Possessive

by W Winters

  And so it started with me wanting to take a photograph of the snow around his old Chevy truck that couldn’t run anymore. The rusted-out hood. The flat back left tire.

  I started taking pictures of everything, obsessively. It was something Tyler and I had done together and it made sense to do at the time.

  I needed something and although I didn’t know what that something would be, I took photos of everything on my way to find what I was looking for.

  Something to take the guilt away. Something to make me smile the way a boy who loved me in a way I didn’t deserve had.

  Searching for Something.

  What it turned out to be was profitable.

  A myriad of photos all priced ridiculously high. In my opinion, at least. But that’s what everyone else was doing. The competition’s pictures sold for hundreds. And mine looked like a steal simply because of the price tag.

  I adopted the “fake it till you make it” strategy. And it’s been working. But I don’t know shit about running a business.

  The random person on Facebook shoots back an apology and I don’t bother to respond. My customer service isn’t the best either.

  Some days are better than others.

  Some days are filled with reminders of the past. And those days are the worst for me personally, but the best for the things I see and can capture with a lens. And they sell well. Not just well, like serious money.

  The shots I’ve taken today don’t tell my story. It should be a part of my journey, but the pretty images of wooden frames and white tweed with pale blue accents are what I wanted before last night. Before I went to Iron Heart and ran into that asshole.

  This is a décor shoot for a new life with new roots. It’ll look pretty on Instagram with a soft filter, but that’s about all it is. Just a series of pretty pictures.

  My phone pings and pings with updates and I put it on vibrate before heading to the kitchen, where I place it on the table.

  Next week is the kitchen makeover.

  For now, it’s all black and white with pops of cherry. A red teapot sits untouched on the stove as I shove my sunflower mug into the microwave to heat up water for tea.

  I doubt I’ll ever use that teapot.

  My phone vibrates yet again, rattling the table just as the microwave beeps. A heavy sigh of irritation leaves me, but I know it’s not the messages, nor the headache from stress and exhaustion.

  It’s because of Daniel. Just like years ago, I’m losing sleep over the asshole. Back then I never said a word. I let him treat me how he wanted, and I cowered away.

  I’m older now and last night I should have said something. I should have gotten up and slapped him for being such a dismissive prick. Well, maybe that’s taking things a little too far. But he deserves to know how much it hurt me. How I still struggle with what happened and how him treating me like that only makes the pain that much worse.

  As the tea bag sinks into the steaming water, an idea hits me to search for Daniel on Instagram.

  If not Instagram, then Facebook. Everyone is somewhere online now.

  With my feet up on the chic glass table and the mug in my right hand, I search both on my cell phone.

  And when both of those prove useless I try Twitter.

  The steady, rhythmic ticking of the simple clock across from me and above the little kitchenette gets my attention when my search proves to be futile. I stare at the second hand that’s marching along, willing it to give me an answer.

  But time’s a fickle bitch and she’s never helped me with anything.

  I take another sip of the now lukewarm tea before getting up for another cup.

  As I wait for it to heat, I decide to search Iron Heart Brewery on Church and Lincoln Street.

  Slowly a grin forms on my lips. Jake Holsteder stares back at me from a black and white photo where he’s holding up a beer in cheers. The bartender from last night is apparently the owner. Jake has links to his social media accounts.

  And more importantly, Daniel knows Jake.

  It’s a stretch, but I send a message to Jake on Facebook and then prepare my second cup of tea.

  Nice to meet you last night. Sorry I left early.

  It’s a simple message and if he doesn’t respond, I can always go back to the bar. I’m vaguely aware that I’m chasing after Daniel. After the man whose very existence brings back the ghosts of my past. But I don’t care. I live off instinct and everything is telling me that I need to find Daniel. If for no other reason than to tell him he knows damn well who I am.

  I add more sugar to the cup this time than last and the spoon clinks against the ceramic edge of the mug as my phone vibrates.

  No worries. You leave for any reason in particular?

  I chew on the inside of my cheek at his message.

  Just had to go. But I wanted to come back and try that beer. I don’t even remember what the hell the beer was called, but then I add, I’d love to take pictures of the place too if that’s okay?

  I purse my lips and tap my thumb against my phone before finally sending the message.

  Pictures? That’s all he answers.

  I send him a link to my Instagram and then text, Your place gives me so much inspiration.

  NICE!

  Even if he’s only being polite, I appreciate it. Thanks!

  He writes, Seriously, these are beautiful. You should try selling them.

  I do. It’s what I do for a living and I’d love to take some pics in your bar. The whole place gives me a ton of inspiration. Maybe we can chat too?

  He takes a moment and then another to respond. Each second makes my heart beat a little faster and I find myself picking at my nails. You come by looking for him?

  Him? I play coy.

  I thought maybe you knew Daniel? he asks me although it’s a statement.

  I did, but I haven’t seen him in years. I send the message without checking it. Maybe I gave away too much.

  You should stay away, Jake warns me and although I know he’s right, it pisses me off. All the kids at school told me that about Tyler too—well, more about his family than him specifically, and he was the only good thing I’ve ever had in my life. And I really don’t like people telling me what to do.

  I didn’t go to your bar looking for an old friend. I pause before adding, I’m here to make new ones.

  It feels like a hand’s squeezing my heart in my chest as an anxious feeling comes over me. The only sense I can gather from it all is that I know I’m only doing this to piss Daniel off. And that’s something I shouldn’t do; I’ve done it once before and the memory makes me feel weak.

  You can come by anytime. What’s your number? he asks me and although it’s forward, I send it over. Jake knows Daniel. So maybe I can get some intel at the very least.

  Daniel was always the possessive type. Even if he hated me, he hated anyone who showed me any attention more. So maybe finding out Jake has my number will piss him off. I can only hope.

  I feel petty as I walk away from the phone, listening to it vibrate in time with the ticking of the clock.

  As I peek out of the sheer white curtains and down onto the street below me, an eerie feeling washes through me. It slowly pricks along my skin until the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  It’s a feeling like someone’s watching me. I’m slow as I turn so I’m facing my living room. There’s no one else here in my studio apartment. Not a soul.

  My hand wraps around the hot mug and I pull the curtains shut. It’s only the memory of Tyler that’s brought this back.

  I couldn’t go anywhere without feeling him there. Watching me. A shudder runs down my spine as I remember each day. Each photo I took as I whipped around, expecting to find someone lurking in the shadows. There was never anyone there. It was only my shame that followed me.

  I hate Daniel even more in this moment.

  It took me years to get to where I was days ago. And with one look, I’ve gone back to being the girl I was trying to leave
behind.

  Chapter 6

  Daniel

  * * *

  “It’s been long enough, hasn’t it?” my brother’s voice asks on the other end of the phone.

  My eyes close as I try to push down the irritation. Madison Street is busy today in the quiet town. Cars pass and I can hear the hums and rumbles with the windows opened in the diner as I lean back in the booth. The vinyl coverings protest as I lean forward and wave the waitress away before she can offer me another cup of coffee.

  “We go through this every few months, Carter.” I close my eyes again as I continue, “Do you really want to have the same conversation again?”

  Across the street is a coffee shop. And inside it, Addison. She’s hunched over in the corner with her laptop on a small circular table as she sits cross-legged in a chair. Some things never change.

  I watch her from a distance in the safety of the diner. I’m within view; she could see me if she wanted to. But that’s the thing about Addison. She never wanted to see me.

  “How long are you going to keep this up?” Carter asks me. He’s older than me by a year, almost on the dot. Irish twins, so to speak. I don’t bother answering him and instead I remember the details of her address that Marcus gave me.

  Funny how he can’t show up to deliver the package from the Romanos. But one encrypted message from me to him with Addison’s license plate number sparks enough interest for him to respond.

  I suppose he hasn’t forgotten. Marcus has a good memory.

  “Whatever, I just need the package.” Carter sighs on the other end of the phone. “I need to know what we’re getting into before we decide…”

  He doesn’t continue, but I know what he’s getting at. It’s best not to speak those things where others can hear.

  “He’ll show. You know how he is.”

  “He’s a pain in my ass.”

  The corner of my lip kicks up at his comment. “So many things are a pain in your ass, Carter. It’s hard to believe you can sit down without wincing,” I joke as I watch Addison take a large drink from her coffee cup. It’s the tallest size the shop has and it looks like she’s almost done.

  “You’re fucking hilarious, you know that?” I laugh at Carter’s comment even though he says it with disdain. He runs the family business now. What started as a way for my father to make extra cash became an empire formed from ruthless and cutthroat tactics. Carter’s the head, but I do his bidding more from a vague obligation that we’re blood than anything else.

  “Are you coming home after this? As soon as this package arrives? There’s no reason for you to stay away and we need you here.”

  Her name is on the tip of my tongue. Addison. I may deal in addiction, but she’s the only addiction I’ve ever had and the only one I desire.

  “Well?” he presses.

  “I’m curious about something,” I answer my brother.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something of personal interest,” I mutter and the words come out lower than I intend them to. He’s quiet for a long moment. And my focus is momentarily distracted. A man in a thin leather jacket walks past the coffee shop slowly, but his gaze is on Addison.

  My eyes narrow as he stops in his tracks and glances inside the place. I shake off the possessive feelings. I’m only projecting.

  Carter’s voice brings my attention back to him. “With that shit your friend Dean pulled, there’s too much heat around you.” He ignores my earlier comment and I decide it’s for the best. There’s no need for anyone to know what I’m doing.

  I’m quick to answer him. “Which is exactly why I need to stay. Leaving would raise suspicion.”

  A line of cars pass on the street in front of me, temporarily blocking Addison from my view. At their movement, she peeks up through the large glass windows of the shop.

  Her hair brushes her shoulder and falls down her back as she takes a break to look out onto the street. Her pouty lips are turned down. They always are. There’s a sadness that’s always followed Addison. It’s only a matter of whether or not she’s trying to hide it, but it’s always there.

  Her green eyes are deep and even from this distance they seem to darken. Her hand moves to the back of her neck, massaging away a dull ache from sitting there for hours now. With each breath, her chest rises and falls and I’m mesmerized by her. By all of her.

  More so by what she does to me.

  The hate and anger I felt toward her years ago has numbed into something else each minute I sit here.

  Curiosity maybe.

  “Just get the package from Marcus. You’ve been gone long enough and we could use you here.”

  “I don’t know if I want to come back,” I tell him honestly and flatly.

  “It’s not a matter of want,” he replies but his words come out hollow and with no authority although he wishes he had it. “We’re your blood.” He plays the only card he has that can get me to do his bidding.

  “You never fail to remind me.”

  My phone vibrates with a message and I’m more than happy to end this call.

  “I’ve got to go.” My phone vibrates again. “I’ll update you when I can.” I don’t wait for him to acknowledge what I’ve said, let alone tell me goodbye. I’ve never been close to my brothers. Not like they are toward each other. I’m the black sheep, I suppose.

  I crack my neck as my phone vibrates for a third time. Before checking it I glance back at Addison only to see she’s gone, although her laptop is still there. My heart stills and my body tenses until I see her by the counter, ordering something else.

  Annoyance rises in me as I realize how much pull she has over me in this moment. I’ve turned back into what I hate. My teeth grit as I pull up my texts and that annoyance grows to an agitation that makes me grip the edge of the table to keep me from doing something stupid.

  Three messages, each from Jake.

  Marcus isn’t coming tonight. He said there are complications.

  I have your girl’s number though if you want it.

  And I think she’s coming here tonight.

  Jake wants to die. That’s the only explanation. He literally wants me to kill his ass.

  My glare moves from the cell phone in my hand back to the coffee shop across the street. Addison’s cardigan dangles loosely around her as she moves back to her spot. Her jeans are tight and I can just imagine how they’d feel against my hands as I ripped them off of her. It’d be difficult, but I would fucking love it.

  “Do you …” I hear a small, hesitant voice next to me and I have to school my expression before I can look back at the waitress.

  She’s an older woman, with soft lines around her eyes. A stray lock of dark hair with a line of silver running through it falls from her bun and into her face as she offers me a smile and holds up a pot of coffee. “You’re all out this time,” she says, like it’s a reason to have another.

  “Sure,” I say and smile politely as she fills the cup.

  The hot coffee steams and I stare at it as she leaves me be.

  So Addison is giving her number out.

  I wonder if she would have given it to me. I replay that scene in my head and instead of leaving, I slip in beside her.

  I don’t deserve Addison. That’s a given.

  But I’ll be damned if I let some asshole like Jake get his hands on her.

  Chapter 7

  Addison

  * * *

  It took three days to actually go through with it and go back to Iron Heart Brewery.

  Three days and this feeling in my gut that won’t leave.

  Three days of fiddling with images in Photoshop and hating each and every one because I can’t focus.

  And worst of all, three nights of not sleeping.

  Every night I keep dreaming of the bar and every time the scene ends differently. It starts out how I’d have liked for it to have gone. With him giving me the time of day. With him offering to get me a drink. But then it turns dark and wicked. Dani
el grabs me. Or worse. I hear Tyler tell me to stay away.

  And I wake up shaken.

  I feel just like I did that winter I ran away.

  And I hate it. I hate Daniel even more for making it all come back. And if I can find that asshole I’m going to tell him exactly how he makes me feel. Not just the way he made me feel the other night, but also the way I felt all those years ago.

  Part of me wants to run. But I already did that. I can’t keep running forever.

  I open the heavy glass door to the bar with the buzz of the late traffic behind me. This is an old town, but on weekends everyone is out and about.

  I’m immediately hit with the aroma of pale ale lingering in the air and the chatter of everyone in here. The air outside was crisp, but only two steps in and the warmth lets me slip off my cardigan.

  “Addison,” Jake says my name from his place behind the bar. It carries over the hubbub and a man seated on a stool by him turns to look back at me.

  Jake’s smile is broad and welcoming as he gestures to an open seat at the bar.

  For a small moment I forget the churning in my gut. I think that’s what really happened these past couple of years. I slowly forgot. And if that isn’t a tragedy, I don’t know what is.

  “You alright?” Jake asks with his forehead creased and a frown on his lips.

  “Sorry,” I tell him and shake my head as I fold the cardigan over the barstool and then slip on top of it, resting my elbows on the bar. “Been a long few days.”

  “What’s bothering you?” he asks while passing a beer down the bar to an old man with salt and pepper hair and bushy eyebrows that are colored just the same.

  The man waves him a thanks without breaking his conversation. Something about a football game coming up.

  Letting out an easy sigh, I pull the hair away from my face and into a small ponytail although I don’t have a band, so it falls down my back as I talk. “Oh, you know. Just moving and getting settled.” I smile easily as I lie to him. “So, how’s it been going for you?”