by Susan Ward
Avery rapidly assesses my expression then pouts. “Why don’t you sound happier?”
“Because my evening with Willow went down in the fucked-up way I do everything.” I exhale; I hadn’t realized I’d stopped breathing. “Willow wants nothing to do with me, and I don’t blame her.”
Now they’re both staring at me.
Alarmed.
Wonderful, Eric.
Get the fam worked up and worrying over you again.
Way to suck the happy out of the universe.
The fuckups keep rolling.
“You OK?’ Ethan asks, concerned.
I can’t bear being in this room another second.
Being idle with how I’m feeling isn’t wise.
I stand up. “I’m going to change, then head out for a while. I’ve got something I’ve got to take care of.” I’m almost out of the room before I turn back toward Ethan and Avery. “Sorry. It’s not you two. Talking tough things through has never been my strong point. I’m a shut-up-and”—I grin ruefully—“make-it-worse kind of guy.”
Avery’s lips make a slight twist. “You were never that guy. You only thought you were.”
“We love you,” my brother adds. “Don’t shut us out. We’re here to be here for you.”
Letting people in is another weak point of mine. I feel my brother’s steady gaze on me—quietly happy and hopeful always, just like Mom—and a measure of my anxiety ebbs.
“Hey, I could use some company, Ethan, if you want to check out what your brother’s been up to in Seattle.”
Ethan’s hand closes on Avery’s thigh and I see him give her a loving squeeze. “Thought you’d never ask. Avery could probably use a break from me. We’ll be back by dinner, right?”
I stifle a grin. “Not allowed to stay out late without permission, E?”
“No, so don’t give me shit because I’m loving it. You should be so lucky.”
Yeah, he is lucky, and I don’t doubt I’d be the luckiest man in the world if Willow were mine, loving me, keeping me in line, and giving me crap. The men in our family fall hard, go through epic trials of love, before their hearts are claimed completely. Grandpa Jack did with Linda. So did Dad with Mom. And if my memory serves me well, Ethan with Avery fits the pattern, too. But that’s because the women we give our hearts to are amazing.
My mood starts to lighten. “We’ll be back in time for a late dinner, Avery. Maybe eight, if that’s cool?”
She smiles. “Perfect. Noah will be sound asleep by then. That means an uninterrupted meal for me, and I want something fancy, something special. Ethan’s got no game in the fancy department. That leaves it all up to you not to disappoint me, Eric.”
I point at her. “You’re on. Be prepared to be wowed.”
Ethan shakes his head at the both of us. “No wowing. Let’s stop at nice, OK?”
Avery juts her chin. “What? Afraid Eric’s going to raise the bar too much for you, E?”
I’m laughing. In the middle of this heartbreaking day I’m fucking laughing because, fuck, I love them. “I’ll try not to show you up too much, bro.”
“As if you could.”
“Oh yeah, I can.”
I INSTRUCT ETHAN TO pull into the alley and park behind Mel’s in case Willow’s in the bar. I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to see at present. And to be fair, this isn’t me being cowardly. Just because she’s angry doesn’t mean I’ll stop with my amends or let her see what I’m doing with the apartment before it’s finished.
I’m seeing this through to the end, even if I don’t get the girl and the end isn’t the one I envisage.
Ethan taps off the ignition and I open my door. “I hope you were serious when you said you were down for anything.”
“Where are we?” Ethan asks, following me to the security door. “What is this place?”
“We’re in Capitol Hill and this is the world-famous Mel’s Tavern.”
My brother studies the building skeptically, then laughs. “World famous, huh?”
I punch in the code to the security panel. “It’ll be world famous someday. I’ve spent the last two months of my life playing and writing music on the sidewalk in front of this place. The best fucking material I’ve ever created. If I ever release it, my fans will turn this place into a monument or something.”
Ethan busts up. “Got this all thought through, do you, Eric?”
Fuck, I’ve got nothing thought through. I shrug as I open the security door. I switch on the lights and try not to glance toward the stairs where I first sat with Willow.
“Why are we at a bar?” Ethan’s watching me with a this can’t be good expression. “I kind of thought people in recovery avoid these kinds of places. What’s up with you having a key?”
I head toward the stairs. “The building belongs to a friend of mine. I’m just helping her out here.”
Ethan purses his lips. “She owns the whole building?”
“Yep.”
He nods. “Nice. Even in this area of Seattle it’s got to be worth some bills.”
“Yeah, but she’s having trouble holding onto it and it needs work.” I gesture about as we reach the second story landing. “It means a lot to her. It was her father’s. I couldn’t stand if Willow lost it. That’s where you and I come in.”
“Wait, you mean this place belongs to Willow?” As I unlock the apartment door, Ethan’s trying to figure that one out. “I thought you said she dumped you.”
I lift both my brows. “I didn’t say dumped. I said she wants nothing to do with me. That’s different.”
My brother stays in the hallway after I’ve entered and stares at me like I’m not speaking English. “Exactly how is that different?”
“One is crash and burn. The other is wait and see. Fuck, what kind of dude are you? You should know that, Ethan.”
He makes an upside-down smile as he bobs his chin. “Sorry, my mistake. Explain how breaking and entering fits in to wait and see.”
“It doesn’t. Not particularly. And it doesn’t apply. I’ve got a key.”
“Oh. Then it’s cool.” He follows me in and closes the door.
My laughter bubbles upward. Fuck, I’ve forgotten how easy things feel with Ethan. He’s a roll-with-it kind of guy, still water like Mom. Not at all like me and Dad.
“Now what?”
From the center of the living room, I look over my shoulder at him. “We’re emptying out the rooms. Sorting through shit. Then we’re renovating.”
“Any particular reason why we’re doing this?”
“I owe it to Willow. She did me a favor a long time ago. I’m paying off the debt.”
“With manual labor?” Ethan gapes as he rapidly surveys the tall piles of junk. “Dude, wouldn’t it be better just to pay someone to haul this junk away and fix up the place?”
I rake back my hair. “No. Amends don’t work that way. Writing her a check won’t mean shit. They’ve got to be real if they’re going to help you. Fuck, E, I don’t expect you to get it. They’re my issues. Why don’t you just sit here and talk to me while I work, if you want to?”
“Hell no. I’ve got nothing better to do.” He pokes through stuff stacked on the rickety entertainment center next to the fireplace. “Whoa. There’s some cool vinyl in here. Miles and Coltrane. Muddy Waters.” He slips an album from its jacket. “They look in perfect condition. Someone knew how to take care of their shit.”
“We need to sort everything we take out of here. Trash. Donations. And things worth selling.”
Ethan nods while he’s crouched flipping through the long row of albums, studying them.
I pull off my sweater, keep on the tee underneath, and get to work. Hours later, we’re surrounded by organized clutter and loading the cart.
“You’ve hardly talked since we got here, Eric. You doing OK?” Ethan asks, reaching for a box and handing it to me.
“Yeah, I’m great. I just got a
lot of junk turning in my head.”
“It might help if you tell me about it.”
Exhaling, I let my gaze wander until I’m looking back in the apartment. It’s like looking into the past, and that’s not always an easy thing to do. Not everything in the rearview is only my emotional landmines; some of them are Ethan’s. That makes it fucking hard to know how deep into anything is the right amount of sharing.
Ethan leans back against the wall and waits. There’s no more stuff to load and I’m just standing here staring.
I decide on the least prickly way to begin explaining things to Ethan. “Do you remember that summer the band ditched me?” I ask as we wheel the cart toward the elevator.
His expression grows thoughtful.
“They just took off,” I continue. “The guys left me high and dry in Seattle. No ride. No ID. No money. No phone.”
His eyes light up. “Oh shit. The time you called Dad after he ordered all of us not to help you and he told you that you had to figure out how to get home on your own?”
Yep, he remembers.
“That’s the time.” Inside the elevator I punch the button for the third floor. “They left me here. At Mel’s. I would have been completely fucked, only I wasn’t because that night I met Willow. The luckiest night of my life, E. I’ve been in love with her, I think, from the first night I saw her. Only I fucked it up. Hurt her. That’s what I’m doing in Seattle. Anything and everything I can do to get her to forgive me and give me another chance.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Eric
AVERY’S WAITING IN my suite when Ethan and I return to the hotel promptly at eight. It was funny in the car back how anxious my brother was not to be late, and it’s clear she’s taken her demand for something fancy for dinner tonight seriously.
She’s dressed for a night out—snug black pants that complement her supple figure, a skintight low-cut turquoise top, flirty red curls streaming down her back, and high heels that make her ass pop. Since she’s my brother’s wife I hardly notice what a stunner Avery is, but as she rises from the sofa to kiss Ethan there’s no missing it, not even with baby Noah strapped across her chest.
I don’t want to watch them, but looking away is hard because she looks good, crazy beautiful these days. Sexy, confident, but most of all, happy. Marriage to Ethan agrees with her.
“I’m sorry I’m late, babe,” Ethan murmurs sweetly, smiling down at her.
She makes a face. “Don’t be sorry, E. Shower fast so I can eat.”
Ethan laughs, cocking his head toward me. “You heard her, Eric. Fast means five-minute shower, that’s it. It’s not good to keep a nursing mother away from food too long.”
“No, it isn’t,” Avery warns.
Chuckling, I cast a quick glance around the room. “Where’s Hank?”
Avery’s brows pucker. “In his room. I told him he could wait for you guys with me and asked him to join us for dinner, but he mumbled something about not wanting to intrude.”
I frown. Not wanting to intrude? That doesn’t sound like Hank. Maybe he’s feeling pushed out now that Ethan’s here. “You want to just meet in the lobby since we’ve both got to clean up before we go?”
Avery nods. “That works. You better have something special planned for me. I’m not expecting dinner on a private yacht or anything, but I do want something more upscale than the places Ethan usually takes me to.”
I grin. “Nothing but the best, I promise.”
“OK. Five minutes, Eric. Clock’s ticking,” Avery orders as she walks hand in hand with Ethan to the door.
Once they’re gone, I head in the direction of Hank’s room. I knock, which feels strange. We’ve been camping beneath the stars with only air as walls between us for so long, always there, up in each other’s shit.
“You going to open the door or just stand in the hallway?” Hank grumbles from inside the room.
I poke my head in. Hank’s sitting on the bed, still wearing that complimentary robe he hasn’t changed out of since we checked in, reading a book.
“You settled in for the night or do you wanna come to dinner?”
He laughs. “What do you think?”
I smile. “Settled in, but if you’re feeling up to it you could always dress and come with us.”
He waves an arm across the bed. “This will do me just fine until I’m well enough to get out of your hair for good.”
That hits me like a brick between the eyes. Out of my hair? Why’s he saying that? It’s true that the plan always was we’d go our separate ways once we hit our one-year sober mark, but hearing it feels strange. Especially since, even after all this time, I haven’t got a clear picture on Hank’s life before rehab. For a guy who runs his mouth all the time, I realize he’s been scant on details about himself.
“Hey, you’re welcome to stay with me as long as you want, buddy. My brother and his wife being here doesn’t change a thing.”
He bobs his chin, his mouth scrunching up. “I know. You’re a good guy that way, EJ.”
My frown lowers. “So why’d you bring up taking off?”
He sets down the book and settles back against his pillows. “I’m not the one going somewhere—you are, brother. I always knew you had something special to go home to. But this is me. This is it. When I leave here, it’s back on the streets, camping again. Haven’t had me a home in a long time.”
What the fuck? I can’t believe that’s the first I’ve heard of this. I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at him in dismay even though I’d already suspected this from his reaction to my offer to buy him a bus ticket home. “What was all your talk about Portland? Getting your old job back? Doing your life the right way this time?”
He shrugs. “Motivation for you. Got to let a guy believe he’ll succeed to help him do it.”
“Help?”
He smiles. “Yeah, it was about helping you. Anyone with eyes could see you weren’t cut out for how we’ve been living. You wouldn’t have lasted two weeks on the streets if I hadn’t taken you under my wing. Couldn’t let you leave rehab without someone there to have your back. Only reason I bought in on your crazy-ass plan to backpack around the Northwest. It’s been real. It’s been fun, but you don’t need me propping you up anymore. You’re standing solidly on your own feet, and what comes next for you, you’ve got to do on your own.”
“Propping me up?” I repeat, not sure if he really thinks this or is trying to save face, be the bigger man in his own Hank way.
“Don’t get all bent out of shape, my liege. Had to be done. Now it’s time to cut ties.”
My temper spikes. He’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had and he’s acting like it’s no biggie to show me the door. “That’s a pretty shitty way to treat a friend.”
“We’re going to be lifelong friends, EJ. Don’t doubt it. And this is nothing to get pissed off about. But let’s face facts. You’ve got your road. I’ve got mine. And they’re in different zip codes. There’s no place for me in your hood.”
So that’s it.
A new wrinkle on the same old shit of being a Manzone. Half the people want to use you and the other half run, afraid of the world I was born into.
Well, fuck that.
Not this time.
Not with Hank.
“Why don’t you let me decide if there’s a place for you in my life, you touchy bastard? You don’t know me at all if you think I just cut ties with people. I want to help you like you’ve helped me. So don’t do anything stupid, like taking off without us talking this through.”
“Oh, EJ,” he murmurs in that what am I going to do with you tone. “Isn’t it time you focus on what’s ahead for you instead of everyone else’s problems? I spent some time on the internet this afternoon reading up on you. Your family. Everything. Wasn’t sure what was out there barreling toward you. Who you are is enough of a load to carry for a guy in recovery. You’ve got a tidal wave moving your direc
tion, my friend. The gig is up. It won’t be long before the whole world knows where you’ve been.”
I gape at him because, fuck, he’s right. I hadn’t thought of that, not in a serious way. I sort of thought how I’d been living could go on until I decided to stop it. But no, that’s delusional. There are just too many people—Ivy, Hank, Jade, Simone, half the hotel staff, the regulars at the Capitol Hill NA meeting—in my circle who know the truth about me. Even going out to dinner tonight with Ethan and Avery risks putting me back on the grid. One tabloid photographer, one picture—tidal wave.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, and Hank nods in affirmation. I glance up at him and I can feel my expression turning sad. “What am I going to do without you to talk things through with?”
He pats my leg. “Ethan and Avery. They’re fucking exceptional. Something tells me the rest of your family is, too. They’ll have your back, like I always have, EJ.”
Closing my eyes, I press my fingers against my brow. I do miss home, my family. Since Ethan and Avery arrived on the scene the ache inside my chest has been something fierce. And he’s right, it’s almost time to go back to them, but I hate the thought of leaving Hank behind. “You’re not wrong about that. My family is terrific. But that doesn’t mean I want you taking off without talking to me first.”
I lift my lids, drilling my gaze into him so he’ll know I fucking mean it and am sincere.
“You’ve got my word. I won’t.” His lips tighten all emotional like, then he laughs. “You’re going to be fine, EJ. I’ve got a sixth sense about this. You’re making it this time, even though you still don’t know what’s what. You haven’t even figured out what the higher power is.”
I roll my eyes at his criticism. “Just because I don’t talk during the sharing circle doesn’t mean I’m clueless. It’s the supreme being, the entity of the universe or whatever the hell you believe in.”
“No. Wrong.” He smirks. “It’s love, EJ. Being loved and giving love. That’s the higher power you trust to stay sober. It won’t let you down, not ever. And you’re going home to people who love you. Had to make sure of that before I go my own way.”
