by Joya Ryan
Jack’s words flashed in my mind. Everything had a value and worth. Looked like I needed to up my profit margin.
“I didn’t know we were expecting another for brunch,” Anita said, her heels clicking as she walked toward us.
“Lana’s not staying,” my father replied quickly. “Just came to say hello.”
“Oh, shame you can’t stay. Brock will be here. You two could catch up.” The cynicism in her voice was enough to make me want to wretch. It was no secret she hated me. Even though I hadn’t said a word about Brock since the night he hurt me, I still had to face her, face everyone, alone in the truth.
“Darling, can you check the quiche?” Anita said, and my father didn’t even say goodbye. Just scurried off like a lap dog, leaving me to stare down evil incarnate. “Lana, I know Brock’s promotion must be hard for you, but surely you two can find a way to get along. This sibling rivalry must end. Understand?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I understood. I’d understood for a decade now. Like a fool, I’d come here thinking my father would be on my side in this. Whether they painted the past with words like “sibling rivalry” or “issues,” the fact that Brock hurt me remained unknowledgeable. And so, the dance continued.
A part of me thought of my father as a victim along with me. Maybe it was easier for me to bear it that way. He never used to be like this. Of course, that was when I was very young, before he met Anita. No matter what, I loved him. Once, he had loved me back. He had thought of me as his little girl and fought for me after my mother divorced him.
But that was a long time ago. Funny how feelings could be beaten out of you and replaced with hate, anger, and fear.
“You have a good day,” I said in a slow, fluid tone. No way would I let her see me tremble, see my mind work, or see a shudder of fear race over my spine every time I saw her face or heard her son’s name.
She smiled, the crow’s feet around her eyes squinting.
“You too, Lana. Good luck with the job hunt.”
I turned and walked out of the house. At least I wouldn’t have Brock controlling me.
For all the games I didn’t play, why did I feel like I just lost once again?
~
I slammed my laptop shut. No emails, no messages, and not a single response about any job I’d applied for over the past week.
“Still no luck with the job hunt?” Harper asked.
“Nothing yet.”
I’d quit my father’s firm when I walked out of his home last weekend. Seven days had passed, and not a single call or email back. Not from potential employers, or from Jack, for that matter.
“I bet everything is slow because it’s the Fourth of July weekend. Lots of people take time off before and after. Maybe you’ll hear something next week?”
I appreciated Harper’s attempt to look on the bright side. The holiday probably played a part. “I don’t think I can last another week unemployed.” Even if I got hired, or an interview, the process and paperwork took time. It then took more time to get the first paycheck.
“I was hoping to start a job this coming week.” Things weren’t looking hopeful for that, and even less hopeful for Jack calling. I was trying not to dwell on that too much, though it was clear by now that he had no interest in seeing me again.
“We’ll figure something out,” Harper said, curling up on the couch. Her tone was soft, and she glanced away like she had a trick up her sleeve. Unless she started paying me to be her roommate, I was in trouble.
“In the meantime,” she said, grabbing her cell phone and scrolling through it. “Tell me more about last weekend. You met a hottie and stared down your father and the evil bitch, but you never gave details.”
“Not many details to give.” I poured myself a cup of coffee.
It was still technically the morning, and I hadn’t had my caffeine fix yet. This week had given me lots of time to think. I’d made the right decision in leaving the firm, and the only time I had to go into Denver was to apply for jobs. Working there over the summer was one thing, but I liked that Golden was a small, cheery town and had an amazing grad school. It was more my speed than the city.
Going to work at my dad’s company had always been a goal of mine. The path in getting there was the tricky part. Especially since he kept adding to the list of things I needed to do in order to make “associate.” Things Brock never had to do.
“How about you dish about the fun stuff? Like, was this hottie a good kisser?” Harper asked, flicking the blinds with her finger, peering at the quiet fire station across the street.
I sat in the oversized chair opposite from her and pulled my knees to my chest. “Yes.”
She frowned at me. “That’s it? That’s all you’re saying?”
Between the hard realities I was swallowing about Brock being back, tied with the fact that I had met a man I didn’t immediately cower from, not to mention that kiss—which was more than good—my thoughts were a whirlwind. I had replayed that amazing moment with Jack about a thousand times, and had a hard time wrapping my brain around much of anything else.
There was something about him.
But I hadn’t heard from him, and while I wasn’t an expert in dating, I was pretty sure a week with no word was a brush off.
“You’ve dated a lot,” I said slowly, and Harper turned her attention back on me.
She tied her red hair into a messy knot on the top of her head and raised a brow. “Yes, I have.”
I glanced at the coffee cup in my hands. “Have you ever thought about a guy, in a serious way, after you just met him?”
She smiled. “Well, look at you. I could barely get you to agree to one date, and now you’re talking about one night stands?”
“It’s not like that. Well, kind of…” I shook my head. “Not the one night stand part. Jack kissed me, but I wanted him to. And now all I can think about is—”
“Jumping his bones?” Harper winked.
“I’ve never thought of a man this way. He makes me want things. Physical things.” The sexual tension my body felt when I was with him was new and exciting. And I wasn’t ready to give that up.
“Wanting sex is a good thing. It’s a normal thing.” Harper drawled out the last part, and I met her stare. “Thanks to that asshole step-brother of yours, you associate it with fear and pain.”
She paused a moment, as if the words hurt her throat to say. Harper was my best friend, and I knew she loved me and cared. She also hated what Brock had done to me. She was the only person in the world who believed me.
“I know you attempted a relationship with Andy a couple years ago, and you two never really sealed the deal.”
“I tried,” I whispered quietly.
“I know you did, hun. But to get past all the shitty memories, it takes something stronger. It takes passion. Sounds like this guy from last week made you back burner the bad things, and focus on the good.”
I thought about that for a moment. Jack did make me feel good. Safe. Hot. He made me want sex…want physical things I’ve always shied away from. Maybe Harper was right. Maybe it was the passion. But passion was a feeling I had zero experience with.
“Back up for a second though, you never told me how you ended up at this guy’s place last weekend.”
“Brock showed up at the bar.”
Harper’s face fell, then twisted into a pissed off glare. “That fucker. Are you okay? What did he say to you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing at first. He didn’t even know I was there, actually. Thanks to Jack.”
“Knight in shining armor kind of thing?”
“Something like that. He read me, and it felt like he could sense my anxiety, and somehow just…” I glanced at the ceiling and smiled, “gave me a piece of power.”
“Wow,” Harper said. “Sounds intense.”
I laughed, because if there was one word to describe Jack, that would be it.
“It also sounds like a pretty successful evening of making ne
w friends. You seem a little ballsier since then.”
“I’ll try to take that as a compliment,” I said, taking a sip of my own coffee.
“You should. Because the fact is, your dad is a letdown, but you faced him. And you’re talking about sex for the first time in…ever, which makes me think that either you underwent an invasion of the body snatchers kind of thing and you’re not really Lana, or—”
“Or I’m losing my mind?”
“No, you’re standing up for yourself and finally admitting to what you want.”
“I want to stop being afraid. I want to stop feeling weak.” It felt good to say it to Harper, and she nodded.
“I want that for you too. So, anything that can give you power and happiness sounds like a good idea to me.” She looked at her cell again and appeared to be scrolling for something.
Jack sounded like a good idea to me too. In the short time we were together, he affected me in a way that spurred desire. Desire for more of him, more confidence. Just more.
My dad raised me. Well, I kind of raised myself, since he was working a lot. When he married Brock’s mom, things went downhill. I was never able to catch my dad’s eye, yet I still tried. Even to this day. But I truly believed that he must love me. Because the alternative was too much to bear.
I took a long swallow of warm coffee, and it did little to ease that throbbing ache of uncertainty buried in my chest.
I hated talking or thinking about things like my past or my dad. It was too much stress, too much heartache to hold on to. Then, it hit me.
“I have to let one of them go.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Harper asked.
“Brock or my dad. I need to let one of them go. I can’t keep holding on to all the badness. I can’t keep fighting both of them.” I was either fighting for my dad’s love or against the idea of ever being around Brock. I had to move on from one of them if I was going to attempt to be a stronger person.
“Jesus,” I whispered, and looked at Harper. “Brock is technically the only person I’ve ever been with.”
Tears collected, but I didn’t want them to fall. The horror of that fact made me realize that he still had control over me. Had succeeded in wrecking me.
“No, you weren’t with Brock. He raped you.”
The word was so sharp, it felt like it punctured my lung. I stayed away from using that word because it made it more real.
“I’m tired of holding on to that. I want to move on. I want good experiences, not a single bad one to keep weighing me down.”
Harper nodded. “I think that’s a great idea. So, you’re going to let go of Brock?”
It sounded easier said than done, but yes, that was my goal. It didn’t mean he didn’t disgust me, maybe scare me a little. It certainly didn’t mean it changed a damn thing, and I would be around him. But I would try to finally move on from the inner turmoil he left behind.
“I’m going to try,” I said. “But I’m holding on to my dad.”
I wasn’t ready to let him go. I wasn’t ready to accept that our relationship couldn’t be salvaged. Stupid or not, I loved my father, and wanted to fight for this happy ending that may never come.
Harper’s expression was soft but serious. “Okay, but at some point, you need to be prepared to let go of this idea that your dad is going to, all of a sudden, be great and be there for you. He’s not. He never has been.”
But that went against every hope I had.
“If I could just…” I took a deep breath because my chest constricted. “If he could just see me, believe in me, then maybe—”
“Things will be different? The past will somehow be different?” Harper finished, shaking her head. “It won’t, Lan. Even now, you’re killing yourself to prove your worth to him, all while going to grad school next year so you can graduate, and then what? He’ll hire you on at his firm?”
“Yes,” I said. Because that was the plan. If I worked hard, aced everything from statistical analysis to finance, maybe then he’d see I could be an asset.
“But he already fired you,” she said gently.
“No, I technically quit. By the time I’m done with grad school, hopefully Brock will be back in New York.” And my grand plan could be reinstated. “I just need a job in the meantime.”
Harper stalled a moment, chewing her lip, as if thinking over something serious. Finally, she motioned to her cell phone. “My friend Shannon runs a temp agency, and she was saying a while back how she’s hiring people to do payroll for some resort. I think they hire pretty fast over there. I was just looking up her contact information.”
“That would be great. Can I get her number from you?”
“Of course.” Then Harper’s expression was one I’d seen a few times before, whenever this topic got brought up. Pity. And I hated it because it added to the growing mountain of weakness I was battling.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said in my best casual voice.
“I just worry about you. You say things that make me hurt for you.”
“Please, don’t.” The last thing I needed or wanted was pity. Besides, “All I said was that I wanted my dad to believe in me. That’s a pretty standard request for a daughter.”
“I think you’re mixed up about what you think you want from your dad.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you want him to believe in you, I think you want him to believe you.”
Bile lined my throat, so sour and deep it made water threaten to spill over my lashes.
What happened with Brock was the one taboo, the secret scandal no one talked about, but we all knew was there. It was the one time in my life I ran crying to my father, reaching for his comfort, his promise that he’d protect me, save me, but it never came.
Instead, he told the thirteen year old me that Brock could never have done such a thing and I was being dramatic. Made it up in my mind. Never to be talked about again.
My eyes stung thinking about the discussion. Realizing I was alone in that moment.
Afraid.
I got up off the chair and put my coffee on the counter. I told myself last night that I was done waiting for him to swoop in. I was also done with a lot more than that.
“I’m done being afraid.” I wanted more. Wanted to be more. Wanted that powerful heat that started with a look, a kiss, and surged through my veins, leaving me feeling hot and strong. I got a taste of that last week.
I needed the heat. Craved it.
Which meant I had to make a move to get it.
“Good for you!” she smiled. “In the spirit of taking life by the balls, why don’t you come with me to the party across the street tonight?”
“At the firehouse?”
“Technically, it’s not at the firehouse. It’s at the park next to it. But, yeah, I was invited, and you can be my plus one.”
Something had been going on with Harper lately. Apparently, she had it bad for some firefighter. Not surprising. Every once in a while we’d steal a glimpse of them cleaning the trucks or running drills. Every time I tried asking about it, she just shrugged it off and changed the subject.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Why?” Harper asked. “You have plans with Mr. Intensity?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t even have his number.”
Harper looked confused. “Well, you gave him yours, right?”
“Sort of.”
“How do you sort of give your number? Did you switch to roman numerals halfway through or something?”
“No. I told it to him. He said he’d remember it, but he didn’t write it down.”
Harper sat back on the couch and avoided eye contact. The last thing he’d said to me was that we’d see each other again. That wasn’t looking likely. I knew where he lived, but there was no way I’d just pop up there like a stalker.
If he wanted me, he would have called by now, right? Maybe I’d misjudged our connection. Maybe it was more on
e-sided than I’d thought.
My big balloon of semi-confidence was deflating.
“Okay.” Harper clapped and stood. “We’re not going to overthink this. This city guy sounds great. No reason to freak out. Just let things play out like they should. Which includes you going to a party with me tonight full of hot firemen.”
I let out a rough breath.
“Come on.” Harper shimmied closer, half dancing. “You know you want to go. It’ll be fun. No thinking about anything except the drink in your hand and testing out this new Lana that isn’t afraid.”
I raised a brow. That did sound nice. No thinking. No fear. They were firemen, for goodness sakes. Good guys.
“Unless you want to mope around here, trying to cyberstalk the guy from last weekend?”
I laughed. I didn’t even know Jack’s last name. Besides, cyberstalking wasn’t my style.
I didn’t know what to do next, whether I’d ever see Jack again, but the way he looked at me, and the way he spoke to me with that sinful promise in his voice, I could only hope. In the meantime, I had reality to face and a best friend who needed a wing girl. Time to step up.
“When does the party start?”
Chapter Four
It was almost dusk, and I was standing in the middle of the large park, complete with a barbeque, a couple of picnic tables full of food, ping pong, which turned into beer pong an hour ago, and a makeshift bar. Harper was near the open field area, flirting with two different firemen. The fire station wasn’t far away. I could see the big trucks parked out front in the driveway. Good thing, since most of its crew seemed to be here.
“I hope someone is actually on duty,” I said to myself, finishing my second drink of vodka and something from a red plastic cup.
“There always is, Kitten,” a deep voice came from behind me. I turned to find a tall, broad wall of muscle with bright blue eyes staring down at me.
I almost choked.
