by Witt, L. A.
I’d felt it when Megan left. I’d felt it when Tariq’s mom left.
But whether I felt like crap or not, I had to get my son to the bus and get myself to work. So I made myself stumble out of bed. Take a shower. Shave. Make coffee. Drink coffee. Make more coffee. Drink more coffee.
Some mornings, I had to drag Tariq out of bed and nag him every step of the way until he finally dressed, ate some breakfast, and ran for the bus.
Today, as I was eyeing the clock and forcing some coffee into my queasy stomach, he came into the kitchen . . . fully dressed, hair combed, with his shoes on.
I blinked. “Morning.”
“Morning.” He sat down at the table and poured himself some cereal.
I sipped my coffee as I watched him. “Are you, um, doing okay? After . . .”
“’Cause of Brennan?”
Somehow, I kept myself from wincing. “Yeah.”
He shrugged and took another bite of cereal.
“You . . . want to talk about it?” I asked.
He shook his head. I didn’t push. I didn’t really want to talk about it either, though I would’ve if he’d needed to. When he was ready, he’d tell me. He always did.
After breakfast, while I cleaned up the dishes, he disappeared into his bedroom. When he came back out, he had his backpack on his shoulders and a small armload of books.
“These are Brennan’s.” He held them up. “I need to give them back to him.”
I forced myself not to flinch. He’d just gotten these, and even though he was a speed reader, he couldn’t have finished more than one of them. Letting them go now was just one more way for this whole thing to sting him.
“I’ll take them back.” I gestured at the table. “Put them by my keys, and I’ll take them by the skate shop.”
Without a word, he put them next to my wallet and keys.
“You should get to the bus,” I said. “It’ll be here in a few minutes.”
He nodded. Then he looked me right in the eye and said, “We’ll be okay, Dad.”
I forced a smile. “I know. Have a good day.”
He smiled back, hugged me, and took off to catch the bus. As soon as he was gone, I dropped into a chair at the table, rested my face in my hands, and sighed. He could test my patience at times, but it was like he knew when I desperately needed him to have it together because I didn’t. Sometimes I wondered who the adult was in this house. There were certainly days when he was stronger than me, and today was one of them.
Guilt gnawed at me—he was too young to pull this much weight. I would definitely find him a new place to skateboard soon. No way was he missing out on something he enjoyed because my love life was crap. I owed him that much.
And I owed him a stable income and health insurance, which meant I needed to snap out of this and go to work. I hadn’t had to pull him together this morning, so I didn’t have any excuse not to pull myself together.
Though it took a stupid amount of effort, I got up from the table and shuffled back to my bedroom. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair back into a ponytail, and put on my shoes. Wallet, keys, phone—ready to go. The books for Brennan went too, but I wasn’t sure I’d make it to the skate shop to return them today.
I actually felt somewhat accomplished as I got in the car. When the alarm had gone off, I’d been tempted to pull the covers over my head and be a lazy, self-pitying slug all day.
But I’d made it this far. That meant I could get myself from home to Red Hot. Which meant I could clock in and do my job. That would get me to lunch and then . . . well, I’d see what I had left.
Fifteen minutes later, I parked in the alley behind Red Hot and let myself in through the back door.
I groaned. I was too fucking tired, but . . . time to adult. Time to work. I had to. Getting dumped by a guy I’d let myself get attached to was no excuse to be stupid with my family’s financial security.
Violet didn’t ask. The minute I walked into the shop, she took one look at me and said, “Honey, I need you to audit the back stock inventory. Why don’t you take care of that, and I’ll stay on the sales floor?”
Yes, please. “You sure?”
She gave me a knowing look, as if she saw right through to everything that had happened with Brennan. “I’ll be fine up here.” She nodded toward the back. “Go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I had no idea what I’d do without a boss like her.
In the stockroom, I found the clipboard of inventory sheets and got to work. I didn’t have the brain cells to count above about ten today, but I was still grateful Violet had put me on inventory duty. Better to have me in here, counting dildos and condom cartons instead of handling cash or dealing with customers.
So, I sat cross-legged on a table, piles of boxes on either side of me and a clipboard balanced on my knee. I perused the inventory sheets. She’d made notes on a number of items whose inventories didn’t match what was in the computer. My job was to count the physical stock to double-check that we had accurate numbers for those, then go through sales records and shipments to see where the discrepancy came from.
An hour or two into my shift, I was in the middle of narrowing down where a case of vibrators had gone—turned out one of us had forgotten to take them out of the inventory after shipping them to another store—when Violet poked her head through the doorway.
“Zafir?” she said. “Brennan’s asking for you.”
I bristled, momentarily tempted to toss her the biggest dick-shaped object within reach and suggest she tell him to go fuck himself with it. But I didn’t. Sighing, I put the clipboard aside and stepped down off the table.
She held out the shop’s portable phone.
Oh. Well. At least he wasn’t here.
As I took the phone, I asked, “You mind if I take a few minutes? I’ll shorten my lunch break to make up for it.”
Violet glanced toward the sales floor, and I could almost hear the pieces coming together in her brain. As she met my gaze, she said, “You do whatever you need to do, and we’ll settle up later.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. She left, and I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.” He cleared his throat. “Can we talk for a minute?”
I’d rather not.
“All right. Talk.”
He pulled in a deep breath. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
For which part? I bit it back, though.
When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “I think I made a mistake.”
“Oh really?” It came out more sarcastically than I’d intended it to. I didn’t apologize.
“I just . . .” He paused for a few long seconds. “I kind of freaked out. But it was a mistake. I—”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “It’s done. It’s over.”
“Zafir, can we—”
“I’d really rather not.” I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. Maybe he had a valid case, and he really had just fucked up, but I didn’t want to hear it. I was too fucking raw to hear it, because I could still hear everything he’d said yesterday. “I’m not a yo-yo,” I said. “You can’t just tell me I’m—”
“I know,” he breathed. “Believe me, I know. Like I said, I freaked out. But I was wrong.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “You also left.”
“Can you just listen to me?” he pleaded.
“No.” I tightened my jaw, hoping that kept the tremor out of my voice. My eyes didn’t sting yet, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t last long. “I can live with you hurting me. I can even forgive and give second chances. But not when you hurt my kid.”
“Zafir, I swear I never meant to hurt you or Tariq. I swear.”
“It doesn’t matter if you meant to or not,” I snapped. “I can be reckless with myself and I have nobody else to blame if I get hurt. But him? No. There’s no second chances there.” And there was that sting in my eyes. I swallowed hard, hoping my voice stayed even. “I’ve already had to explain to him that his mother i
s gone, and that the woman who promised him she’d be his stepmother is gone, and I still don’t know how to tell him why.”
I clenched my teeth even tighter to keep my voice from shaking, but it didn’t help much. “He’s nine years old, Brennan. That is way too young to have to understand why there’s a revolving door on his life. And if you think I’m going to give you the opportunity to—”
“Zafir, I didn’t do this to hurt either of you. I know you’re trying to protect him.”
“But you want me to make an exception for you?”
“No! I . . .” He blew out a breath. “I know I screwed up. I—”
“No. We’re done.”
“Zafir—”
“No. There’s nothing left to talk about. And I need to get back to work.”
With that, I hung up the phone, set it down, and went back to the inventory sheets that were suddenly blurry and didn’t make sense and—
“Zafir?” Violet’s voice this time.
I exhaled. I wiped my eyes and swallowed, and my boss gave me a moment to collect myself before she spoke again.
“Things didn’t work out with him?” she asked softly.
“You could say that.”
She put an arm around my shoulders. “You okay, sweetheart?”
I have to be. My son is depending on me.
“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’ll . . .”
“There’s still plenty of inventory left,” she said. “Why don’t you stay on that for a while?”
I released a long breath. This woman was a saint. After she’d gone back to the sales floor, I shut the back room door and leaned against it. Eyes closed, I let my head fall back, and just stood there for a while. A million emotions vied to take over. I wanted to break down crying again. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to apologize for turning him away. I wanted to call him back just so I could tear into him again.
But I didn’t.
Because everything went back to Tariq.
I wouldn’t waste any more time on Brennan now because I couldn’t risk my job.
I wouldn’t take him back because I couldn’t risk him hurting Tariq again.
Rolling my shoulders, I pushed out a breath. Nothing about this was easy, but it was the right thing. For myself and for my kid. Someday, I’d understand why we’d had to go through this. What was up ahead in the future that Allah had decided we couldn’t get to without getting past this obstacle first.
For today, all I could do was start putting it behind me.
I hoisted myself up onto the table again.
Balanced the clipboard on my knee.
And kept counting.
Chapter 27
Brennan
In the driver seat of my parked truck, I stared at the phone. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe it was the fact that even if you knew it was coming, a kick in the balls still hurt.
Sighing, I shoved my phone in my pocket and got out of the truck so I could get to work. Maybe it was too soon. I’d dumped him, then tried to come at him again before he’d had a chance to dust himself off. What if I gave him a day or two to cool down, then tried again? What if I emailed him instead?
All I knew was that this couldn’t be how it ended.
Oh yes, it can. If I fucked up that badly, this could definitely be how it ends.
I wasn’t ready to give up, though. I gave him a few days before I tried to reconnect, but didn’t get anywhere. He ignored my calls. A couple of texts went unanswered. It was tempting to call him at one of his two jobs, but I’d already done that once. No, I was pretty sure the only way I was going to talk to him was face-to-face, but where was the line between one last shot and being a stalker?
“Hey. Cross.” Fingers snapped in my face, startling the crap out of me.
I shook myself, and my surroundings came back into focus. How long had I been standing next to the half-pipe, staring off into space?
Colin cocked his head. “You skating today or what?”
I looked down at my board, which was resting against my leg. At the half-pipe, which suddenly made me feel even more tired than before. Then I turned to him and sighed. “I don’t think so.”
He furrowed his brow. “What’s going on? You’ve been a space cadet all morning.”
“I’m . . .” My shoulders slumped. I couldn’t think of a lie, and I sure as hell wasn’t telling him the truth. Not that it mattered. Whatever the reason, there was no way in hell I was skating today, because my head wasn’t in the game. “I’m sorry, I’ve—”
“You’ve got Vancouver coming up soon.” He put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t a good time to be fucking off.”
“I know. I know. And I’m . . .” I swallowed, avoiding his eyes as I tried to keep my voice from showing how close I was to breaking. “I just have some personal shit going on.”
He exhaled, nostrils flaring slightly like they did when he was annoyed. “You gonna have it squared away before we go to Vancouver?”
I nodded. “I’ll be good by then.”
“You’d better be.”
“For now, do you mind if I clock in early?” I gestured in the direction of Skate of Juan de Fuca. “Since I’m not doing shit here?”
He scowled, then rolled his eyes. “Whatever. At least you’ll be useful there.”
Thanks, boss.
Though he was right. If I wasn’t going to practice for the event he was sponsoring me for, I might as well go make him some money at his shop.
Without saying good-bye to anyone, I skated over to the shop and clocked in.
“You’re early,” Sven said as I came out of the back. “Thought you were skating today.”
“Yeah, I was. But I can’t focus, so I figured I’d just get to work.”
“Can’t focus? What’s up? You and your dude break up or something?”
My knees almost dropped out from under me. “Huh?”
“What?” He blinked.
“You . . . My dude?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Your boyfriend. That guy with the ponytail and the kid.”
My jaw dropped.
Sven laughed and clapped my arm. “Oh come on. We all knew.”
I stared at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. Why? We weren’t supposed to know?”
“Uh . . .”
“Dude, we don’t care if you’re gay. Long as you pull your weight at the shop and you skate like you do . . .” He shrugged. “Nobody cares who you’re doing, man.”
I was too stunned to try to explain that I wasn’t gay and I wasn’t—hadn’t been—doing anyone. “Oh. I guess I didn’t realize anyone had figured it out.”
“We’re not as dumb as we look, man.”
“Guess not.” I forced a laugh. And now I felt even lower than before. I’d been so focused on going back to “normal,” and everyone around me had already accepted what I was. After I’d carefully introduced Zafir as a friend, and made sure we never did any PDAs where someone might see it, they’d figured it out anyway.
Were we that obvious?
God, of course we were. How could we not be?
Well, for starters, I could stupidly break up with him and kill the whole thing.
My throat tightened, and my eyes suddenly stung. What the fuck was I doing here? Sitting behind the cash register at the skate shop with my thumb up my ass wasn’t going to bring Zafir back. Going to Red Hot and talking to him probably wouldn’t either, but at least that stood a chance.
“You know what?” I turned to Sven. “Can you hold down the fort for a few? I need to go take care of something.”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “It’s pretty dead right now anyway.”
“Cool. Thanks. I’ll, um, be back as soon as I can.”
Without another word, I hurried out the front door. Then I got on my board, pushed off, and skated like hell down the sidewalk.
“Hey!” someone shouted as I blew past a row of shops. “Slow down
, idiot!”
“Sorry,” I called over my shoulder, but didn’t slow down. After today, I’d be back to a sane, law-abiding skater. But I had to get to Red Hot Bluewater right now.
A block later, I was there, and I skidded to a stop in front of the sex shop. My heart sped up.
I can do this. I have to do this.
I took a deep breath, then stepped in through that familiar black-papered door.
Violet looked up from behind the register, and her expression instantly hardened. “Can I help you?” The words were laced with Get the fuck out of my shop.
“I . . .” I gulped. “I need to talk to—”
“He’s not here today,” she snapped.
What? I could’ve sworn he was scheduled all week.
Maybe he called in. Was he that upset? Was Tariq sick?
“Anything else?” she asked tersely.
I chewed my lip. “Could you, um, let him know I—”
“I’ll pass it along.”
“Okay.” I took a step toward the door. “Thanks. I’ll—”
“Violet, I can handle this.” Zafir’s voice sent a chill right through me. A second later, he stepped around the end of an aisle and into view. Our eyes met. “What do you want?” His tone wasn’t nearly as hostile as his boss’s. Tired, if nothing else, which matched the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“I just want to talk. For a minute.”
He turned to Violet. Neither of them said a word. She scowled, then shrugged and shifted her attention back to something on the counter.
Facing me again, Zafir said, “Let’s go in the back.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond, but turned on his heel and started toward the back room. With my heart in my throat, I followed.
Violet shot me a glare as I walked past. How much he’d told her, I had no idea, but obviously enough to give her one hell of an opinion of me. A well-deserved one, too.
In the back room, Zafir closed the door between us and the sales floor. Then he folded his arms across his chest. “All right. Talk.”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“Again?” His tone was quiet, but carried plenty of venom.
