Anything For Us

by Lola StVil

  “It’s not like I cheated on you.”

  “Well, maybe it would have been better if you did! I’ve fucked women before without any feelings attached. But what I’ve never done is open my soul to someone I wasn’t in love with. And yet here you go opening your heart to two guys you hardly know!” he says bitterly. He opens the freezer and takes out a bottle of vodka and pours himself a drink but doesn’t drink it.

  “They are your brothers; I thought it would be safe to talk to them,” I plead.

  “Do you think that makes it better? It doesn’t! When you needed someone, when you were terrified and spiraling, you didn’t reach for the man that was next to you in bed. Instead, you reached out to someone else.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “And the worst part is you’ve been lying to me—for weeks. We’ve talked, joked around, made love, and the whole time you were lying to me. How the fuck am I supposed to get past that?”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer; instead, he throws out the shot he poured, never having tasted it. He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and heads out the door.

  “Cash, where are you going?!”

  He looks back at me with stark disappointment and anguish. “I can’t be here right now…”

  I watch helplessly as the man I love walks away, maybe for good…

  The reason I went out of my way to sign up for a gym that’s twenty-four hours is that you never know what time you will need to blow off steam. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure if I didn’t have twenty-four-hour access to this place, my ass would in trouble. But as often as I come here to work off my anger, this is the first time I’ve come because of a woman. I’ve never felt strongly enough about a woman to let her get to me, let alone send me into a fucking tailspin.

  I head to my locker, change quickly, and start my workout. I don’t want to think, and the only way to stop my thoughts is to get moving. My first machine is the treadmill. I run like the fucking devil is after me. The world goes by in a blur as I try to outrun my thoughts. My leg muscles burn and my heart threatens to burst out of my chest. By the time I’ve done my full workout, I’m drowning in sweat and exhausted. The workout helps minimize my anger. It’s not gone, but at least I can blink again. I hit the shower and change into the spare clothes I keep in my locker.

  It’s one in the morning by the time I walk back out onto the street. The cool air feels good, and I decide to take a walk. What was supposed to be a ten-minute walk turns out to be an hour. I walk into the nearest bar and have a few shots of whiskey. I don’t pay attention to what’s going on in the bar. I don’t want company and I sure as hell don’t want to make conversation. So when a woman begins to come towards me, one look at the stern expression on my face and she can tell that it’s not a good idea.

  I’m not drunk, but if I had taken my car, I damn sure wouldn’t drive given the number of shots I’ve had. I take out my cell to call a cab only to find that I have no battery whatsoever. My cell is dead. “Fuck!” I groan. I ask the bartender to call me a cab and soon I’m in the car headed to the place I’m not sure I’m ready to go—home.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask Wyatt as I spot him walking down the steps of my house.

  “The lead we had on the case I’m working didn’t pan out. I thought I’d come check on you before I head home. That’s when Sky told me you left and didn’t say where you were going.”

  “You and my girlfriend sure are close,” I reply bitterly.

  “Yes, we are secret lovers; we thought it was time you knew,” he says dryly.

  “That shit is not funny.”

  “C’mon, you idiot, you know that woman loves you,” he says as he takes a seat on the front steps.

  “How would I know, she never said that shit, not once. And just so we are clear, you and I are not good. How the fuck can you keep that shit from me, Wyatt?”

  “She asked me to.”

  “That’s bullshit. I’m your brother; your loyalty should have been to me.”

  “My loyalty was to you,” he says calmly.

  “Oh really? And how the fuck do you figure that?” I shout.

  “Okay, first of all, you are going to keep your voice down.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me she got hurt? Why didn’t you tell me you met her?” I demand.

  “Because she needed to know that she could trust me.”

  “Why is it so important that my girl trust you? Who the hell is she to you?”

  “If you don’t fuck it up—she’s gonna be my sister-in-law.”

  I didn’t expect that shit. The certainty in his voice stops me cold. It causes the anger in me to go silent. I just look down at Wyatt, not sure how to react.

  “You’re going to marry that woman,” he says, waiting for his words to sink in.

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah, I do. Now, sit the fuck down and let’s talk so I can get my ass home, kiss my kids, and make love to my wife,” he orders. I sit down beside him on the step, still taken aback. Wyatt doesn’t say things like that. My brothers and I generally don’t go deep into each other’s love lives.

  “Cash, I really think she’s the right one for you. So does Logan. Think about it, he went into the kitchen and tried to help you fix it. Normally, Logan doesn’t give a shit who you bang. As long as that chick is legal and willing, he’s good with it. But this time he went out of his way. Logan doesn’t do that unless he thinks you’ve found something special,” he says.

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think a while back, my brother—a guy who can’t commit to a cable company—sat me down and told me he was in love. That’s not something you just give up on.”

  “I know but…she lied to me,” I reply as I feel my chest tighten.

  “Yeah, I get that. And she’s wrong, and you guys need to figure that out. But that’s just the emotional part. You’re not asking the question you need to ask.”

  “And what the hell would that be?”

  “Why did she lie to you?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “Well, don’t you think you should find out?”

  “Wait—do you know?”

  “I have a feeling—I’m not one hundred percent sure, and it’s just a guess. But I’d bet cash money that what Monica said to her really scared her.”

  “What did Monica say?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “She said they exchanged words; I was too upset about her being attacked to ask for more info.”

  “Well, ask,” he says.

  I stand up, prompting him to do the same. “I’m starting to feel like crap that I’ve kept you from Winter and the kids,” I admit.

  “You should; you’re a horrible person,” Wyatt says in a serious tone.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot,” I sigh.

  “Look, I need to get home; it’s really late. But just tell me this: when did you know you were in love with her? And it better not be in bed because that shit does not count—or so I’ve been told.” I laugh and tell him about the fort she helped me make.

  “With lights and everything?”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, lights and everything.”

  “Wow, I knew I liked that girl,” he says as he makes his way to his car.

  I shout to him, “Hey, next time you come by, you can bring leftovers, you know? Coming empty-handed is rude. I’m just saying.”

  “Fuck off!” he replies as he smiles and closes the car door. Before driving away, his expression turns serious. “Cash, go home. Fix it.”

  ***

  I’m not sure what I will find on the other side of the door, and that makes me anxious. It’s ironic, my team and I have broken down countless doors and entered life-threatening situations. Yet I don’t recall being as on edge as I am right now. I put the key in the door and there she is putting the things she’s left behind over the past few weeks into her overnight bag.

  My heart is beating
so fucking hard I can’t hear anything but the pounding echoing in my ears. I force myself to stay calm because the fact is if she wants to go, I can’t stop her. If she wants to leave for tonight or for forever, it’s out of my hands. It’s a fact that is really hard to live with but a fact nevertheless.

  “Are you going somewhere?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as strained as I think it does. She looks up at me; her eyes are puffy and red from crying. I ignore the overwhelming desire I have to hold her and press her against me. The thought that she has been here all night crying makes my chest hurt. I don’t care how mad I get at her; I don’t want her to hurt at all, ever.

  “I’m going away as you wanted,” she says.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I texted you and said that I knew you were upset and that I was sorry. You didn’t text me back. And then I texted you again and said ‘Hey, just let me know that you’re somewhere safe” and you didn’t reply. So finally I took the hint. I realized you were staying away because I was in your space, so I texted you that I was going to leave and you didn’t reply. I finally asked if I should stay away permanently and you…you didn’t even respond. I know you’re pissed, but you couldn’t send me back one damn text?!” she says, sounding deeply wounded.

  I take my cell out of my jacket and toss it onto the sofa. “My cell died. It died hours ago.”

  “Oh, I thought…”

  “Yeah, I know what you thought,” I reply curtly.

  “Well, what was I supposed to think? You took off and didn’t want to talk.”

  “What is so wrong with that?”

  “You are shutting me out.”

  “Are you serious right now? You kept me out of everything for weeks, and now you are mad because I missed a few texts?”

  “This can’t be tit for tat. I know I was wrong. I just wanted you to talk to me about it.”

  I can feel frustration gripping me once again. I try and use my training to keep me from losing my temper. I pinch the bridge of my nose and beg God to somehow give me strength not to lose it. The last thing we need is an argument inside an argument.

  “Sky, I know that it sucks to be in this space right now, when you don’t know what’s going to happen. And I get that you want to talk. But just because it’s what you want it doesn’t mean you’re going to get it—at least not right now. I’m not trying to be an asshole; I need time not to be angry anymore. And I’m sorry if that requires more than three hours, but that shit you did really pissed me off.”

  “Yes, I get that, Cash, I do. But you can’t just decide not to talk about it!”

  “ARGH! That’s not what I said. I said, ‘Not now.’ Okay? I don’t want to talk now.”

  “Wyatt came, and I couldn’t even tell him where you were. I was worried about you. Do you get that?”

  “Yeah, Sky. I get it. Like if I had an altercation at work, you’d want to know because you worry. Well, I worry too. And I would have liked to know the fact that someone put their hands on you.”

  “How many times do I have to say that I am sorry? Why don’t you believe me?”

  “It’s not about you being sorry, it’s about me being able to accept that apology, and right now, I can’t. I need some time, what is so hard about that?”

  “I don’t want us to argue; I don’t want us to be like this.”

  “THEN DON’T LIE TO ME!” I bark. The ire and emotion in my voice is unequivocal. The silence that follows is deafening. I’m not sure what she’s responding to, the anguish, the irritation, or the anger; either way, I’ve done exactly what I didn’t want to do—hurt her. She grabs her things and heads for the door. I reach out to touch her, and she shrugs me off. This is why I didn’t want to talk yet. This is why I just wanted some more time.

  She opens the door. “Skylar.”

  She reluctantly turns to face me, her hands never moving from the doorknob. She’s all but out the door.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t text you back—again, my cell died. But for the record, I would never break up with you over a text. I’m not an asshole, and I’m not fifteen. I can’t make you spend the night if you don’t want to. I know you want to fix this. And I want to fix it too. And I’m not saying I will never forgive, but I am saying that it won’t happen tonight. If you’re okay with that, I’d like you to stay.”

  She closes the door and puts her overnight bag down. “Okay, now what?” she asks.

  “I’m gonna sleep in the other room; you can have the master bedroom.”

  “Okay,” she says in a weak voice.

  Again, I just want to hold her and tell her we are okay. But I don’t just want to tell her what she wants to hear. I need to think about what Wyatt said and process everything. This isn’t a fucking movie; I can’t just write a happy ending. The truth is, I’m more than just pissed off. If my anger were the only thing, we’d be fine. But it’s not. My girl needed someone, badly, and she looked for help elsewhere. What does that say about us?

  It’s almost four in the morning when I finally get to bed. It’s lonely as fuck without her. And even though she’s only a room away, she might as well be on another planet. There’s a very big part of me that wants to go to her, get under the covers, and hold her. That part wants me to throw out everything that’s happened in the past few hours and act like it never existed.

  But there’s also a small part of me that feels…stupid. I opened up and she made me think she was doing the same, but all the while, she wasn’t. I used a wrecking ball to break down as many walls as I could, and she won’t even open a window.

  I lie in bed, wanting to go to her, to be with her. At one point, I get up and place my hand on the door, desperate to see her. But seven little words stop me dead in my tracks:

  She’s never even said, “I love you…”

  It’s only been two days since I’ve seen Cash, but it feels so much longer. He said he needed time and he meant it. However, to his credit, he didn’t disappear or reject me the one or two times that I reached out to him. In fact, he called to say good morning and goodnight at the end of each day.

  I wanted to text him and tell him that I miss him, but I didn’t want to overstep. My best friend kindly pointed out that I could be somewhat impatient. I totally disagree with her, but then she points out that I am what she calls a “tapper.”

  “Wait, what does that even mean?” I ask Kenzy.

  “It means that you are constantly tapping your foot when you are waiting for something even if you know exactly how long it’s going to be. You suck at waiting. It’s a fact. But I still love you,” she teases.

  “I don’t tap,” I reply while I’m standing in front of the microwave…tapping my foot. Damn her!

  “Okay, okay. Maybe I tap—a little. But what’s wrong with that?”

  She hops off my counter, stands next to me by the microwave, and reads the numbers displayed.

  “You know that you have ninety seconds left until the popcorn is ready. You can tap your foot all you want, missy, but that’s how long it takes. You can push the elevator button over and over, but it does not change how long it takes the elevator to get to the ground floor. You can try and Jedi-mind-trick Cash, but he won’t talk until he’s ready.”

  “You’re saying I’m an impatient child?” I reply.

  “Yes, I am.” She laughs.

  The microwave beeps, the popcorn is ready. Kenzy blocks my way so that I can’t open it.

  “Patience, grasshopper,” she jokes.

  “Very funny. I’m starving. Move it, missy!” I reply as I playfully push her aside.

  It’s around six in the evening, and I know Kenzy has other things she’d rather be doing, but she insists she just wants to hang out with me. That’s her way of saying she doesn’t trust me not to lose my cool and call Cash and say something like “So, are we breaking up or what?”

  I know it would be stupid and unfair to rush him. But knowing something is stupid doesn’t mean you won’t do it. So, Kenzy is
standing guard. I told her that I don’t need her to do that. I love that she knows when I’m lying. I do need her. We settle on the sofa to watch a rerun of The Bachelor. I don’t like the show but Kenzy loves it, and I figure since she’s here for me the least we can do is watch what she wants.

  I pop a handful of popcorn into my mouth and sip on the bottled water on the table. When a commercial comes on, Kenzy turns to me and asks how I am.

  “Good,” I reply.

  “Sky…?” she says as she raises her eyebrows and folds her arms across her chest. Damn her for knowing me so well.

  “I miss him. I miss what we used to be before I went and did the very thing he told me not to do.”

  “Yeah, I know. But really it’s only been a few days. It’s not like he’s moved and changed his phone number. You are giving him the time he asked for to process, even though you’re a toe-tapper. That’s not an easy thing to do for you people,” she says. I throw the nearest pillow at her, and the show comes back on. While on TV, some pretty woman with fake boobs laments about not finding real men, my mind drifts…

  Ever since the first time we had sex without a condom, true to his word, Cash made sure that we always used protection. We have condoms in every room in his house. But that doesn’t change what happened the first night. And since I didn’t take the morning-after pill, there is still a chance I could be… Even with us fighting, the thought of a baby with Cash doesn’t scare me. And yes, I know that’s not rational.

  The Bachelor has just ended—in tears—surprise, surprise. And I get a text from Cash.

  Kenzy sits up and tries to brace herself. “Oh my god, what did he say? Is he leaving us? He better not be; I am not dressed for a breakup,” Kenzy says, downing her glass of wine in one swallow.

  “Wait, isn’t that my line?” I ask.

  “Sky, this isn’t just about you. Do you know how many pennies I’ve thrown into fountains, how many fallen stars I have wished on for us to find someone great like Cash? I put a lot of work into this; you and Agent Gorgeous better not screw this up! Now, what the hell did the text say?”