by S. E. Hall
Can’t say I’d blame the kid if he ran out of here like the hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels… cause’ Kendrick can give a speech coated with more underlying guilt and insinuation than the slickest of politicians. But if Ryder steps up to the plate—which I’m secretly hoping he does—he’s got my vote.
He doesn’t run or piss himself. Rather, he sits up straighter and stiffens his posture, clears his throat then looks Dane dead in the eye. “I’d like to ask Brynn if I could come watch her next softball game, and maybe take her to get something to eat afterwards. Would you be alright with that, sir?”
Way to go kid.
Now Kendrick’s just gonna screw with him a bit more. His mind’s already made up, because. I can see the respect in his eyes, the smile he’s trying to fight off. But Daddy’s not quite done. He cocks his head to the side, a smug rise to his brow. “If I ask JT, my son, who loves his little sister almost as much as I do, or Judd, who’s about to be my son-in-law and not only loves Brynn’s sister, but has watched this little girl you’re inquiring about grow up her whole life, about your reputation, am I gonna like what they have to say?”
Damn, he packed a lot of intimidating information into one question. I’m tellin’ ya, dude should run for president. And no time like the present… candidates for the next election aren’t lookin’ real promising.
“I don’t know, sir. But with all due respect, they’re sitting right there,” Ryder answers boldly and points at JT and Judd, both speechless and fascinated by the balls on this kid. “Maybe you should ask them?”
“Boys?” Dane does just that.
Judd smiles and nods his approval while JT says, “We’re all set, Dad. Ryder’s good people. I swear.”
“Ryder,” I bark, and he quickly snaps his head to me. “You’re well over eighteen, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just reminding ya.’ Because, that means I can legally kick your ass if you hurt my Brynny in any way. We clear?”
Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to assault someone no matter how old they are… but he gets my point.
“Yes, sir,” he repeats, bobbing his head frantically. He must not know the assault rule. Good.
Dane chuckles, holding up his hand and waving for another round. “There ya go Ryder, consider yourself warned But yes, with my blessing, you may ask Brynn out. Good luck I seriously doubt she’ll say yes.”
Daddy Delusion—she’ll say yes.
Sawyer and Blaze are still getting along, drunk and have no idea what they’re even saying anymore, but chummy and no one’s bleeding nonetheless. Ryder’s in the clear to ask Brynn out and I’m actually starting to like the kid. He’s only had one beer and is making a conscious effort to get to know Dane a little better. And Dane. He’s now smiling, having a good time simply for the sake of having one, not just for an obligatory show.
I’m thinking it’d be a shame to bust up such a great night, so I decide to put the little chat I need to have with Dane on hold.
That plan goes to shit the second the girls walk through the door. No one else appears to have spotted them yet, but my stomach’s already rolled over and my palms are sweating, because one look at the “four faces of Eve,” and I smell trouble. I didn’t even have to sniff, it’s radiating off them.
Laney’s shoulders are cinched up tight by her ears and apprehension is smeared all over her face. Whitley’s barely kept tears are glistening just above her bottom lids. Emmett’s walking ten steps behind the rest of them, avoiding any and all eye contact.
And Bennett? She might as well have “I dare you to fuck with me” tattooed across her forehead. Google Earth could spot those mutinous daggers in her eyes.
Doesn’t take a genius, or even half-ass deducing, to know Bennett told her friends “our news” and one helluva a storm just blew through the door.
“Hey hotties!” Sawyer notices them now and snags Emmett around the waist, pulling her down into his lap, Evan following suit with Whitley. I haven’t been counting Evan’s drinks, because Evan is even-Steven—never has just one, but never has too many—but the kiss he lays on Whitley tells me he’s exceeded his usual intake.
The Allens aren’t known for their PDAs. Until right now, that is.
“Baby?” Dane stands up quickly, grabbing Laney by the hips. “Everything okay?”
“F-fine.” She does a horrible job of... I think it’s supposed to be a smile. “Everything okay here?” She glances at me. Laney’s eyes can never hide anything and I see in them what she’s asking. I give a slight shake of my head to let her know, no, I haven’t told him.
Of course Bennett caught our whole silent conversation as well. “Let’s fix that then, shall we?” Bennett bites out, making no secret of the fact that she’s pissed. But I don’t know why.
‘What’d I miss?’ I wordlessly ask her, but she ignores me, dismissing the members of the second generation at the table.
“JT, Judd, all you boys go find something to do. Now,” she snaps when they don’t move fast enough.
Sawyer wants so badly to say something, big mouth open and ready, when Em slaps her hand over it and starts whispering in his ear.
Evan’s done mauling Whitley and is now waving over the waitress, because somewhere in between their uncharacteristic dry-hump, Whitley managed to chug his beer...and mine.
And now, Bennett finally answers me. Aloud. “They all know, and were totally fine with it. Supportive, understanding. But of course, we had to come running down here to check on Dane.”
His name drips off her tongue in mocking disgust, and I frown at her, because it’s uncalled for. I get it, Dane is the pseudo-leader of our pack and is no question the one who will overreact about things the rest of us think are no big deal, i.e. the night I took the girls to the bar. But Bennett’s out of line this time. He will be well within his rights of reason when this news hits him and he blows up.
And he will blow up.
It was his brother.
“Check on me for what? They, who, all know what?” Dane asks anyone, everyone, his face growing a shade of frustrated red.
Dammit, this is not how I wanted this to happen! Dane was acting chill, enjoying time with his soon to be son-in-law, giving the boy who makes my Brynny smile a chance. And here come these women demanding everything happen right away! I blame technology—cell phones, the internet—no one has any damn patience anymore.
No, I’m giving technology way to much credit. These women could be trapped with The Flintstones and they’d still be busy bodies.
“Ben, I got it.” I plead with her as much with my voice as my eyes. “Please. Ya’ll go back and enjoy your night with Sky and let Dane enjoy his with Judd.”
“What do you got, Zach? Somebody better start speaking English to me real quick.” Dane turns to Laney, his tone getting louder and more uneven by the second, true worry, and anger, on his face. “Why are you again, traipsing around Jamaica at night? Are my daughters okay? Your mom? What’s going on, Laney?” All legitimate questions, as is his mounting agitation.
“Yes, they’re all fine, great.” She pats his chest, then looks to me for guidance.
And my hand just got forced.
“Dane, let’s me and you step outside for a sec.” I sigh thickly and move toward the door, glancing back to make sure he’s following me. Which he is.
I stop once out on the sidewalk and try to conjure up the right words, of which they are none. I already know what his issue will be, because it’d be my issue too. He won’t care I slept with Bennett, hell, he probably already assumes I’m doing that on the regular. And he won’t care on the sole basis, that I didn’t tell him; guys don’t live by that crazy ass friends are supposed to tell friends everything rule the women in our lives seem hell-bent on holding each other to.
No, the only thing that’ll matter to him—and it will fucking matter—is that I slept with the love of his brother’s life less than a month after he died.
I try to t
hink, if it were me, what the other guy could possibly say to stop me from killing him.
I got nothing.
“What is it, Zach?” Dane breaks the tense silence between us and asks me.
“I’m in love with Bennett.”
Shit, not what I planned to say at all, not even close really, but it just came rolling out. And now that I’ve tasted the words, acknowledged them aloud, I know, beyond a sliver of a doubt, they’re absolutely true. Whether she feels the same way or not, I’m in love with Bennett Cole.
Well I’ll be damned, that feels so good, I don’t even care now that I’m about to get punched. Oh yeah… it’s coming.
“I know that.” He laughs. “Think maybe you just figured it out, but I’ve known for years. Pretty sure we all have. That it?”
“No, man. It’s not.” I run a hand down my jaw, meeting his eyes dead on, man to man. “I slept with her.”
His head falls back this time with his robust laugh. “I pretty much knew that too. What the hell? You’ve been spending way too much time with the women. It’s fine, Zach. Tate’s been gone a long time. Bennett deserves to move on, be happy. Should’ve happened years ago. No worries.”
“It did happen years ago.” I take in one last, deep breath, and finally say what I really need to. “Dane, I’ve only slept with Bennett once, and it was just weeks after Tate died.”
I’d feel relieved having finally told him, if it weren’t for the pained betrayal in his eyes. “I didn’t know that.” His voice is deceptively patient, its calmness more intense than screaming would be.
“I know, and I’m sorry, for the timing, but—”
That’s all I get out before my head’s snapping to the side, a blinding pain searing up my face. I shake it off though, knew I had it coming, and wipe the corner of my mouth where I can feel blood dripping. “I deserved that. But it wasn’t like we set a timer, man. She was hurting, and I took care—”
Fuck. Okay, that one I wasn’t expecting, came out of nowhere and nailed me right in the eye.
“Quit hitting him!” I hear Bennett scream, and find her, with my good eye, standing on the sidewalk with us now, crying. “It wasn’t just him, Dane! I was there too! I needed him, needed to feel close to someone. You know I loved Tate, but you have no idea how I felt. I wasn’t even sure! Or how to make it better! But it did, it made it hurt less! You can hate me, but it’s true! You wanna hit me too now? I owed Tate more than Zach did. Come on, Dane, hit me!”
“Bennett, go back inside. All of you, this is between me and Dane!” I roar, regretting it instantly because my head’s already banging and didn’t need the help, but I’m desperate to get Bennett away from here. I do not want her to see this.
And of course, none of them listen to a damn word I say or even pretend to be considering leaving like I asked.
Fucking Crew.
Fine, a show for all it is then. “You feel better?” I ask Dane. “We can do this all night, I’m not gonna hit you back. I apologize for what I know seems like really disrespectful timing. I really am sorry about that. And I’m damn sorry about your brother, my friend, and Bennett’s fiancé.”
This time his punch just barely grazes my chin because Beckett catches his arm from behind. “Enough, Kendrick. You don’t keep hitting a man who’s not fighting back. I get you’re mad, hurt, whatever. But punching Zach won’t bring Tate back and it won’t undo what’s done.”
“I thought you were drunk there, Obi?” Evan asks. “I’m impressed.”
“Watching one of your best friends beat the shit out of one of your other ones has a way of sobering ya up. Waste of damn good tequila too, fuckheads. Now…” Beckett looks at Dane, then me. “We done here?”
“Dane?” I ask him. I’ll stand here all night and take his licks if it helps him process, and hopefully, forgive Bennett and I.
“I’m not sure.” He says, his tone sullen.
“Hey, hi, quick question.” JT steps through the crowd. Yeah, the Squad doesn’t listen to what they’re told any better than The Crew. “First of all, nice arm there, Daddy-O. And Uncle Zach, Skylar is gonna be pumped that you have shiner in her wedding pics. But seriously, Dad,” he looks at his father, “would Uncle Tate want Bennett to be alone, lonely?”
“No.” Dane stares at the ground and shakes his head, “no he wouldn’t.”
“And if it’s Zach who prevents that, would he approve? Of Uncle Zach in general, I mean.” Laney steps up behind her son and wraps her arms around him. “Would he have any concerns about the kind of man he is, or that he’d be good to Aunt B?”
“Answer our son, Dane.” Laney says.
Dane lifts his head and meets my eyes. “He’d definitely trust Bennett to Zach. Might have hand-picked him, truth be told.” He steps forward and extends his hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have punched you. Three times. But, he was my brother. Surely you can understand that and accept my apology. And even if you don’t, I hope you don’t let this keep you from pursuing whatever it is you want with Bennett. Or she wants with you. I just, it caught me off guard, ya know?”
I shake his hand and pull him in for one of those man-hug-back pat things and talk low so only he can hear me. “S’all good, you hit like a five-year-old little girl.”
“Tell that to your black eye, fucker.” He laughs.
“Does anyone, have anything else they’d like to announce? Confess? Declare? Speak now, or please, for the love of all that’s holy, forever hold your peace!” Evan says. Yep, definitely drank more than his usual.
“I bought JT his first box of condoms!” Sawyer proudly proclaims.
Fucking Beckett.
“Oh, and Judd too! Actually, it was one trip, the three of us, so it really only counts as one thing.” He just had to add in there.
“Quit. Talking.” Evan shoves Sawyer while JT and Judd slink away. “Thinking Dane’s all punched out, but I’m willing to take a swing at your mouthy ass.”
“Great.” Bennett claps, once, sharp and loud. “Thank Christ the wedding’s tomorrow. Much more of all this fucking fun and we might not survive. I vote we call it a night.”
Everyone agrees with her and Evan walks back inside, holding Whit’s hand, to pay the tab.
“Dane, you’re sharing a cab with me, as in, just you and me. Let’s go, Rocky!” Bennett grabs his arm and drags him away before he can protest.
No idea what that’s about… and I’m praying like hell no one ever tells me.
Supposed To Be You
Dane and I had quite the cab ride back together. We both got out a lot that needed to be said, and I think we understand each other better now. Most importantly, I explained how, of all people, I was able to forgive myself of any guilt. With as few details as possible, I made it clear to Dane that we weren’t talking about some animalistic night where I forgot all about Tate and just went at it with Zach. It was honestly a reprieve from the pain, where nothing else existed—or ached—and I was able to feel at peace, comforted for a while.
That seemed to make him feel better. I’m pretty sure he was imagining something else in his mind.
And he’s crystal clear on one other thing too now: he ever hits Zach again and I’m coming for him. He won’t know how, or when, but one day he’ll turn around and boom, there I’ll be, Bobbitt blade in hand, aimed at revenge.
I was there, in that bed with Zach—trust me, I remember—half of the equation, but no one punched me. And Zach just stood there and took it. Fighting back was never even an option that crossed his mind. And let’s face it, everyone knows that all six-foot-four, two-hundred and forty pounds of Zachary Taylor Reece could throttle Dane if he was so inclined.
The only man I know who’d even have a prayer against Zach is Sawyer. And that shit would be worthy of someone buying it on Pay-Per-View and throwing a watch party. I’d bring the chips, and bet on Zach.
“So you and I are good?” I ask him one final time. He did buy me the house I live in, the one Tate had picked out for us, and
he also handed me Tate’s gym, free and clear. I wouldn’t feel right about keeping either if Dane wasn’t truly okay with things, or me.
He may be a bossy, overreacting pain in my ass, who puts the capital “A” in alpha (and the “ass” in pain in mine, as I mentioned)—but I love him dearly—and as much defiant “don’t give a damn” as I try to exude… I do give a damn. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew Dane thought badly of me.
“Always, Bennett. And if things don’t work out with Zach, or even if they do, Laney and I are always right here for anything you need. That will never, ever change. Love you.” He kisses my forehead. “Now go find your boy and tend to his wounds.”
We part ways with a final hug and I beeline it to the door of the only person in the whole world that I really want to talk to right now.
But when I get there, fist up and ready to knock, something sudden and indefinable stops me. I stand there mulling over what I want to say, what result it is I’m hoping for, and finally acknowledge... I don’t know.
But I do know I can’t just sleep on it, all the questions, doubts, hopes, and desires swirling around inside me like an anxious, yet fearful whirlpool.
So I do what any coward would do, I sit down right in front of his door, lay my forehead against the wood, and start to talk to myself, releasing all the turmoil I’ve carried inside for too long into the atmosphere.
Completely nuts? Perhaps. But it’s a much-needed outlet, and Zach won’t hear me, most likely in bed with a bag of ice on his face. Win-win.
Let the big, bad universe figure out what to do with it all, because frankly, I’m exhausted.