Archer

by Haley Jenner

  “I guess most people are telling you they’re sorry.” He doesn’t respond to my statement, instead only staring through me. “I never understood why people said that to me when Dad died. Sorry. Like they had something to do with him dying,” I shake my head, picking up a blade of grass to glide it through my finger nails. “I guess I understand it a little now. I assume they were saying they felt sorry for me. I kind of feel that’s almost worse. Their pity. It always irritated me that people saying they were sorry made them feel as though they could understand what I was feeling. Understand the hurt that eats away at you.”

  I’m rambling about my own feelings, trying to connect in some small way. I’m not actually sure why, but I can’t seem to stop myself either. Glancing up, I see Archer’s eyes watching me cautiously. “I get loss, Archer, maybe not exactly how you’re feeling it, but I get it. I can’t imagine losing my best friend. It fucking sucks that Josh is gone and I hate that for you.”

  I glance over at the crowd of people, most are starting to leave and I watch their departure before turning back to Archer. “Gran always told me that the best way to move forward was to let your heart hurt. It’s hard to grieve, it’s suffocating,” I gesture to my throat, emphasizing the pain in my words. “But it keeps you alive. It gets easier; it takes a while, a long while, but the pain eventually dims overtime.”

  Archer’s dark eyebrows are raised as he takes a deep drag of his cigarette, blowing a heavy puff of smoke directly in my face on exhale. I refuse to react to the dismissal, letting the vapor sting my eyes and burn my throat. When he finally speaks, his voice seems cracked, underused. “Thanks for the insight, Belle Baby. Bit deep for a little girl though, wouldn’t you think?” He breathes deeply through his nose, attempting to calm his emotions. “You see….” he stops and avoids my eyes, blinking back the wetness that has formed in his eye sockets before turning back. “You see…. drowning myself in booze and women seems a lot more appealing than working through my fuckin’ feelings.”

  Closing my eyes at the pain in his voice, I shake my head. “Josh wouldn’t want that for you.”

  His throat works overtime as he swallows down the thought “What the fuck would you know about Josh and what he wanted?”

  I stand as I shrug. “I didn’t mean to upset you, just know that if you need anything, that I’ve been you. I’m here if you need me. It's important not to die alongside him, Archer.” I look back towards Janie and Jake, both watching Archer and I with curious eyes. “Be thankful you're still here,” I finish, turning back to see his face falter at my words before his mask falls back into place, jaw set hard.

  I’ve made it halfway across the lawn when he yells out, pausing my departure. “Hey, neighbor girl, when you’re legal come back and see me. Reckon I could find a need for you then,” he leers, coughing out a laugh to nobody but himself.

  I walk as fast as I can home, the sadness and bitterness in Archer burning a hole in my heart. That moment is one of the last memories I have of Archer Dean for years to come. I think about him often; what he’s doing, where he is, whether he’s okay. I never find peace with my questions and as weeks turn into month’s no one hears from him. 18 months go by, before he finally reaches out to Janie to let her know he joined the Army and is being deployed. The phone call is his goodbye, his way of giving Janie a slither of peace.

  I feel a strange pull to the maple by the Chapel. I spend a lot of time there, pondering life, reading and thinking of a lost boy whose piercing green eyes were so full of sorrow.

  Chapter Three

  Archer (Archer 26 / Annabelle 21)

  I turn the radio down as I drive into Carnation. The streets all seem familiar, like years haven’t passed. I guess here, not much may have changed. It’s a funny thing time. Funny how days, weeks, even years can pass and while some things or some people can change so drastically, others can remain so…. static.

  I’ve been driving for hours, but I feel relaxed. Coming home was always going to be my first priority when arriving back on American soil. Followed closely by a cold beer and burying myself deep inside a very willingly woman for a few hours. But seeing Ma and Jake is something I’ve needed for years. When my contract ended on this last tour, I knew it was time. I knew I was ready. So as soon as I touched down, I started the journey back home.

  My eyes sting with fatigue, my muscles are cramped. I’d look like shit, no doubting that. Probably not the best way to greet Ma after being gone so long, but waiting any longer isn’t an option, my need to see them is greater than anything else.

  Turning into our street, I approach our house slowly. This is my childhood. This house. It’s connected to every memory I have. Some are pleasant enough, most harder to stomach. Haltingly, I stop the Jeep in the drive, pausing for a moment for a breath before jumping down.

  As a kid, I worked so hard to suppress any kind of feeling or emotion. I let myself become consumed with resentment at our broken family. I would see Mom’s and Dad’s playing happy families with their 2.5 kids and hated them for having that when I didn’t. Instead, I had nothing more than a sperm donor as a father and a weak as fuck step-dad who couldn’t stick around long enough to even pretend.

  I blamed Janie. Whole-heartedly. Selfishly. Was it her? I blamed Jake. For existing. For causing his Dad to run. Because, surely it was his fault? I blamed myself. For being such a fucking disappointment to everyone that cared about me. I was so angry, all the time and after a while I found it was easier to shut everything and everyone out.

  Josh dying messed me up further. The guy was a loose cannon, lived to party and for his next high, whatever way he could get it. Most of the people in town couldn't stand him, saw him only for the trouble he was. Sure, he could be a dick, regularly was, but deep down he was a decent guy, loyal. I tried to keep my reaction contained, but the bitterness and loss crashed into my life like a fucking freight train. Josh was the only person in my life to accept the acidic version of me. Never pushed me to be a better person, to be someone I sure as hell wasn’t ready to be. Then he was gone. Extinct from my life and everyone expected it to change me, to make me want to be a better person. In reality, I just wanted to be consumed by the darkness, wanted to stop existing in their perfect world. To stop feeling defunct in their cookie cutter lives. So, I did, I left. Bailed without looking back, I was gutless, I see that now, but I won’t let myself regret it, not for a second.

  Walking up the front steps feels surreal; the wooden planks creaking under my feet as I pause to take in the house I grew up in. It looks worn, well lived in. It definitely needs work and I feel guilty for leaving Ma without help. My eyes fall to the porch swing at the front door and I shake my head and smile, it’s ancient as shit and I can’t believe Janie still has the fuckin’ thing.

  I glance at my watch, 2:30pm. Jake should be home soon and I roll my shoulders to release the nervous tension the thought brings. The porch swing groans under my weight as I sit to wait. The house looks the same, but me, I feel different. Shit, before I ran off I was a different person. I don’t know how someone didn’t kick my ass; I was such a fuckin’ punk! The shit I used to cause Janie…. I run my hands roughly over my shorn head in frustration. I think on Ma for a few beats and smile at the knowledge I’ll see her soon enough.

  Janie Dean is a survivor; life has dealt her some pretty hard blows but she’s never let them destroy her. Instead, she’d dust herself off and focus on what was important, Jake and I. She’s given her heart over twice. Two different men, both gave her heartbreak and left her a single Mom. Like everything else, she took it in her stride and worked her ass off, not only to provide for us, but to be present, to be a Mom. I didn’t appreciate it back in the day, did what I wanted. Drank, stole, worked to find any trouble I could. I never helped her out, only made her life more difficult, but she loved me all the same. I’m happy I’m finally in a position to give back, to show her I appreciate her and all she's done for us.

  My eyes glance over the street before
they fall on the small house next door and I smile as I stand. Reaching the end of the porch, I stare out at the home that used to belong to Annabelle Edwards. Annabelle fucking Edwards. Feisty as all hell, but latching onto Janie like a lifeline, no family, but still strong and independent. Shit, she saved my sorry ass more than a few times. I bark out a laugh at the ice she used to throw my way. She made it crystal clear she couldn’t stand my existence. Honestly, I don’t know what fueled it all, but she hated me.

  Memories of big brown eyes watching me uncertainly after Josh’s funeral invade my mind, her trying to talk me out of my grief. I was such an asshole that day. How the fuck a 16-year-old girl has the depth to make you question your life path still hurts my god damn brain. She wouldn’t know it, probably never will, but she saved my life. Before finally joining the services, I was drifting aimlessly. Making poor decision after poor decision. But even through my drunken haze I could never shake her words. They hit me right on and eventually were part of the reason I decided I wanted more from my life.

  Glancing at my watch again, it reads 2:55pm. Pushing off the porch rail I make my way around back. Reflections of the trees are cast along the still water of the lake that backs onto the houses of the street. Although the sun is shining, fog escapes my lips as I breathe. The air is bitterly cold, welcome back to November in Carnation.

  Knowing Jake will arrive home at any minute, my palms become clammy, fuck, I’m nervous. Janie will be fine with me coming home. She’ll kick my ass for the stunt I pulled, but she’ll be happy to see me. Hopefully she’ll even have a little pride at the man I’ve become. Jake’s the wildcard, we barely knew each other when I lived here. Now 4 years have passed.

  Sixteen.

  That’s how old he’ll be, fucking sixteen. I didn’t even say goodbye to him before I left. I’ve been a shit-cunt of an older brother, something that I need to fix.

  I think back to Iraq and the brothers I made, the loyalty and bonds that will remain solid through our lives. That’s the kind of relationship I want with Jake, the bond I wanna build with him. Jake needs to know he has me to rely on, that he can see me as someone to count on. I just hope he gives me the chance to make it up to him, that he wants the same thing.

  My mind falls back to Iraq, to the brothers I lost over there. Joining the forces strengthened my character, I know it made me a better person. But it has also taught me there’s evil and destruction in the world that a young kid from a small township in the States couldn't begin to understand. In training, fellow soldiers tried to explain it, tried to prepare the new recruits on what to expect. Words cannot begin to describe the things you see. The desolation. I've seen it consume some of the strongest men I've ever known. They can’t help but let it in, let it overtake their mind, their soul until they're nothing but a shell of the men they used to be. It scares me, haunts my thoughts. But fighting for my country gave me purpose. I have meaning in my life that I never had before.

  My train of thought is disrupted by the sound of a car door, then the second, slamming. I glance at my watch, 3:20pm. Jake and Ma. Taking a deep breath, I make my way back around the front of the house.

  I see them first and watch them look at my car with curiosity. I give myself a few moments to take them in, to accept that my family is here, in front of me and not oceans away. Ma looks a little older, but she still looks good, beautiful as ever. Well dressed, well put together, always taking pride in her appearance. My eyes settle on Jake and I smile. At only 16 he stands nearly as tall as I do. We share the same color hair, but that’s where the similarities seem to end. He’s built leanly and looks as though he’s just had a growth spurt, his body awkwardly…. lanky. His brown hair is overgrown, falling over his eyes.

  Finally, I encourage my feet to move along the porch and my movement catches Jake's attention. He watches me uncertainly for the briefest second before his eyes widen in recognition. "Archer," he yells, the shock and excitement in his voice obvious. The use of my name confuses Ma as she follows his line of sight. Running up the stairs, Jake reaches me, pulling my attention back from Ma. His smile is wide, but he stops abruptly in front of me, suddenly unsure of himself. Stepping forward I pull him tightly into my body and he returns the hug immediately. His shoulders begin shaking and I feel my throat tighten as I realize he's crying. Pulling back, he wipes he eyes and rubs his nose. "Sorry, I just…. I can't believe you're home," he stutters.

  We both turn see Ma making her approach and my eyes begin to water unexpectedly. Her jaw is set tight, her bright blues wet with unshed tears. "Baby boy," she whispers before her arms encircle my waist and her head meets my chest. My shirt instantly becomes wet with her tears, her sobs heartbreaking to my ears. Holding her tightly I kiss the top of her head, reveling in her affection. I've missed this lady, more than I could ever comprehend. We hug for an eternity, but it doesn't feel long enough. I'm not ready to let her go, so when we finally pull back from our embrace I tuck her into my side. She welcomes the closeness and I smile down at her. “Hey, Ma.”

  Jake is watching us with a happiness I can't remember ever feeling and I pull him in close, arm around his neck. I feel an overwhelming sense of peace in that moment, wrapped around my family. I worked my hardest to avoid them years ago, missed them terribly for the years after and now, finally together again, I find myself unwillingly to let go. So, I don’t. I hold onto them both, walking into my childhood home and smile. A real smile for what feels like the very first time in my life.

  Chapter Four

  Annabelle

  I notice the dark Jeep still parked outside the house as I jog up their front stairs. It’s not a car I recognize and my mind works overtime trying to imagine who would have been here overnight.

  “Janie, Jake?” I yell, walking through their front door.

  I’m met with quiet and shrugging to myself, I make my way farther into the house, noting the faint sound of the shower as I continue through to the kitchen. It's a mess and to help out I begin cleaning while I wait.

  Janie can’t have a man I don’t know about, no way she could’ve kept that hidden this long and Jake would have definitely shared that information. So, I’m confused. They don’t have family I’ve never met, so I’m at a loss.

  I busy myself by making coffee, waiting for one of them to appear, smiling when I hear footsteps running down the stairs. Finally. “Jakey, who’s staying….” I start, but my words catch in my mouth as I turn around.

  I notice the towel first; so starkly white against tanned skin. Just a towel, nothing more. Just a scrap of material wrapped tightly around an incredibly defined waist, hip bones chiseled, showcasing an impressive V sculpted into his body. Script, I can’t quite make out, marks his hip, peeking below the towel. My eyes follow the waist upwards and I’m assaulted by carved abdominal muscles, a naughty looking Tinkerbelle; round ass and boobs spilling from her barely there clothing, inked along his side. Continuing to stare my eyes reach perfectly cut pectoral muscles and I want to groan at the perfection. I keep the groan contained but I have no doubt my face clearly shows my appreciation. If not, the way my tongue peeks out to wet my lips surely would.

  Subtle, Annabelle. Really fucking subtle.

  I make my way to his face and realize my rather open appraisal hasn’t gone unnoticed, when an amused smirk dances across this beautiful stranger’s lips. I shoot my eyes upwards and am met with a familiar green stare, eyebrows raised in amusement. His hair is different, shorn close to his scalp but he’s instantly recognizable.

  “Archer?” I ask curiously. “Oh my god, you’re home,” I breathe out and before I can stop myself, I propel myself forward, hitting his body in a tight embrace.

  His wet, naked body is as hard as it looks and I’m woman enough to admit the smallest, barely audible moan breaks from my lips. On their own accord my hands skate up his back to rest of his shoulder blades and while not currently visible to my eye, I can safely assume his back is equally as delicious as his front.

  Jes
us! Get a grip, Annabelle! I will myself to remember who I’m currently wrapped around, Archer Dean, asshole extraordinaire.

  He finally lets out a small cough and I realize I’m still holding him, my body pressed tightly against his own. I can feel him stirring beneath his towel and I step back immediately, averting my eyes in embarrassment.

  “Sorry, I don’t know what just came over me,” I laugh awkwardly. Clearly, the Queen of smooth. “I’m just so surprised to see you.”

  I gather the courage to meet his eyes, a small grin playing at his dark red lips. Good lord! Shaking my head slightly I attempt to tame my overactive mind and actually look at him. He seems different from the last time I saw him. There’s a spark in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in the years I remember him best, I’m not stupid, there’s still a darkness inside of him, but it’s not the same, it seems almost haunted now, no longer…. empty.

  I can’t stop my eyes roaming over him once again and I feel myself blush when he forces a cough to grab my attention. “I’m sorry,” I close my eyes, completely humiliated. “Clearly, I have a problem.”

  “I’m gonna put some clothes on,” he speaks and his voice is deep, a gravel adding a roughness to his words. It’s as enticing as the naked skin covering his body and I avert my eyes as I nod, an attempt to stop another open appraisal and further humiliation. He jogs up the stairs, hand grasped firmly to the front of his towel and I watch shamelessly. After all, this time he can’t see me drooling after him. But in case you were wondering, I’ll note I was right; his back is amazing. Strong, muscular and completely lickable.

  Ugh, what is wrong with me? I palm my forehead, shaking my head. Shit, it’s obvious I need to get laid, but Archer?! I’m not blind, the man’s a beautiful specimen, that’s obvious, but Jesus, I need to find a slither of self-control. What is wrong with me? I don’t even like the guy and he most definitely does not like me. Thinking on it, he actually hasn’t even acknowledged my presence, oh my god, he doesn’t recognize me. What an asshole?!