by Alice Ward
Seth’s eyes widened slightly, but just for a second. A moment later, they were back to normal. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because you seem… I asked if your dad doesn’t like you and you didn’t answer.”
“It’s complicated, Quinn. Haven’t I already explained that? It’s why I’m not about to introduce him to everyone. He just doesn’t need… he doesn’t need that.”
I could feel my nose wrinkling. The tail end of Seth’s explanation didn’t exactly make sense, but there was nothing left for me to ask. I’d poked and prodded enough. Any more nudging might do real damage. I didn’t want a repeat of the fight in my living room. A second round of that might not end so well.
“Okay, I understand. But if there’s anything you do want to tell me… you can. I promise I’ll do my best not to judge you.”
Seth’s lips parted slightly like he was about to say something, but then they pressed closed again. He nodded. “Thank you.”
I forced a smile. I just needed to shut my mouth and trust him. Seth loved me. I loved him. That meant we would be there for each other. I’d made a promise to myself two weeks before, to not only be there when he needed me but to also give him space when he needed it.
“I’m here if you need me,” I told him, standing up to wrap my arms around him.
Seth laid his hand against my head and pressed my cheek onto his shoulder. I sucked in his sweet and spicy scent and closed my eyes. With his arms around me and the sun beating down on my back it seemed impossible that things could turn out any way but perfect.
“I’ll come back tonight, if that’s all right,” Seth said into my hair. “As soon as I can.”
I snuggled my face tighter into his shirt. “Hell yeah, that’s all right.”
As soon as he left for the gym, I rushed to catch up on weekend work and then called my friends to come over. Seth had promised to come back to my house when he could make it, though he had dinner plans with his father. That meant I could be solo till ten or later, and I wasn’t feeling being alone.
Usually, my Saturday nights were jam-packed, the one night of the week that I really let myself cut loose. Before Seth, Saturdays meant brunches with the girls, walks in the park, and, often, dates. Since the last item on that list wouldn’t be happening tonight, there was a large, gaping hole in my day.
By the time night fell I was feeling like a new person, thanks to all the alone time. It hadn’t taken long before I figured out that a ‘large gaping hole’ was actually a nice amount of time to spend by myself. It had been a while since I’d spent a whole evening alone.
The night air had the slightest nip to it, which meant it was a perfect evening for a fire. London came over after dark and helped me pull the fire pit out from the storage shed. I’d stored it after buying it months before and not using it once. When I bought the house, I had grand fantasies of weekend long get-togethers, with the whole backyard set up to entertain a crowd of people. My guest house would be full. The beer kegs would overflow, and the fire pit would get so much use it would rust out in the bottom during its first year. Reality had trumped fantasy, of course, meaning I ended up spending my weekends doing anything that was easier than stringing lights in the trees and making appetizers for people I barely knew.
Once Heather and Rory got to the house with bundles of wood we were ready to go, piling on logs and Boy Scouting it as best we could. Eventually, the flames picked up and the fire crackled and roared, tossing dancing light across the patio.
“Woo-hoo!” Rory yelled, raising the bottle of wine in celebration. “We’re practically pioneer women over here.”
“Yeah,” London agreed. “All we need is a covered wagon and a husband missing half his teeth.”
“Tell that to Little House on the Prairie,” Rory countered. “The guys were hot on that.”
“Speaking of husbands,” Heather directed at London, “have you seen Bartender Boy again?”
“Bartender Boy?” I asked, dragging my chair closer to the fire pit.
“Remember? From the hotel bar?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right! The one who wanted to give London extra cock in her drink,” I grinned. “Did you go out with him?”
London scrunched up her nose. On the other side of the fire, Rory laughed.
“She’s already heard this,” London explained. “But, yeah, we went out. And he went outside twice during dinner to call his mom.”
Rory snorted again. “That’s not all. Just wait for it. It gets better.”
“On the way home, we had to stop by her apartment,” London further explained. “And then Simon… excuse me, Bartender Boy came out and asked me if I could take an Uber home because his mom had a cold and he needed to stay with her, so he couldn’t drive me.”
Heather and I burst into laughter.
“Wait,” I said between choking sobs. “He had you wait in the car while he went in to see her?”
“Yep,” she said dryly.
“Let me get this straight… and then he told you he couldn’t drive you home.”
“That’s about the story in a nutshell.”
I pressed my palm against my mouth to stop the giggles, but it did no good. All of us laughed like crazy women, Starlet looking at us in confusion.
Rory poured wine into the glasses I’d brought out. “It just goes to show a good man is hard to find.”
A good man is hard to find. My heart lurched, her statement reminding me of the Flannery O’Connor story… which reminded me of Flannery’s biggest fan, Seth.
“What?” Heather asked me.
“Huh?”
“You sighed about something.”
London passed me a glass of wine. “Trouble in paradise?”
I took a long sip of the dry white. “Maybe… I don’t know.”
“Spill.”
“Seth’s dad is in town again tonight, and I get the feeling he’s hiding something.”
“This again?” Heather asked.
“Yeah, but I really don’t think I’m imagining it.”
“Whatever happened to space?”
“I know, I know…”
“Well, everyone has a right to their secrets,” Rory argued.
“Yeah, but this feels like it’s something big.” I stared into the flames. “When Seth talks about his dad, or when I ask about their relationship, something happens to him. He shuts down.” I shook my head, trying to make sense of it as all the clues flew away.
“Then let him,” Heather said. “I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, but just let him do that.”
“What?” London squealed. “You’re seriously going to tell her to not be there for him?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying give him his space. If he has something to work out with his dad, then let him work it out. That’s probably what they’re doing right now.”
London looked like she wanted to retaliate, but Rory interrupted. “Did anyone bring the marshmallows?”
“Right here.” Heather pulled them out of her bag. “What are we going to put them on? Do we have any of those skewer things?”
“Sticks,” London said.
Heather recoiled. “From a tree? No way!”
I met Rory’s eyes and suppressed a laugh.
“No,” Heather said. “Quinn, don’t you have the things they sell at the grocery store? I saw them just today. They’re made for marshmallows.”
“Sticks,” London said again.
“Yeah,” Heather countered. “Sticks that Starlet has peed on and birds have pooped on.”
“I doubt it.”
“Really? Think about how long those sticks have been sitting in the yard.”
“I’d rather use a stick that might have dog pee on it than embarrass myself. I’d look like an addicted consumer going out and buying some piece of metal made to roast marshmallows on. So, yeah, I’m gonna take my chances.”
Heather’s face crumpled in the way that signaled she was about to get pissed off. Glaring at
London, she opened her mouth again, but a banging noise from somewhere semi-close interrupted her.
“What was that?” Heather asked, looking over her shoulder at the dark yard.
“Vampires,” London immediately teased. “They were offended by your marshmallow comments.”
“Stop it,” she snapped, her eyes wide. “That’s not funny.”
The rest of us laughed. For some reason, Heather possessed an all too real fear of bloodsucking ghouls that didn’t even exist.
Another banging permeated the air, distinct between the sounds of our laughter and the traffic down the street.
“Stop.” I held up my hand for silence. “Hold on. That sounded really close.”
The chuckles died out, and we cocked our heads to listen. Starlet growled and jumped onto the chair next to Heather. She put her arm around the tiny dog and pulled her in tight.
More banging, this time closer.
“Is someone knocking?” Rory asked.
“Yeah.” I stood quickly with a sigh, the tension that had gathered in my chest melting away. “Someone’s at the front door. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait a second. I’m coming with you.” Rory stood too.
“Someone stay here!” Heather nearly cried.
Rory and I let ourselves in through the back door. The knocking at the front of the house grew louder and more hurried. Whoever wanted inside was desperate. My heartbeat sped up. Who would knock in such a way? The police?
Maybe something had gone wrong, someone had gotten hurt. That would be the only reason the police would show up at my house.
Seth.
At the front door, Rory put her hand on my arm. “Wait. Don’t open it yet. See who it is first.”
“Who is it?” I asked, raising my voice.
“It’s me,” came Seth’s thick voice.
My heart lurched out of my throat, and I lunged for the door. Something was horribly wrong. I could tell from those two little words. They were thick, slurred. Undoing the deadbolt, I nearly ripped the hinges off pulling the knob.
Seth leaned against the door frame, one arm propped above him. He gazed passively at Rory and me, his eyes squinting against the sudden light.
“Seth!” I gasped. “What’s wrong?”
Hesitatingly, he nodded.
“Why were you knocking like that?” I demanded.
A second later, I noticed the smell. Seth reeked of alcohol. If I had to guess, a mixture of beer and tequila. I resisted the urge to press my hand against my nose and mouth.
Rory made a slightly disgusted noise. Thanks to her bartending job, she saw people in this state all the time and tended to have a low tolerance for it outside of work.
“Come inside,” I told Seth as I slid under his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist, pulling him over the threshold.
I led him to the couch, where he willingly laid down.
“I’ll go get some water,” Rory said, hurrying from the room.
I sat down as close to Seth as I dared, watching him intently as his eyes intermittently lowered and shut.
“Did you drive here?” I asked him.
He didn’t answer.
I sucked in a sharp breath. Shit, shit, shit. Anyone with half a brain could see Seth wasn’t in the proper state to operate a vehicle. If he’d driven to my house, it was a miracle that he’d even made it alive.
“Seth?” I questioned.
He still didn’t answer. He moved a little bit, stretching his legs out, so at least he was alive.
Hopefully, he didn’t have alcohol poisoning. I knew CPR and how to bandage a wound, but I didn’t know shit about what to do if someone drank themselves to within an inch of their lives.
Rory came back with not only a glass of water but some crackers and a bowl — just in case things got messy. A true late night bartender, she set everything down on the coffee table and darted her eyes toward me. “I’ll go let London and Heather know what’s up.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
As soon as she left again, Seth sat up.
“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching my hand toward him. I didn’t touch him, afraid that physical contact might somehow send him into an even worse state.
“I didn’t drive,” he said, chewing the words like cotton balls. “I didn’t drive.”
I sighed in relief. “Good.”
“I took a taxi.”
“Are you drunk?” The question felt rhetorical. Clearly, he was drunk.
“Probably,” Seth said, falling back against the couch and letting his head drop to the side.
Are you like this a lot? Now wasn’t the time to ask that question. Tomorrow, maybe, but not now.
I tried to remember how many drinks he usually had in one evening while in my presence. Certainly never more than three, and sometimes none, even when I was drinking.
I picked up the glass of water. “Here, drink some of this.”
He took a couple sips then pulled away. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” A bit of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. I tentatively reached over and brushed it to the side.
“I fucked up.”
“Everyone drinks too much sometimes. It can happen to anyone.”
Seth grunted.
“What happened? Where’s your dad?”
Seth just shook his head and closed his eyes. The talking we’d done seemed to have exhausted him. It was time for me to give up. Getting answers out of him about his dad while he was in a sober state was one thing. Attempting it while he was drunk would be like pulling teeth.
Hushed voices came from the kitchen.
“Lay down,” I told Seth. “I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
He obeyed, turning onto his side and nestling between the throw cushions. He closed his eyes, and I pulled his shoes off for him. By the time I stood and tip-toed from the room, he was asleep.
My friends were back out by the fire, and I walked outside, the cool night air welcome on my face.
“What’s going on?” Heather asked.
“Yeah,” London intoned. “Which vamp got him? Was it the Twilight vampire or an Anne Rice one?”
“Don’t forget about True Blood,” Rory said.
“Ooh,” London cooed. “Yeah! I hope it was Alexander Skarsgard. Maybe he felt Seth up a little bit before doing the deed.”
I took my seat, not able to join in the joking.
“Stop!” Heather snapped at the two of them. “This is serious. What’s going on? Why is he drunk?”
“I don’t know,” I said flatly, the glass of wine I’d left behind now not appealing.
“He didn’t say anything?”
“Not enough for me to figure out what happened. He did tell me he took a taxi here, though, so that’s good news. At least we know he didn’t kill anyone on his way over.”
“Did he say anything about his dad?”
I chewed on my lip. “No. I asked him where his dad was and he didn’t answer.” I sighed and looked at the quiet house. “This is too much. If his dad is the reason he got drunk tonight I can’t ignore it.”
Heather pursed her lips. “Yeah, I guess you can’t after all.”
The conversation turned to more lighthearted things, like HBO and plans for Halloween, but there was an underlying current of unease.
The girls didn’t stay much longer, the original, carefree mood of the night not able to hold up with the unconscious man on the couch. By the time I locked the front door behind them and crept into the living room to check on Seth, I was beat.
He laid still, on his side, his arms pressed against his chest. I put my hand near his mouth to check for breathing. Only when I felt his exhale against my skin did I relax. I couldn’t tear myself away from watching him. Finally, taking a blanket from the back of one of the chairs, I laid it across him and tucked it in on the sides, then turned on the floor lamp in the hall so he’d have some light in case he woke up. He probably didn’t have alcohol poisoning, but instead w
as just headed for a killer hangover.
Starlet jumped onto the couch and turned around in a circle before settling down against Seth’s legs.
“Come on, girl,” I whispered, patting my thigh.
Her dark eyes stared mournfully back at me. She didn’t even lift her head.
“Bed,” I told her. “Come on. It’s time to go to bed.”
Still, she didn’t move.
I sighed. She was attached. It was official. Even my best friend couldn’t tear herself away from Seth.
“I get it,” I whispered to her, then climbed the stairs for bed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I slept fitfully, rolling around and kicking the blankets off, then stared at the dark wall. I fell asleep for a little bit only to repeat it all over again. I’d left the bedroom curtains open. Shadows from tree branches danced across the wall, shaking and rattling their way across the paint.
I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened. First Seth’s mom and her flooded basement, his weird behavior at her house, then his dad showing up again, Seth coming to my place plastered. Were these events separate and unconnected, or was something else going on here?
I’d tried to give Seth space. I’d tried to let him do his own thing. I’d waited for him to come to me for help instead of offering it, but it was getting hard. When I saw something wrong, I had to fix it. That’s just the way it was with me. Fixing was my strength, the reason I owned my own home and business before turning twenty-five. Unfortunately, when it came to my personal relationships, it seemed that trait had no real place.
I rolled over, putting my back to the window, and sighed. It felt weird to be sleeping alone in bed. No Starlet. No Seth. Both of them were so close but untouchable.
Unable to take it anymore, I pulled on my slippers and climbed out of bed, checking the time on the alarm clock before I left. Two-thirty.
At least I didn’t have to be at work in the morning.
The downstairs was just as quiet as when I’d left it, the hall lamp still on but the corners shrouded in darkness. Going slowly, I crept past the living room and felt for the kitchen light switch.
The harsh glow filled the kitchen, revealing someone sitting in the breakfast nook. I gasped and then steadied myself against the door frame.