by Alexia Chase
“Call hospice. They deal with this shit for a living.”
“Lillian, I can’t do that.” My sister has lived in our hometown her entire adulthood, but I would hazard to guess she’s not visited him as often as I have, which has not been many times. “He called and said he needs me.”
“He just doesn’t want a stranger wiping his ass.” She snorts.
“I’m not doing that either.” I shudder. Why am I here? My father is an abusive asshole. Am I hoping he’s had a change of heart and wants to make amends? The last month should have answered the question. He’s still a prick.
I grab a trash bag out of the empty pantry that boasts of one can of soup and a half stale package of crackers. When I arrived, I offered to buy him food, but he scoffed, ‘No girl of mine is providing for me.’ He lives on block cheese from the food pantry and spoonsful of peanut butter.
“You can stay with me if you want to be back here so damn bad. You don’t have to subject yourself to him. Or pretend he’s the reason you’re back. He’s scum.”
My hand stills with an empty box of cigarettes in my hand and the trash bag in the other. Is that why I’m here? To see Trey again.
My heart skips a beat. Shit. I jumped at the chance to move back here on the slim possibility Trey’s single and never forgotten me. I snort. Fuck. He’s probably had more pussy this week than I’ve had dicks in the last twelve years.
“I know,” I sigh again and shove trash by the handfuls into the bag. He never lived like a pig, so it’s clear he’s given up on life and is waiting to die. Fucking wonderful. I’ve got a front-row seat for the shitshow of the week. “I’ll think about staying with you. Thanks for the offer.”
“It’s always open. It always has been. I love you, little sister.” The irritation in her voice is gone. She’s two years older than me and remembers more of the knockout drag-out fights between our parents before mom took off. After she was gone, he completely lost it. That part, I’ll never forget.
“I love you, too.”
“Have you seen him?”
I don’t have to ask who she means. She knows I’ve never gotten over Trey. I plop down onto the sofa, and a cloud of dust wafts up from the cushions, causing me to sneeze. Good Lord, this is ridiculous. “Yes.”
“How does he look?”
“You know how he looks.” One of her favorite pastimes, when she’s not caring for my niece and nephew, is taking photographs of Trey and sending them to me. She’s a total perv. How he never noticed her following him around is beyond me.
“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. Are you going to sleep with him again?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? He’s single. You’re single, and you’ve never gotten over him. What’s the big deal?”
“How do you know he’s not seeing anyone? Just because you haven’t caught him with anyone in any of your stalking missions doesn’t mean anything. And, it’s not that simple.” My eyes fill with tears. What could have been. No. What should have been, eats me up every day.
“Natalie, make it simple.” Her voice is low. “He’s the only person who can help you through this. It’s time to move on.”
I wipe a tear off my cheek with the back of my hand. “I’ve got to go.” I click off the phone before she can say anything else.
“Natalie? Is that you?” My father’s voice calls from the adjoining room.
Welcome to my life of misery. It keeps getting better. “Yes, Dad?”
“Get in here. I need my urinal.”
Oh, for the love of Christ. He can still get up. “Coming.” When I make it to his bedroom, he’s grumbling, but I can’t make out the words.
My eyes narrow slightly. Don’t flip him off or act like a childish bitch. Be nice. “What can I help you with?”
“You’re as useless as you always were. Will you ever be able to do anything, right?” He glares. “I said, get my urinal.”
I gasp and the tears I’ve held back return in earnest. Fuck. I’m not crying over him. I’m not an eighteen-year-old girl. “I got here as quickly as I could.” I march over to the dresser and snatch up the plastic container.
When I reach his side, I shove it toward him. “Here.”
“What were you doing in there?” He jerks his head toward the living room. “I heard you whispering. Got some cocksucker in the other room?”
“No. No one is here.”
“Good. You aren’t inviting anyone here. I’m not dead. When I’m dead, you can have a big ass party. Until then, this is my place, and I don’t want no company.”
I swallow. I wouldn’t invite anyone here if I had to. “Yes, sir.”
His nose wrinkles into a sneer. “You see that worthless piece of shit you used to moon around like a pathetic puppy dog? Letting him crawl into your panties and violate you. You were always such a fucking whore. Just like your mother.” Spit gathers in the corners of his mouth as he issues out insults like a machine gun does bullets.
What in the fuck am I doing here? No. He’s dying. He deserves some respect. Respect? That might be going a little too far. No one should die alone. Right? “It looks like you have everything you need. I’ll leave you here.”
“You can’t leave.” His eyes are bloodshot as he sits up in the middle of the mattress. When did he get so weak? It’s like he’s wasting away.
“Why shouldn’t I leave?” Am I really hoping he’s going to say something to convince me I should stay here?
“Because you’re my daughter. You have an obligation to take care of me.”
Do I have an obligation to take care of him? A part of me feels I should, and the rest of me wants to run for the hills.
His eyes narrow into little slits. “Where are you going? Out to whore around?”
Fuck you. “I’m thirty-three years old, single, and haven’t had sex in a year.” More like five years, but that sounds too pathetic to even say out loud. “That doesn’t qualify me as a whore.”
“It does if you have dirty thoughts all the time.” His lip curls. “Do you touch yourself when – “
“Shut up.” I spin on my heel and swallow vomit. Why would he be different? He’s the biggest asshole in the world. I yank my purse up by the strap and stomp through the living room.
“Run, little girl.”
Jackass. The second I’m on the front step, I drag in large gulp of fresh air to clear the scent of rot that surrounds my father. Everything he touches turns to shit. I’m just one of the many.
Chapter Six
Trey
After opening the stainless-steel refrigerator, I grab a bottle of lager. The glass bottle clinks against the one next to it, and the remaining one wobbles sideways a half of an inch and then returns to its upward position.
“Damn, man. You’re like a bull in a china cabinet today.”
I jerk and hit the bottle again. “Shit.” It clangs against the other bottle, and they both crash into the front of the glass drawer.
Twisting on my heel, I glare at Aaron, Leah’s husband, then snatch a beer from the back of the drawer and shove it shut. I’m not getting coated in beer. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“If you didn’t have your head in the clouds, it wouldn’t happen.”
“Whatever.” Show no weakness with any of them. They might suspect something, but without proof, all they have is gut feelings and smart mouths. They’re harmless.
No matter what I do, I can’t get Natalie out of my mind. It’s been five days since she marched back into my world, and I can’t figure out what to do about it. Is she with someone else? Single? Single would make the most sense. No man with balls would like his wife or girlfriend within fifty feet of Clive Westbrook. Live with him? Never.
I don’t care if the fucker is half-dead, he’s a useless excuse of a man. The only reason I didn’t make Natalie move out when we were dating was that we were both still in high school. I’d been saving money for two years for us to have a place to live once we
graduated.
“How’s the arm?” Aaron leans against the island counter and motions with his head toward my bandaged arm.
“It’s better. Itches like a son of a bitch.”
“Means it’s healing.” He crosses his arms and cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve been off the last few days.”
“Yeah. Until the stitches come out, I’ll be off work.” The company I work for is one of the top businesses in the city. While I’m out of commission, one of the other guys is taking over my assignments.
“God.” He rolls his eyes and shoves off the counter. “You are thickheaded. I meant; you’ve been weird ever since the injury. Did something happen that day?”
Fuck. Guess I’ve not been hiding it very well. He’s got a valid point. I’ve been missing all veiled and snarky references like my head is in quicksand, which has given my sisters more ammunition to use against me.
“No.” I tip the bottle to my mouth and slug back half of he liquid. After I swallow, I use the back of my hand to wipe off my lips. “Nothing happened.”
“Are you sure?” Aaron opens the refrigerator and grabs one of the bottles I knocked down. He ambles over to the sink and twists the cap off over the basin in case it explodes. A small head of foam washes over the edge and across Aaron’s fingers. The scent of butterscotch fills the room.
Should I confide in Aaron? He and Leah have been together for years. Surely, he has some idea of what it takes to figure women out because I have no fucking clue. “I don’t know.”
He tips the bottle toward me. “Spill it. Not the beer, in case you need me to draw you a picture. I mean, tell me what’s going on.”
I chuckle. “Okay. Here goes. Back in high school, I was with a girl named Natalie.”
“Leah mentioned her.” Aaron takes a drink, sits the bottle on the counter with a thump, and crosses his arms. “She ghosted you?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I never could figure it out. I dropped her off at her dad’s place after graduation and headed home. Never saw her again.” I wrinkle my nose. “Until the day I got injured.”
He presses his lips together and cocks his head. “Tell me more.”
“She’s working at the hospital as a receptionist for the ER.”
“Did you talk to her?”
I pause for several seconds. How much do I tell him? The central heat kicks on. Tell him, or not? I might as well spill it all. What could it hurt? I’ve got to figure out what to do about Natalie.
“I spoke with her for a bit.” I pace the length of the kitchen. “I can’t figure out why she left, and she’s not saying. It made no sense at the time, and it still doesn’t. We’d made plans to move in together, and then, she disappeared. Fuck. For a while, I thought her dad had killed her.”
“Shit.” He jerks backward and gapes. “What would make you think that? My kids are assholes, but I’d move heaven and earth for them.”
I laugh. Leah and Aaron’s kids are little shits, but they’re also sweet angels. I love them to pieces. “Unfortunately, the parenting gene passed over Clive. He’s an alcoholic prick. When we first started dating, she never let on, but I’d notice bruises here and there.”
“Fuck.” Aaron’s nostril’s flare out, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “The thought of it makes me ill.”
“Yeah, if I wouldn’t have been a punk-ass kid, I would have kicked the shit out of him. Of course, Natalie made me promise never to get into it with him. I think she was afraid one of us would kill the other, and he carried a gun with him everywhere he went.”
“I can see why she left him.”
“I don’t begrudge her getting away from him, but she was supposed to go with me.” I run my hands over my face. “That has eaten me up for the last twelve years.”
“And she wouldn’t explain why she left? Even now?” Aaron’s face wrinkles, like he’s trying to figure out the logic behind her decision.
“No.” The can lights in the ceiling don’t have any better answers than I do. “I asked. She deflected.” My jaw tightens, and the sound of my teeth grinding together makes my spine crawl. “She’s living with him.”
“Who?” Aaron’s eyes are wide, and the lines in his forehead are pronounced as he tries to follow my scattered train of thought.
“Her father,” I spit the words out.
“She’s living with her father again. What in the hell?”
“Exactly.” I shrug. “She says he’s dying, and it’s where she belongs. That’s bullshit. She owes him nothing. He’s never cared a thing about her. Why give him the time of day? Let alone come back and care for him in his final days.”
“I don’t know, man.” Aaron grabs my upper arm and shakes me. “You obviously care about her. Figure out why she left and work through it.”
“You think it’s that simple? Maybe, it’s none of my business.”
“Did you love her?”
“She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.” I stare at the clock above the kitchen sink. The silver-colored secondhand ticks rhythmically. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”
“You need closure. Make it your business. Either work through it and move on or convince her to give you another chance. If you don’t, you’re going to continue to be miserable and alone.”
Chapter Seven
Trey
The chime above the door jingles as I step into Travis’ bar. I met Travis when he was building the restaurant and bar years ago, and we’ve been friends since. It’s not one of the busiest establishments in the city, but it has a steady clientele. Travis and his wife, Savannah, do a fantastic job of making everyone feel welcome.
“Hey, Trey.” Travis waves from behind the counter.
“Travis, how’s it going?” The scent of battered covered food and beer fill the air.
“Good, man.” We give each other the standard bro hug with loud slaps on the back. Several of the other regulars greet me and then return to their drinks and conversations.
“A draft?” Travis raises an eyebrow and tosses a white dishrag over his shoulder. He’s dressed in his typical faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt with the name of the bar over the pocket.
“Sure.” While he’s getting my drink, I turn and study the main dining area. The place is packed. Several couples are on the dance floor, and most of the tables are filled with people in animated conversations, eating their meals, or tossing back a drink.
“Here you go.” Travis slides the drink across the wooden surface.
“Thanks.” After taking a sip of the cold brew, a shudder crawls up my spine as if someone is watching me.
Over the years, I’ve honed my ability to sense shady shit. Too many people have tried to sneak things past me during safety inspections. None of them are as slick as they think.
My eyes skate over the booths in the back. Natalie. What is she doing here? She yanks the menu out of the black holder and shoves it in front of her face. Seriously? She’s going to pretend she wasn’t watching me.
I’d go call her bluff, but I’ve already been by the hospital tonight looking for her and by her father’s house. That’s how I ended upon at this end of town. I’m the pathetic one stalking her.
I turn back around. Travis presses his lips together. The wrinkles in his forehead are pronounced as he gives me a knowing look.
“Ex-girlfriend.” I take a large gulp and drain the rest of my beer.
“Never seen her around here before. She’s pretty.”
“Her dad lives a few blocks away. We dated back in high school.”
“The one who got away?”
“Yep.” I clear my throat and try to decide how to play the evening.
Travis pours a mixture of liquids together. “Here you go.” He shoves the drink toward me.
I wrinkle my nose. “What’s this?”
“A Quick White Sangria. It’s what she ordered.” He grins. “I figure you’re trying to get in her pants, and we’re at a bar. It stands to reason you should buy her a drin
k.”
“Ah, good idea.” I reach into my back pocket and grab my wallet.
“On the house. I’ve known you for seven years, and you’ve never mentioned a girlfriend. Savannah would kick my ass if I didn’t play matchmaker.”
“Thanks, man.” I grasp the glass and turn.
“If you need to borrow my office apartment, feel free. Savannah and the kids are with her dad tonight. They won’t be back until later, so no one will be using it. Just catch my attention, so I don’t accidentally walk in on a free show.”
“Yeah.” I purse my lips together and shake my head. “I don’t see that happening.” I’ll be lucky if she talks to me. I saunter across the floor, dodging between the tables on my way to the back of the bar. The refurbished wooden planks pop under the weight of my biker boots.
A couple of guys from the club wave and point at an empty chair. I tilt my head and nod. “Later, guys.”
Their attention immediately zones in on Natalie. Crap. I’m never going to hear the end of this. Aiden Payne smacks Paul Lister on the chest, and they laugh uncontrollably. Pricks.
After I approach the table, I hold out the drink. “Travis said you ordered a Sangria.”
Several seconds pass before she lowers the menu and stares. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m friends with the owner and his wife.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You live on the other side of town. What are you doing here?” She waves her hand in a circle indicating the neighborhood.
So much for playing it off. It’s time to spill my guts. “I came looking for you.”
She sets down the menu and licks her lips. “Really?”
“Yes.” I place the drink on the wooden surface in front of her and inhale. After holding my breath for several seconds, I ran a hand through my hair. Here goes nothing. “I realize we can’t go back and change the past, but I care about you, and I miss seeing you.”
Tears fill her eyes. “Shit.” She blinks furiously until they dry.
“Are you okay?” I’ve seen that look hundreds of times. My hands ball into fists. I want to find the cocksucker and choke him.