Blake sensed someone behind him and turned, half-hoping it was Owen. If Autumn wouldn’t let Blake comfort her, at least her co-worker could stop her from crying. God, he just wanted her to stop crying. But it wasn’t Owen, it was, horror of all fucking horrors, Autumn’s ex-boyfriend. Ian swaggered down the sidewalk with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.
“Evening, kids,” he called out. His overly loud voice and loose stride all said he was drunk, but he was, as Blake remembered, hatefully good-looking. Sleek as a brand new BMW, classically handsome in the way he’d never be. Denial froze him in place. Not now. This couldn’t be happening now.
But it was.
Autumn’s ex met his gaze directly. “That didn’t go well, did it, mate? I mean, I’ve seen some shit attempts at romance but that was just…” He put two fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Staggeringly incompetent.”
Blake couldn’t talk. The immensity of his feelings was so strong, so overwhelming, he had no idea what to say. If Ian had shown up yesterday, Blake still would have wanted to shatter his perfectly straight, white teeth, but at least he wouldn’t have been at such a disadvantage. His gut told him he’d lost Autumn, and then the man she’d moved continents for had arrived to point that out. And as much as it pained him, Autumn’s ex was right. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so bad.
“Ian?” Autumn said with a sniff. “What the Sam fuck are you doing here?”
He frowned as though having to account for his presence at this shit-show—instead of having it celebrated—had never occurred to him. “A…friend of mine is performing a one-minute, one-woman show. It’s usually an hour, but she—they condensed it. It’s about…vines. The plants, not the six-second video thing.”
“Shouldn’t you be inside watching it?” Blake snarled.
Ian turned to look at him, his discomfort melting back into amusement. “Trust me, this is way more interesting.”
He turned to Autumn, grinning widely. “He doesn’t know you at all, does he? Not like I do.”
“You need to leave,” Blake said through gritted teeth.
Ian raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, man, seven years we were together. Walks in the park, family dinners and no public humiliation or anything.”
“I wasn’t trying to humiliate her,” Blake rasped. “She had a dream. I just wanted to…help her realize it.”
Ian laughed again, but his eyes had gone hard. “Get fucked, Landlord, you spend a couple of weeks putting your dick in my girlfriend, and you think you know her better than I do?”
“I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Ian,” Autumn said. “Please, can you just piss off?”
The words were harsh but Blake was devastated to see she was still wiping tears from her cheeks. “Fun-Size, please—”
“Fun-Size?” Ian leaned backward, cackling at the moon. “Is this guy for real? That’s the stupidest fucking pet name I’ve ever heard.”
Ian straightened up, his bright blue eyes finding Blake’s again. “I call her sugar, because of the way she tastes, but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Landlord?”
“You shut your fucking mouth.”
Blake barely recognized his own voice, it was so pumped with hatred. His fists were clenched at his sides, poison flooding his veins. God, he wanted to hurt this asshole, give his anger and confusion somewhere to go. Ian didn’t seem to realize the trouble he was in because he took another step closer. “You been doing my girlfriend in my bed, big guy? Or have you been taking her down to your murder basement or wherever the fuck you live?”
Blake barely registered the insult. It was his calling Autumn his girlfriend that had him breathing through his nose, telling himself he shouldn’t hit him, shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t…
Autumn groaned. “Ian, I mean it, you need to leave. This really isn’t a good time.”
Blake watched as the younger man’s face contorted into a look of boyish empathy. “I know you must be embarrassed, Auts, but trust me, no one knows it was you who was meant to be up on stage. Do you want to go get a coffee? We could go to the place that does the red velvet cake stuff you like?”
Autumn’s forehead contracted, another tear splashing onto her dress. “I don’t want to get a red velvet anything with you, Ian! Can you please just fuck off?”
With a pout, Ian started toward Autumn, but Blake stepped into his path. “You’re good where you are.”
Ian scoffed then bent around him to keep addressing Autumn. “Autie, I forgive you for fucking Shrek, okay? I just want to be able to talk to you again. I miss you. And you never reply to my messages, even the picture and that took fucking ages to do, by the way. I had to take like nine until I got the lighting right and then—”
“Are you clinically insane?” Autumn interrupted. “No, wait, I know that one; yes you are. Now can you please fucking listen to me and just go away? Just go back inside and watch the show about vines.”
Ian made an impatient sound. “I didn’t really come here for the one-woman show. I came because I knew you’d be here. I’m here for you.”
Autumn didn’t say anything, just stared at her ex-boyfriend for a long, long moment. Blake’s blood bubbled and snapped. No. This wasn’t happening. Was she considering going somewhere with him? If she did, Christ, how would he be able to stand it?
“Autumn…” Blake started, swallowing the shake in his voice. “Please.”
“Autumn. Please,” Ian mimicked approximately eleven octaves lower than his own tone. His bravado faded somewhat as Blake bared his teeth but despite the guy taking a hasty few steps backward, the slimy fucking smile never faded. He held up his hands. “Okay Frankenstein, let’s not get all fuckin’ violent. You’ve just got to understand that novelty sex time is over. Autie and me are soulmates. Just because you slipped her some strange while we were on a break doesn’t mean she actually wants to be with you.”
The words were so close to what Blake had been hearing in his head for weeks, his anger spiked even higher. He could taste copper in his mouth and knew the end of his tether was approaching.
“Leave,” he growled. “This is your last fucking warning.”
Ian bent to the side, addressing Autumn again. “I can’t believe this is the guy you fucked while I was gone. Seriously, was Chewbacca not available or something?”
“Just go away,” Autumn sobbed and Blake was about to pin the man’s hands behind his back and march him off when a light dawned in Ian’s eyes. “Oh my god, I get it now! I fucking get it! This idiot is about your whips and chains thing, isn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Autumn whispered, sounding so hurt it made Blake’s heart contract.
Ian sniggered, his eyes bright with malevolent glee. “It is. I fuckin’ knew it was a novelty fuck! That’s my mistake, I should have taken your whole captive thing more seriously. If you really want a Neanderthal in bed, I can—”
Blake’s fist flew before he could stop it. He didn’t want to stop it. Inflicting damage to the man who referred to himself and Autumn and sex—in the same breath—needed to suffer. Nobody touched her but him. Nobody satisfied her but him.
Blood spurted from Ian’s nose like a geyser, landing on Blake’s sleeve in a haphazard pattern. The rest splashed onto the sidewalk, because that’s where Ian landed. On his side in the fetal position, moaning into a crooked elbow. “Fucking hell, it’s broken. He broke my fucking nose.” He tested the bridge with a finger and howled. “Autie, Jesus, help me. It hurts.”
Not really giving a shit about the writhing excuse for a man on the ground, Blake looked to Autumn and saw her staring at her ex-boyfriend in horror. “Fucking hell, Blake, what did you do that for? He doesn’t have health insurance! And he could go to the cops! God knows he’s a big enough sook.”
She pressed her face into her hands for a moment. “You know what? Please just go. I-I don’t want to see you right now.”
“I can’t leave you with him,” he said, feeling ragged and wrung out.
<
br /> Autumn shot her ex a disgusted look. “Someone needs to take him to the emergency room and stop him from suing you. You haven’t left me with a choice.” Frustration wrinkled her forehead. “That’s twice in one night.”
That was the knockout blow. In an instant, he was an outsider standing on the edges of a scene he’d written himself out of. Maybe he never should have been a part of it in the first place—maybe he’d been a fool to believe he could. Autumn stood watching him, tears poised to fall, the hurt he’d inflicted clear. She was waiting for him to leave. Needing it.
In the end, knowing Autumn needed something forced Blake to take one final look at her, before turning and walking away, passing a concerned and newly arrived Owen and Ryan as he went. Half of himself remained in pieces on the sidewalk, scattered in his wake. He thought he’d known loss, but he hadn’t known the fucking half, had he? This was loss.
Twenty minutes later, on his way into the building, Blake was too numb to register greetings from Ross, Mrs. Zhu and Mrs. Fuller where they stood congregated near the entrance. He simply took the book out of his pocket and threw it into a green metal trash can. Then he went back inside where he belonged.
CHAPTER 16
The emergency room smelled like work—antiseptic wipes, floor cleaner, the faint tang of blood and body fluids. All that was missing was the jungle fug of animal hair and Autie would feel right at home. Except she wouldn’t fucking feel like that because she was at the emergency room with her dickhead ex-boyfriend and this was the worst night of her life. If she closed her eyes she could still see Blake’s expression when she called him a coward.
He shouldn’t have signed me up for that show! What kind of cockhead does something like that? There were people there. I could barely do my routine in front of him, how could he think I was ready for that?
She thought about her Casio keyboard on the stage and shuddered.
“Are you cold?” Ian asked through the thick wad of toilet paper covering his nose. “I can give you my jacket, if you want?”
Autumn didn’t reply. As they were walking to the hospital she’d explained to Ian that she was only helping him because if he bled to death on a New York sidewalk, his mother would be sad and she would feel guilty.
“Autumnnnnn…” Ian moaned, giving her pleading puppy dog eyes. “Can’t you at least look at me?”
Without turning her head Autumn raised her middle finger at him. Ian made a sulky noise and lapsed back into muteness.
Good, she thought. Be silent, you useless prick. Haven’t you done enough?
The entire clusterfuck at the theater couldn’t be pinned on Ian’s deluded sense of self, but it certainly hadn’t helped. His showing up reminded Autie of the movie Gladiator—two warriors were doing bloody battle when the emperor was like ‘this is boring, I want surprise lions!’ and released enormous man-eating beasts into the fray to liven things up. Not that Ian was a lion, more like a raccoon with a new, untreatable form of hepatitis.
Autumn wondered where Blake was, then realized she didn’t need to wonder, he would have gone back to his apartment to seal himself in his safe space, to work on his books and listen to his music and drink whiskey from a smudgy glass. Once, she’d been granted passage into that beautiful place, but no more. It would be like she never existed. She hugged herself, feeling as though she’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. Blake shouldn’t lock himself away from the world. He was too interesting and funny for that. Why did he have to ruin everything by signing her up for that stupid show? Why?
“Auts, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but just let me say what’s on my mind? Please?”
Ian had adopted what he undoubtedly thought was a soothing ‘hey baby, everything is love, y’know?’ voice. It was even more irritating than his pout. Autumn replayed the way Blake had decked him in the face and willed the satisfaction of that memory to keep her from turning and seizing her ex-boyfriend by the throat.
He prodded her arm. “Look, seriously—”
Autumn snapped. She turned and began slapping him all over his body and shoulders. “Shut. The fuck. Up. You fucking. Moron. Just shut. Up.”
“Hey, whoa, hey!” Ian wriggled away from her. “I’m injured, remember?”
“Yeah, and you fucking deserve it! You shouldn’t have come to the show, you shouldn’t have approached me and you sure as hell shouldn’t have said what you said to Blake.”
“Ooh, Blake,” Ian said in a mocking tone, all faux-sincerity gone. “I knew that dickhead had a crush on you. He was always staring at your ass whenever we walked past him.”
A strange heat twisted through Autumn’s body. After all their games, it was impossible to think about Blake watching her without getting turned on, but feeling that in front of Ian was just wrong. He was so much of her past, it felt wrong to have him in her present, where she and Blake had role played stalking and had sex in a public park.
Ian pulled the now crusty scrunch of toilet paper from his handsome face. “What the fuck do you see in that guy? You suddenly developed a beard fetish? Or was the in-house convenience too much to resist?”
Autumn ignored the sting in her chest, the urge to shove Ian and say Blake was so much more than either of those things. “You do realize I could ask you the exact same question about the women you cheated with.”
Her ex-boyfriend had enough self-awareness to look embarrassed. “Christ Auts, I know I fucked up, okay? I know I was an asshole. I just got so caught up in finally having my dream—”
“Being in an improv troupe named after a Mark Wahlberg ensemble?”
Ian scowled. “Performing in New York, going to auditions, having people we didn’t go to uni with tell me I was gonna be someone. All these girls who hang around the theatre…they think I’m a legend and part of me knows that’s bullshit, but having them treat me that way was a fucking chemical high. I got addicted to it. I kept wanting more.”
Autumn rolled her eyes. Only Ian could turn a story about drilling a bunch of sexy nineteen-year-olds into a victim narrative. She edged as far away from him as the plastic seats would allow. “Just shut the fuck up, okay? I’m here because you’re physically injured and every word that comes out of your mouth makes me want to physically injure you more. If you have even a smidgen of sense, you’ll shut your dumb face.”
“But—”
“Stop. Talking.”
“Why would you come here if you didn’t want to talk?” Ian leaned closer, his expression almost earnest in its delusion. “You don’t mean it.”
She saw red again, solid, crimson red. She whirled around and prodded him hard in the chest. “Yeah, fuck what I say, right? Why would you actually listen when I talk? Why would you take my break up seriously? That would only get in the way of you doing whatever you want, wouldn’t it?”
“Autumn—”
She poked him again, right in the pectoral muscle. “You never fucking shut up, you just talk and talk and talk until I’m too tired to argue. You want to know what I saw in Blake? Someone who lets other people say things. Who knows how to listen.”
Ian gave an indignant huff, then clutched his nose. “Ow! So that’s the appeal then? He listened to you?”
“Yeah. Although he was also the best sex I’ve ever had. Just FYI.”
It was a cheap shot but it landed. Ian’s face screwed up so it resembled the toilet paper in his fist. “You were never this aggressive when we were together.”
She laughed. “And yet you were still a massive toolbox. You hurt me and you didn’t even care.”
Ian’s eyes grew wide. “I did care! I do! Life doesn’t make any sense now you’re gone. You’re the only person I can always stand to be around. Everyone else can die in a plague resurgence for all I care.”
Autumn let her head hang to the side. He was so ridiculous she could barely hold up her brain anymore. “God, you’re a fucking edgelord.”
“Edgelord?”
“Yeah, an edgelord. You make everything all dram
atic and nihilistic because you think it makes you look deep when all it does is remind people you’ve got the emotional depth of a five-year-old.”
Ian’s upper lip curled. “Which makes you, what? A sex offender?”
Autumn was preparing to poke him again when a doctor walked briskly toward them. “Okay, what seems to be the problem here?”
The obvious answer was every-fucking-thing, but Autumn decided not to go with that. She pointed to Ian. “He’s got a broken nose.”
The doctor, an attractive brunette, made a sympathetic noise. “Okay, follow me.”
She led them to a small, even more antiseptic-smelling room. She pointed Autie onto the faded blue armchair and guided Ian onto the narrow plastic bed.
“So,” she said, tugging the toilet paper away from his face. “What happened here? You get yourself into some trouble, mister?”
Ian gave the weary smile of a brave solider who’d just been dragged in from a battlefield, sans leg. “Just a little disagreement with a very unreasonable man.”
The doctor gasped. “That’s awful, Mr….?”
“Ian.”
She smiled. “Ian, then. If you’d like me to call the police, I certainly will. I’m so sorry this happened to you, I apologize on behalf of the entire city.”
Autumn fought back a bitter laugh. Somehow she doubted the doctor would be saying that if she were treating someone other than Ian, with his sculpted torso and electric smile. If she were treating someone like Blake, for example, bearded and gruff, looking like he hadn’t smiled for a million years.
That hurt to imagine. She pictured him coming in after his accident. How helpless he must have felt to be trapped inside his broken body, knowing he was facing months of rehabilitation. With a jolt, she remembered he’d discovered his fiancée was dicking someone else that same day. She couldn’t even imagine how painful that news must have been. Was it really that surprising that he’d spent the next decade lost in his own world?
She remembered the way she’d called him a coward and winced. Who the fuck was she to level that accusation at him? She’d never had to endure that kind of pain, physical or mental. Sure, the stand-up attempt had been terrible, but God she just wanted to hug him.
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