by Ashley Lyn
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, not nothing. He wanted to tell me he saw someone fishing on Snake Lake and it’s closed right now. Something’s killing the fish and until we get it figured out, we have it closed.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
He shivers a bit, and I smile. “You’re going to jack off with that hand later, aren’t you?”
“That was different,” he whispers, almost to himself.
“What was different about it?”
“He smiled at me. He usually looks pissed off.”
“Progress! We should make a progress chart and put categories, like smiles, nods, waves, and fucks, and you get gold stars when he gives you any of the above.”
Jace cracks up laughing.
I giggle along with him as we head to Snake Lake.
I’m back at the cabin after a long day. Jace and I had a blast for the first hour, but after that I was bored out of my skull. Jace just laughed at my whining. I’m packing my bags and singing along to the tunes on the radio. As per usual, I’m looking under the bed because for some reason, this was ingrained in me by my mother. Every hotel we ever stayed at, she always looked under the bed for socks or other shit that got stuffed under there.
I wish I’d never looked under the god damn bed.
There was an unassuming shoebox, so thinking maybe it was some old photos of Mom and me, I was giddy when I opened it, but then I was disappointed when I found it was letters and divorce papers. Also, paperwork stating that my father relinquished all his rights to me.
My father didn’t want me.
From what I can piece together from the one-sided letters, Dad wanted Mom to give up her rights to Carter. When she refused, he threatened to take her back to court and have her declared unfit and take both of us. This is where it gets sketchy because the next letter in the box states that he dropped all of it, then gave up his rights to me. So basically, he wanted Carter to never see Mom, and most likely, never wanted to see me. But he was using me to try and get Mom to give him what he wanted. I wish I’d found both sides—both Mom’s letters and his, because it seems weird that he just gave up like that. Not that I know him or anything. None of it makes sense, and I really don’t want to dredge up a bunch of shit and ask my mom.
There are literally no men in my life—past, present, and most likely future, who want me. I came up here for clarity and was sure I found it, but now? Now everything’s an even bigger mess.
I put all the shit back in the box and push it under the bed with my foot. I know Jace is coming over later and I need to tidy up the house, but my house of cards just crashed down around me. So, I sit there on the floor, staring at the wall.
Jace comes in all perky and smiling, singing and skipping into the room and stops dead when he gets a look at my devastated face.
“O fuck! What happened?”
My chin starts quivering and mostly I have been crying silent tears, but the dam is bursting. “Bec?”
“When you stay at a hotel, do you look under the bed before you leave?”
“Yeah. My mom always did so I guess I do it too. Why?”
“I looked under the bed and found a box. I thought it was probably old photos or something, but nope! Letters from my douche nozzle dad and divorce paperwork. Also, and this is the fucking kicker, my father relinquished all rights to me when I was four years old, the fucking wanker!
“I mean, I know he didn’t want jack shit to do with me since I never saw him. I never really knew him and didn’t miss him all that much, but this? This is icing on the fucking shit cake that I’ve been force fed my whole life. Men in my life don’t want me for some dumb fucking reason. My dad, my brother, my goddam soulmate—no one!”
“I want you as my BFF until we’re rocking in our chairs. We’ll be a hundred years old, smoking marijuana and throwing rocks at the neighbors.”
It fucking clicks that I don’t belong there. I don’t belong to them, except my mom who incidentally left me the second I graduated. Not that it bugs me per say, but really. Denver. Sucks. Balls.
“I’m moving.”
“What?”
“I’m moving up here. I don’t like it in Denver. I don’t have friends, I don’t have a family, so there’s literally nothing anchoring me there.”
“Tristan’s there.”
“Tristan can kiss my ass. I’m done.”
“All right, say you’re done and you move up here. What are you going to do?”
“Start my own salon.”
“You would have, like, four customers a year. Take some time in Denver. Pursue Tristan or sit down and talk to him, then talk to your brother. Don’t make a snap decision like this when you just had such a huge emotional blow.”
“But—”
“No buts, missy. Go home with this new attitude you have, this new confidence. I know if you never at least talk to Tristan about things, you’ll always wonder ‘what if?’” I don’t want you to suffer a life of regret because you never took a chance and shared what’s in your heart.”
“Fuck taking a breather. I’ve been taking a breather my whole life. What Becca wants, that’s what fucking time it is. I want to feel comfortable in my own skin, wear sexy clothes and speak my mind when I feel like laying down the fucking truth. And I want to live up here where it’s fucking quiet and I can think. This is my time. I’ll be twenty-five soon and I do not want to be stuck in the same rut ten years from now.”
“And you can do that in Denver.”
“You frustrating shit!”
“Love you too, darling.”
Jace struts into the kitchen, and I pray it’s for a bottle of Moscato.
TRISTAN
Tensions in the office have skyrocketed to complete shit. Cases are stalling, easy skips can’t be found, Stacey is grating on everyone’s nerves, and to top off it all off, the cherry on my shit sundae is that Tess has been calling non-fucking-stop!
My resolve is faltering, and it took everything I had in me not to ask Carter to check in with Becca. I had plans to come home and crash, but in an effort to ease my crankiness, the guys are dragging me out tonight.
I would rather sit on a chair of tacks.
Stepping off the elevator, I find fucking Tess lounging in front of my door.
“Get gone, bitch. I have zero patience for your brand of bullshittery this evening. You have five seconds to get that boney, spoiled rotten, bitch ass out of my apartment building before I call the fucking cops.”
She scoots over and leans right against my doorknob.
“Tristan, darling, we need to talk.”
“Unless you’re here to tell me you’re moving to Australia to be a fucking sheep farmer and I’ll never have to see you again, in which case I’ll be opening some champagne and celebrating, I don’t give a fuck.”
“I need something.”
“One.” I cross my arms and give her my best glare.
“It’s just the alimony payments have stopped and I need something to tide me over.”
“Two.”
“Tristan, please!”
“Three.”
She stomps her foot and I pull out my phone.
“Four.”
“Fine, fuck you! God, you are such an asshole.”
She stomps off, and I give her a parting shot. “Next time you even think of calling, texting, stopping by, or sending fucking smoke signals, I will call the cops immediately, file harassment charges and a restraining order.”
Unlocking my door, I stomp in and immediately turn and punch a tidy fucking hole in the wall.
The absolute last fucking thing I want to do is go out with the boys, but as I said, tensions are beyond normal, and it has everyone on edge.
My phone rings and stupid me, I don’t check to see who it is.
“What!” I holler into the phone as I walk into the kitchen to rinse the drywall dust and blood from my hand.
“Tristan, what�
��s going on?” Savannah whispers into my ear.
“I fucked up. I fucked it up so bad, there’s no light.”
“Everything can be fixed, Tristan.”
“Not this, Savannah. I’ve thought about it and beat it up in my head so much, I feel like I’m going crazy. I think I have it worked out what she thinks I was saying or said, and knowing her, this is an offense that is unforgivable.”
“Have you called her and tried to apologize?”
“I’m too fucking worried about what her response will be.”
“You have to take that step at some point, Tristan. You can’t let this drag you down. I’ve gotten numerous calls from every single person in the office, including your new receptionist, and can I just say that she has the world’s worst voice? She sounds likes Daffy Duck being poked in the poop chute.”
I burst out laughing. Savannah is one of the few people who can make me laugh out loud.
“Just think about calling her.”
“Did you ever get a hold of her?” I ask, drying off my hand.
She laughs. “Yes, I did, but I’m not telling you shit about the phone call.”
“Why?”
“It was funny as hell, and she was under the influence so I’m not repeating anything. You have to figure this out on your own.
“I’ll grow a pair eventually, but right now, the assholes at the office are dragging me out tonight and I have to wash up.”
“All right, Tris. If you need anything, feel free to call me.”
“Thanks, Savannah.”
Hanging up with Savannah, I jump in the shower.
In my mind, I bring up the image of Becca, with her happy blue eyes shining like a fucking beacon.
Wrapping my hand around my cock, I give it a rough stroke, groaning and squeezing the tip. My hand goes to the shower wall and I lean in, the water rushing over my back.
Nothing else flows through my brain, just those fucking eyes smiling at me, laughing with me.
The final stroke is brutal and rough—punishing. When my cum rushes up and out, I groan.
“Becca,” I say out loud in a choked gasp.
I feel like I’m balancing at the edge of a cliff on a fucking teeter-totter. One minute, I’m sure that I’m ready to take this leap, tell Carter he can shove his “hands-off” order, and the next, I’m determined to bury any and all feelings I have for the luscious Becca Jane away.
If I have to sit here and listen to the incessant whining of one more fucking vapid female, I think I’m going to have an aneurysm.
Savannah’s words are bustling around my brain, forgiveness, even though technically I don’t have shit to apologize for.
I wasn’t going to say what she thought I was going to. What I meant to say was that any man who got between her thighs would never leave, would never let her go. Not that it came out like that, though. I blame her fucking eyes, and if I’m being completely honest with myself, her tits.
I groan in frustration as another fucking chick slides up next to me.
“Hey there, you handsome fucker.” I cringe at her words.
“I can handle woman cursing, but that was crass.”
“Oh well. I read somewhere that people who curse are more honest.”
“So what are you after?”
“Just some conversation, baby.”
“Lie number one.”
She gapes at me and I fucking smile.
She huffs away and I look around, realizing that what I want, I’ll never find here. What I want is a woman with blue eyes and tits worthy of a fucking Oscar award for best performance. I throw a stack of money on the table, and while everyone’s occupied with basic fucking pussy, I see myself out.
TRISTAN
My alarm goes off at 4:30 a.m. My eyes pop right open and Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” fills my room. When I first put that song as my wake-up alarm on the phone, it made me laugh.
I’m sort of a TV nerd, and I dig Supernatural. Any true fan would never forget the episode this song is featured in. The episode is kind of like Groundhog Day. Every day, Sam wakes up to the same song, “Heat of the Moment,” and every day, Dean has no clue that he died the previous day and that it just keeps repeating.
The same shit, just on repeat. The story of my life.
Every day I wake up to the same song, go through the same motions. Get up, work out, get dressed, go to work, come home, eat, and then sleep.
Same black cargo pants, same black T-shirt, same fucking boots, same breakfast. Every night I go to bed is another day in the books without Becca next to me.
Another twenty-four hours without my arms around her. Another one thousand, four hundred and forty minutes in hell.
Every day it gets harder and harder to swing my big ass out of bed and participate in life. Pushing the palms of hands against my eyes, I barely resist the urge to scream.
Looking at the clock, I see that my ten minutes of lazy time for the morning are over. I get up and throw on some workout shorts and shoes, grab a bottle of water, jump on the treadmill and start to mentally go over my day.
Stepping out of the shower, I don’t even bother to wipe the steam from the mirror. I don’t want to see the look on my face. I used to be a fun guy. My nickname in high school was “Tricks.” I was the ultimate prankster, living and laughing every day, pushing every experience to the max.
The change was like a dog running full-out, then reaching the end of the leash and being choked. It started when I was first slapped in the face with what the world was really like. My first tour in the Marines was so jarring. I lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone, and where crime was so low, it was laughable. I had two parents (and still do) who love each other so deeply, it was a blessing to witness.
When I got out of the Marines, I’d lost so many buddies, friends, and brothers, there was no way it wasn’t going to affect me. Even after I got out, I still lost men, good men.
My marriage to Tess was a Band-Aid, a cover of sorts. I had a company, a life, and people expected me to start dating, settle down, and start a family. It was (and is) what I’ve always wanted. The moment I met Becca, it was like the light switch was turned on,. I saw what my marriage really was and how barren my life had become.
When Becca first dropped on the scene, Carter was close to losing his battle with alcohol addiction. He went through hell, some seriously tough shit. It wasn’t that he ever talked to us about it, but I knew enough about him to deduct that something happened with his girl Rayleen. One day she was there and the next she was gone, and this man who said his name was Carter was there, but he wasn’t the Carter I knew. Not wanting to push him over the edge after he laid down the law about Becca, I backed off on my intentions to pursue her, but I always intended to talk to him about it once he got his shit together.
She avoided me, I avoided her. The time was never right, then Carter relapsed. What-the-fuck-ever. Always with the excuses, which honestly was never me. I was never someone who stood there with my dick in my hand and waited like a fucking pansy.
All those excuses I’ve puffed up on my head over the years have soured, gone rotten, and no longer apply.
That woman is mine and has been since the day she was born. I smile to myself. This is going to be fun.
I’m tapping my fingers on my desk blotter as I glance at the clock again. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so efficient at office shit. I have an hour until closing time, but then I think to myself, I own the fucking company. If I want to leave early, I can.
I make plans to stop and get some Chinese take-out, go home, and find something to binge watch on Netflix.
Switching off my PC and making sure my desk is locked, I jump when I hear shouting from the front of the office.
Skidding to a stop, I find Carter about an inch from Stacey’s face, yelling at her over something to do with his dad.
“What the fuck!” I pull him away from the desk and he pushes me back.
“She transferred a fucking call
from my dad!”
Stacey straightens her spine. She stands up to the guys around here when they get testy, and that’s why I hired her.
“I didn’t know it was your father, Carter. When I answered the phone, it was a woman who said that she was working with you on a case and needed to speak with you.”
“I don’t want your fake ass apology. You know all our fucking cases. You ask them what case. You verify!”
Grabbing him by the collar, I get right in his face. “Get your shit together, Carter, and calm the fuck down.”
“That’s fucking rich coming from you! You’ve been a pain in the ass for weeks, but you didn’t see me getting up in your face!”
“I also wasn’t screaming or threatening anyone. I’ve been in a shit mood, but at least I wasn’t acting like an asshole and throwing a fucking tantrum.”
“That’s right, the great ice wall that is Tristan would never let anything so seemly as fucking emotions show.”
“Take a walk, Carter. Cool your shit, come back in the morning and apologize to Stacey.”
“Whatever. Get off me, asshole.”
I let go and he bumps my shoulder hard as he walks by and out the front door. I hang my head. So much for Carter being in a good mood. Fuck!
“Tristan, I’m sorry. I know you told me never transfer calls from his dad, but when I asked the woman for her name, it wasn’t on any of the do not transfer lists. I added it so she won’t get through again, but they can come up with any fucking name.”
“It’s fine, Stacey. Carter’s dad is a grade-A piece of shit. Once Carter calms down, he’ll realize that he was an ass and apologize. He always gets like this when his dad starts sniffing around.”
I look around, making eye contact with Cash and Griffin. “We’ll keep an eye on him tonight, boss,” Griffin says, walking out the door.
“Stacey, I’m heading out early. I don’t have anything on deck and I need some time to get some shit done today.”
