrong. She’s right! This whole time, I’ve been thinking about how weird it’s been to see Roman and Logan together. Hell, I’ve even questioned whether or not love was enough to make anyone work together, despite all that might make it scary and hard. But not once have I compared them to us like Willow just did. I mean, I’ve seen it from the inside, but from the outside?
Shit—I don’t have to worry about another guy stealing away my girl; what I need to worry about is reality taking her from me.
“What she’s trying to say,” Harvey begins as he chimes in, “is stop being such a chicken shit, find your balls, and stake your claim already.”
Granola giggles softly before she says, “Sure. What he said.”
I look back down at Daphne, my stomach suddenly in knots. I don’t know what to say. I literally have no words in this moment. Yet, the feeling in my gut seems to be saying—yeah. What he said.
I started my period last night. Of course, I should have known, with my emotions all over the place, that I’ve been PMSing for the last few days. Of course, I’m the idiot who forgets when her period is coming in spite of the fact that I’ve got pills that are supposed to clue me in on when to expect the four day inconvenience. Guess I can’t expect them to do that if I don’t remember to take them. I swallow one now—the one I’m to take on the first day of my cycle—and hurry out the door.
In a perfect world, PMS could be the excuse I cling to in order to explain why I’ve been such a wreck over Logan and Roman, but I know that’s only part of it. I can admit I overreacted a bit yesterday. Launching my phone at Trevor, not my best idea. As weird—a word that has been grossly overused in the last couple of days—as it might be that my brother and my best friend, proclaimed arch enemies, are suddenly into each other, all I want is for them to be happy. Did I ever think that they
would find happiness with each other? Hell no! But they are grown ups. They know what they’re getting themselves into; at least, I’d like to think they do. If they want to give it a go, I won’t stand in their way.
Am I afraid of this whole thing blowing up in their faces? Yeah. However, old adages aren’t named as such for nothing. Sometimes opposites do attract. I can’t say what flipped their switch but, after the volley of text messages that I endured yesterday, it’s safe to say that they are incredibly curious about one another.
To be honest, the real reason I’ve been freaking out is because I didn’t think Logan would be on her way to fulfilling her end of the bet in a week. I mean, yeah, she’s the shit! She could get any guy she wants; but I had no idea that said guy would be my brother and that she’d jump in head first. When I stop and analyze the whole situation, I kind of blame myself. She plays to win and I totally spurred her on. I also kind of blame myself for Roman’s awareness of Logan’s dating status. I’m the one who went blabbing about her change of heart which, apparently, was quite alluring.
Whatever. Whether or not I played a part in all of this, what it boils down to is: I’m going to have to tell Trevor how I feel. Just thinking about it terrifies me.
The kicker is, it’s no longer just the bet that’s pushing me to come clean about what I want. Being in the middle of this new budding romance has been a real eye opener. Yes, Corny and LG have only been out one time. On a group date, to boot. Still, that’s huge. Neither of them are letting their pasts or their fears hold them back. Considering their history, that’s an incredible feat—and I don’t just mean that in terms of their failed relationships; although, their broken hearts have played a role in their long stretches of singledom. Really, it’s more about their history with each other. It’s like they are in this place where starting over as the people they are today—people who want to be with each other—it’s bigger than anything else.
They are actively choosing love; choosing forgiveness; choosing to not care about what anyone has to say about it.
My history with Trevor can be summed up in one word. Love. Almost since the moment we met, we’ve done nothing but love each other. Yes, we made a choice to stay friends in spite of how we felt about one another. We considered ourselves broken. Today, we aren’t the people who made that choice, anymore. Are we completely whole and healed versions of ourselves? No. Absolutely not. I don’t know that we ever will be. Life has taken so much away from us that we can’t ever get back. But is that what we’re waiting for? Are we waiting to be perfect versions of ourselves for each other before we allow ourselves to be together?
Is being together even a dream we share?
I don’t know anymore…
What I do know is that it’s something that I want and I’ll never know if he wants the same thing if I don’t speak up.
But there’s a difference between Logan and Roman taking a chance on each other and Trevor and me doing the same thing.
They have nothing to lose.
We have everything to lose.
I groan as I park my car and beg my mind to shut out the what ifs that have been circling their way around my head for the last twenty-four hours—at least until I have my first cup of coffee. I hurry my way from the street into the cafe, anxious to see Brandon. I needed him during my short morning shift yesterday, but he doesn’t work Sundays. He’s a church goer. I don’t hold it against him.
I’ve been dying to unload all this gossip. He’ll deny it until his dying day, but he loves it when I’ve got a scoop to dish. Mostly, though, he’s just a really good listener. Since I can’t talk to Logan or Roman about anything except Logan or Roman, and I can’t talk to Trevor—as he is the subject of my angst—and I already know what Gracie would say if I talked to her, Brandon is my guy.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot him behind the counter and I don’t stop moving until I’ve walked straight into his chest. He laughs as he wraps his arms around me, returning my embrace. “Someone missed me.”
“You have no idea. Seriously, Thursday was too long ago. What you and I really need is an hour, a bottle of tequila, and a few limes. However, since we’re at work, I guess we’ll just have to stick with espresso and muffins.”
“I like how the fact that it’s still morning doesn’t make your list of reasons. What happened?” he says, pulling away from me.
“I’ll start with the bullet points,” I reply, setting my things down. “I made a bet with LG that I think I might be losing. My brother and my best friend have decided they suddenly have the hots for each other. And I’m worried that if I tell Trev that I want him as more than a friend he’ll say no.”
He rubs his scruffy chin contemplatively and nods before he speaks.
“Trevor won’t say no.”
He pauses, as if he wants his words to sink in. For just a second, as I stand mute under his gaze, I believe him and it feels liberating. The feeling, like the moment, is fleeting.
“Now, go grab an apron and then get your ass back out here. You’ve got some explaining to do. Oh, and name your drink, I’ll make it a double.”
I do as I’m told, waving hello to Lori when I spot her in the back office. She’s, not surprisingly, on the phone, but she waves back with a wink. Upon my return, Brandon is just finishing my non-fat latte. When I request that he top it with a generous amount of whipped cream, he laughs and points out my contradictory tastes. I wave off the observation, grab a stool, and take a big gulp of the steaming, caffeinated, goodness I hold in my hands.
“Okay, you’ve got to tell me about Roman and Logan. I mean—seriously?”
“No joke. I have to start from the beginning, though. Let me tell you about the bet.”
“I’m all ears.”
It takes me about two hours to get through everything, since I have to break every time we get busy. Brandon keeps his questions to a minimum, determined to hear me out entirely. When I’m done, he holds up a finger, instructing me to wait. He silently restocks the pastry case while I time espresso shots.
“Don’t you find it suspicious that you make this bet and then less than a week later, she’s got a prospective boyfriend?” he asks, distracting me from my task.
“Yes and no. The timing is peculiar but my brother doesn’t know about the bet. He’s the one who asked her out, remember? Besides, you should see them together. It’s like all of the crazy tension that’s been between them for years has transformed into this undeniable chemistry. In fact, you should come out with us tonight!” I gasp, excited that I thought of such a great idea. “I don’t know where we’re going after the guys play, but someone will come up with something before too long. They’ll both be there and you can see for yourself.”
“Daphne, you’ve just made me an offer I can’t refuse. I’m in.”
“Awesome. I’ll text you when I know the details.”
“Great. Next order of business. What are you going to do about Trevor?”
“You mean, am I going to tell him that I’m madly in love with him and I want us to be together so badly that I can hardly stand it anymore?”
“Hot damn, I think the answer to that question is hell yes, you are!” pipes in Lori as she makes her way from the back. I smile at her as she sidles up next to me and drapes her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure it will come as no surprise to hear you say it, anyone with eyes can see how you two feel about each other. We’re all just waiting for you to finally do something about it.”
“I wish it was as simple as everyone makes it out to be.”
“Isn’t it?”
I shake my head as I answer. “Just because we love each other doesn’t mean we would work as a couple. Not everyone’s love life is a carefully plotted romance.”
“Okay, our little resident writer, no need to be such a nay sayer. I might also add that you should live by the words you carry with you.” She takes hold of my right wrist and lifts it up, forcing me to look at the script inked across the inside of
my forearm—the tat I got on my twentieth birthday. It was a gift from Trev and Willow; she designed it and he gave it to me while Logan held my hand and made sure I didn’t peek at the needle during the process.
“Fight for what you want. Cry for what you’ve lost,” Lori reads. “Sounds like a recipe for living without regret, baby doll. Take it from me, that’s the best way to live.” She gives my shoulders a squeeze before she lets me go and continues on her way. I watch her as she leaves me with Brandon, hugging my arm against my chest as I do.
“I know you’re scared,” he begins to say, “but maybe your fear isn’t derived from the idea of rejection. It’s possible you’re afraid of how amazing your life could be if you got all you ever wanted. Perhaps you’re afraid of losing that. Daph, you can’t lose something you never got the chance to have; and wouldn’t it be worth it? To have something you cherish so much that you’re horrified of losing it?”
His words are like a gentle nudge, each letter strung together into a sentence that wraps around me and propels me forward. He’s right. They’re all right—Logan, Gracie, Roman, Lori, Willow—all of them! I want him and I need to tell him.
I will.
Maybe.
Soon.
I hope.
I let out a big sigh of relief as I occupy the seat beside Daphne. It feels good to be away from work with the promise of beer and pizza and shameless flirting with a hottie who should be here any minute. Today has been a Monday in every sense of the word. Day one on the Archibald dining room remodel and I’m already stressed to the max. It’s not that I feel rushed or out of ideas or vision—it’s just the weight of my every decision has never felt heavier. The pressure to do well has been intensified under Jude’s tutelage. In the past ten hours, I don’t know how many times I’ve asked myself why he’s trusted me to do this on my own.
