Axle's Secret

by Nia Arthurs

  “Fine.” I gulp loudly. “Did I mention I had a brother?”

  His eyes widen. “No.”

  “He was a year older than me. He had the biggest smile.” I palm my forehead at the memory. Tears prick my eyes, but I force them back. “The kind that made other people smile too. He was my hero.”

  “What happened?”

  I laugh but it’s a sound devoid of any joy or humor. “He died. Killed himself.”

  “I’m sorry.” Axle reaches out to hold my hand. “That must have been so hard for you.”

  “It took me years to believe it was suicide. Apparently, he threw himself into a lake and drowned. Can you believe that?”

  At my words, Axle’s entire face pales. He draws his hand back, his gaze dropping to the floor. “No.”

  “I don’t really talk about this. Just because I still can’t deal with it myself. Mom… she buried herself in prescription pills and Twinkes.” I snarl at the wall. “All she did was grieve and mourn and grieve and mourn. Someone had to hold it together. So I sucked it up. I was strong. For the both of us.”

  “I-I see.” His voice is shaking.

  “It was a long time ago.” I swirl my wine around my glass and smile at him. “Relax, Axle. Have some wine.”

  “I think you’ve had enough for the both of us.”

  “Nah.” I reach for the bottle to pour another glass.

  He wraps his hands around mine, stopping me from taking it. “Remember you wanted to watch a movie? How about we do that now that we’ve finished eating?”

  My grin turns sappy. At this point, I’m not entirely myself and my feelings for Axle are consuming me. Like a flame. Like lava rolling down a volcano. Desire, a kind I’ve never known before, roars from the depths of my soul, clamoring to be unleashed.

  He releases my hand, a move that makes me unhappy. I scramble to my feet, causing the chair to scrape the tile.

  Axle stares at me with concern. “Ember, are you okay?”

  “I’m great. Come on.”

  He follows me to the couch and settles in the longest sofa. I frown at his choice, much preferring if we could sit in the love seat to be closer. When I don’t immediately fall in next to him, Axle gives me another funny look.

  I scramble forward and climb into the chair, pressing as near to him as I can. He doesn’t scoot away, which is a good thing.

  “What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning the television on and logging into Aunt B’s Netflix.

  “Whatever.”

  “Whatever?” He smirks and my raging desire intensifies.

  Damn, why is he so good-looking? Why does he make me feel this way?

  Axle turns to the television. “Have you seen this one before?”

  “No,” I say without even looking. “Put it on.”

  He does and the opening credits blare through the room, but I’m not interested in watching a minute of this film. My fingers creep over his. I draw a nail down the line of his palm and then bring it to my lips to press a kiss in the middle.

  His breath hitches. “Ember? What are you doing?”

  I can barely hear him over the throbbing of my body and the keening wail in my head. “Kiss me.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. I lean over and smother his mouth with my own. As if my caress woke his own hunger, Axle kisses me back. While the actors parade on-screen, we caress and explore. Impatiently. Ardently.

  When it feels like my heart will explode if I’m not as close to him as possible, I abandon my seat on the couch and find a new position on his lap.

  That’s when Axle starts to back off.

  “Ember…”

  “I want you.” I snatch my lips away to pepper his face with languorous, desperate kisses. Trembling with need, I beg. “Please.”

  He sets me away. “I can’t.”

  The roaring in my head ceases.

  I freeze.

  Of all the words I expected Axle to say, those weren’t it. Shame creeps into my body. Tears fill my eyes. I fight them back, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

  “W-what?”

  “No, don’t get the wrong idea. I want you too just… not like this.”

  A tear spills from my eye. He’s lying. He doesn’t want me.

  I scramble off him and sit on the couch, turning my face away.

  He reaches for me. “Ember.”

  “Get out.”

  Silence swiftly fills the room. He hasn’t left. I whirl around and scream at him, “Leave!”

  Axle lingers a second longer and then rises, grabs his keys and slips out. The moment the door clicks behind him, I drop my face into my hands and I weep.

  15

  Axle

  “I’m sorry. The person you are trying to reach is not available…” The mechanic voice fills my ears, inciting a level of annoyance I have never yet experienced. I hurl my phone across the room and bite back a curse.

  After our disastrous date last night, I gave Ember some space. Maybe that was the wrong call. I’ve been phoning her all morning and she hasn’t picked up. I sent her a bunch of texts and she hasn’t responded to any.

  My plane ticket laughs at me from the corner of my nightstand. I’m leaving the car with Kolby and flying out tomorrow. What if I don’t see her before then? Is this how we’ll end things?

  I sink to the edge of my bed and run my hands through my hair. Solutions parade through my mind but I pick them off one-by-one. No flowers or chocolates can fix this. I need something more substantial. Should I head to her place and try to explain in person?

  I get up. Sit back down. Shake my head.

  No, if she’s not answering my calls, that means she doesn’t want to see me either.

  A sigh wracks my chest. I rub my jaw. The bristles of my beard rasp against my fingertips. This is my fault. I should have pushed Ember off in a way that wouldn’t hurt her feelings, but was there a way to do that? Any path I chose would have been the wrong one.

  I stare at the ground, recalling the way she looked at me last night, her curls a mess from the insistent raking of my fingers, her lips slightly parted. Ember was so bold and yet so vulnerable.

  When she begged me to be with her, I wanted to say yes. Man, I would have taken her in a second if it were any other situation. But something felt off the moment I walked into the condo. Ember was acting giddy. Loud. Uninhibited.

  When I moved into the kitchen and saw the half-empty wine bottle, I knew she’d started the party before I arrived.

  Her outburst about her mother struck me as odd too. It wasn’t the first time she’d spoken of her hardships growing up, but it was the first time she’d sounded so bitter about it.

  She’s human after all, and a part of me is glad that she was able to speak so freely. I just wish she didn’t need liquor to do it.

  Restless, I jump to my feet and pace the room. If I’m being honest, her drunkenness wasn’t the only reason I didn’t take her up on her offer yesterday.

  Ember’s confession about her brother shook me fiercely. The circumstances she described sounded so similar to Diandre that I was floored. I know Ember grew up in Belize, so there’s no way her brother and Diandre are the same person, but it was eerie. Disquieting.

  My involvement in Diandre’s death is a dirty secret that I want nowhere near Ember.

  “I should call her again,” I mumble. Heading over to the bed, I crawl around and search the floor for my phone.

  While I’m on the ground, a knock sounds at the door. The person doesn’t even wait for me to let them in before they turn the knob and slip inside.

  I grab my phone and whirl around so fast I hit my head on the edge of the bed. The thud shakes my skull. I hiss in pain and scramble to my feet, rubbing the sensitive area of my scalp. The headache intensifies when I see who walked in.

  “Kolby.”

  “We need to talk.”

  I drop my hand. “Now’s not a good time.”

  “I don’t care.” He grabs the chair tucked beneath my des
k and sits on it, his long legs sprawling in front of him. “You said we’d discuss it later. I’m not willing to wait any longer.”

  I rub the bridge of my nose. “Fine. I’m all ears. What do you want to discuss?”

  “Who’s Diandre?”

  I coach my expression, having determined yesterday that I would not act as stupidly as I did the first time Kolby brought this topic up. “He was an old friend. We were lab partners in high school.”

  “Why were you and Seb arguing over him a few days ago?”

  “The woman Seb is dating used to like Diandre. I was concerned about that.”

  “Why? Where’s Diandre now?”

  I swallow, struggling to remain unruffled. “He died a while back.”

  “When?”

  “I was a junior in high school so… you do the math.”

  “It was about ten years ago?” The wheels turn behind Diandre’s dark brown eyes. “You left town after Diandre died.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other.”

  “I didn’t say it did.” Kolby eyes me suspiciously. “Why does it feel like you’re lying to me about something?”

  “You asked and I answered. There’s nothing I can do if you don’t believe me.”

  Kolby folds his arms over his chest. “What about Ember?”

  “What about her?”

  His gaze dips to the ticket. “You’re flying out tomorrow.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave her?”

  “I thought that’s what you wanted?”

  “I want Ember to be happy.” He looks away. “And I want to see her. Today. Can you set it up?”

  “What?”

  “If not, I need her number so I can do it myself.”

  I bristle at the request but figure it won’t hurt anyone. Ember mentioned that she wanted to see Kolby anyway. “I’ll give it to you later. Is our interrogation over or do you have something else you’d like to ask me?”

  Kolby lumbers to his feet. “I don’t want to fight, Ax. I’m aware that Ember doesn’t have any interest in me, but I can’t help how I feel. If I won’t ever be a man to her, I at least want to help her. Protect her. Even if it’s from my own brother.”

  His words cut me to the quick. Kolby’s far more mature than anyone gives him credit for. “I care about Ember too.”

  “Do you?” Kolby snorts. “Then why are you running?”

  “I’m not running from anything. It was hard enough to get vacation time to come out here. I have to go back to work.”

  “Bull!” My brother shakes his head. “You’ve been complaining about that job for years. You said it’s not challenging. That it’s boring and just a bunch of corporate butt-kissing. I’ve listened to you over the years, Ax. You’re not happy.”

  “Growing up means you learn to live without happiness.”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re not a thief. You’re not a criminal. You’re a good person, Ax. Why can’t you be happy?”

  My mouth opens but no sound comes out.

  Why can’t I be happy?

  Very simple. I don’t deserve to be. One night, when I was sixteen years old, I watched my friends murder Diandre Johnson.

  He was someone’s brother. Someone’s son.

  And I can’t help thinking that if I hadn’t urged Diandre into the car that night, he would still be alive. If I hadn’t assured him that he would be fine, that nothing would happen to him, I wouldn’t feel this responsible.

  But I am. I made Diandre a promise that I couldn’t keep. I watched him sink beneath that crushingly calm lake and I didn’t say a word. Not then and not now.

  So yeah, happiness will steer clear.

  For a short while, I had a burst of hope. Ember and I seemed to be on the road to something special. But because of my stupidity, I ruined that too.

  My phone lights up, freeing me from Kolby’s discerning gaze. I turn away from him and answer. “Hello?”

  “Axle, hey, it’s me.”

  Seb.

  I stiffen and shoot a quick glance behind me at my brother who isn’t hiding his interest in the call. My grip on the phone tightens. “What do you want?”

  “Ouch. Is that any way to talk to a friend?”

  “Get to the point or I’m hanging up.”

  “We need to meet.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  I pull the phone down and prepare to press ‘END’ when I hear Seb’s voice squawk, “It’s about your girlfriend.”

  Kolby surges forward, eyes trained on me. “Is he talking about Ember?”

  I wave him back and return the cell phone to my ear. “This better be good, Seb, or I swear—”

  “Let’s not exchange empty threats, Axle. I know you won’t do anything to hurt me, just as I would never hurt you. Or Corey for that matter. We’re brothers. No amount of time or arguing can change that.”

  “You mentioned Ember. What do you know about—?”

  “Uh-uh. Not so fast. This is something you need to hear in person. Come to my office. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Seb?” The dial tone sounds in my ear. I frown at the screen. “He hung up on me.”

  “What did he want with Ember?”

  “I have no idea.” I scramble to my suitcase to grab a clean shirt and then toss my phone to Kolby. “There. You can copy Ember’s number from my contact list.”

  “Thanks.”

  I sprint out of the room to change and brush my teeth. Kolby’s waiting for me in the hallway when I leave the bathroom. He offers the phone to me and I take it, absently slipping the device into my pocket. My mind is miles away in Seb’s office already.

  “Should I go with you?” Kolby asks, following me to the front door.

  “I’ll be back soon.” I lock the door behind me and rush to my car.

  On the ride downtown, I try to figure out what mysterious ‘information’ Seb has in his hands. Half of me thinks this is just a sick ploy to get me to speak to him, but the other half doesn’t want to take the chance that it’s not.

  Seb’s building is a towering pillar amidst other high rises. I park in the lot and ride the elevator to the top floor where the receptionist seems to recognize my face. She immediately points me down the hall before sinking back into her chair and typing a storm on her computer.

  I follow the direction she indicated and knock on the door. Seb’s voice urges me to enter. I do, my gaze skipping across his mahogany desk, floor-to-ceiling windows and bookshelves.

  Business must be good.

  “Axle!” Seb rises from his office chair and rounds the desk. “Thanks for rushing over. Traffic wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  “You called. I’m here. Let’s not beat around the bush.”

  “Right.” Seb digs into his coat pocket and extracts a small card, offering it to me.

  I frown as I open it. “This is my wedding invitation.”

  “Feel free to RSVP. You can bring a date, although I don’t think it’ll be Ember.”

  My patience almost gone, I reply through gritted teeth, “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Seb jerks his chin out toward a brown folder on the desk. “I was curious about your mystery crush so I did a little digging and I found the strangest thing.”

  “Quit playing games and just tell me.”

  “See for yourself.”

  I glare at him while I lift the pin and slide a ream of documents out of the envelope. My thumb brushes the page of what looks like a birth certificate. “What is this?”

  Seb pins his hands behind his back as he walks toward me. “The truth. It’s a little hypocritical of you to accuse me of marrying Maribella when you’re doing something even worse.”

  “What does this mean?” I shake the certificates at him. “Why did you give me Ember and Diandre’s birth certificates?”

  “Because Ember is Diandre’s little sister.”

  My head whips up. Dread
pools in my veins. “No. That… you’re lying.”

  He grins. “It’s right there. See for yourself.”

  I study the contents of the birth certificate and then thumb through the other pages. On the line that lists ‘birth mother’ there’s one name that both documents share. Nina Johnson.

  A violet wind rushes through my head. I stumble back, my face draining of color.

  Sebastian is telling the truth.

  16

  Ember

  “Em, I’m home!” Aunt B’s voice stirs me from restless slumber. I pry my eyes open, groaning as the mucus on my eyelashes rip apart with the movement. A wave of dizziness hits me when I sit up.

  I slow my movements for self-preservation, conscious of the ache in my head. A million miniature guns are firing at my cranium. I’m not sure if I should blame the hangover or heartbreak.

  Maybe it’s both.

  “Em? Why didn’t you answer…?” A moment later, a head pokes through my door. In the dimness, I can only see half of Aunt B’s face. But that’s all I need to make out her concern. She rushes to my side.

  “I’m fine,” I say before she can ask. “I just… overslept.”

  “Till one in the afternoon?” Aunt B frowns at me.

  I struggle to sit up without gagging, but I fail. In a desperate hurry, I shove my aunt away and vault off the bed. My head and the toilet enjoy an intimate moment while I hurl up last night’s fried chicken.

  I don’t realize Aunt B’s inside the bathroom with me until a glass of water is shoved before my nose. “Here,” she says, “take this. It’ll help your stomach to settle.”

  “Thanks.” I moan, shifting so I can find a more comfortable way to lean against the toilet. My stomach roils.

  I bowl over in misery.

  This is why I don’t drink.

  Aunt B stoops on the bathroom floor. Her long hair falls down one shoulder. Her eyes are narrowed and the look of censure is even more intense thanks to her thick eyeliner. “What happened last night?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You spewed your guts and you look like death. This isn’t ‘nothing’.”