Perfect Fit

by Taige Crenshaw

  Spencer snorted at that lie. Driscoll hadn’t outright interfered, but he’d taken many opportunities to bring up Regina. Spencer had ignored him each time, and sometimes they’d almost come to blows because of his pushing. Instead, by mutual agreement, they had worked out their aggression in the home gym. The hit of flesh against flesh as they boxed did a lot for Spencer’s disposition.

  “You’ve been walking around half-alive, Spence.”

  Spencer lowered his arms at the shortened version of his name—Driscoll hadn’t called him that in about a year. Spencer frowned as he realised it was almost since Regina and he split. The concern and seriousness in Driscoll’s tone registered, and Spencer took a step towards his brother. Driscoll held up his hand, waylaying him.

  “It’s been hard to watch my brother wither and die.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Dris,” Spencer interjected, moving closer, ignoring his upraised hand.

  “Dramatic.” Driscoll’s eyes narrowed. “This is the first time you’ve called me Dris for over a year. When you moved in, every time I called you Spence, you flinched as if I was beating you. I knew it was because only Reggie and I call you that. That every time I called you that, it reminded you of her.” Driscoll pounded his fist against his chest. “I stopped because of that. I’ve called you Spence since you were born, and our parents called you that. Yet we lost that for over a year because of your stubbornness of not trying to work things out with your wife.” Driscoll took a step towards him, his expression rigid, making the network of scars that ran down the right side of his face from his lower cheek to his neck stand out. “You might not have said the words to her, but you still love and care about her. Stop hiding here from it and go home, Spence. Go home and work things out with your wife. I’m through watching you live half a life.”

  They met just next to the couch. Driscoll placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder and studied him. Spencer gripped his arm on his shoulder just above his wrist. He blinked at the familiar stance of offering each other support as well as showing the seriousness of what they were discussing. It had been one they’d often used, and it had been absent for a while. In that moment, Spencer realised he had been slowly losing a lot of things.

  “Are you kicking me out, big brother?” Spencer smiled to show he was teasing.

  “Now who’s twisting words?” Driscoll squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re sometimes an annoying little brother, but we’re family. You’ll always have a place with me here, no matter what happens between you and Reggie.”

  Spencer squeezed his arms and sighed. “I… We need to divorce.”

  Driscoll released his hold on his shoulder, then shook off Spencer’s hold on his arm before he swung.

  “Ow!” Spencer rubbed the side of his head. “Christ, I hate when you do that.”

  “You needed a good lick to knock some sense into you.” Driscoll grinned then he sobered. “You need to ask yourself this—is the divorce good for you both, or is it to protect yourself?” Driscoll pivoted then walked towards the entrance to the hall.

  “It’s good for us.”

  Driscoll stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Really? Then why didn’t you do it before now? This started three years ago. From what you have told me, you all lived in almost one year of silence, then another year of therapy and more silence until you finally left. You moved out over a year ago, and since then have done nothing to sever ties from Reggie.”

  Spencer frowned. Then it dawned on him where he was leading. “It has nothing to do with Jules’ accident a few months ago.”

  “Hmmmm…it doesn’t?” The disbelief was plain in his voice.

  “Don’t use that on me. The reverse psychology shit.” Spencer crossed his arms over his chest.

  “And there goes your defensive stance. I know it well. We both use it.” Driscoll lifted an eyebrow. “Get defensive all you want, but we both know seeing Reggie a few months ago after avoiding her for almost a year shook you. Made you feel things you want to deny.”

  “Fuck you.” Spencer took a step towards him. “You opened the gate for her. Then set me up to open the door to let her in. Interfering fucker. Why don’t you get your own life and leave mine alone?”

  Driscoll turned to face him and clenched fists. “Because I give a fuck about you. You stubborn bastard. I love you. You’re my brother, and I want what’s best for you. Even if you think it’s not.” Driscoll’s voice lowered as he spoke. “The most emotion you’ve shown in almost a year was when you saw Reggie at the hospital a few months ago. Since then, you were almost the old Spence again. Then when you told me your harebrained scheme of serving her divorce papers when she was at the Locke Family gathering to save you both pain, I knew it wouldn’t work. And even you knew Reggie wouldn’t accept it that way.” Driscoll moved closer, getting in his face. “You did this to save yourself from giving into your baser instinct and going to reclaim your mate. The woman who, from the time you met when you were both fourteen, knew you were the only one for her. You took some convincing, but once you came to terms, she was yours, and there was no dissuading you from having her. What happened to that man, Spence? The one who was fearless in claiming the woman he wanted despite everything that stood between them. Our parents didn’t think it was possible to find your soul mate at such a young age and did everything to keep you away from each other. Her parents didn’t want her to give up her dreams and thought she would for you. Both of you ignored all that and stuck to each other. Loved each other despite all the opposition. The parents’ plans were short-lived, and then both her and our parents accepted you as a couple, but that bond you all have because of what you withstood is unbreakable. It may bend, but never will it break.”

  Spencer flinched. Another idiosyncrasy they got from their dad was the ability to make speaking low feel like you were being yelled at. It was so much worse than an actual roar, since it was so intense. Spencer hated being on the receiving end of it.

  “That last line from your most famous song, and you delivered it just right. But you know that deep growly tone that made you such a famous singer that women threw themselves at your feet?” Spencer leaned closer. “It does nothing for me.”

  Driscoll blinked, then put his head back and laughed. Spencer joined him. Driscoll, still chuckling, pushed his shoulder gently.

  “Such a butthead.”

  “Yeah, but I’m your butthead.” Spencer grinned, then it slowly faded as what he said registered. “There is so much we didn’t talk about. Even when she came here and I asked if she would talk, she couldn’t say that to me.”

  “I know.”

  “What?” Spencer recalled what Driscoll had said in their conversation thus far. “Wait…you were eavesdropping. Driscoll! You—”

  Driscoll put up his hand. “I only kept out of sight, but close enough in case I needed to interfere. Things can get heated between you two.”

  Spencer’s mind flashed to the more heated moments when he and Regina hadn’t been able to get out of bed because they couldn’t stop loving on each other. His cock hardened, and he was glad his T-shirt was baggy and covered him to mid-thigh. He stifled a shudder as his mind flashed to her touch and how it almost made him fall to his knees. He enjoyed the slow foreplay, kissing all along her body then to her inner thighs to where he knew she would be wet, warm and waiting for him. It had always been that way with them—all they needed was to be in each other’s vicinity, and they wanted a private place to strip and make love. Love…it had always been that since their first meeting, even if he hadn’t admitted it when he was fourteen. What fourteen-year-old boy would admit such a thing when faced with his destiny? Certainly not him.

  Spencer jumped at the sting, then rubbed his head. “Son of… Why’d you do that again?” He lowered his hand and glared at Driscoll. “I sure didn’t miss that.”

  “You know you love my ‘knock your marbles around so you get some sense’ taps.” Driscoll grinned. “You were thinking something naughty about Reggie
. I can always tell. You get this glazed look, and your tongue hangs out like a puppy.” Driscoll demonstrated.

  Spencer studied his clearly exaggerated expression and scoffed. “I don’t look like that.”

  “I wish I had a camera so I could take a picture to show you that you do.” Driscoll frowned. “Left my cell in my studio. Anyway, that’s not the kind of heated I meant.”

  “Regina wouldn’t ever hit me, and I wouldn’t hit her. Not in anger, anyway.” Spencer shifted as his shaft hardened even more.

  “I know you wouldn’t hit each other, but you all have been acting unlike yourselves, and words can hurt more than actual blows. The pain from that lasts longer too. I did—” Driscoll’s eyes widened, then he shook his head. “I didn’t understand what you just said about hitting, and now I do. TMI! Oh, God, I don’t need to know your freaky sex life.” Driscoll rubbed his eyes. “I’m not going to think about it. Nope…not going to. I’m never going to be able to look Reggie in the face again.” He rubbed his temple. “Bastard…now I have the image in my head.” He lowered his hand and punched him in the shoulder. “I hate you.”

  Spencer grinned. “You love me.” He playfully shoved him in the shoulder. “Come on. I want to tell you. She does this—”

  “Nahh…nahhhh…I can’t hear you.” Driscoll shook his head and backed away, then turned and walked rapidly down the hall and out of sight.

  Spencer chuckled, rubbing his hands together. He hadn’t planned to actually tell him, but had used the threat to get rid of him. He stopped and pressed his fingers to his temple. Driscoll had said some things that struck close to home. He’d sent the papers the way he had to make it easier for him. Hell, he should’ve know better—thinking about it, he knew Regina well enough to know she wouldn’t accept the way he had dropped off the papers—as well as the actual paperwork—without confronting him. Spencer remembered the scent of roses when she’d been near him. He knew it was from her lotion he’d given to her for her birthday. It was one he’d had specially made just for her each year, along with two others—peach and coconut. It was a tradition, and he’d given her new bottles of each on her last birthday they’d spent together. They hadn’t been speaking much, but he’d still done it. Although he appreciated them all, she knew rose was his favourite, while she loved peaches and they both enjoyed the coconut. When she wore the coconut it was to drive him wild, since it brought up memories of things they had done with it.

  “There’s that look again.”

  Spencer jumped as Driscoll spoke—he hadn’t heard him return. He glanced at him, blinking.

  “Don’t think I don’t know you were trying to distract me from my point.” Driscoll wiggled his fingers, then rubbed them against the front of his shirt. “But I can see that I’ve already made it, so I won’t say anything else. Except for two things. First, don’t think too long, as you tend to like to do.” He ticked his points off on his fingers. “Two, I suggest if you want to do whatever that look”—Driscoll made the expression he had earlier—“is about, you call her ‘Reggie’. She flinches even worse than you when you say Regina.” Driscoll stared at him pointedly. “That is, if you plan on actually going home.”

  Spencer didn’t know what he wanted to do. He had been all set for the divorce—in his mind, he knew it was the right thing to do. He rubbed his hand over his heart, which wasn’t fully on board with the idea. He didn’t have a clue what to do now. If only Regina had signed and not come to see me.

  You just admitted earlier you knew that wasn’t going to happen. His inner voice sounded suspiciously like Driscoll.

  “Get out of my head,” he told Driscoll.

  “What?” His brow furrowed, and he looked confused.

  “I’m having a conversation in my head, and one of the voices sounds like you.” Spencer tapped the side of his forehead. “Even in there, you sound like you know it all.”

  “Humph. I don’t know it all. I’m just smart enough to sound like it. Act like you know shit or belong somewhere, and people tend to leave you be. Confidence convinces people you know more than they do.” Driscoll grinned. “I use these skills well. So what is your wise inner voice telling you?”

  “That I need a session in the gym,” Spencer replied.

  He wasn’t about to admit what he was thinking. Not now. He needed to think first then decide what to do.

  “Liar.” Driscoll smirked, then put up his fists. “Gloves or bare fists?”

  Spencer knew that was his way of asking if they’d be boxing or kick-boxing. “Bare fists.”

  Driscoll nodded and turned before heading towards the gym. Spencer followed and studied his loose-limbed, smooth gait. His mind flashed to three years ago when Driscoll had been hurt and had to walk with a cane, and was just newly scarred. Three years ago seemed to be when everything had gone to hell. He’d almost lost his brother in an accident that had claimed almost all his band mates, and had started the loss of the life he’d built with his wife. Driscoll had survived through will, determination and because Spencer as well as Regina had refused to let him die as he’d at first wished to. All their friends—who were like family—had rallied around Driscoll to save him. At the time, he and Regina hadn’t even thought of what they were going through, and that was when the silence had started and grown until it had suffocated them and their marriage. Spencer wondered if they were willing to deal with it now, to face what had driven a wedge between them.

  ‘You don’t want to fight for us. Is it really so easy to let us go?’

  Regina’s last words and the sheen in her eyes as she’d fought her tears replayed in his mind. Her question was a valid one, and one he didn’t have an answer to.

  Can you see your life without her in it?

  Spencer instinctively clenched his fist, biting his lip to stifle a cry of rage and pain that thought gave him. He stopped as it dawned on him he wasn’t through with their marriage. Now it was a matter of what he was going to do about it.

  Chapter Two

  Spencer placed his tea on the tray then lifted it, taking it past the registers that had no cashiers—he noticed the hospital cafeteria was almost empty. At this time of day—a little after three a.m.—that was unexpected. By this time, things slowed down on most floors of Singleton Hospital, and hospital personnel would be taking a break or unwinding, waiting for the next wave of emergencies or patients needing something. At night into early morning, the hospital came alive with the staff bustling around working. During the day for visiting hours, it was busy with family, friends and people coming in for outpatient things, but at night, it was the staff members who were bustling around. The cafeteria was closed, but had vending machines for people who didn’t bring in their own meals. That was a risk, since most of the things in the machines weren’t that appetising.

  Usually, Spencer brought in his own meals and grabbed a beverage from the machine. He walked towards his usual spot. As he looked at his lunch bag, his thoughts turned to Regina, as they had for days. No matter how busy they were, they used to make lunch for each other. They’d also include a little note that could range from something as simple as ‘have good day’ to a joke, and usually ended with ‘love you’. Spencer found a table in the back away from the entrance of the room and put his tray down. He placed his hand on the bag.

  “God, I miss that.”

  “Miss what?” a feminine voice sounded behind him.

  Spencer jumped, not having heard anyone approaching. He shifted, looking up, then grinned.

  “Lila, what brings you to our humble abode?” Spencer studied her rich honey-brown face and the familiar twinkle in her hazel eyes. Her reddish brown hair was back in the usual bun, but a few strands of her kinky curls had escaped and were curling around her face. He gestured to the one of the chairs. “Have seat.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Lila smiled, putting down her own tray and sitting. “It’s been a rough night.”

  “Really?” Spencer sat across from her, observing the lines of s
train around her mouth as she grimaced. “I don’t recall there being any fatalities that had the police called in and them needing to call the Medical Examiners’ office. And you’re not the one we usually get when there is a need.”

  Lila was the head of the Medical Examiners’ office for the Singleton Police Department and she worked out of the Delko Street precinct. They had become friendly about a year ago when a case had overlapped and Lila had come in since she had been short-staffed. Spencer, as the head of the ER, could relate to being short-staffed, as that was a common thing with them due to budget cuts. As he’d passed on the information he knew of the victim, they had started to talk and before he knew it, they were sharing a cup of coffee in the lounge. That had been the start of an unexpected friendship. Since then, if he was ever near the Delko Street precinct or she at the hospital, they sought each other out to at least say hello.

  “True. I’m not. This time, there wasn’t a fatality, and I was a witness.” Lila lowered her head, then shook it. “At least, he wasn’t a fatality when he came in.”

  Spencer, hearing the pain in her voice, placed his hand over hers on the table. “What happened?” He tried to remember if he had been briefed on a case where Lila had been involved. Spencer couldn’t remember one. When he’d arrived earlier and had been filled in on what had been going on, no one had mentioned Lila. They knew that they were friends.

  “I was on a date—”

  “You, on a date?”

  “No need to sound shocked. I do, occasionally.” She paused, then spoke again. “Well, I rarely go on them. It’s a shame, the best part of the date was the accident that happened in front of us when the car skidded into a bank then flipped, ejecting the driver.” Lila placed her hand over her eyes. “Oh, God, that sounded so bad. I didn’t mean that the person getting hurt was a good thing. I—”

  “I know, Lila. No need to explain. I get it,” Spencer said gently. He rarely saw her frazzled. She was usually so put together and calm. He did understand what she’d said and why. As medical professionals having to deal with all they saw, humour or levity in situations like this might come across as not caring when in reality, that wasn’t the case.