by Staci Hart
I was still lost in thought when I walked back into the shop to find Joel at the counter, arms folded, lips downturned.
“Did I just see that right?” His brow was low.
I sighed and set the coffee carrier on the counter. “Sure did.”
“What did he want? Money?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “An old friend of ours passed.”
His face softened at the news. “Patrick, I’m—”
I held up a hand. “It’s okay. I hadn’t seen her in years. Sarah, the girl we used to live with. I’m surprised her boyfriend was sober enough to even call to tell me.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier.”
I unpacked the coffee, lining the cups up on the counter. “No, but I let all that go a long time ago. It was too hard to see them all living that way, but there was nothing I could do about it. You can’t help somebody who doesn’t want help. I don’t make a habit out of arguing with brick walls. If Seth taught me anything, it was that.”
“Is that really all he wanted?”
“That’s all, he said. He’s six months clean.” I leaned on the counter and grabbed my cup, spinning the cardboard sleeve around.
He shook his head and gave me a hard look. “You know it always starts out like this.”
But I met his glare with one of my own. “I do know. This time feels different, but I’m not letting my guard down.”
Joel rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t mean to be a dick about it, but this is what he does. He comes back and burns you the second you get close. Seth holds the power to fuck you up more than anyone. Even Rose.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I know you want to help him. Just know I only want to help you. Must be something about those puppy dog eyes of yours.” He shook his head. “The day you walked into the shop, barely eighteen, skinny and dirty, and you opened your sketchbook right here to show me your work, I knew I’d be patching you up for a good while. Never even thought twice about taking you in. I knew you’d work hard. I knew you had talent. I knew you were good, Patrick. Always did.”
I smiled, my heart full of gratitude that I’d ever found someone to believe in me. “We’re just a couple of suckers, you know that?”
He snorted. “Do I ever.”
8
DEATH GRIP
Rose
AWKWARD DATE ASIDE, IT HADN’T been a horrible day.
I came home from the ordeal annoyed and changed into shorts, a tee, and my Vans, blowing out of the apartment with my longboard under my arm and earbuds blaring. It was a gorgeous day, the sky high and cornflower blue, without a cloud to be seen, and everything just felt good, right, as I cruised around Central Park, happily alone with my thoughts.
So Steve was a disaster, but one bad date wouldn’t stop me. Not with my shades on and the wind in my hair.
Patrick crossed my mind, the surprise at seeing him unexpectedly flashing through me again. Sometimes, I think my brain toned down how beautiful he was in my memory because seeing him always took me a little by surprise, like the real, live version of him had so much more presence and grace than my mind could store and recall.
I realized I’d been seeing a lot of unexpected Patrick lately. Part of me hoped it wouldn’t become a thing. The other part … well, I told her to shut up and sit down, let’s just say that.
But what I couldn’t get over was seeing Seth. It had been years, and he’d definitely changed for the better — today was the first time I’d ever seen Seth not looking like a junkie, and I could see that Patrick was amazed at the fact. But Seth was bad news, always had been. Every six months or so, he came around needing money, a job, a place to sleep — Patrick was the one Seth called when he was in trouble. He had no family to speak of, no other friends who weren’t junkies, and Patrick was always there for him, sometimes at great personal cost. Like this: a few years ago, he’d been thrown in jail overnight alongside Seth. Guilty until proven otherwise. Guilty by association. But he’d gotten out without charges, an unfortunate mistake. Wrong place, wrong time.
After that, Patrick tried to distance himself as much as he could.
The thought that Seth would be hanging around made me nervous. Patrick had suffered enough in his life without someone like Seth taking advantage of the loyalty he felt for the people he loved. I figured he saw some of himself in Seth and just wanted to save him. Fix him. But some people were beyond saving.
By the time I came home that evening, I was happy to find my apartment empty, no Patrick to be found. I had to admit, it was nice to have somebody around — I hadn’t realized just how alone I’d been — and I felt better about him, about us, than I had in a really long time. Like there was a glimmer of hope for our friendship. I just wished there was another way, one that didn’t involve him being in my apartment every day.
But for now, it was quiet, and I was blissfully, consciously alone, just like I wanted. Or at least that’s what I told myself, as if I could repeat the mantra until it manifested into truth.
So I turned on my radio, made some ramen from my favorite Chinese market, and sat down at the table with my book, which happened to be a romance novel. I was in for what was hopefully a long evening of reading, devoid of talking and ex-boyfriends. I opened my book with excitement flitting through me — the hero had this huge secret, and the heroine was about to figure it out, which meant a blow up was imminent.
That was always the best part.
You’re surprised? Just because I’m a cynic doesn’t mean I don’t love love. I just didn’t think I was cut out for it or that it would ever really happen to me. I had hope for a moment in time with Patrick. I thought he was my happy ending, but really he was just another shitty chapter.
See, the reason why I love a good romance is that life sucks. It’s harsh and cruel and ugly. Only the lucky ones get their happy endings, like my parents, or Lily and West. But that was the standard I held love to. Not that it had to be a fairy tale. Not that I expected perfection. I just expected respect. The trouble is, most people don’t deliver that. But I’d been fooled enough.
So I chose to read about it instead.
It’s supremely satisfying when the good guys win and the bad guys lose. When the guy gets the girl and everyone lives happily ever after. Reading is the greatest escape. Where life is unfair, fiction can be perfect. The appeal is infinite, and the reason why I read at least three romance novels a week. If I can’t have it, I may as well imagine it.
I opened my book and began to read as I spun my fork to twist the ramen up, blowing on the steamy noodles before stuffing them in my mouth.
The door opened, and Patrick walked in. My face fell as my pulse ticked up a notch. Solitude, destroyed.
“Hey,” he said and dropped his keys in the dish like he lived there.
“Need something?” I asked with an eyebrow up and my eyes still on my book.
He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the back of the chair. “Just got off work. Brought you lemon bars.”
I felt like a dick for being a dick when he’d brought me my favorite pastry, and I glanced up as he smiled and passed the small bag across the table to me.
Patrick had a dozen smiles for various emotions, with only a couple that showed his teeth. There were sideways smirks and small smiles where only the edges lifted, a small degree of what he was willing to share. But when he laughed — really laughed with abandon, when he let go — those smiles were brilliant. They changed his face, the stoic, sharp features shifting into pure joy, so rare to see that it was blinding.
I pushed my musings away and smiled back gratefully. “Thank you. I’d been thinking about going back all day.”
He took a seat. “What’d you do all day?”
“Skated. Just got back a bit ago.” I looked into my bowl as I twirled my fork in my noodles again, avoiding his eyes, feeling a little trapped. Like I couldn’t get away from him. “So, I can’t help but notice you’ve been here
every time I am. Not that I mind a little company, but this was exactly what I was talking about when I said we weren’t roommates.”
He smirked, leaning back in the chair as he folded his arms. “So, twenty-four hours in and you’re already done?”
My brow dropped. “I’m just saying, you keep just being here. Like yesterday after jury duty.”
“You asked me to come over to talk.”
I abandoned my fork in the bowl. “Yeah, but I didn’t know you’d be here when I got home. If this is going to work, I need boundaries. It’s no secret that I’m not exactly thrilled about all of this, and I asked one thing of you. Just one. You’re sleeping here. You don’t live here.”
He watched me, blue eyes burning, full of honesty. “Yeah, I know. But, Rose … when I go back to my place, Lily and West are always there. Don’t get me wrong — I couldn’t be happier for them. It’s just …”
“But how did it end up that I have to deal with the fallout of what they do and how you feel about it?”
“I know it sucks, trust me. Do you think I want to be sleeping in Lily’s bed instead of my own? Or that I want to be here, in your space after you’ve been doing your best to ignore me for months? I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want, so if you want me to go, I’ll go. Just say the word.”
I let out a heavy breath and poked at my dinner with my fork, feeling like a dick again because I was one. It wasn’t fair for either of us. “No. I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s just … this is a little stressful.”
“I know.”
“But if the tables were turned, if they were in my space, loud fuckery or not, I know it would be really weird. Like, even just walking in and seeing them hanging out feels like an intrusion. I’d want somewhere else to be too, if I were you. I love them, and I love them together. I just can’t handle the reminder that I’m alone. And now that they’re both free for a bit, this is almost the only place to be alone. So I’m sorry for putting up a fight about this. It’s just … it’s not easy, that’s all.” Because I hate you, and I love you, and I hate that I love you.
His smile was small, with a hint of sadness.
Just do this, Rose. It’s the right thing to do. Accept it and find a way to deal. I took a breath and did my best to let it go, or at least loosen my death grip on it. “Well, you have my permission to come and go at will. Not that you were waiting on it,” I said with a smirk as I loaded my fork and brought it to my lips. “How was your day?” I took a bite, anxious to change the subject.
“Full of surprises. Like Seth coming by the shop.”
I swallowed my noodles like they were made of sawdust. “Yeah. What was that all about?”
He watched his fingers as he picked at the edge of the placemat in front of him. “A friend of ours died. He wanted to know if I knew.”
I lowered my fork, my eyes searching his face. “I’m sorry.” I said quietly.
He shook his head, eyes still down. “It’s all right. He looked good though, didn’t he?”
“He really did. So, what did he want?”
Patrick chuckled. “You sound like Joel.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Well, Joel’s a smart dude. Seth always wants something.”
“I don’t think he does. Not this time. He’s clean, has a real job. He’s coming to Habits for my birthday in a couple of days.”
I made a butthurt face. “Thanks for the invite.”
“It was Joel’s idea,” was his defense.
“And Seth got an invitation before me. I see where I sit on the food chain. Maybe I’ll change my locks after all,” I joked.
He smiled. “I really did forget about the party. I don’t think about my birthdays. As far as I’m concerned it’s just another day.”
“But it’s not. It’s your day. I don’t care if The Sergeant didn’t give that to you. We’ll make a big deal about it. Always.”
His eyes were hot again. “You don’t miss what you never had.”
My breath was shallow, and I turned my attention back to my noodles. “Who’s going?”
“The Tonic crew for sure. Hopefully you guys.”
“And Seth.”
He watched me, fiddling with the placemat again. “And Seth.”
I set my fork down, trying not to be pushy. But I couldn’t just sit by and watch him get tangled up in another mess. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to get mixed up with Seth again?”
“I’m not getting mixed up with anything,” he said simply and leaned on the table. “He’s my oldest friend. You have to get that.”
“I do, but he’s only brought you pain and drama.”
He shook his head. “That’s not true. He gave me hope at a time in my life where I had next to none.”
“So did Joel.”
“And I’d do anything for him too.” It was a simple truth.
I frowned, not willing to accept his logic. “The difference is that Joel wouldn’t take advantage of you. Seth will.”
“I’m not putting any expectation on Seth. I’m not going to fuck this up, Rose. But he came to me and said he’s sober and apologized. I’m not letting him in, but I’m not shutting him out, either. Just trust me, okay? I’m not going to get suckered into anything. I know how he works, and I’m smart enough to know better than to pin my hopes on him.”
I nodded reluctantly, because what else could I do? “Okay. I’m sorry.”
His face softened, and he smiled. “Don’t be. Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah, I grabbed something after work. You work tonight?”
I shook my head. “I’m off again. What are your plans?”
“Didn’t have any. Was just going to chill, maybe sketch, but I don’t know. West and Lily are camped out in the living room.”
Damn them. I sighed again in resignation. “Well, you can hang here.”
“I promise I’ll be good and quiet.”
I laughed. “No wild dance parties?”
“Only if you want one.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m going to grab my stuff. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“All right,” I said as he walked out, leaving me alone again.
I sighed again, book abandoned as my thoughts circled around. If I’d thought things were complicated before, it was nothing compared to where we were headed, and I felt my control slipping away. I couldn’t deny him, and part of me didn’t want to. But the louder, pushier part of me knew better. Knew that with every inch I gave, the more danger I was in. I couldn’t fall again — I still hadn’t healed from the last time.
I finished my noodles and cleaned up, settling into the couch with my book just as he came back, taking a seat next to me at the end of the couch. Music played, filling the silence, the comforting quiet of just being together. His feet were on the coffee table, and I leaned on the arm of the couch on my end, legs stretched across the cushion between us, trying not to think about him, though I snuck glances when I could. I always loved to watch him draw — his eyes trained on the page, the muscles of his forearms fluttering, making waves in the tattoos across his skin.
After a while, my nerves had quieted, and I found myself absorbed in my book. My legs stretched out incrementally until my toes and the tops of my feet were hooked behind his bicep and part of his back. Then his arm moved to rest behind my calf, pulling my leg into his side. As conscious as I was of him, it felt easy, natural, without intention or expectation, and before very long, I was so content, so comfortable, that I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep next to him.
9
WHENEVER
Rose
A KNOCK RAPPED AT THE door, but it sounded so far away, and I was so warm. I nuzzled into Patrick’s neck and sighed, and his arms tightened around me in answer.
My eyes flew open.
Patrick.
I jerked away from him like I’d been electrocuted, arms and legs flying as I rolled off the couch and hit the
ground with a thump, elbow first.
“Shit,” I hissed as the knock came again.
I glanced around, eyes bleary, rubbing my elbow, heart pounding as I looked back at Patrick — his eyes barely open as he looked around, confused. It was barely daylight, and I realized we’d slept on the couch. Together. All night. Somehow, we’d ended up twisted around each other like ivy.
“Rooooooose? Hellooooooo? Anybody home?” The voice from the other side of the door was muffled, but I knew it, and as I shuffled to the door, I tried to wrap my sleepy brain around what was going on.
I pulled open the door, my surprise settling in as I took in the sight of my cousin, Ellie, standing in my hallway with an innocent grin on her heart-shaped face.
Ellie Fisher was just over five feet of porcelain skin and soft, curvy body. The barely twenty-one bombshell had the body of an adult, the face of a teenager, and the brain of a second-grader, with the biggest heart, bless it.
“Rose!” She rushed me, hugging me with more strength than I expected.
“Ellie?” I sputtered and pulled away. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled and pushed her long, copper hair over her shoulder. “I came to visit!”
“I can see that. But why are you here? And at —” I glanced at the clock. “—Six in the morning?”
Her brow quirked. “You said I could come see you whenever, so I did.” She put her hands up in the air. “Surprise!”
“But…” I started, trying to make sense of it all. “Did I miss a message from you? I mean, you didn’t leave me a voicemail, right? Because you know I don’t use my phone for that.”
“No, you said whenever, so here I am.” She was still smiling sweetly as she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and brushed past me.
I sighed. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, Rosie.” Ellie stopped just inside the door and gaped when she saw Patrick.
He sat up and rubbed his face, smiling at Ellie as he blinked his eyes open. “Hey.”
