Out

by Cara Dee

  Ducking in between two buildings, I dialed Henry’s cell and waited.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Zachary?”

  Fuck.

  The sound of his rich voice was all this fucking day needed. Emotions flared up, and I looked up at the sky and exhaled. Two strings of Edison lights were drawn between the buildings.

  “Hey.” I sniffled.

  For a few seconds, all I heard was his steady breathing. He cleared his throat twice. “I…I don’t quite know how to explain this. I trust that you believe it when you say you know what you want. This is just experience speaking, dear.” Not this again. I couldn’t fucking handle it. “What I don’t understand is why this is a problem for us. I’m not telling you to find another partner. I’m merely pointing out that it’s okay if you do.”

  “Is it?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Is it okay,” I repeated, “if I find someone else while I’m with you? Because if that’s the case, there’s nothing to fight for. I’m not one of those polyamorous people you claim Martin is. I’m asking if it’s personally all right with you.”

  That gave him pause, though I didn’t know why. It was a yes or no answer.

  When he finally spoke up, his voice was quiet and held traces of pain. “No…it would be excruciating, but if it meant I could keep you in my life long term—”

  My groan cut him off, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Baby, don’t you see how fucking crazy that is? Please look at this from my perspective. You’re giving me an out—you’re giving me permission to hurt you. And if you think it’s okay for a partner to betray you, you probably can’t think less of yourself.”

  “It wouldn’t be a betrayal,” he insisted.

  “Fuck your fucking semantics!” I shouted.

  I stiffened, my voice echoing between the buildings, and a handful of passersby peered into the alley. I cursed and slumped back against the brick wall.

  I wanted to shake him.

  How much more of this could I deal with? Nothing good came from our conversations, and I didn’t think we’d reach an understanding until we were face-to-face.

  “I gotta get back to my friends,” I muttered. “I need a drink. Or seven.”

  “Where are you?” he asked, guarded.

  I narrowed my eyes at the ground. “I’m at a bar with some friends. We went hiking earlier.”

  “I see. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

  “Yeah, I got that. It’s a gay-friendly place, so maybe I’ll find someone to blow me. Have a good weekend, Henry.” I disconnected the call and went back inside, feeling worse than ever.

  It wasn’t healthy. I could envision future “Where did you go?” and “Who were you with?” just pushing me down further. He made me feel like shit. And fuck it, the screen on my phone lit up one more time, and I sent him a message while I stumbled through the crowd.

  Just so you know, that makes me feel really awful. I’m not doing anything wrong, but every time you will ask me who I’m with and what I’m doing, I’ll feel like a cheater when I’m anything but. You will always be suspicious.

  “You okay?” Meghan asked as I reached the table.

  Had they raised the volume? The music seemed louder. It made sense that Dominic and Adrian were getting ready to leave. It was no longer a place for a kid.

  I nodded absently in response to Meghan, scanning Henry’s text.

  You’re right. I’m very sorry for that, Zach. Please forgive me. I didn’t consider that. In the future, I will give you space and not ask those questions.

  He didn’t get it. I grinned, because if I didn’t, I’d break down in the middle of a bar. “I’m fine,” I lied—splendidly. My throat felt thick, and my eyes watered. God, that bastard. One last message, and then I was done. No, really, I was turning off my phone.

  You figured it out, Henry. Exactly what I want. Space. Well done.

  Twenty-Three

  Let’s throw some punches

  “Nan, you don’t have to do that. I can do my own dishes.”

  “Why would you deprive me of feeling useful? Do you want to break my heart?”

  “Wow,” I mouthed, picking up Eagle. “One might think she’s Catholic.” Entering the bathroom, I stepped onto the scale with the kitty in my arms. “Let’s see…”

  Fuck yes, exercise worked. Who’da thunk it? Even the guy at the pet store was skeptical, stating very few cats would allow themselves to be leashed. Well, the haters could suck it. I’d been taking Eagle for a round of play in the park every morning for almost two weeks, and he’d lost a pound so far. All I had to do was find a somewhat dry spot—Eagle was not a fan of wet things—and then throw him a fake little mouse to wrestle.

  “If you wanna make it to the first apple round, we should leave now,” I told Nan, returning to the kitchen. Eagle headed straight for the little corner bed I’d made for him, and he lay down next to it.

  Can’t win ’em all.

  “Almost ready.” She finished the last plate, her hand trembling slightly when she put it in the rack. “Can you check my purse for the voting card, please? We got them with the paper. It’s so we can pick our favorites and vote for those who participate. Between you and me, the Nolan family should win. I just adore Chloe’s pies.”

  Her purse was in the hallway, and the mentioned voting card was sticking out. I folded it so it wouldn’t fall out. “Yup, it’s right here.”

  I returned to see her dry her hands and fix her hair.

  “Excellent. Must we take the chair, though?”

  “We must.” I nodded. She didn’t need one—yet—at the home or when she went on supershort trips to the store. For a walk on the opening day of the festival, though? Ohfuckingyes.

  It waited for us in the hallway, and she made a show of how much she detested it. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind trying it for a day. The festival brought in people from all over, and they tended to make room for the elderly.

  We took the elevator down, and I helped her into the truck. Checking the time, I saw we had to hurry. Finding parking this week wouldn’t be easy.

  “Are you excited to see Mattie tomorrow?” Nan asked as she was rummaging through her purse. “I know I put my voting card in here. Did you see it, sugar? They’re new for this year. They sent them with the paper the other week, this little ballot where we can vote for the contestants.”

  My head snapped sideways, and I frowned at her. “It’s…” Holy shit. “Yeah, it’s right there.” I dug a hand into the purse and pulled out the folded card.

  As I backed out and began driving toward the Valley, I pushed down the sinking feeling and made a mental note to mention this to the nurses. She hadn’t had any troubles with her memory before.

  It made me queasy.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to Nan, though. She wore a smile all the way to the Cedar Valley, and she was excited about our outing.

  “New color lipstick?” I asked.

  If there was one thing I’d learned from the ladies at the home, it was that they loved to be noticed. Not all of them had kids and grandkids who visited.

  “I’ve worn it once or twice.” She nodded and checked her pocket mirror. “It’s quite lovely. Beth’s granddaughter sells them.”

  “Cool.”

  Perk when driving Nan was I could park in a handicapped spot, meaning it didn’t take us too long to find parking.

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging my question about Mattie, sugar.”

  And then sometimes, she was sharp as a tack. I huffed, opening the tailgate to get her chair. Okay, I could be honest about my brother; his travel companions, not so much.

  “It’ll be good having him home.” I rolled the chair to her side and helped her into it.

  “Henry and Tyler are flying up too, yes?”

  I sighed. “That’s what I hear. You know I haven’t talked to him since the bar.”

  He’d sent a handful of texts. I hadn’t responded, and it wasn’t to
be a dick or anything, but every fucking call ended in disaster. What was the point?

  “I do look forward to meeting him.” She sniffed and clutched her purse in her lap.

  “Oh God, why would you meet him?” I was half horrified at the thought.

  Between the backstreet where we’d parked and Hemlock Avenue where the celebrations started, the atmosphere went from quiet and nice to hectic and crowded. The festival took up several streets, two squares, and part of a park, and it was a great place to see if a relationship could last. Children screamed, siblings argued, parents cursed broken condoms, teenagers tested their fake IDs.

  The noise was background music to Nan’s explaining on why she simply had to meet the man I’d supposedly lost my heart to. I probably had.

  I got a message as we got to the street where they had all the tables with people joining the apple contest. It wasn’t from a number in my contact list, so I checked it out.

  Hello, Zach. This is David, Meghan’s friend. I was wondering if you would mind if I asked her out? She’s been talking so much about you, and I know you have history. I don’t want to step on any toes.

  That one drew a genuine grin from me. There were good guys left out there. Completely unnecessary to reach out, but appreciated. I told him to go for it and that I was happy for them. Thinking back, that probably gave Meghan away, but whatever.

  “There’s Chloe’s table, sugar. Oh good, they’re doing both pies and cider.”

  All right, time to test all things apple. Pies, preserves, cake, freaking chutney… The man who did the chutney was hot, though. I forced a smile, tasting the weird creation that many others seemed to love. Nan blushed when he winked at her. Adam was his name, co-owner of a steakhouse in the area, according to the business cards they were giving out.

  “You certainly deserve the runner-up, dear,” Nan decided.

  “Second place?” Ruggedly hot Adam placed a hand on his heart and pretended to be wounded. Rugged…almost like Henry.

  “I simply cannot get enough of Chloe Nolan’s apple pie,” she admitted.

  Adam flashed a grin. “Then I won’t hold it against you. It’s her cider I’m using in my recipe.”

  Okay, enough with the chitchat. The sun was beating down pretty hard for Washington, even in August, and every hot guy only made me think of Henry.

  “You ready to cast your votes, Nan?” I asked.

  “I believe I am,” she said with a firm nod.

  Awesome.

  If one could be hungover on festival food, that was me the morning after.

  I skipped breakfast and headed to work, where I had the first shift. Pammie would be here when it was time for me to pick up my brother.

  He’d told me not to go all the way to Seattle since they were renting a car. I knew that meant I would be forced to face Henry today, and every time I thought about it, my gut did a somersault. I was nervous, and it bothered me. It was supposed to be a sweet-then-sexy reunion. Instead, we were seeing each other as…exes?

  Walking over to the magazines, I grabbed an issue of Northern Living to waste a couple hours. During the festival, my little corner store was quiet. And no one was happier about it than me.

  Around noon, two men entered the store, and I nodded politely, then went back to an article on hiking in the peninsula. I’d gone a few times. They had some good climbing near Hoodsport.

  The guys were only here for a couple sodas, and I rang up their purchase and—

  “You one of those fags?”

  I shot my stare at them, specifically the bald dude who was nodding at my T-shirt. “Wanna See My Rainbow?” was printed across my chest, silver on black, and it was the first and only item of clothing I’d bought since I got home.

  I raised my gaze again. I had two choices. Brush it off and hope for the best, or give him the retort my anger demanded and…hope for the best.

  “Are you one of those dim-witted morons?” I asked slowly. My fists clenched and unclenched.

  Give me a reason.

  Back down, the voice of reason told me. There were two of them; I was alone. They were bigger too. Not taller, just bulkier. I also had more to lose.

  My pulse skyrocketed as Baldy glared. “The fuck did you call me?”

  “I didn’t. I asked a fucking question.” My jaw tensed. Back the fuck down, idiot. They can ruin the store. They can break your face. Except, I couldn’t back down. “Do you want me to repeat it slower so you understand?” What was wrong with me?

  Now they both wore matching death stares.

  “Disgusting little cocksucker,” he spat out and reached over the counter to fist my shirt. I flew forward faster than I could react, fear immobilizing me. Then pain exploded across the left side of my face as his fist connected with my cheek.

  I was catapulted backward just as quickly, and my brain slowed down further. I couldn’t think past the pain. Everything hurt, and I waited. I fucking waited, and then, finally, the rage unfurled in me. My eyes shot open right before I jumped over the counter and rammed into the bald bitch. I kneed him in the gut and clocked him hard in the jaw.

  “Fucker!” he yelled. “Get him off me!”

  “What, you don’t wanna dance with me, you ugly piece of shit?” I growled. I got in another punch that split his eyebrow.

  My fun ended by being yanked back and pushed to the floor. The stand closest to the register fell over me, covering me in clearance items. Fruit, candy bars, snack packs. I groaned at the pain in my spine, then more pain. Oh God. It blinded me. The other guy kicked me in the stomach and hurled unoriginal insults about taking it up the ass. I couldn’t focus on the actual words.

  “Leave him before someone shows up,” Baldy grunted. “He ain’t worth it.”

  I coughed, receiving a final blow.

  A croaked moan escaped me, and I tasted blood on my tongue.

  The sound of the doorbell let me know I was alone.

  “Fuck,” I coughed.

  I didn’t know how many minutes passed while I lay there trying to regain my breathing. Eventually, I crawled over to lock the door, and I collapsed right there. Tears sprung to my eyes, though it wasn’t because of the pain. Maybe it was shock, or that I was processing. With a grunt, I hauled myself up to sit, and that was a bad idea. My ribs shot a fireball of agony through me, sharp as hell.

  “Assholes,” I whispered raggedly. I hoped they’d smiled for the cameras. Was there a single store in this country that didn’t have surveillance?

  “Some good news, Mr. Coleman. No fractures,” Doc announced, entering my room with a chart. He faltered upon seeing the cop next to me. “Apologies, Officer.” He didn’t leave, though. He continued to my bed, studying my chart.

  But yeah, good news. Broken bones would’ve been worse.

  Pammie was on the other side of the bed, looking increasingly annoyed with the police officer.

  “He’s answered all your questions,” she said. “If you’ll let me take you to the store, I can hand over the footage.”

  It hurt to talk at the moment, so I patted her hand. The woman could’ve been my mother, and sometimes she acted like it. But I didn’t want her to get too stressed out over this. She already had four kids who drove her bonkers.

  “I’ll be fine,” I mumbled and touched my lip. It was swollen but not split. The only spot that needed stitches was my left eyebrow. It looked worse than it was, with the dried blood. I’d also bit my tongue, which irritated me.

  “It’s okay, we’re done here,” the cop said. “You shouldn’t have riled them up, kiddo.”

  “Do you tell that to girls with short skirts too?” I shot back. “Huh? Are they asking for it?” I spoke through the dull pain in my mouth. “Trust me, I know it would’ve been smarter to keep my mouth shut, but damn if I’m gonna stand by and not defend myself while others can do whatever the fuck they want.”

  The cop gave me a look of warning, and I got it. Not my wisest move to get cocky with a police officer. However, he hopefully a
cknowledged I was right, ’cause he kept his trap closed, other than wishing me a speedy recovery.

  After he left, I released a heavy breath and let Pammie adjust the pillow behind my back.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Go with him, hon. Then go home.” We were keeping the store closed until tomorrow. “Mattie will see my message soon.”

  “Boy, you…” She sighed. “I damn near had a heart attack when I found you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I offered.

  She looked like she wanted to smack me for that one.

  She was next to leave, after a whole lot more fussing and promises to check in. I’d have to thank her for giving a crap later. Right now, I was only interested in painkillers and going home.

  Doc smiled patiently. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like two bigots used me as a punching bag. Can I have all the drugs in the world for my headache?” It was getting so bad that I had to squint. The light was too harsh, and there was throbbing at the back of my skull.

  “Very soon, I assure you.” He tapped the clipboard. “Like I said, no fractures—this is good news. You do have a concussion, however.” He joined me at my side, and then I had one of those tiny flashlights pointed in my eyes. “You said there was no nausea? No vomiting or numbness?”

  “None.” I’d been through this already. “Massive headache, soreness, and I guess light sensitivity. Is that a thing? It hurts to look at the lamp.”

  He nodded. “That’s normal. You need to rest plenty, and I advise you to leave the TV and phone alone. It lets you recover easier.” He paused, carefully touching the back of my head. He hummed to himself. “Little to no swelling. I want you to monitor your situation carefully. If you do feel worse—nausea, slurred speech, difficulty focusing—I want you to come back in for an MRI.”

  Yeah, costly stuff. No thanks.

  In the end, I was given mild pain relief for my headache and ribs. Instructions to rest for a few days, and a bill that would give me another headache when I could be bothered to care.