Wherever It Leads

by Adriana Locke

  Tough shit.

  “Where’s the monkey?” I ask.

  “In the living room.”

  Her words come out flat, but I’m used to it. I don’t expect anything more from her.

  I can’t.

  “Everleigh! Come here, baby girl,” she calls.

  It’s such a natural thing, a mother calling her kid in for supper. It seems like just a normal part of an ordinary life. But I know the truth.

  Appearances can be deceiving, but I enjoy the moment of deception. I’ll take what I can get.

  A few seconds later, the sound of little feet come running into the kitchen. “Uncle Crew!”

  I kneel on one knee as she runs to me, her black hair flowing behind her.

  “Uncle Crew!” she yells again and falls wildly in my arms, nuzzling her face into my cold jacket. I grab the zipper and yank it down, afraid the frozen metal will sting her little face.

  My lips find her forehead as she wraps her arms around me. I hold her close, brushing back her hair, breathing in the smell of bubble gum that I’ve come to associate with my little niece. “How are ya, monkey?”

  “I’m good,” she giggles, pulling back and looking at me expectantly. “Did you bring me something?”

  “Everleigh Nicole!” Julia reprimands her. “Have some manners!”

  “But it’s Uncle Crew.” She bats her eyelashes at her mother, who rolls her eyes in response. “You did bring me something, didn’t ya?” She looks at me again, a grin splitting her cheeks.

  I could never say no to this kid. She could ask me for the fuckin’ moon and I’d figure out a way to get it.

  “Come on. You know I brought ya something.”

  Everleigh giggles and bounces up and down, her arms folded across the front of her Tinkerbell shirt. I reach in the bag and fish through the groceries and pull out a coloring book and a box of crayons. I really have no idea what the pictures are about, but it’s the only one they had at the store.

  “Yay!” she squeals, holding them up in the air so Julia can see them. “Thank you! I’ll color you something beautiful and you can hang it at your house.”

  “You’re welcome.” I hold her gaze and give her a little nod to let her know our routine was still on. She tries to wink at me, but both eyes just flutter a few times. It takes everything I have not to laugh.

  As soon as Julia turns her back, I slip her a banana Laffy Taffy and she kisses my cheek. She does her best sneaky walk back into the living room to avoid being caught with candy before supper.

  I watch her go. Her long dark hair, just like her mother’s, almost touches her waist. She’s so much like Julia. She has the same heart-shaped face with high cheekbones, and the same graceful way about her.

  Even so, there is so much about Everleigh that is like my brother. She’s tall, like Gage, towering over most of her five-year-old friends. Her eyes are the same color, like the sky over the harbor on a really clear day. But the thing about my niece that reminds me most of my brother is her soul. Just like Gage, Ever is wise beyond her years. She’s ridiculously smart and more mature than I probably was until I was in my twenties.

  My brother loved her so damn much.

  I release a sigh and lean against the battered refrigerator and feel it settle against my weight.

  Julia ignores me, working at the stove. She’s tied her hair back and I can see the stress in her shoulders, her posture defiant. She used to look that way in high school when she’d come to the house after a fight with her asshole parents. I hate seeing it now as much as I hated seeing it then. The only difference is now I have no one to blame but myself.

  “You okay?” I ask, wondering if she will even respond to me. Sometimes she does. Sometimes she doesn’t.

  It’s been a long two years since our worlds fell apart, but we’ve come to some sort of unspoken understanding. I’ve accepted that she’s gonna hate me for the rest of her life. She’s accepted that I won’t go away. We’ve made some progress over time. She doesn’t threaten me with a restraining order anymore. I don’t get pissed at her refusal to cooperate. I just do what I’m going to do and she huffs but accepts it. Progress.

  “Jules?” I ask again, watching her warily. I normally don’t press, just drop off what I have and dash. Today, though, she seems more beaten down. I know she’s probably missing him this week even more than usual, because I am, too. That makes me want to go get a drink, but I can’t leave her without making sure she’s all right. I owe her that much. “You okay?”

  I see her set the spoon down and bow her head, and I brace myself for the unknown.

  “Peachy.”

  Her voice is so low that I can almost not even hear her. She grasps onto the counter on either side of the stove and doesn’t move.

  I chew on my lip and watch her, wait on her to give me some indication as to what she’s thinking. She gives me nothing to go on. “Need anything?”

  “No, Crew,” she said, whirling around on her heel, “I don’t.” Her eyes are on fire, blazing with some emotion I can’t pinpoint. “And I didn’t need my tires changed this morning either.”

  “What are ya talkin’ about?” I ask, feigning ignorance. I know she’s gonna bust my balls, but it’s not like I had a choice. I couldn’t take the chance of her driving Everleigh around on the roads with bald tires.

  “So you didn’t send Will to my office this morning to get my car? Nice of him to ask for my keys in front of half the department. Well played. How was I supposed to argue with him without causing a damn scene?”

  I shrug.

  “Stop doing this. Please. I can take care of myself.”

  We have a standoff, our gazes having the conversation neither of us wants to have. She’s telling me she’s not the little girl I once knew. But it’s not like I don’t know that. She might’ve grown up, but the woman she’s turned into has a helluva lot to do with the decisions I’ve made.

  There are so many mother fucking things I’d change if I could figure out how.

  But I can’t.

  “How is she?” I ask with a nod to the living room, trying to change the topic.

  Julia sighs, exhaustion flashing across her face. “She’s okay. She wasn’t feeling good this morning, so she stayed with Mrs. Bennett.”

  “Olivia? The neighbor lady?”

  “Yes. She seems better tonight, though.” She gives me a hint of a smile before her gaze drops to the floor. “Ever loves when you come by, so I’m sure she’ll be happy tonight. She likes you.”

  The insinuation smacks me hard in the chest.

  “She’s been missing him a lot lately.”

  Our conversations don’t normally make it to discussing Gage unless we’re already arguing. The fact that she just brought it up shocks me and I’m not comfortable with it. I don’t know how to take it. I feel my jaw pulse with frustration and scramble to change the subject again. “Why is it so chilly in here?”

  Julia’s smile disappears and she tugs her sweatshirt nervously. “I didn’t know it was.”

  “How can you possibly not know?” I start to the thermostat across the room when she clears her throat.

  “The heater isn’t working right. I asked my landlord to come by and look at it earlier this week.”

  “And he hasn’t been here yet?” I shoot her a look and she shakes her head. “He’ll be here tonight.” I dig my cell out of my pocket.

  “Crew, don’t. Please. The last time you called my landlord he was a complete jerk to me for a couple of months. I just got on good terms with him again.”

  I scroll through my contacts list, looking for his name.

  “Crew . . .” I know her doe-eyes are pleading with me. I also know if I look up at her, I’ll be somewhat inclined to give in.

  So I don’t.

  LAST CALL by STACI HART

  MEOW

  Rose

  MY BREATH CAME IN BURSTS, heart pounding as Patrick’s long body pressed me into the bed. There wasn’t an inch between us—w
e were a tangle of arms and legs, lips and hands, and any will I had to stop him was long gone. I didn’t care that I should. I didn’t care about anything, not with his fingers stroking my skin like a match, trailing heat in their wake.

  He was even better than I remembered.

  I opened my heavy lids when he backed away to pull off his shirt, taking a quick second to catch my breath as I skimmed my fingers down his tattooed chest, my eyes roaming over the art that covered every inch of his skin as he watched. It was his soul laid bare—the good and the bad, the happy and sad, all chronicled in black ink so he could remember. As if he could ever forget.

  It was a sight I’d missed more than I’d ever confess.

  He bent to kiss me, breathing until his breath was mine and mine was his. It was fevered, frantic—my hand against the sharp angle of his jaw, his lips hard, my eyes pinned shut—erasing everything that had happened between us. As if it had never happened.

  Patrick broke away to kiss my neck just as a black cat jumped on the bed, and I glanced over with bleary eyes to meet the cat’s. He meowed, teeth like tiny white needles against the jet black of his fur.

  Patrick didn’t stop or seem to notice. His hands slipped up my thighs, tongue brushing my skin, wet lips closing, and my lids fluttered, a sigh slipping out of me as I twisted my fingers in his black hair.

  An orange tabby hopped onto the bed and strutted across to sit next to the black one, tail twitching. He blinked at me and meowed.

  “What the hell?” I muttered, confusion on my face as another one—this time smoke gray—found its way onto my bed, sat next to the others, looked right at me, and meowed like an absolute bastard.

  My face fell as flat as my hope. “I’m fucking dreaming.”

  This was the moment when my eyes flew open, and I gasped as I woke unwillingly.

  Patrick was gone, and so were the cats. My clothes were sadly in place, the room chilly and dark, and my phone alarm meowed at me from my nightstand.

  “Son of a bitch,” I huffed, heart still chugging as I rolled over to swipe blindly at the screen to stop the noise.

  The phone was still in my hand as I flopped back in bed, reminding myself again to change the ringer when I could open my eyes. My roommate, Lily, had set it as a joke weeks ago, and I could never remember to change it back. Instead, I considered options for a payback ringer, top of the list being broken glass, crying baby, and angry hen.

  I cracked one eye to glance at my screen. It was eight in the morning, an hour that normally didn’t exist in my universe. I’d never been a morning person, which was part of the draw in bartending. Of course, it made adulting kind of hard when you didn’t get up until two, but luckily, I didn’t have to adult very often. Jury duty being an unavoidable, annoying, and despicable exception.

  I thought real hard about the two-hundred-fifty dollar fine I’d get nailed with if I didn’t show up.

  Real hard.

  But it wasn’t worth it. I’d get out of bed for two-hundred-fifty bones. Hell, if you fed me enough tequila and I had on a pretty bra, I’d probably take my shirt off for that kind of money.

  I sighed and flipped off my comforter before reaching over to turn on my lamp. My room was always dark thanks to blackout curtains that aided and abetted my reverse sleep habits. The only time they were opened was when Lily wanted to torture me out of bed before lunch.

  She was spared a sudden, gruesome death only because she’s my best friend.

  I peeled myself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom in nothing but a Cub Scout T-shirt and panties, rubbing my face as I yawned, trying not to think about how warm my bed had been. Definitely trying not to think about Patrick’s lips—or his hands, or jaw, or tattoos or his—

  He dumped you more than seven months ago, Rose. Get over it.

  Stupid asshole dreams.

  Let me give you some relationship advice. Don’t date the guy down the hall, because when he dumps you, you can’t get away. Definitely don’t date a guy in your group of super tight-knit friends, because then you really fuck yourself. Especially if he was your best friend, and especially if he never stopped looking at you like he’d devour you if you’d say the word, even months after he dropped you like a bad habit. Really makes it hard to stick to your guns.

  But stick to my guns I did. Patrick and I were an unwieldy, knotted up mess, so when it ended for good, that was it. I didn’t even know how to approach fixing it because it was fucked up beyond all repair, so I threw up the wall. And once the wall is up, there’s no scaling it. It’s like nuclear lockdown—gates don’t open for two-hundred years, so go get yourself a Snickers and pull up a chair because we’re going to be here for a while.

  I glanced in the mirror and yawned again, hazel eyes watering as I twisted my long, shaggy black hair into a rope and tossed it over my shoulder, feeling grumbly as I washed my face and hands. I needed to at least look presentable, wear something professional-ish, which was a problem since ripped up jeans and combat boots made up a large sum of my wardrobe. So I sighed heavily and made my way into Lily’s room to find something ‘normal’ to wear. She was the light to my dark, the optimist to my cynic. The ‘normal’ to my ‘not.’

  I stopped dead when I stepped into her room.

  A body shaped lump was stretched out in Lily’s bed under her covers.

  The problem: Lily hadn’t slept at home in months.

  My pulse exploded in a burst as I tried to figure out who it was because that lump was too big to be Lily. Obviously the logical leap was that a homeless guy wandered in and crashed in her bed. Or maybe it was a tired burglar. A lost little old man? Maybe the nursing home was looking for him. Or the police. Or his kids, looking for their inheritance.

  I stood frozen next to the bed with my brain tripping over what to do. Call the cops. Scream. Run. Fight. I blinked and looked around for a weapon, eyes lighting when I landed on Lily’s nightstand.

  My lips pursed, eyes on the lump as I opened the drawer silently and grabbed Philmore Dix.

  I stepped closer to the pile of bedding, breath frozen in my lungs as I extended it slowly to poke the lump in what I thought might be its shoulder.

  The covers flew up with a yelp of the man underneath, and I screamed as the lump rolled off the bed and hit the floor.

  Patrick was wild-eyed, black hair a mess, tattooed chest heaving as he blinked up at me. My heart kickstarted with a thud, and all the blood rushed to my cheeks and ears.

  “Tricky! What the fuck?” I yelled as I threw the hot pink vibrator at him.

  He put up his hand to stop Phil from hitting him in the chest. “Fuck, Rose. You scared the shit out of me.”

  I gaped. “I scared you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Obviously,” I shot as I hung a hand on my hip, trying to keep my eyes on his instead of his body. I wondered briefly if he was naked. My heartbeat ticked up a notch. “Why are you sleeping here?”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, putting it in place elegantly. “Ever since Lily started sleeping over, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep. Three in the morning, every morning, like clockwork. First the moaning. Then the headboard banging. I’ve tried everything, Rose. You’ve gotta know this was the last resort. I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t desperate for sleep.”

  I regretted the fact that he had a key to our place, along with regretting a hundred other things as I glared at that beautiful asshole, sitting on the floor of Lily’s room, wrapped in pretty, frilly bedding as he stared up at me with sad, intense eyes, eyes that begged me to understand. The pissed me off the most was that I did understand.

  I felt that pull to him, in the moment. His eyes always did that to me—I swear if he looked hard enough, he could see straight through me.

  I shoved my feelings on the matter back down into that dark corner of my heart and kicked its door closed.

  My eyes narrowed, teeth clenching once. “How long have you been sleeping
here?”

  His face tightened in the smallest increment, but I saw it just the same. “Over a month.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, not even sure what to say. “Jesus Christ, Tricky. You should have asked me.”

  “Lily suggested it. I told her we should ask you, but she said you’d flip out.” He smirked a little, since she was right and all.

  “That bitch,” I breathed, only like forty-two percent serious, but that forty-two percent was really serious.

  He was still smirking just a little, that dick, even though he had those eyes of his on me like sexy lasers. “Come on, Rose. I mean, I’ve been here for a month and you didn’t even know. I’ll stay out of your way, I swear.”

  My jaw was set, but I was torn. Everything pointed to picking him up my his scruff—naked or not—and tossing him out. I just wasn’t sure how much of that was irrational. So I put on my hardass, scowling a little for effect. “It’s way too early to have this discussion. I need coffee, or whiskey. Or both. You work today?”

  “Yeah, until six.”

  “I have jury duty, but meet me here after and give me the day to think about it.”

  “Fair enough.” The shadow smirk bloomed into a full blown crooked smile. He picked up Philmore, turning it over to inspect it as his brow climbed. “You were going to assault me with a pink vibe?”

  I shrugged. “It was the closest blunt object.”

  He snuck a glance down at my legs. I’d forgotten I was nearly naked, and another little burst of adrenaline shot through me as I watched him look me over.

  I was all of a sudden very glad I’d done laundry a couple of days ago and had my top-shelf undies on instead of the days of the week panties I reserved for periods and trips to the laundromat.

  I turned for Lily’s dresser to rummage through her clothes with clumsy hands, hiding behind my dark hair to cover the flush in my cheeks. When I turned around, business casual in hand, he was still staring at my body. I ignored the shot of heat that ran through me and made a face somewhere between a scowl and a glare.