by Cara Dee
“Okay, gotta go.” I walked out of the shop and secured his carrier in the passenger’s seat. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Martin jogged out right before I got in behind the wheel. “Zach, what did he do? And Eagle is too pretty for the pound!”
I made a face and shook my head. If he thought I was taking the cat to give him up, I was fucking insulted. So I ignored it all and left Malibu with a cat that I sort of just kidnapped.
“Oh God, I’m like Martin’s ex.” I wanted to get in a hole and die. How goddamn embarrassing.
Nothing would clear your head like two hours of silence in an old truck that was warring against the sun. It was shaping up to be a record-hot day in southern California, and I’d passed countless trucks that had overheated already.
“Martin warned me,” I said to Eagle. “He warned me, dammit. Henry doesn’t know what a catch he is.”
“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life. And because I want you to keep coming back to me, I want you to know I won’t hold it against you if you meet—”
I flinched, replaying his words. They physically hurt my chest. It seized up tightly and made my breathing ragged.
It was going to be a while before I could forgive and forget, but I admitted I’d acted like a lunatic. Jesus, I’d actually stolen his cat.
Somewhere along the road, shortly after catching Malibu in the rearview, I’d turned off my phone. Now I was slightly afraid what I would face when I turned it on again.
“Ugh, this day can’t get any worse.”
I spoke too soon. The day could get worse. Instead of beating traffic everywhere, I was stuck in Bakersfield because my truck was acting up. I’d pulled over once, and I hadn’t turned on the AC at all, yet it was still showing me it was overheating.
“You want the good news first or the bad?” the man asked. It said Landon on his coveralls that were splattered with oil spill and grime.
“Good, please.” I stood just inside the garage bay of the auto shop, and my truck was occupying one of the four spots.
“It’s only a malfunctioning thermostat and overheating,” he told me. “Won’t take long, and it ain’t gonna set you back much. Bad news is we gotta wait until the engine’s cooled down, and she’s not in the best shape. How long you have her for?”
“It was my grandfather’s,” I sighed. “But, so, nothing’s wrong with the radiator, right?” Because Mattie had looked it over before I drove down to California, and he’d said it was as good as it was gonna get.
“Nope, but it won’t last forever,” he replied, another man joining him. “Cam here’s gonna take care of your truck. You can wait here, or there’s a Taco Bell across the street.”
“Taco Bell won’t help me now. I need a fucking therapist,” I muttered to myself. Of course, the men had heard me, and I flushed in embarrassment. “It’s just not my day, sorry. I may have kidnapped my boyfriend’s cat.”
Landon’s brows rose. “Well, okay, then.”
The other guy, Cam, chuckled under his breath and walked over to my truck.
Not wanting to make a bigger ass of myself, I thanked Landon and said I’d be across the street. Shit, I was mortified. I couldn’t make a very good escape either, because I couldn’t bring Eagle into the Taco Bell. I had to go over there, buy a soda and some snacks, then go back to the garage, get Eagle’s carrier, and return to the other side of the road. There were benches in the shade, meaning they couldn’t chase me away because I was traveling with a stolen pet.
I wasn’t even hungry.
Sitting there feeling sorry for myself, I tried to summon my logic. It was hidden in my brain somewhere. Cars came and went, pausing in the intersection, then vanished. Bakersfield wasn’t very big. Supposedly, I had distant family here, though Mom had never brought me along as a kid. Maybe it was for the best; it was hotter than the surface of the sun.
“I’m sorry you had to suffer during my stint of utter insanity,” I told Eagle, sucking some soda from the straw. “I guess your daddy’s got my brain on a spin. I hear that happens when you fall in love. You do some stupid shit that you can’t explain.”
He wasn’t angry or hissing anymore. That was something, right? He seemed quite comfortable in the carrier.
I watched as a nice car pulled up outside the garage. A man stepped out, holding a paper bag, reminding me of the lunch Henry had packed me. And I had forgotten it. Dammit, it must still be on the kitchen counter.
There was a girl too, who stayed by the car but waved happily to Landon and Cam. To my surprise, the newcomer kissed Cam as he extended what I assumed was his lunch. Next, Cam followed him back to the car, where he got another kiss, then one from the girl too. She had to be their daughter.
Well, the emotions I was waiting for boiled over right then and there. I blinked back tears and cleared my throat repeatedly. How could I already miss him? I did, though. I missed Henry so fucking much, and I wanted that. What those two men and their daughter had—I wanted it. Henry and I would ace the family life, and I wanted it more than I could ever want club nights and purple drinks.
I blew out a breath.
The next few weeks were gonna suck.
Twenty-One
Home, sweet what the fuck ever
The dense forests of Oregon blurred as I drove past truck stop after truck stop. I told myself, the next exit I was gonna get some rest. Then I didn’t. I kept driving. I’d spent the night in northern California in a shitty motel where I’d paced a hole in the floor before chickening out and leaving my phone off.
I’d turned it on again this morning, and the messages had poured in, both texts and voice.
I’m sorry, Zachary. Please call me. I don’t want us to fight.
Get back to me as soon as you read this. Please, baby. I’m very sorry.
Bro, did you and Henry fight? He’s mopey as fuck.
Martin called, darling. Did you really take Eagle? Can you come back? We have to solve this.
Holy shit, you kidnapped Henry’s cat, bro! Have you lost your mind?
“This is Martin, honey. I know how this is going to go. Henry’s gonna overindulge in chocolate and let himself go completely, and next time I visit him, I’ll have to wade through bottles of wine and CDs of sad music. Yes, the man still listens to CDs. For all our sakes, call him!”
There were several other messages from Henry, most filled with apologies, and I’d had a rock the size of Mount Rainier in my stomach. The guilt had flooded every part of me—until I read the message that came in this morning right before I got on the road.
I stand by what I said. I can’t even describe what I feel for you. Can’t you see I’m doing this because of that? I want you to be able to have both worlds.
Except, whatever worlds I ended up in, I wanted him and only him by my side. The hurt hadn’t eased one fucking bit. I wanted it to be him and me, only us. Wherever we were.
I’d never liked the term unconditional love. For children, sure. I sure as shit loved Mattie unconditionally, but I didn’t want that with Henry. I believed relationships needed boundaries and rules. I wanted to deserve him, not be given him freely. I wanted goddamn conditions.
If this was love for Henry, how would we work together?
“Does this mean we’re friends?” I kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to pat Eagle’s head carefully. I’d let him out of the carrier when we got on the road this morning, after I’d checked the laws on it. No, it wasn’t okay to let a cat roam free, but dammit, he’d been in pet prison for too long.
The lazy thing spent most of the time sleeping in his carrier anyway, and he rejected three out of four stops on the road. Now, though…I mean, this was progress in our relationship. He was resting his head on my leg.
“If this is an apology for tracking litter all over the floorboards, I’ll take it.” I gave him another careful pat, then returned my hand to the wheel.
Washington was getting clo
ser, and my truck was getting older. It probably wouldn’t survive another road trip like this.
An accident was causing a traffic jam outside of Portland in the late afternoon, and I used the time to catch up with my brother. I’d sent a message this morning, and then they’d been out all day.
We had the best pizza for lunch. The house is different, and all Henry did today was drink scotch and listen to Adele. Surfing tomorrow. Are you home yet?
My anger hadn’t faded enough for me to feel bad for Henry.
Stuck in traffic near Portland. Will be home around seven or eight, I think. Tell Henry that his cat is mine now. He doesn’t deserve Eagle.
A minute later, Henry called.
“Great.” I rolled my eyes, even as my stomach fluttered. Christ, I was lost over this man. As pissed as I was, I only wanted him more with each hour that went by. I caved and put the call on speaker. “I’m driving, so I can’t handle an argument.”
He sighed. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
I swallowed hard. It was good to hear his too. “What do you want, Henry?” I asked tiredly.
“I want to make this right, of course.”
“I’ve already told you what I want,” I said. “I’m not being unreasonable here. I don’t look for promises or fairy-tale endings. I just want you to expect more from me. It fucking hurts when you think I’m gonna go out and fuck some random stranger.”
“It wouldn’t have to be a stranger—”
“Seriously, Henry!” I raised my voice as my fury simmered in warning. “It’s real simple. Commit to me when you trust me to commit to you. Not a minute sooner. Doesn’t matter how deep our relationship runs; if we date, we do it exclusively or not at all.”
I was met with silence, which meant only one thing. He didn’t trust me.
“Say something,” I gritted, getting upset again. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. If the timing was wrong, if he thought it was too soon to speak of commitment, then why could he tie himself to me but not the other way around? It’d be another issue if he wasn’t ready for either of us to commit.
“I want to believe, Zach.”
“But you don’t.”
“No.” His tone was low, almost a whisper, yet it cut through me like a blade and echoed in my head as if he’d yelled it. “You’ll wake up one day and realize there’s so much more than—”
I hung up the phone before I could tell him where to go.
Home, sweet…home? I guess. I stepped out of my truck and inhaled deeply. It was crisper up here, even in the summer. Regardless of where you were in Camassia, you smelled the forest and the ocean in the air.
The apartment I shared with my brother was on the second floor of a brick building that looked like it’d seen better days. One window on the fourth and top floor was sealed shut with boards and a garbage bag. It’d been like that for a year.
I got Eagle settled in first, making room for his litter box in the bathroom. We only had one, and it was across the hall from the two bedrooms. By the time I came back from the truck with the rest of my shit, the cat was still in the carrier, though he had inched out a little.
I found myself standing in the living room, taking in the familiarity that somehow felt strange and out of place now. It shouldn’t. Despite our half-shitty situation, we’d made this a home. We’d moved in a couple years after Mom died, needing a fresh start, and this was closer to the store on Olympia Square.
The couch was ratty and old but comfortable and covered in blankets Nan had knitted. A couple patchwork quilts too. Back from when she could still operate a sewing machine. There were pictures on the walls. It was something I’d been adamant about. They included drawings we’d made as kids. One bookshelf with games and DVDs. The flat screen Nan gave us last Christmas. Two comfy chairs, one of which Mattie had declared his. It had a footrest.
The heavy oak coffee table was the only piece of furniture we had left from the old place. From the days Mom was alive.
Checking the time on my phone, I decided it was too late to check in with Nan to say I was home. I wasn’t hungry or particularly sleepy. Tired as hell, but not sleepy. To be honest, I wanted to shower, drink myself into a stupor, and cry over Henry.
Perhaps that was why I stupidly went on Instagram to check out my photos. I’d been good about uploading something every day. And there we all were. Henry, Mattie, Ty, Martin, and me. Standing right there in the middle of my living room, I zoomed in on Henry’s ruggedly handsome face. He was smiling faintly, eyes hidden behind shades. I’d taken it of him outside the bookstore as he was locking up. Kind of random. I only remembered thinking he was too hot for words, so I’d wanted a picture.
I had a few photos of the two of us that were more couple-like. I hadn’t uploaded them yet.
I rubbed at my chest and the stinging pain that fluttered through. His reactions to everything made me doubt myself. Had I overreacted? Did I demand too much? Then I circled back to the fact that he had no issues committing to me. And I trusted him, dammit. Why couldn’t he trust me?
Eagle interrupted my depressing thoughts when he brushed up against my leg.
“Can I take you to dinner?” I offered.
Saturday was my last day off work, and I planned on spending it with Nan. I picked up pastries on the way to the home, which, of fucking course, made me think of Martin.
Her old folks’ home was down in the Valley, and it was perfect for her. The others she’d looked at in the area were either too expensive or too boring. “I don’t understand why they treat these places like they’re just a place to wait for death. I still have living to do, you know,” she’d told me once. Then we’d found this facility, new at the time. It’d once been a factory, and now it was trendy little apartments with a park in the back. They promoted physical activities and had their own workshop and hall where they offered classes. Sometimes it was a cooking class, sometimes academic classes. No matter what, there was always something to do.
The building next door belonged to an ad agency called Three Dots, and it was where Meghan worked these days. It’d been a while since we met up.
I entered the lobby of Nan’s building and greeted the receptionist.
“Zach!” She smiled. “Your grandmother told us you were visiting today. You’ve been on vacation?”
“Yup, saw a little of Los Angeles.” I returned the smile, then continued toward the elevators. There was no hospital smell here. Or pale-yellow walls. It was brick; there were big canvas paintings, dimmed spotlights, and colorful couches.
Nan had her apartment on the top floor, so I clicked on three and checked to make sure I had everything. Pastries, a couple souvenirs, a magazine, and Sophie Pierce’s autograph on a napkin.
Each floor had its own common room, and it was always a safe bet to start searching for Nan there. More often than not, she was playing canasta with her girlfriends or robbing the older gentlemen of money in poker.
It was canasta today. I found her in the corner with four ladies, and she smiled widely when she spotted me.
Home.
Seeing her was like coming home. It chipped away a bit of my cautiously placed armor that I’d put on this morning. Today wasn’t about Henry. I’d cried enough last night.
“If you’ll excuse me, girls, my grandson is here.” She rose carefully and reached for her walker before I could reach her.
“I can help you, you know,” I pointed out. I kissed her cheek, then nodded at the other women. “Hello, ladies. New glasses, Margaret? I dig.”
The delicate little lady blushed and adjusted her glasses. “Oh, thank you, Zach. That’s sweet of you to say.”
“It’s been a while, Zach,” one tutted, while another complimented my hair.
I grinned.
“Let’s go before they talk your ear off, sugar.” Nan nodded toward the hallway, and I grasped her elbow. The walker wouldn’t be enough for much longer. “Rose is right, by the way. I do like your new hair. Very stylish.”
> “Thanks.” I made a mental note to start looking for a wheelchair. My grandmother was a cool little lady who was too young to be old. She always wore dresses, her silver hair always impeccable in a braided bun. One of her friends helped her with nail polish every four weeks, and she hated it when there was something she couldn’t do on her own. So for us to get her even to use a chair on a daily basis would require some creativity. It couldn’t be a chair they provided for outings.
The woman didn’t even have hard candy in her apartment because it was such an “old people” thing.
Once inside her studio, I helped her over to the table by the window. She liked to look out over the district we called Little Seattle. The Valley was all cobblestone streets, factories-turned-lofts, townhouses, vegan sandwich shops, and local businesses. It was the home of the town’s college too, and it was the district I used to think about settling down in. A faraway goal because it was expensive unless you wanted roommates.
“I want to hear everything about your trip. Mattie has told me a little.”
“Oh, really?” I chuckled wryly and walked over to her kitchenette. “What did he say?” I plated the pastries and waited for her tea.
“That you met someone,” she admitted.
“Jesus Christ.” I looked up at the ceiling and sighed.
“I don’t think you’ll find Jesus up there, sugar.”
“Can I come out to anyone, or am I gonna be the last to know I’m gay?”
Nan raised a brow over her glasses. The neck strap’s rhinestones glinted in the morning sun shining in. “Your brother didn’t say it was a man, actually.”
“Oh.” Shit.
“I’m joking,” she laughed softly. “He absolutely told me.” For fuck’s sake! “Tell me about him, Zach. Is he good to you—oh, drop the scowl. A grandmother knows.”
“How?” I was getting fucking frustrated.
Okay, after the three weeks I’d spent in LA, there was no question. But before then…?
