by Butler, Eden
But only for a moment.
Joe bought the house on Matthews Street after I’d been in Cavanagh for a few months. I came here first, at his insistence, and kipped in the dorms until he made it to town. It isn’t some sprawling estate, isn’t some McMansion that folks in the States seem eager to live in. The house, in fact, was at least seventy years old, a Craftsman with a wide front porch and a swing to the side. Before Autumn came into our lives, the place was quiet and smelled of cigars and men. She made it a home. Brought all sorts of girly things in like pictures and rugs and bowls of dried flowers that took the male funk away.
I haven’t been here since I snuck in to grab my shite. Days, it’s been, but as I walk up the steps, take in the planters of flowers on either side of the door and the wreath covered in oranges and yellows, I know that Autumn hasn’t stopped visiting. I knock once, holding my breath, like a vacuum salesman waiting to be given the toss. Funny how a place I loved and the people in it can make me feel like an invader.
Joe opens the door and the smile on his face lowers. “Deco?” he says, like he can’t believe he’s looking at me.
“Yeah. How is it, Joe?”
“Good, mate. Good.” He looks over my shoulder, then back at my face. The smile returns. “Have a drink?” I nod and he opens the door wider for me to enter.
It is awkward being here, wandering around my own home, eyeing corners and tables to see if there have been changes. But as I sit at the dining table, rest back against the chair while Joe fetches a bottle of Newcastle from the fridge, I let the warmth settle in my chest, try to eradicate the tension I can feel lurking around the corners of the room.
I nod a thanks to Joe when he slides me the bottle and sits across from me. He watches me, I’m guessin to see if I’ll start a row, but I can’t do more than lower my eyes to the bottle label and pick at the ends. He wants an explanation, same as me, likely an apology. Sayo was right. I’m an arsehole. Joe’s not elderly, but he’s been ill and punching him like I did was stupid.
“Look, Joe, I’m sorry,” I say. The corner of the label on my bottle digs underneath my fingernail.
“Deco, I know why you were upset. I do, son.”
My eyes shoot to his when he calls me that. We don’t mention what I know is on both our minds. I’m not his son. Not really. He raised me for a good space of my life, but we aren’t blood. My father was a wanker who skipped out on his wife. Shagged my mum and got her up the pole before he went back to his proper family. Joe and Autumn, they’re all I have, I know it. Joe knows it, but him calling me son just doesn’t seem right.
“I reckon you had your reasons for not telling me the truth.” I take a swig of the beer, giving my stepdad a chance to respond. He doesn’t, just stares at me as though he’s waiting for me to finish. “I don’t know what good reason you could have had for any of it…me, my father, the shite you kept from me about Autumn—” I stop speaking when Joe exhales, like he’s tired of rehashing the past. “It’s not something that can just be brushed under the rug, is it?”
Joe slouches, covers his face with his thin fingers. When he speaks, his words are muffled behind his hands. “I’ve explained everything to you about that, Deco.” He folds his arms over his chest, tight, defensive. “And if I’m being honest, it’s nothing to do with you, that bit with Autumn and my family here.”
My temper flares, but I’m able to push back my anger with another drink. “If you say so.”
“Autumn’s forgiven me, son. I was an arsehole about the whole situation, but the thing with your father, that was to protect you.” Joe leans on the table, folding his hands into a steeple. “Micah O’Malley was wild, careless, and when his wife found out about you, well, aside it being a scandal, it was quite the mess. The things that stupid cow said about your mum, Deco, no one wanted you to be caught up in that. Clara told me, they thought of leaving town, she and your mum, but then O’Malley takes his wife and moves off instead.” Joe brushes his hand across the table, wiping away the moisture my beer left on the surface. “When I went back home, when your mum was sick, she told me she hadn’t ever mentioned Micah to you. He’d been long dead by then and I reckon that’s a part of what made her the sad thing she was. But he’d had a son with his wife, a sickly little thing from what I heard, and your mum was still so very eaten away by grief and shame over the whole mess. She didn’t want you to know, was afraid it would hurt you.”
“So she asked you to keep it from me?”
“Not as such, no.” Joe lets his hands fall into his lap, moves his thumbs together. “But she did want to wait, until you were older. But then we came here and Autumn and you and…well, things were good, you see.” He wasn’t wrong. For months, we’d all been happy and Autumn had slipped into our family like she had always been a part of it. “I didn’t see the sense in dredging up the past, not after all I’d already put the pair of you through.” We let the quiet eat the seconds between us. There was a lot of information to take in, details that made the mystery of my past, of who my mum had been, fit together a bit more than it had, than what I had realized from my kid-sized view of things.
Still, it would have been so easy for Joe to tell me these things years ago. I was a big lad. I could have handled it. But he was ever the puppet master, still controlling, releasing small shards of truth when he saw fit. The thought of his needing to control our lives allowed my anger to return some. But more than anything, I wanted our family back. I wanted Autumn to slip back into where she belonged, at my side, here in this home, the three of us together again. But then Joe clears his throat, sits up straight as though what he said next was a commandment I shouldn’t bother refusing. “I think you should take the money.”
“No.” It slipped out of my mouth instantly.
Joe was surprised, I could tell. He looked at me as though I’d grown a third ear. “Deco, it would be a good start for you and Autumn. Set you off on the right road. You wouldn’t have to struggle so much. You’ll both be done with your studies soon and then you’ll want to marry, maybe have children. That money could help.”
I laughed at the idea. Joe was angling for a future that Autumn and I were far, far away from. It was what I wanted, eventually, but now, especially now? Please. I couldn’t even get her to return my texts. “Joe, Autumn doesn’t want any of that. Not with me.”
“O’course she does.” He seems genuinely surprised, as though he hadn’t caught on to the fact that we haven’t spoken in days. “Oh, you’ve hacked her off well and good, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. Take the money, son. It’s the least O’Malley could have done for you.”
The money again. Damn it, why can’t he just let that shite go? “I don’t want his money. I don’t want anything but Autumn, and I don’t even have that now. She won’t take my calls. She won’t see me, she won’t talk to me and all you care about is the fecking money?”
I have a fair notion that I should leave. Now. My anger is intensifying and I know that if I’m not careful, Joe and I will be at each other’s throats again. He just didn’t get it. What’s the point of that money? It won’t bring my mum back. It won’t make up for the fact that I’m some wanker’s bastard.
Joe’s arms are tight across his chest and I can tell that he’s not saying whatever has popped into his head. He senses the tension. Knows me well enough to recognize when I’m losing it. “Deco, I just want you to be able to take care of her. And yourself.”
“Yep. I got that.” It was clear to me now, his insistence on me taking that money. Just why he thought it was the only thing to do. Damn him, it all made sense. My chair squeaks against the floor when I jerk out of it eager to get away from my stepdad.
I’m not good enough for her, I know that’s what he’s thinking.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around, Joe.” When he follows me, stops me right at the front door, I don’t jerk away from him.
“Saturday night, at McKinney’s
Autumn and Sayo want to have a party. My birthday, you see. Something small, karaoke and cake.”
I close my eyes, feel worse that I’d forgotten Joe’s birthday, but then a thought comes to me and I frown at my stepdad. “You hate karaoke. Autumn does as well.”
“It was Sayo’s idea. It’ll be a laugh. You should be there, son.”
I don’t make any promises to my stepdad, even though it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the concept of broken promises. “Thanks for the beer.” I leave my home, with Joe staring after me, wishing I knew when I’d be back. If I’d be back.
I couldn’t go anywhere in this fecking town without seeing Autumn.
She was in the library. She was sitting in the courtyard. She even walked past the bloody pitch on her way home.
Not that I’d noticed.
Much.
She was at McKinney’s. A bloke can’t have a bleeding pint with his mate without her showing up. Everywhere I go, she’s fecking there. Looking like she did, all pink cheeked and full lipped.
Freckles covering her face, her neck.
Jaysus.
Just thinking of those freckles, and knowing how they scatter down her neck, across her collarbone, to her gorgeous round tits, had me harder than bleeding steel.
I’ve tried to stay away. It’s for the best, if I’m being honest. Take the book sale for instance, I managed to keep away from her all day, though I will admit I couldn’t keep from watching her. But I managed, you see, and felt right grand about it. But then Joe put her on the spot, asked her about her birthday and what did Autumn do? Bleeding caved. Let him talk her into something she didn’t want any part of. Fecking bitty martyr, that one.
I told myself I’d hang back. I told myself that if she knew the truth, knew about my family, about me and Joe, then she wouldn’t be too keen on me chatting her up. She wouldn’t want me kissing her. She wouldn’t want me touching her. Christ. Just the memory of what she had let me do to her that night at her apartment made me want to skewer my eyes out every time I thought on it. I wanted to drive the taste of her skin off my tongue. I wanted to give her the space she needed, until Joe got off his arse and told her the truth.
But stay away from her completely? That wasn’t bloody likely.
I thought I’d have a nice, quiet night with Donovan. We had a shedload of shite to finish for our Modern Analytics project. So this night out at McKinney’s was meant to be a means for us to bounce ideas off each other. Then Autumn walked in with that skirt curving around her glorious arse, and that fitted shirt showing off her glorious breasts, and all thought of work with Donovan went to hell.
I watched Autumn down two small glasses of wine. She sat with her back straight, with her beautiful gray eyes flicking up to meet mine in the mirror. She knew I was there. She knew I saw her, but she didn’t speak, didn’t bother to frown at me, scowl, shoot me the bird, nothing. I should have been fine and good with that. After all, I did give her the toss, much as it fecking killed me to do. But to have her ignore me completely? That’s a ruddy load of shite I didn’t want.
She talked to the bartender, Sam, I think. That tall bastard smiled too much at her, laughed too loud at her jokes, and I had to curl my fists under my arms to keep from reaching out to wallop his face.
“Deco, come on man, what are you staring at?” Donovan said, punching me on the shoulder to pull my attention away from Autumn.
“Sorry, mate. Just got distracted.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Donovan pushed his notebook into his backpack, clearly resigned to my not being able to concentrate. “Stop being a pussy. Go talk to her,” he said, but I waved my hand, dismissing him.
Then that uppity caffler Morrison ran in and sidled right nearly on top of Autumn. I didn’t realize I was grunting at the pair of them until Donovan jabbed me in the arm.
“Be cool, man,” he said, nodding toward the bar. Morrison looked right at me, gave me his usual pouncy glare, but Donovan hit me again and I looked away. “You can’t fight him, dumbass. You’re already suspended.” He popped me in the back of the head when I looked over at Autumn again. “Let it go, man. She’s not worth it.”
“Fuck you, she’s not worth it,” I said, ready to rearrange Donovan’s face. How the hell could he think that? Hadn’t he seen how gorgeous she was? How sweet? How when she smiled every inch of her face lit up? My frown was heavy, pulling down my mouth when Donovan laughed at me. Barmy arsehole was fucking with me.
I was about to tell him off, let him know what an amadan he was being, but then Autumn stood, let fecking Morrison touch her lower back and she disappeared down the hall. She didn’t even look back at me, didn’t spare a single glance in my direction.
To hell with that.
Donovan tried to stop me when I left our booth, but he was three full inches shorter than me and weighed about fifty pound less. He wasn’t going to stop me. I wasn’t an idiot, though. I waited until Morrison was distracted, until he and that Norwegian-looking bartender friend of his were deep in conversation before I slipped right pass them and down the hallway.
She was leaning over the sink when I walked in the bathroom. Didn’t even blink when the door closed. But then she straightened up and we locked glances in the mirror.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said and I could tell she was hacked off at me being there. I didn’t give a shite if she was. There’s no way I could let her leave with Morrison.
“No, you don’t.” I took a step to stand right behind her. She smelled like vanilla and I had to dig my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her. “Uppity bollocks is waiting for you.” I tried not to glare at her, to make my face indifferent and I was immediately glad she couldn’t read my mind. If she knew how much I wanted her, she’d slap me silly. I tried for distraction, for anger. It was easier to pick a row with her than for her to catch on to what I was thinking. Besides, she looked fecking beautiful when she was screaming at me with her cheeks pink and her breath catching into a growl. “What happened to not reliving the past, McShane?”
Autumn served me with a vicious glare and I loved seeing her anger surface, those small bits of her simmering. She tossed her paper towel in the bin and tried to leave me, but I trapped her against the wall, stood too close. I couldn’t help myself.
This had never happened to me. I’d never been so bleeding out of my head over a girl. Normally, I got bored. I didn’t let myself linger too long when the excitement had tapered off. But Autumn, Jaysus, I didn’t think I’d ever be tired of her. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to not touch her, to not want her. I knew I’d likely seem like some pathetic stalker, but I couldn’t fecking control myself around her.
“Please leave me alone,” she said.
I looked in her eyes, at the soft features of her face and they gave her away. She wanted me touching her. I could feel it, see her pleading eyes, her mock disgust at me in every crinkle around her eyes. She moved right and I followed her, rounding my arms, flattening my hands to trap her against the wall. What the hell was I doing?
He was out there, Morrison. I’d seen the way he gawked at her, how he stared after her like he wanted to devour her. Autumn’s lips were full, tempting and I wanted to taste her. Right then, right there, with a crowd of people outside the room, with Morrison waiting to take her away from me. Her eyes shifted, up to my mouth and I knew she didn’t want him, that she hadn’t stopped wanting me. Her skin was soft, delicate when I touched her cheek, then let my fingertips slide down to that impossibly delectable bottom lip.
“You can’t go with him.”
“Why the hell not?”
This time I didn’t like her anger. That wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to see her, to feel her, to remind her that I hadn’t disappeared, that I wouldn’t. Morrison didn’t know how to touch her. He couldn’t know what she needed. He was as much use as a back pocket on a shirt.
When she tried half-heartedly to push me away, I leaned in, rested my forehead against hers. It t
ook all my composure to rein myself in. My heart pounded against my chest and I felt my pulse working like a jackhammer in my throat.
I inhaled, closed my eyes, but couldn’t break the sensation of our bodies touching, of her perfect tits rubbing against my chest. When she tried to go for the door, I slammed it shut, locked it. I needed a moment to make her see reason. To explain… fecking Joe, I couldn’t explain. Shite. Not yet.
“He’s not the one, love.” She had to realize that. That idiot wanker? No way was he good enough for my McShane. “You know that. Deep in your gut, you know it isn’t Tucker.”
“Then who is it?” She practically screamed that bit. “It’s not you. You’ve told me that a thousand times. This…thing, this whatever we had, is over.” I tried to think of some reasonable excuse for pushing her away, one that would still shield the truth that wasn’t mine to share. There wasn’t any. In every one I came off like a bleeding arsehole. “No, Declan. It was your choice.” She paused, took a breath and for the first time I saw her anger slip away. Behind it was the loss I thought she felt. She was hurt. I’d hurt her, I knew that, but she’d never let me see it before. I had been unfair, have been since the first time I saw her with that bollocks. The day after I broke it off with her. Until now, she’d guarded herself, hadn’t let me see a bit of the hurt I’d caused her, not really. But it was clear in those gray eyes. How she wanted me. How she missed me. Fuck me, I wanted her too.
Autumn yanked on my collar and I was so fecking close to grabbing her, to taking her right then and there. But then she spoke and her voice cracked and I was too much of a shite to do anything but let her touch me, let her do with me whatever the hell she wanted. I let her control me. Fecking gladly. “I wanted you so badly. I still—” She squinted her lids tight as though that last bit slipped out of her mouth. Fuck this. She wanted me and right then I could give a good shite less why I needed to back away. I leaned forward, couldn’t help but touch her neck, feel the warmth on her skin; skin that I’ve tasted. Skin that I wanted to taste over and over again. But before I could, she jerked away from me, tried to put distance between us. “You rejected me. I’m not going to play games with you anymore.”
