Make Me Burn

by Marie Harte

  “No.” He sighed. “I should go home. Get some rest. I… Sorry I unloaded on you like that. It’s been a bad couple of days.”

  “It’s okay.” She wanted to hug him again, but he seemed distant. So she kept back. “Call me when you feel better, okay? And whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

  He watched her, the Brad she knew hidden behind a flat stare. He nodded, turned, and left.

  And she could only watch him go, helpless, not sure if she’d helped him or hurt him more with the truth. That she loved him.

  A sentiment he hadn’t said back.

  But hey, time would tell, wouldn’t it?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was official. Brad Battle truly was an asshole. Avery had offered support. Tried to be there for him in his time of need. When the great Brad Battle had been knocked down, she’d offered a shoulder to lift him up.

  And then the fucker had ghosted her.

  Two weeks and not a word. Just one text the day after he’d visited saying thank you and that he needed time.

  He still went to work. His brother still dated Gerty. Oscar remained kind, funny, and frustrated because Brad had become distant with everyone. After sharing a more in-depth lowdown on what his mother had done by holding back the note, Oscar had also told them Vivienne wasn’t talking to anyone either. Rochelle was taking a break, disgusted with her for the first time in their long relationship.

  And the only thing Tex would tell Oscar was not to worry, that they were taking care of Brad.

  “He’s my brother, but his friends are taking care of him,” Oscar complained to Gerty while Avery nodded with sympathy. “It’s like Dana all over again. He’s my big brother, but everyone else is entitled to help him but me.”

  Gerty scowled. “We should kill him.”

  Oscar sighed. “I can’t. Not again. It felt weird last time.”

  Avery stared from one wacko to the other.

  “On the computer,” Gerty explained. “I had a buddy write him into the beta test I’m doing and let Oscar kill him. It turned awkward and…never mind.”

  Oscar was blushing.

  Avery didn’t want to know.

  “I hate feeling helpless,” Oscar growled. Klingon cocked his head, growled back, then pounced on Oscar offering sympathy licks.

  Avery glanced at the dog, then at Gerty’s gooey-in-love face. Well, hell. “You’re keeping him, aren’t you?”

  “What? Oscar? Oh yeah. He’s a keeper.”

  “The three-legged one.”

  Both Gerty and Oscar looked down at his crotch.

  “Oh my God. I mean the dog!”

  The pair snickered.

  Gerty confessed, “The adoption went through last week. I’m so sorry! I meant to tell you, but then your archnemesis was back to being an asshole—sorry, Oscar.”

  “We’re back to archnemesis and not Super Hunk FD?”

  “No,” Avery growled. She wanted to punch him in his big fat head. “His idiot friends have circled the wagon. No one will talk to me. I mean, if he’s breaking up, he should at least do it to my face. We had sex, you know. That’s getting pretty damn close.”

  “Uh-oh. She’s cursing again.” Gerty sighed. “I wish Alan were here. He’s been so good with his diagnoses lately.”

  “He sucks too.” Avery started pacing.

  “It’s the penis, right?” Oscar asked. “We all suck to you.”

  “Yes, it’s the penis.” She fumed.

  Gerty kissed her boyfriend and whispered loudly enough to be heard by the entire complex, “Why don’t you take Klingon with you for a long walk? I’ll text you when it’s safe to come back.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. “I can hear you.”

  “Okay,” he whispered back as loudly. Then the jerk kissed Avery on the forehead. “I’m sorry, Avery. He’s being a dick, and you don’t deserve it. I know he really likes you. He’ll come around.”

  Her eyes blurred. “Thanks.” For nothing. Who says I even want him anymore?

  “I’ll be back later.” He grabbed Klingon and some pet supplies and left.

  Gerty put on water. “For hot chocolate.” She pointed to the kitchen table. “Sit and talk to me.”

  “Why? You’ve heard all my bitching already. He had a bad day. A really bad day. Comes to me to vent. I listen. Learn his girlfriend killed herself. Oh. My. God. Talk about a bomb to lay on me. But he’s grieving, so what do I do?”

  “You listen.” Gerty stood by the counter.

  “I listen. I offer support. I tell him I fucking love him. I don’t ask for it back. I’m being supportive. Then he kisses me once. Gets up like a ghost, floats away. A text the next day saying thanks. Thanks?” she yelled.

  “What an ass,” Gerty agreed. “He should have said thanks very much. Like, a lot of thanks.”

  “You’re not helping,” she snapped.

  Gerty zipped her mouth closed.

  “Two weeks and not a peep. I know he’s having a hard time. But he could at least call.” She blinked to stop herself from crying again. She hated crying! “He missed my first Friday Feature. And I killed!”

  “You totally did.” Gerty paused. “Sorry, pretend my lips are still zipped.”

  Avery sighed. “What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing. He’s being a stupid man. He won’t talk to his mom or Rochelle. Is icing out his own brother, which is making Oscar so mad. He and I have been talking about Brad a lot. Oscar told me he was tempted to drink, so he went to a few extra AA meetings.”

  “Good.” Avery liked Oscar more and more. Such a great guy…who talked about his problems instead of wallowing in misery.

  “Oscar is pissed. I don’t know how much longer he’ll wait to yell at Brad.”

  “I hope he does,” she muttered.

  “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “How’s it going with your parents? You said your mom is calling again. But your dad is still radio silent?”

  “Yep. And I don’t care anymore. I’m done trying to make him happy. Done trying to love a man who doesn’t deserve me.” She wiped her stupid cheeks. “I hate that I still love him. Why him?”

  “Oh, you mean Brad.”

  “Yes, I mean Brad.” Avery hiccupped. “My dad’s an ass. Nothing I do will ever make him happy. But Brad. Is this payback for the interview five years ago?”

  “Now that’s just stupid. Sorry. He’s being an ass, but even he’s not that immature to make you fall in love with him then ghost you. I mean, it’s ingenious and evil. Something I might do. He’s not devious enough.”

  She sighed. No, her Boy Scout of a boyfriend wasn’t. What he was she didn’t yet know. But her notebook of insults had room for more. “I’m getting the book.”

  “Good. I came up with a few more names we can call him.”

  “It’s almost full. You’ve been very creative.” Avery got up and hugged her friend. “I love you, Gerty.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She yanked Gerty’s hair.

  “Ow, ow, ow. Let go.”

  “Adopting a dog without my say-so? I’m bringing the pain. It’s in the contract.”

  “A roommate agreement on a sitcom is so much funnier than when you do it in real life,” Gerty said, rubbing her sore scalp. “I have a few insults for you too.”

  “Don’t make me tell Oscar about your sordid cybersex with our landlord.”

  Gerty’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

  “No, I would never do that. But I scared you, didn’t I?”

  “That was really wrong. Just evil.” Gerty laughed. “No wonder we’re best friends.”

  * * *

  Two days later, on a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon, Oscar looked in the rearview mirror of his truck at Klingon in his crate, all buckled u
p in the back seat. “Yeah, we’ve had enough of his abuse.”

  Klingon panted, overjoyed to be in the car, one of his favorite places on earth.

  “Time to take control of the situation.”

  Klingon barked.

  “Good dog.”

  Oscar had mentioned he had some errands to run, so he and Gerty were spending the afternoon separately so they could work out some gaming “kinks” later when they went to bed together.

  Avery normally put on music while she slept, keeping the noise loud enough so she could hear nothing but Gerty’s muffled giggling if she heard anything. Feeling for her, Oscar was close to signing on the dotted line for his new place, a small efficiency near Gerty and Avery’s pad. He had enough to afford it, living by himself. And they took pets! And, well, he’d offered to do the heater/AC repair work for free. That helped.

  Avery had been a champ, never complaining when he stayed over, giving him and Gerty space, and never throwing in Oscar’s face what a fucking bastard Brad was being.

  Every time he thought of how his brother was treating Avery, he wanted to punch him in the face. Gerty had shared details Avery didn’t know he knew. The big L-word out there, and Brad just let it hang.

  He pulled into his brother’s apartment complex and saw Reggie’s car. “Too bad. We’re going in.”

  Klingon wriggled.

  Smiling at his new best friend, Oscar picked him up and walked him on nearby grass to do his business. Then he looked around and, seeing no one nearby, hurried into Brad’s complex. He didn’t bother knocking on the door and walked in the middle of an argument between Reggie and Brad.

  “Sorry, Reggie. I need to talk to him.”

  Reggie paused, took a good look at Klingon, and smiled. “Hey, guy. I know you.”

  Klingon barked.

  Oscar put the dog in Reggie’s arms. “Can you watch him for me while I talk to Brad?”

  Reggie looked at the brothers and sighed. “Sure. Text me when it’s safe to come back.”

  Almost what he’d said to Gerty the other night with Avery.

  Oscar nodded.

  “You don’t have to go,” Brad told his friend, ignoring Oscar.

  “Quit being such a pussy. Talk to your brother.” Reggie walked away with the dog, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Brad sighed and waited with his arms crossed. “Well? Say what you came to say, then get out.”

  Oscar walked up to his brother and shook his head. Then, before Brad could guess his intent, he hit him. Hard.

  Brad clutched his face. “Ow. What the fuck!”

  His cheekbone had to hurt because Oscar felt like he’d busted his hand. “Jesus, you have a rock-hard head. Hit me back and I’ll geld you.” He glared.

  Brad went to put ice on his cheek. “Get out.”

  “No. I’m done. You treat me like crap all the time. It’s over. I’m going to say my piece and you’ll never have to hear from me again.”

  * * *

  Brad gaped. “What are you talking about?” He looked Oscar over. “Are you drinking again?”

  That was all Brad needed. His little brother off the wagon on top of all the emotional trauma he’d been dealing with since Dana—fuck, since Avery—had told him she loved him.

  “Fuck. You.” Oscar clenched his fists, looking angrier than Brad had ever seen him. “I’m still sober, asshole. No thanks to you. First it was Dana. You and your bestie playing games and having a blast. I was a burden, nothing more.” Where the hell was Oscar getting this? “But with her you’d laugh and hang out. I tried. God knows I tried, but you never let me in. You left for the Marine Corps. I had issues. I drank. That was on me, not you,” Oscar said before Brad took the blame for that too. Why not? Everything seemed to be his fault lately. “You came back sad. I wanted to help. But no. Because your pain is precious, and you can’t let it go.”

  “That’s a cruel thing to say.”

  “But true. You’re always the guy responsible, aren’t you?”

  “I’m what Mom made me. She was too busy moaning for Dad to come back from the grave. You needed someone to care for you.”

  “But you didn’t really care. You never really wanted me around.”

  Brad frowned. “That’s not true, and you know it.” Where the hell was this coming from? Was everyone out of their mind lately?

  “It felt true. Then and now. You come back from Iraq, you go to Dana. You ignore me. You find new friends in the fire department, and you’re thick, man, tight.” Oscar made a fist. “I try to join you, you look at me like I’m trash.”

  “That’s not true at all. You were drinking back then, and—”

  “No. No, I never came to you drunk. I wanted you to love me. And you shit all over me.”

  Brad started to panic when his brother, who never shed a tear, looked a little emotional. A lot emotional. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Asshole. You won’t let me in.” Oscar rushed him, grabbed Brad by the collar of his shirt, and clung. And he was stronger than he looked. “I’m here for you. I want to help. Why do you keep shutting me out? What do Tex, Mack, and Reggie have that I don’t?”

  “Nothing, okay? Why are my problems about you?”

  “Exactly.” Oscar pushed him back. “Why is Mom’s grief about you? Why is my drinking about you? Why is the fact Rochelle and Mom aren’t out about you?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Why is Dana’s death about you? And Avery. Why is the best thing to happen to you in forever being ignored? By you.”

  “I… Look, none of this is your business.”

  “Fuck off. It wasn’t your business when I was pissing myself drunk, but you had no problem dragging my ass to rehab. The way I see it, you’re so used to feeling guilty about everything and having to save the fucking world that when you don’t have to, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Dana’s dead. Not your fault. Marines killed by the enemy. Not your fault.

  “Now, Avery upset because you left her? Not letting her in? Totally your fault, you asshole.”

  Brad clenched his jaw and winced when it pulled at his cheek. “Not your business.”

  “I’m dating Gerty, her best friend. I hear things.”

  Brad’s nerves jumped. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He’d been exercising like mad lately to get a little peace, and he’d lost weight despite gaining muscle. “What things?”

  “Why did you ghost her?”

  Blame ate at him. “I didn’t, I—”

  “Stop lying, to me and yourself. Yeah, I’m an expert at it. So don’t blow smoke up my ass. You had a kid die on you, then you found out Mom had lied and that stuff about Dana. You go to Avery to feel better. Then you never talk to her again.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Bullshit. Did she make a move? Try to come on to you while you were upset or something?”

  “No.” She’d been kind. Sweet. Loving.

  “Then what? Because my relationship isn’t doing too well because of you.”

  Brad hadn’t considered that. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just tell me the truth for once in your goddamn life.”

  Furious at being lectured by yet another person who supposedly loved him, Brad answered, “Fine. She told me she loved me, and I bolted. Happy now?”

  “But why?” Now Oscar just looked confused.

  “Because… Because…” Brad slumped against the counter, his cheek throbbing. “Because I couldn’t take it. Dana loves me and kills herself. Mom loves me and lies to me for fucking years. Then Avery loves me? Great. What’s she going to do to me? Stab me? Steal me blind?”

  Oscar sat in the kitchen. “Huh. Hadn’t considered that angle.”

  “What?”

  “I thought she said she loved you and pressured
you to hear it back. Or she got all clingy or bitchy or something.”

  “No. She was nice.”

  “Pushy?”

  “Kind.” Brad sighed. “Sweet. I just needed space.”

  “But you couldn’t tell her that. You blow her off for two weeks, don’t even come to her big deal last Friday, and—”

  “I came. I was there. Drove over with Tex and watched while we rode Aid 44. She was awesome.” He paused. “I sent her flowers.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Brad frowned. “Red roses with pink tulips. I did too.”

  “Huh.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I heard she got them from her coworker. Some guy named Alan?”

  “That douche?” Brad snorted. “I got her the flowers.”

  “And she would know this how?”

  Brad felt stupid. “They were red roses mixed with pink tulips. Tulips are her favorites, and the red because… Well, they look nice.”

  “So?”

  Brad flushed. “Red roses mean you like someone. A lot. And she likes tulips.”

  “I like Gerty. Got her yellow roses to prove it.”

  “Dumbass. The roses are for love, okay?” Brad flushed. “They weren’t cheap.”

  “And she has no idea you got them for her or even came to see her. Why bother?”

  “Because it was important.”

  “Was it? Brad, what happened to you? My brave big brother who never let anything stop him from getting the job done. Complete the mission. Kiss the girl. What the hell are you doing?”

  “I…don’t know.” Brad frowned. “I wasn’t in a good place. I was kind of freaking out.”

  “Kind of?”

  Brad glared. “When she told me she loved me, it got all messed up with the other fucked-up things I was dealing with.”

  “Is that why you won’t talk to Mom or Rochelle? They’re worried.” He saw Brad’s guilt “And they’re not talking, by the way. Rochelle is really mad at Mom, and Mom’s miserable.”

  “Good. She deserves it.”

  “Yeah? So do you.”

  Brad heard the anger. “Look, Oscar. I love you. I’m sorry if I acted like I don’t. I just always felt so responsible to make sure you were okay. I guess being with Dana was not having to be a dad at age seven.” He sighed. “I kind of grew up believing I had to help everyone. I helped you, Mom, Dana. My Marines.” He thought about it. “But Avery is independent. She never leaned on me. Hell. I leaned on her more.”