by Odette Stone
“Are you okay?” that damn smooth voice spoke from behind me.
I spun around. Porter stood there, his hand in one pocket, looking at me.
“I’m sorry.”
His shoulder moved a fraction. “For what?”
I shook my head, ignoring his questions. “How were things with my dad?”
“Fine.”
He moved over beside me, and together we examined the immaculate golf course. There wasn’t a blade of grass out of place. Not a single leaf on the hedge had the balls to grow out of formation. It was complete overkill. I had no idea why people thought this represented beauty. For me, it represented control.
“What’s your goal here, Beth?”
I swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“Why did you start all of this in the first place?” His lips moved to an almost smile. “Besides the fact that you’re an obvious SD.”
“What’s an SD?”
“A shit disturber.”
I paused and blinked at him. “Have you been talking to Emily?”
He smiled. “Nope. But I knew that about you the second I laid eyes on you.” I wanted to ask him why he thought that, but he steered me back to the topic at hand. “What do you want, Beth? What is my role in all of this?”
“I’m sorry I mixed you up in all this. I just wanted some space to breathe. I never knew it would go this far.”
“And you thought having a fake boyfriend would buy you that space.”
“It was an impulsive move when I was drunk, but yes. In theory, I thought it would.”
“You know what we call that in the military?”
“What?”
“A disruptive technique.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, we disrupt the status quo of the enemy, and it shifts their energy to deal with that disruption, and their focus is pulled off the real issue at hand.”
“You’re my disruptive technique?”
He shrugged. “It’s working, isn’t it?”
My lips parted. “What do you mean?”
“If I wasn’t here, what would you parents be talking about?”
“My lack of a career, and how they want me to move back home. Don’t forget my lack of fashion sense, and when exactly do I plan on taking Yates back? God forbid I don’t take back a cheater.”
“And what are they focusing on tonight?”
“You.”
He smiled. “It’s working.”
“But it sucks for you.”
“I’m the fake boyfriend. It’s doesn’t matter what they think of me.”
I blinked. Who even thought like that? “But doesn’t it hurt your feelings?”
“Sweetheart, most days on my job, someone is trying to kill me. That’s the kind of shit that gets me worked up, not whether or not your mom thinks I should go to college.”
I debated his words. “ People try to kill you?”
“They haven’t succeeded yet.”
I took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you.”
“Because you need my help.”
“Yup.”
I looked back into those amazing grey eyes. “And after you get my help?”
“If this works for you, it works for me.”
“For how long?”
“When it stops working, it’ll stop.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Ready to go back inside?”
“Yeah. Let’s say goodbye to my parents and get out of here.” I paused. “What did my dad talk to you about?”
“Oh, not much,” he dismissed. “All the usual stuff about wanting me to take care of his daughter.”
“You don’t have to take care of me.”
“I know.”
So why did it feel like he was?
When I walked out of my bedroom the next morning, Porter was stretched out on the couch and looking at his phone. He had folded up the bedding, and everything was back in its place. As far as houseguests, he was stellar.
I glanced down as I passed him. I saw a glimpse of a photo, but he placed his phone down too quickly for me to get a good look.
“How did you sleep?” I asked him.
He sat up. “Not bad.”
How long had he been up? It was Sunday, sure, but I knew military-types got up early.
There was coffee on the kitchen counter. It was cool, so he’d probably been awake for some time. I poured myself a cup and took a sip, studying him. His attention was drawn back to his phone. Staring at an image that I couldn’t quite see.
“So, is today the day I learn my fate?”
He glanced up at me. “About what?”
“The thing you need my help with.”
He didn’t answer.
I tried again. “I’m pretty sure after last night, you’re favor could be illegal, and I wouldn’t complain.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “You’d help me deal with a body?”
I winced. “Not quite there yet, but maybe armed robbery.”
He stood up. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
“No, but I could be the getaway driver.”
“Do I have to share the loot?”
“Nope.”
He put his hands in his pocket. “You don’t need to help me.”
I froze. “Why not?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Where will you go?”
He shrugged and gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something was off.
I pressed again, “I want to help.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
A long, suffering pause sidled between us. And then those grey eyes lifted up. “You sure?”
“Yes. Whatever it is, I’m in.”
He studied me a bit longer. “I need to go pick up some boxes.”
What? That was the favor?
“Will I need my flack jacket?”
The corners of his lips twitched upward. “Nope.”
“Are we hitting the mob?”
“No.”
“Breaking into a prison?”
Another smile. “No.”
“Okay. I think I can handle it.” I turned to put my coffee mug in the sink. “Are we leaving now?”
He was looking down at his phone again. “3 P.M.”
“I’ll clear my schedule.”
“You have a schedule?”
I shrugged. “When you watch as much Netflix as I do, you need a schedule.”
He was full-blown smiling now, and it felt victorious. “I’m going for a run.”
“No problem.”
I smiled as he left, but as soon as he closed the door, it wilted. Call it instinct, but I knew something was bothering my hot guest. And I needed to find out exactly what that was.
Chapter 10
The second he left my apartment, I called Emily. I needed intel.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Em.”
“Beth,” I could hear the smile in her voice, “How are you?”
“Good. What are you doing today?”
“Jackson is getting ready to ship out. He leaves tomorrow.”
I paused. I knew that Porter was part of Jackson’s unit, which meant he’d be gone, too. It felt weird knowing that Porter would be leaving soon. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Porter didn’t tell me that he’s leaving.”
She hesitated. “Porter is on a leave of absence.”
“Oh.”
Emily cleared her throat. “So, how’s it going there?”
“Porter went for a run.”
“And?”
“And he told me what the favor is.”
“What is it?”
“We’re going to pick up some boxes this afternoon.”
She sucked in her breath. “Oh.”
“Emily, you want to tell me what’s going on?”
; “I…you know.”
“Please, Em.” I wasn’t above begging. “Porter was a rock star yesterday with my mom. He went way beyond the call of duty. Can you give me some hint of what’s going on?”
I knew Emily. She wanted to tell me. She just needed more convincing.
I tried again. “Give me something to go on. So I can help him.”
“It’s his girlfriend.”
My entire body ran cold. “He has a girlfriend?”
“He did. His ex. Her name’s Felicia.”
“And?”
“She moved with him to Virginia when he joined the team, and they seemed great.”
I took a seat on the couch. My heart was pounding, and I didn’t trust my legs to hold me up. “What happened?”
“When he came home from a deployment, she was gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“She packed up their apartment and left.”
“What?!”
“All the furniture. The dishes. Everything was gone when he got back. Jackson said that there wasn’t a single thing left in that apartment. It was completely cleared out, except for his clothes. He said it was the loneliest thing he had ever seen.”
I hated her.
Whoever she was, I. Hated. Her.
Empathy and emotion saturated Emily’s voice. “He found out that she was in New York a couple days before Theo’s christening.”
Wow.
I shut my eyes, remembering how silent and emotionless he had been. He’d looked like a wild man with his beard and messy hair. And those eyes. Those silver eyes, just watching me.
I pressed my forehead against my palm, regret making its way through my body. “I thought he was an asshole.”
“He wasn’t himself that weekend. He hasn’t been himself for months.”
No kidding.
Emily continued, “She didn’t leave a note or a message. She changed her phone number, too. But when he found out that she moved to New York, he applied for his leave of absence.”
My mind raced. “She’s here. Living in New York.”
“Yeah.”
“And today we’re going to pick up some boxes.”
“She took things that didn’t belong to her. His medals of honor and his grandfather’s watch. That kind of stuff.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I think she wanted him to find her.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s so mean.”
“Porter asked for an L.O.A. to deal with his personal stuff. The second they got back from a turnaround, he headed to New York.”
“When was that?”
“The night you got arrested.”
I was the worst. It was official.
Emily kept talking, “I’m really surprised that he wants you to go with him.”
No kidding.
I made a noise in my throat.
“What?”
I shook my head. “I’m an asshole. It’s been all about me from the moment I met him.”
“Beth, you’ve been great.”
I sat there, thinking. “Has he seen her since then?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Have they talked?”
Emily let out a long breath. “I don’t think so. Jackson said that Porter mentioned a text. But I don’t think they’ve actually talked.”
I thought about him lying on the couch, looking at a photo on his phone. Had he been looking at a picture of her? Thinking about her? Did he still love her?
“How long were they together?”
“Awhile.”
“Which is how long?”
“I think maybe three or four years?”
“That’s so long.”
“I’m so glad you’re there for him. Jackson’s really worried about him. This is actually working out a lot better than we expected.”
“How so?”
“We know where he is, for one.”
I chewed on my lip. “Okay. Thanks. I understand why you didn’t want to tell me that, but it’s going to help me from making this worse.”
“We really appreciate what you're doing.”
I snorted. “I’m not ‘doing’ anything. Porter has been taking care of me more than I have of him.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“He’s lucky to have you guys.”
“How did last night go anyways?”
I laid back, resting my head on his folded bedding. I could smell him. Clean and masculine. “My mom didn’t know how to deal, but Porter was a total gentleman. Really patient and sane.”
“He’s a good guy.”
We both pondered that statement for a moment until I finally broke the silence. “Why did she do it? Why did she leave him?”
“We don’t know. Porter said they were good right up until she left.”
“What a mind fuck.”
“Tell me about it. Text me and tell me how it went.”
“I will.”
“And Beth?”
“Yeah?”
“If you get a chance, teach that bitch a lesson.”
I couldn’t hold back my laugh. Maybe I would.
Chapter 11
Someone once said, ‘It’s strange how knowledge changes perception.’ Learning about Porter and his past changed everything.
The drive to pick up boxes passed in complete silence. His silence held meaning now. What was he thinking? What could he possibly be feeling, knowing that he was about to face the woman who had up and left without saying goodbye?
I glanced over at him. He looked casual with his t-shirt and baseball cap. His movements were calm and relaxed. No emotion marred his features. He didn’t even look like he was deep in thought.
Was he feeling anything? Did this matter to him? Why had he asked me to come? For moral support? Or did he actually need me there to help carry his boxes?
We turned down a cute street that was lined with big, leafy trees and old brick apartments. He parked on the side of the road, killed the engine, then leaned forward and studied a building through the windshield.
I sat silently beside him. And we just sat there. He inspected the building, and I tried but failed not to look at him.
Moments ticked by.
He wasn’t moving, but he was thinking. Those intelligent grey eyes took in everything about that building. But still, he didn’t move.
The words blurted out of me before I could stop them. “What’s her name?”
“What makes you think it’s a woman?”
“It’s always a woman.”
He rubbed his face, then turned that intensity on me. But he didn’t speak.
Those eyes. How did I ever think these eyes held no emotion? Right now, they were the color of a turbulent sea. Stormy grey.
“Do you want her back?” My question lingered in the cab. Like a faint perfume.
He dropped his gaze. “I don’t know.”
We sat there in silence, then he gave me a tight smile that was so full of regret and ambiguity, it made my heart ache.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
He thought about that for a moment and slowly nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay.”
I started to gather my purse.
He spoke again. “Can you do that thing?”
I froze. “What thing?”
He shrugged. “The thing.”
My eyes were on his face. “Could you be a bit more specific?”
He opened the door. “The thing. Just do it.”
I watched him walk around the front of the trunk before I scrambled after him. What the fuck was the thing? I had lots of things.
I caught up with him at the front of the building. He was buzzing an apartment.
A throaty voice filled the crisp air. “Hello?”
“Felicia. It’s Porter.” His voice was clipped. Cold.
“Come on up.”
He held the door but didn’
t look at me. A staircase circled around, but we stood and waited for the rickety elevator that was so old, you had to physically shut the door yourself.
I wanted to ask him about the thing, but I didn’t. He was too focused. Too intense. It felt wrong to disturb him. The elevator creaked and groaned, carrying us up to the third floor.
He stepped out ahead of me. I heard that same voice.
“Porter, over here.”
By the time I stepped out of the elevator, there was nothing but an empty hallway, but an apartment door at the end was open.
We walked towards the apartment. Porter pushed open the door, and we stood at the entrance, looking around. The apartment was warm. Cheerful. Homey. Artsy. I hadn’t expected this.
Her voice sounded from the kitchen. “Port, when did you get into New York?”
Ballsy, how she acted like he was an old friend that she’d recently seen last week. She was so casual, so damned relaxed about this, it made me want to scream. This was not how you treated a significant other that you dumped without warning.
It felt disrespectful.
Four large boxes were stacked up against the wall. This was what she was giving back to him? A box for every year they were together. She got all the furniture, the bedding, the towels and the artwork, and he got his personal mementos back.
What a shit deal.
Movement caught my eye. A tall guy unfolded himself from the couch. He looked Bohemian with his man bun and beaded smock. I hate man buns. And hated them even more since this dude was wearing one.
“Hey, man.” He sounded stoned, but maybe that was all part of his hippie persona.
It was all so cliché, I would have laughed had it not been at Porter’s expense. Porter swallowed but didn’t move a muscle.
“That’s Marley.” Felicia's voice drifted from the kitchen. “He’s been an absolute lifesaver since I moved to New York.”
Marley shrugged with a self-content expression. “I do what I can, right, babe?”
“You’ve been a fucking lifesaver,” she answered back. “You’ve been fucking everything.”
I hated her.
On behalf of Porter, I despised her with all my heart.
