by M. A. Grant
We listen to him go up the stairs to his rooms in the master suite. Once his door closes, I’m up off the couch and heading for my room, hoping to escape Cat before she remembers where our conversation was going. Hoping to crush the guilt that rose from Jake’s easy trust.
‘Dally!’ Cat’s padding down the hall after me, whispering my name.
I ignore her. My door is so damn close—
‘Dallas Miller! Stop running away from me, you coward!’
I turn on that insult and she runs into me with a little oomph. I steady her out of instinct. She glares up at me. ‘What is wrong with you?’
I keep my voice as quiet as I can. ‘My best friend got home early. Have you stopped to think yet that if we’d gone through with this dumb ass plan of yours that he would have walked in on us? On me screwing his little sister?’
‘Screwing? How romantic.’ Her sarcasm could eviscerate. ‘I’m pretty sure it would have been more than that.’
I point at her. ‘You said you didn’t want any of that. No Prince Charming, no happily ever after required. Just a cock and someone who would be long gone before your brother found out.’
‘You are being such an ass,’ she hisses.
‘And you are being a spoiled brat.’
We glare at each other. Finally she breaks the silence with, ‘And what if I wanted a Prince Charming?’
My heart stumbles painfully over that. ‘Too bad. I’m going to Arizona.’
‘You could stay.’
‘No, I can’t.’ I turn and go into my room, closing the door in her face.
We’ve lived together too long. Like me, she doesn’t view closed doors as an obstacle. She follows me into my room, crossing her arms and tapping her bare foot on the floor. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I want to take over my uncle’s shop. I want a clean start after being stuck in neutral all these years. And I sure as fuck want more than to be a desperate virgin’s one night stand!’
Hurt flashes across her face and my gut pitches.
‘Oh, shit,’ I mutter. ‘Cat, I’m sorry—’
She’s already gone. Her door is closing softly when I make it out to the hall. I knock lightly, but don’t go in. She’s crying inside.
‘Brown eyes, let me in,’ I whisper, pressing myself against the door, desperation rising.
In all our years together, I have never made her cry. After she lost her parents, I vowed I’d never let myself cause her the same kind of pain.
Oh God, I’ve fucked up.
‘Cat—’ I knock again. My voice cracks. ‘Babe—’
Nothing. I twist away and face the other wall, squeezing my eyes shut, settling my hands behind my head so I don’t start punching the sheetrock. The only sound is my ragged breathing. The sound of her door opening has me spinning back, praying for salvation—
The box of condoms hits me square in the face.
‘Screw you, Dally!’ she snarls in a vicious whisper. ‘You and your giant dick!’
I swear and stumble back as the second box flies and hits my chest. She aims at my balls when she lets the lube fly, but I manage to deflect that hit. Her door closes again. This time she presses in that stupid lock on the knob.
She knows I could easily break the lock. But the symbolic gesture is received loud and clear.
I silently collect the condoms and the lube from the hallway. I decide I like this new sensation. Numb is good.
I dump everything on my bed and look around my room. I’m mostly done packing. I’m sure if I asked Jake would ship the rest of it to me later.
I drag out the duffel I use for road trips. Arizona, here I come.
Day 4 — Early-Evening
Jake got called in on a building fire a few hours ago, which is highly unfortunate since Dally and I are in a silent impasse. He’s spent most of the day in his room doing only God knows what, while I’ve miserably skimmed a few more articles about ways to have a perfect first time. Too bad I couldn’t care less about losing my virginity any more. Especially since I only want to give it to the one man who told me to my face that he doesn’t want it.
Why did things have to become so complicated?
A muffled thump and low curse have me looking up from my laptop. Dally’s in the hall with a duffel bag. I cross my arms and watch as he inspects the bag that’s spilled open.
‘The zipper came apart,’ I observe.
He glances up and our eyes meet. The sizzle of our connection shakes us both and we look away. How could I have possibly believed Dally was nothing more than a one night stand? After everything we’ve been through …
His words from last night echo in my mind. Maybe he had a point.
‘Let me help,’ I offer.
He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t shoot me down right away. Progress.
‘I can at least fix the zipper.’
Finally his shoulders drop. ‘Thanks,’ he mutters.
He follows me into the kitchen and drops the bag on the island, putting his armful of loose items next to it.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘That’s a lot of … stuff.’ Clothes, some shoes, bath supplies. An unopened box of condoms. I ignore the pang ripping through me. ‘You going on a trip or something?’
‘Just finishing the last of my packing.’
Arizona.
I focus on the zipper, trying to hide the way my fingers tremble as I reset the teeth. ‘I thought you still had a few days.’
‘This seemed easier,’ he says, shifting his weight as he leans against the counter.
My whisper escapes before I can stop myself. ‘For who?’
He sighs. ‘Cat, we can be adults about this. We’ve been friends for too long to let this fuck us up. Let’s have a nice goodbye and leave it at that.’
I’ve fixed it. ‘Does Jake know about this?’
‘I do now.’
We look up when Jake speaks. He’s standing in the doorway with a strange expression on his face and it’s directed at Dally. I’m about to ask Jake to try to talk some sense into Dally when his eyes move toward the bag on the island.
And the box of condoms in the loose pile of clothes. Jake’s face becomes murderous.
Dally takes a step away from me, gaze never leaving my brother. He holds up his hands. ‘Jake—’
‘You son of a bitch!’
Jake and my brother have never fought before. Ever. So when Jake hurls himself at Dally, I’m really unprepared. And when Dally takes Jake’s punch, staggering a little, but staying upright, I’m pretty sure the shriek echoing through the kitchen is mine.
Jake is between me and Dally, fists clenched. Dally shakes his head, red mark on his cheek extending down into his beard. And yet he raises his hands again.
I don’t recognise my brother’s voice. The rage is something I’ve never heard, especially never directed at Dally. ‘You have one chance. And you’d better not lie.’
Dally’s watching him warily. I put my hand on Jake’s arm, babbling something about him needing to calm down, but he rips his arm away from me, not acknowledging my presence. His next words help me understand why that is. ‘Why did Jeff see you and Cat walking out of Bangz Adult Boutique together when he was driving back from a fire the other day?’
Oh holy virgin in a sex shop, Batman, what have I done?
The resignation on Dally’s face sets in about the same time Jake roars and goes for him again. This time, Dally doesn’t let Jake get another free hit. They careen out of the kitchen into the hall, slamming into the wall with so much force the sheetrock cracks. Fists fly, arms block, feet scrabble for purchase against the hardwood floors.
The house shudders from the impact of another body slamming against a wall. I run for the hallway when they move out of sight and make it to the kitchen doorway just as a fist punches through the sheetrock by my head.
Cue another shriek.
The fist disappears and they pass the doorway. Dally’s gotten underneath my brother, grabbing him below the ribs and lifting him
up with a shoulder to the sternum. For a second, I’m proud of Dally for defending himself. Until I realise this isn’t a defensive move.
Dally ploughs my brother into the coatrack near the front door. The wood structure crunches, Jake lets out a lungful of air, and what remains of the coatrack falls apart as Jake and Dally fight in the corner. They focus on using each other’s abdomens as heavy bags, grunts and groans and the dull sound of flesh pounding flesh echoing through the house. Jake throws an elbow to Dally’s face, knocking him off balance.
Jake surges forward and they go flying into the living room. I run back through the kitchen in time to witness them both going over the sofa. The coffee table is dead on impact. They wrestle and Jake claws his way on top. Dally’s covering up, blocking most of Jake’s punches. But I know he could stop my brother if he wanted to.
The fact that he doesn’t even try doesn’t bode well.
A tiny part of me still runs in circles and screaming her head off. But the sight of Dally taking my brother’s ire for no reason makes me snap. I fling open the fridge and grab the pitcher of iced tea sitting in the door. I rip off the lid and run into the living room, flinging the contents at them and missing completely. Unfortunately, the pitcher slips from my hands and clocks Jake in the face.
He pauses long enough to give me an incredulous look before Dally grabs the collar of his t-shirt and swings him off to the side. Jake goes flying, Dally is free, and they’re both trying to get to their feet.
Their bodies fly past me, smashing into the far counter.
‘Dally!’ I scream.
Definitely not the best idea since he looks at me and takes Jake’s next punch straight to the ribs. He caves in on himself and Jake raises his fist to deliver a shot to the temple.
I’m yelling ‘Don’t!’ over the sounds of the fight and running into the kitchen, intent on getting between them.
Which is when I slam my other hip into the same corner of the counter.
Dally and Jake both freeze, rage transforming to horror as I suck in a breath and release a cry of pain that would make a banshee proud. Jake’s rushing toward me, Dally a step behind since Jake cut him off.
Jake holds out his hands at me, pleading. ‘Don’t cry, Cat—’
I howl again and stomp my foot. Jake’s creeping closer slowly, afraid of my reaction. Dally is all idiotic bravery. He slips past Jake and crouches near me, hands cupping my face, wiping away my tears. Even now, after I’ve gotten him beaten to a pulp over my idiocy, he still looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
‘You have the shittiest luck, brown eyes,’ he says with the ghost of a grin.
That only makes me bawl harder before I fling myself into his arms. He holds me up until I’m able to support my own weight, then carefully disentangles himself from me.
By now my tears have dried out and I am nothing more than a few miserable sniffles. Jake and Dally have strategically taken up opposite sides of the kitchen. They eye each other around me, but the worst seems to be over. That’s good since they both look like hell warmed over before it’s eaten by a cat and puked back out.
Jake wipes his bleeding nose with a forearm and points a shaky finger at Dally. ‘Answer my fucking question.’
‘Nothing happened!’ I wail. ‘He hasn’t done anything, Jake!’
‘Jeff wasn’t lying,’ Dally says quietly, wiping blood from his split lip. ‘I was at the store with her.’
Jake starts to move, but I fling up my hands and fix him with my best impression of Mom’s don’t-you-dare look. It actually works.
‘No more fighting,’ I order, pointing at Jake. I turn on Dally and give him a glare. ‘And you, no instigating.’
They warily obey.
‘Dally was at the store with me,’ I tell Jake, praying my voice doesn’t crack or give another sign of weakness. ‘But it wasn’t like that. I was shopping for myself, not for him.’
‘What were you buying then?’ Jake demands.
My mind blanks out. Jake’s glare moves back to Dally and a rumble starts to rise again from his chest. I hear Dally moving behind me and see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s moving to my side, keeping me out of line of my brother’s assault.
‘Leave her out of this, Jake,’ Dally urges.
My brother’s losing it again. ‘You motherfu—’
‘Honey dust!’ I shout. ‘I wanted to get honey dust.’
Dally closes his eyes with a pained expression. Jake froths and his fists come up.
‘Not for that! Not for that!’ I’m hysterical. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to stop this from going back to fists and blood and anger. Inspiration strikes. ‘It’s for my underboob sweat!’
Jake’s rumble cuts off in a hiccup of shock. Next to me, Dally snorts.
Jake stares at me in complete and utter shock. ‘Your what?’
I cross my arms over my miniscule chest and glare at him. ‘I am not repeating myself. I know you heard me. And that’s why.’
Jake points at Dally. ‘Then why were you there?’
‘I was creeped out at the store and called for back-up,’ I say before Dally has a chance to speak.
Jake glances back and forth between me and Dally, searching for any sign he can launch himself back at his best friend. But Dally’s face is impassive and I hold my ground. I will not let Dally get any more hurt when he hasn’t done anything to deserve it.
Jake’s trying to process all this information, but I can see he’s struggling. ‘So you haven’t—’
‘No,’ I answer firmly. Dally’s quiet.
Jake looks away from me to Dally. His mouth tightens. ‘And you wouldn’t—’
Dally answers before I can. ‘I would if she asked me. Every time.’
Silence. Dead silence. Jake looks at his best friend, our roommate, the closest person he has to a brother, like he’s a stranger.
And it’s all my fault.
‘He doesn’t mean it,’ I whisper. ‘He wouldn’t.’
‘I would,’ Dally assures Jake, his voice steady. ‘I’ve wanted to for months.’
I whirl toward Dally, mind blown. ‘You have?’
His mouth quirks and that eyebrow goes up. ‘Babe.’
Wait … it has been months since I’ve intercepted any hook-up calls. Or since I’ve seen him go out at night. He gives the barest hint of a nod when he sees I’ve put the pieces together.
I may understand what this means, but Jake does not. He shakes his head and looks away from us. His voice is flat. Cold. ‘Get out.’
My brother couldn’t have actually said that. I step toward him. ‘Jake—?’
But Dally’s already at the island, stuffing his bag with the rest of his supplies. I look at him, taking a step his way. ‘Dally—?’
His eyes flick to Jake, who’s watching him stony-faced. Dally zips up his bag, hefts it over his shoulder, and heads toward the front door. I follow, unable to believe this is happening.
Dally opens the front door. Grabs his bike key from the hook.
‘Stay,’ I beg. ‘We can figure this out.’
He shakes his head, wry smile in place as he brushes his thumb over my lower lip. ‘Nah. No happily ever afters, remember, brown eyes? Gotta stick to the plan.’
I stare at the door long after it’s closed. Long after Dally’s motorcycle starts and he drives away down the street.
‘This isn’t how it was supposed to go,’ I mumble, hollow feeling setting over me.
‘Well, what did you expect, Cat?’ Jake asks from behind me. He sounds tired. Like he did after he got home from school and helped me scatter our parents’ ashes along the point. ‘He was my best friend. And somehow, screwing him seemed like a good idea?’
I slowly turn and look at him. I love my brother. I’ve loved him more since we lost my parents. But I don’t know him right now. And I don’t want to.
One of our last family portraits hangs crookedly on the wall. My mom and dad smile out from the pictur
e. Jake and I stand near them. Even Dally’s there, beardless, Jake’s arm around his shoulder. My parents said he’d been living with us long enough that he needed to stop taking the pictures and be in them instead. I reach up and straighten the frame, ignoring the tiny pieces of glass that tinkle to the ground from the movement.
‘They would be so angry with us,’ I whisper, tears starting to spill over as I look at their smiling faces.
Jake’s spine straightens. He goes upstairs without another word, leaving me alone in the hallway of a broken home.
Day 4 — Night
After my parents died, I was afraid of cars. I was a sophomore in high school, at that perfect age to get my driver’s permit. I wasn’t in the car with them when the accident happened. So my debilitating fear probably sounds crazy. My therapists all said it was to be expected. Assured me it would pass.
But it really didn’t. Every time I had to ride somewhere, I’d shut my eyes and try to keep from hyperventilating the entire way there. The first time I rode the bus to school, I puked and Dally had to walk me home because I wouldn’t get in his car when he came to pick me up.
My problem was hard on Jake. Caught playing grown-up at far too early an age, he didn’t know what to do. He argued with me, cajoled, bribed, and threatened. He tried to force me to change.
Dally went out and bought a motorcycle.
It was the three month anniversary of the accident when he walked in, threw a helmet in my lap, and said, ‘You’ve got two minutes to meet me outside, brown eyes.’ Against my will, he took me for ice cream.
Eventually I got used to riding with him. He started taking me to look at cars. We settled on a beat-up ’69 Camaro, a choice Jake was incredibly amused by. Dally walked me through the restoration piece by piece. When we were done, Old Blue had come to life in the garage.
Putting her together, seeing how everything fit, helped me come to terms with the fact that my parents’ accident wasn’t due to a failure on the car’s fault. It was simply what it had been called: an accident. A perfect storm. Nearly one year, a classic car, some driving lessons, a learner’s permit, and too many motorcycle rides to count, I wasn’t scared any more.
