by Gina Azzi
I listen to her footsteps on the stairs and hate myself for making her feel more uncertain when that was never my intention. The truth is, Claire Merrick tempts me in ways she shouldn’t.
She’s both an angel and a devil. Sweet and innocent. Young and careful. And strong and fierce, wild and bold. I’ve wanted to taste her lips and thread my fingers through her hair for years now. Since the night of her twentieth birthday party when I looked at her, dancing with her arms in the air, a slinky gold dress riding up her thighs, and realized the girl I’ve always gone out of my way to protect turned into a woman. A woman I have no business fantasizing about. A woman who needs protection from guys like me.
I rub the heel of my hand against the center of my chest. I hate that she misinterpreted my words. I hate that I hurt her feelings when I spent years checking the immature guys in her class for teasing her about anything.
But isn’t it better this way?
Claire will never be mine. She’s not meant for a guy like me and I will never be good enough for her.
4
Claire
“What’s it like living with him?” Indy stage-whispers as Noah bangs around in the upstairs bathroom.
“Is he searching for alcohol?” I lift an eyebrow at my cousin.
Her cheeks burn as she plops down on a barstool and nods toward the muffins I made on the kitchen island. “Are you baking for him?” Her eyes gleam.
“Indiana.”
Indy sighs. “Look, Austin’s just worried, okay?”
“He can’t go snooping through his brother’s things.”
“Like you haven’t already?” She calls me out and I flip her the middle finger. Indy laughs. “Trust me, I get it. Everyone is just worried about him. No one thinks he’s going to go buy a six-pack, but if he happens to come across some liquor and it’s a trigger and…”
“Didn’t Noah already do a sweep before Easton left rehab?” I ask, setting a muffin on a plate and sliding it in front of her.
“Blueberry! Oh my God, I am having all the fruit cravings.” She picks up the muffin and eyes it appreciatively. Flicking her gaze to me, she nods. “He did. But he forgot the guest—your—bathroom. Besides, he also wants to pack up some things to bring to my place.”
“I can’t believe you guys are living in that tiny shoebox.” I laugh, popping a decaf Nespresso pod into the machine for her.
“I know.” She grins. “But honestly, I love my little tenement apartment. I don’t know if it will be practical for when the baby comes, but for right now, with Noah and I still getting to know each other and everything just so…new, moving would be too much stress.”
“I know what you mean.” I plunk down her mug and she gasps.
“Muffin and caffeine? I am so your favorite girl cousin.”
“You’re my only girl cousin,” I remind her, snagging a muffin for myself and leaning over the kitchen island. “And don’t get too excited. It’s decaf.”
Indy wrinkles her nose. She takes a big bite of her muffin and groans appreciatively.
“Good, right?”
“The best, Claire. If you don’t land a job soon, you could give baking a shot.”
I roll my eyes. “Just eat your muffin.”
Indy takes another bite. “Where is East anyway?”
“AA meeting.”
“Is he going every day?”
“Sometimes twice a day.”
“Wow. I’m really proud of him,” Indy says softly, a thoughtful look crossing her face.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Has it been…okay, living with him?”
“It’s been fine.”
Indy’s eyes narrow. “Just fine? Claire, you have pined for Easton since—”
“Shh!”
We both stop talking as we listen for Noah upstairs. After a moment, he drops something and groans loudly.
“I didn’t pine,” I begin but Indy’s snort cuts me off. “It’s just, it’s different now. We used to at least be friends. This Easton looks at me like he can’t stand me. He’s constantly calling me kid. Kid, Indy, like I’m a preteen with a crush. It’s annoying. And embarrassing because it’s true.” I stuff a huge bite of muffin in my mouth to stop the word vomit spewing from my lips.
I hate that Easton hurt my feelings but he did. For a second, just a blink, when he came into the game room, I thought we might hang out. Have a conversation, watch some TV, you know, be casual. Normal. But then he reminded me how different we are. How I’m an immature, bratty kid and he’s a hockey god, and the disparity between us scraped at my insecurities. For the most part, I keep them buried so deep that most people don’t think I have them. To the world, I project confidence, but sometimes, it’s flimsy.
I know I’m a great flirt. I’m fun and outgoing. I have no problem talking to anyone.
But Easton makes me feel off-balanced and the other night, it’s like he shoved me until I toppled over. With my lack of job prospects and my lack of a dating life, the high I’ve been riding since college graduation has been steadily shrinking as reality sets in.
Indy shoots me a sympathetic glance. “Claire, you told me that you and Easton always had a playful relationship. I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it.”
I shake my head. “It’s different now. It just feels…off.”
“Well, you both have a lot going on.”
“Him more than me.” I pick at my muffin.
“Don’t blow off your stuff. Graduating and trying to find your footing after college is tough.”
“I just wish I had a real job. With a salary,” I sigh.
“You will. I swear.” She holds up a hand before I can say anything. “And before you start, I know I wasn’t in the same boat. I know I lucked out with my position at Brighton University. But Claire, when you find a job, you’re going to be working for the next forty or fifty years. I know it doesn’t seem like it but in the grand scheme of things, having eight or ten or even fourteen months of job searching isn’t going to be the end of the world. I mean, look at you, living in this beautiful space with a boy you adore.” She grins at me. “Take this time to hone your skills, cast a wide net for job prospects. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes meeting mine over the rim.
“I’ve been designing band logos and album covers for fun,” I blurt out.
“Album covers?” Surprise layers her tone but she leans closer in interest. “Because of the thing with Derek?”
I roll my eyes. Hooking up with Derek over the summer was an awful decision. Sure, he’s hot and reckless, wild and uninhibited. When he croons onstage, women scream his name, and I’m embarrassed to admit I was one of them. But after a whirlwind few weeks with high highs and low lows, I ended up a little emotionally bruised and financially broke.
“Yeah. He introduced me to some other indie bands, mostly local, who are looking for design work for covers, logos, and merchandise.”
“I didn’t realize you guys were talking again.” Indy’s voice is stiff, her eyes searching mine. Her disapproval is obvious and it makes me want to hug her and thank her for always having my back.
“We’re not,” I assure her.
She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. The way he stuck you with that bill at Carters Steakhouse was—”
“Shitty.”
“And shady.”
The night that Derek and his band, The Burnt Clovers, were invited to go on tour as the opening act for The Failed Poets, we all went to Carters, a super swanky downtown steakhouse that costs a small fortune, to celebrate. I had been drinking all night, cheering on my man, and was already quite drunk before I lifted a menu. I was definitely too tipsy to question how he secured a reservation last minute.
By the time dessert came, most of the band members and their significant others had bounced. Taylor, the drummer, had given me a sympathetic look as he kissed my cheek goodbye. “Want me to walk you out?” he offered. But I shook my head, gesturing to
Derek and Callie, a girl he’d been friends with for years, still sitting at the table. A few minutes later, Callie whispered something to Derek and he nodded, giving me a long look. He told me they’d be back in a minute and I assumed they were going to smoke up or do a line of coke or some other shit I had no interest in.
I assumed wrong. Because I ended up paying a $3200 bill that effectively wiped out my tiny savings account. Then, I found Derek banging Callie in the alleyway I cut through to meet my Uber driver. It was an awful, humiliating night. And the reality check I desperately needed to wake the hell up and think seriously about my life choices.
“When did he reach out to you?” Indy asks, pulling me back to our conversation.
“Before Thanksgiving. Honestly, I wasn’t going to answer his call but curiosity got the better of me.”
“Did he apologize at least?”
I nod.
“Is he going to pay you back?” she asks.
I give her a look and she shakes her head.
“But since The Burnt Clovers is doing amazing now, he did ask me to do some more work for them. This time, I was professional about it and drew up a contract and everything.”
“Good for you.” Indy smacks her fingers against the countertop.
I grin at her, relieved that at least one person in the world would take my side on this. “And he hooked me up with a bunch of other bands who liked my work so…”
“So we don’t hate him, but we still strongly dislike him.”
“Exactly. I really love the work though, Indy. It’s creative and allows me to experiment, to try new things.”
Indy smiles at me warmly before reaching across the island to catch my wrist. “That’s awesome, Claire. I’m happy for you.”
I blush and roll my eyes. “Thanks. But I’m not sure Mom and Dad would see it that way.”
“Why not? You’re honing your techniques and making some extra money.”
“But it’s not something I could write into a cover letter. Besides, I could spend that time interning for a lunch stipend. Or networking.” I recite Dad’s favorite talking points when it comes to my job search.
As much as I enjoy designing logos and collaborating with bands, it’s not a career path my family would accept. I bite the corner of my mouth, wondering how much I should divulge to Indy. She’s always supported me, but she’s also a super smart, disciplined professor with a color-coordinated planner and a detailed five-year plan.
Indy frowns. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Claire. Designing logos and collaborating on projects allows you to strengthen your design skills and improve your interpersonal skills. All the things you’re doing right now are still steps in the right direction.”
I stick my tongue out at Indy. “You’re showing your idealistic, professor side. It’s very encouraging though. Your students must love you.”
Indy tosses her head back and laughs. “One of my students called me Dr. Merrick the other day and I didn’t answer. I tell them all to call me Indy.”
“You have the perfect job for you.”
“You will too. Don’t give up on yourself, Claire. You’re smart and engaging. You know how to talk to everyone and connect with people effortlessly. You’re the full package.”
I smile at her gratefully. “Thank you for the pick-me-up chat.”
“Thanks for the muffin.” She slides from the barstool. “I need to hurry Noah along. We have an ultrasound appointment in an hour.”
“Oh my God! Are you going to find out the sex?” I ask, bouncing on my toes.
Indy’s eyes gleam. “I am desperate to know.”
“You have to call me right after.”
She shakes her head. “Noah wants to be surprised.”
“Ew,” I say, knowing how much my cousin likes to plan and feel prepared for all the things.
“I know,” Indy laments. “I have no idea what to buy.”
“Neutral colors.”
“Boring,” she complains.
I roll my eyes and kiss her cheek. “Let me know how you make out at the doctor’s.”
“Let me know what goes down between you and Broody.”
I snort. “Is that what we’re calling East now?”
“We need a secret name for him. Everyone knows who he is.”
“And Broody is so top-secret, no one would be able to figure it out.”
Indy swats at me. “Just tell me when his ‘kid’ comments become part of foreplay.”
“Get out of here.” I laugh, walking her toward the staircase where she bellows for Noah.
He appears a moment later, the strap of a duffle bag cutting across his chest. “You ready, babe?”
“All set,” Indy says.
“Cool. We’ll see you later, Claire. I told East to come over for dinner Friday night. You come too.”
“Friday night?”
Noah nods. “Yeah. East’s first day back at practice is tomorrow so I figured I’d keep him entertained Friday night since he’s used to hitting the bars and clubs with the guys.”
“That’s a good idea.” I shuffle from one foot to the other. “Do you think he’d want me to tag along?”
“Sure. You’ll provide an entertaining buffer.”
“As long as I’ll be useful,” I deadpan.
Noah snickers. “At this point, I’ll do anything to keep Easton occupied. Too busy to sulk around.”
“Your brother is the least cheerful person I know,” I agree, pulling open the front door for them.
“He’s better with you,” Noah says and I can tell he means it. Jeez, for brothers as close as Noah and East are, I can’t believe how off-base Noah is about that. “See you Friday.”
“See you Friday.” I wave.
Once they’re gone, I walk back into the kitchen. Easton’s first day back on the ice is tomorrow. Is he nervous? Excited? Both?
What’s it like for the guy who was always the life of the party to avoid it at all costs now? How does Noah plan to keep him distracted? Is he going to invite him over every weekend for dinner?
I frown. Even though Easton and I started our living arrangement on rocky ground, it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about him. In fact, I still think of him a lot more than I should. Like, all the time. And I do want to help him during this transition.
Pushing my sleeves up on my arms, I dial Mom.
“Claire!” she answers. “I’m so happy you’re calling. You and East are coming for dinner on Sunday, right?”
I chuckle. “Yes, Mom. We’re in.”
“Good. How are you?”
“Good, Mom. I was just wondering, how do you make that chicken piccata recipe?”
“The one Easton likes?” If Mom is surprised, she doesn’t show it and my gratitude toward her multiplies.
“That’s the one.”
“You’re cooking dinner?” This time she sounds surprised and I snort.
“Trying, Mom. Just trying. Tomorrow is his first day back on the ice.”
“Oh, Claire,” Mom’s voice softens. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Here’s what you do…”
I’m nervous. Not my normal, butterfly, jittery, excited nervous but nauseous, I-kind-of-want-to-puke-and-hide nervous. When Easton left for practice this afternoon, he tipped his chin at me in both greeting and farewell.
And my traitorous body reacted all wrong. My mouth watered at the sight of him in worn out sweats and a hoodie. He had a duffle bag strewn over his shoulder and a backwards baseball cap on his head. Two days of scruff coated his cheeks and chin and a haggard kind of tiredness clung to his eyes.
By normal standards, he did not look hot. But by my standards, he looked downright sexy. My fingers tightened into fists, and I held my breath for a word, any word, he threw my way.
I got nada.
The door closed behind him and I spent a solid thirty minutes second-guessing whether I should make him dinner. The plate of muffins is already gone so I know that he doesn’t despise my cooking, which is a p
lus. But I don’t want to seem like I’m just hanging around, spending my days doing domestic shit for him. Normal me would kidnap current me for an intervention if that was the case.
He did seem nervous this morning. I know he didn’t sleep well last night either because I heard the water running in his shower around three a.m.
Was he fighting his demons? Will he ever confide in me about them? Or does he really hate my being in his space?
I heave a massive sigh and tap my fingers against the countertop.
What do I do? What do I do?
Okay, this is it. I’m going to try one last time to extend an olive branch. I’m going to make Easton dinner, one of his favorite meals, and ask about his practice. I’m going to be thoughtful and considerate and kind.
And if he shuts me down, I’m going to hightail it out of his life so I don’t have to endure this daily sinking sensation in my chest of not knowing where I stand with him.
Tonight is the last time I put myself out there for Easton Scotch. So he better accept me now or say goodbye.
Pushing up my sleeves, I get to work on making the best fucking chicken piccata, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes number twenty-seven has eaten in his life.
For some reason I’d rather not consider too carefully, my very future seems to depend on it.
5
Easton
“You did good today.” Austin swats my shoulder as he sits down on the bench beside me in the locker room.
I drag my head up and stare at him.
He winces, his expression sympathetic. “It was your first day back, man. You know this is going to be a long road. You will get back to where you were. But for today, you did good.” He smacks the side of my neck before sliding off the bench to see what Torsten is hollering about.
I hang my head, my eyes dropping closed. Shit. I’m sore. My body aches. My head is all kinds of messed up. Dad’s face, angry and disappointed, eyes like slits and a mouth that spews venom, flickers to life in my mind.
“You looked good out there,” Noah says, sitting down in the spot Austin vacated.