by Nikki Wild
Only a moment to decide.
I leaned into the handlebars again.
For a brief flicker, remorse at my antics around a machine like that popped into my mind. I understood how hard it was to slow those huge things down, and I could only imagine that the trucker was cursing me as he overcompensated on the brakes. But I was already weaving back into my original lane again, freed from the tyranny of the speed-limit jackass cutting off my passing lane.
I turned my helmet towards said jackass, and I got the finger for my efforts.
Yeah, okay pal.
The passing sign on the right told me what I needed to know: that the exit was finally nearby, just two miles away. I allowed myself to wonder again why I was even doing this. Everything that I had experienced these last few years had come to redefine me, fine-tuning my instincts and hardening my resolve – none of which I could have done here. The life I had left back in my teenage years had retained nothing of use to me – if anything, I might grow softer by being here. Weaker.
I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Something had clicked in my head when my father called. Turns out he didn’t need private investigators to find me. Even by being careful, I’d become well enough known that Google pointed my somewhat savvy father my way.
Still, I hadn’t been prepared for the nature of the phone call itself.
Saffron might be in danger, he had told me. I need your help.
Nothing about coming back to Pennsylvania had ever been remotely appealing to me, but for this… I didn’t have much choice. He still sounded surprised when I took him up on his offer. If I’d have taken a minute to think about it, I might have felt the same why. Why the hell did I agree to this? As much as I hated to admit it to myself, there were tougher people he could hire – people with guns and decades of experience bodyguarding defenseless people in and out of danger.
Was it because of her?
Saffron Samuels. Originally Saffron Tate, before the marriage – and my father’s adoption of the scrawny little teenager – had seen to that. We had only lived together a couple of years, and it had been easily double, maybe three times that since I’d seen her last.
Who the hell would want to hurt her? Sure, Dad had a few corporate enemies, but that was just business. Death threats against family were a bit more serious.
I slowed down, letting the Suzuki’s throttle dampen as I turned onto the exit. Dropping from eighty to forty in a couple of seconds, I put a knee down and leaned into the wide curve, past the green light, and continued onward.
Not long now.
I remembered my first assessment of the girl. It wasn’t favorable. She was incredibly shy, and more or less stayed totally out of sight until the marriage was finalized.
Hell, I didn’t even know about the girl until Dad married her mother. But my father was so busy at the time that he barely told me anything – electing to spend late nights at work, and when Ellen entered his life, it was late nights with her instead. I didn’t particularly mind. My father wasn’t distant by any means, but he picked a convenient time to be less than accessible, because I was a teenager and there was oh so much trouble I could get up to while he was gone.
But I knew my place, and I followed the rules.
Most of them.
Well, some.
He never suspected, and I never planned on him finding out about the types of friends I had over – or the fun we got up to. I wanted something new, something more meaningful than what I had. They say sex can become an addiction…
It wasn’t my only vice.
I was more addicted to fighting. It was all about honing my body and learning my limits. I pushed myself continuously, even without any real weight lifting. I picked fights with the tougher guys around, and I got my ass handed to me more than a few times before I started winning. I learned from every loss and came back harder, faster, tougher. Soon, I was virtually unbeatable in a fair, one-on-one fight – and I took on any challenger, just to prove my mettle.
And then the scrawny twerp popped into my life.
Like I said, I didn’t know she existed until the marriage. Apparently, she didn’t know I existed until the day she came back. I remember her little outburst when she met Dad and realized that there had been a marriage. That should have tipped me off, but I’d brushed it aside, because what kind of daughter doesn’t know her Mom remarried?
Nobody offered to clue me in. I thought that she’d been MIA for the duration of our parents’ relationship, maybe as some sort of silent rebellion. That’s why I chose to mess around with her a little bit.
It was all in good fun, anyway.
It wasn’t until a few weeks after I met her that I found out what had really happened: she had been out of the country the entire time. Studying a late year of high school in some British city. Bristol, I think it was. Not only that, but in today’s day and age, her mother had barely kept her updated on anything – and barely responded to her messages. If I’d known that before, I would have recognized that she had been locked completely out of the loop, even less so than myself. Probably would have been a lot nicer to her from the get-go.
But by that point, I’d already settled on screwing with her. Inertia… It’s a bitch.
A couple of more turns, and I was in the right neighborhood. I could already see the place up ahead on the left… my family’s proud little hilltop, looking down over everybody lesser.
Of course, that wasn’t fair. My father had never been anything less than favorable towards his fellow man, and my stepmother really rubbed off as being infallibly appreciative of her new lifestyle. The two of them were a good fit, and they visibly made each other happier…they even made each other better.
As I pulled up to the gate, I hesitated. What if they’ve changed the code? It never occurred to me that it would be anything else.
I punched in the numbers – my birthday – and the gate electronically whipped into gear, sliding open on its arc. With a quiet chuckle, I revved my engine and peeled through the entrance and up the drive towards the house.
It was all coming back now, all the old sights revisited. The trees that lined the long driveway up, the very smell of the place. It brought back a flood of memories as I meandered up towards my past, contained within that ridiculous house.
After another minute of driving, the trees cleared, and the entire house came into view. The landing was here, along with the carport.
All exactly as I left it, I observed.
I entered the carport and parked between the vehicles. There were three of them now – hard to say what belonged to whom. My parents weren’t the type to go overboard with cars. They had always settled on one apiece, at least when I was still around. If that was still the case, then one of these in all likelihood belonged to Saffron – which meant that she was home.
Removing my motorcycle helmet, I slowly, steadily walked towards the huge front doors. It was only when I reached it that I realized that I still had the thing tucked under my arm. It’s not like me to be this absentminded, I chided myself.
But I had a lot on my mind.
The door was unlocked, and I let myself in. I could hear voices nearby – from the kitchen, by the sound of it. There was Ellen, with that unmistakable cheer, but another voice…unmistakably her. Older now, more mature, but still recognizable as my little Saffie.
I took a brief sigh. The entire drive back, I’d ignored something in the back of my head. It was only now that I was here that I could finally deal with the fact that there was another reason entirely for my departure. While I was gone, it plagued my mind in various levels of self-destructive torture. Some days had been easier than others, but I’d been able to block it out during my focus on the road.
It wasn’t just my need to prove to myself that I was a man. That I could handle a life stripped of luxury. That I could carve out my own place in the world, independent of anyone or anything else. I could have probably done that on my own, here, and been a much b
etter son to my parents.
It was arguably a far more important reason altogether.
It was that stupid girl.
I couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting her…
It’s been five years, I thought to myself as I stepped into the kitchen, seeing the two of them for the first time since I was eighteen. I summoned up every drop of strength I had and forced a grin across my face. If five years away didn’t cure my stupid infatuation, then I really am doomed.
Three
Saffron
Pennsylvania, Present Day
Just laying my eyes on Sawyer was enough to bring back every furious emotion I’d bottled up for the last several years. The tremendous jackass that he was, my stepbrother acted as if he hadn’t walked out on us all that time ago.
The way the atmosphere had changed, it was as if Sawyer had only really been living around the corner, maybe a few towns over. Every few weeks, he’d zip by on his motorcycle and share some coffee with Mom, or update me on his latest sexual conquest. I’d call him a manwhore pig and he’d call me naïve and a tease.
Of course, that’s not really happened.
My stepbrother had scampered off in the middle of the night five long years ago. A hasty note had been left on his bed for our parents, explaining some brief, bullshit little teenage rebellion. He’d left his phone, his laptop, and no contact information.
Nothing for me. Not one word. Not one whisper.
I’d been devastated.
Betrayed.
He was the second man I’d trusted who had walked out on me, after my own father. I could only guess how our parents had taken it – they were beside themselves for the first few days, but surprisingly seemed okay enough afterwards. At least, while I was around, at any rate. I mean, what other explanation could there be?
Obviously, they were just good at hiding their worry.
And now the jackass was standing in my kitchen again after all these years, and he was acting as if nothing had changed. Like he’d popped out the door for a moment, stepped back in, and the entire world had aged five years in the meantime.
Gone out for cigarettes. What do you mean, ‘five years?’
“Honey? Is something the matter?”
Mom was looking at me with mild concern, while Sawyer was leaning against the counter by the stove, a Heineken against his lips.
I snapped back down to reality. “Mom, you…you can’t be serious. He abandoned us. You can’t seriously expect me to spend my entire summer with him?”
She pursed her lips for a moment. “Saffron, dear, maybe this is a good time for you two to catch up. I thought you would have been thrilled to see your stepbrother again, after all this time…”
“Not like this,” I told her, letting myself down from the barstool.
My eyes angrily turned to my stepbrother, who was gazing faintly in my direction – with the world’s most innocent look plastered across his face.
“It’s been years since I’ve seen you,” I told him furiously. “Since any of us have seen you. You just come strolling back in like nothing’s changed? No. You don’t get to pretend that and make me go along with it.”
He took a deep swig of the bottle, maintaining eye contract with me. Mom’s overly cheerful eyes saddened a little, and a frown started to form along the edges.
My disgruntled stare fell back on her. “You know, it’s bad enough that Dad and you are taking Paris away from me, but this? This is too much for me to process.”
“Saffron… Your father and I need some time alone… If you’d just…”
“You’re going to Paris? And you’re leaving her here?” Sawyer set the half-full beer bottle down on the countertop. He crossed his arms and leant back. “Nobody told me that. No wonder Saffie’s pissed…I’d probably be, too. That’s pretty low.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
He did the same. But with the motion, he lifted the corner of his mouth into that trademark smirk of his. My brother had a private weapon: the Panty Dropper, he and his friends called it. According to them, it was the half-grin that landed him half his high school one-night-stands…of which there were many… I remembered every single one.
He used to tease me with it sometimes. It had made living with my cocky asshole of a stepbrother uncomfortable in ways that it really shouldn’t have.
“Now, don’t you get in on this too,” Mom chided him. “Saffron has a point, you know. Your father and I have been worried sick about you for years. None of us have seen you since you turned eighteen.”
Sawyer opened his mouth, but swallowed his words. After a moment, he was swallowing his beer again, too.
“Now, if it’s any consolation,” Mom went on, turning to me, “I did try to talk your father out of it. I knew it would upset you, honey, and that’s the last thing I want to do…”
“Well, great way of showing it,” I grumbled. “Picking my dream for your anniversary vacation, forcing me out of the house, then making me stay all summer with the ‘Brother of the Year’ World Champion, Five Years Running…”
“That’s enough,” I heard a thick, oaky voice command.
We all recognized it immediately.
Chet.
My stepfather was standing in the doorway to the side, his thick arms crossed. Dressed in casual comfort and a hoodie, he was just as imposing man as the day I’d met him – at several inches over six feet. Freshly shaven, he had kept the thick, bushy moustache that he’d grown since Sawyer left – which accented the firm irritation on his face.
“Both of you,” Chet continued. “After all this time, I manage to get the two of you in the same room again, and it’s back to bickering as usual…”
The room went quiet, and even my mother hesitated, turning from Sawyer to me. She looked like she wanted to say something. Before she could, my stepfather immediately strolled into the kitchen with a large grin on his face. His arms wrapped around Sawyer in a bear hug, peeling him from his relaxed lean against the counter.
His words were quiet, almost choked.
“Welcome home, son.”
My stepbrother stiffened instantly, but gradually relaxed into the embrace. Within seconds, they were hugging each other long long-lost family, which…technically, they qualified a little.
“It’s great to have you back,” our father continued, pulling free to hold Sawyer at arm’s length. They studied each other’s eyes, face, and build for a moment. “Healthy and all! Strong, too!” My stepdad squeezed Sawyer’s arm. “You must be in incredible shape…”
“Yeah, well,” Sawyer remarked with a slight grin, “let’s just say I’ve been taking care of myself. You’re not looking too bad yourself, old man.”
He chuckled in response. “Well, I’ve been trying to hit the gym when I can find the spare time…”
They pulled away from each other, and while Chet grabbed another beer from the fridge, the years were clearly sliding off of them. My mother had stepped over, standing close to me, and we watched the two of them making up for lost time.
I had to admit…as furious as I was at Sawyer, it was endearing to see him reunited with his father after all this time. I still needed to find out the real story – why Sawyer left in the first place – but for now…I could stand to watch them defrost in each other’s presence.
While they started swapping small talk and vague life updates, I found my thoughts drifting towards the change in my stepfather’s disposition.
He had become, in a word, gruff. His son disappearing from his life hadn’t helped. The worst part was that he still smiled and laughed along with the rest of us – but it was clear to anyone who knew him well that his heart wasn’t into it.
As the months became years, and Sawyer failed to show up on our doorstep again, his penchant for keeping up the act whittled away. I couldn’t think of the last time I had seen him smile, or even offer the faintest chuckle to a joke.
With that said, his business associates never seemed to notice – but
he became a completely different person around them. The few times they had been around, he effortlessly slipped back into his persona of being a jovial, confident man – making them roar with laughter at every turn.
My mother and I saw the real him.
He was a man weakened by grief.
But that had all changed with Sawyer’s return.
My thoughts were conflicted on this. True, seeing my stepbrother again had brought him straight back to who he was before. But I couldn’t overlook the fact that it was Sawyer’s fault that our father had been so depressed for the last few years. On top of that, I still had my personal reasons for being furious with him – and as much as seeing them together warmed my heart, I could look in his eyes and see the truth.
Sawyer was still the monumental ass he had always been. His blind arrogance was just as strong as ever.
I bit my lip angrily, watching them drink beer together and laugh. My mother’s hand clasped onto my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze.
“I know you two had your differences,” she whispered to me, “and that you’re still angry about your brother leaving. Isn’t it worth it, just for this?”
I honestly didn’t have an answer.
Instead, I decided that enough was enough. As I pushed away from the counter and turned my back on their stupid little family reunion, the others diverted their attention towards me. He abandoned us. I don’t CARE that he’s back, and he’s safe…he gets to pull that shit and then get a nice, warm homecoming? No. Fuck that.
“Saffron–” Mom called out for me.
Her concern meant nothing to me. I stormed around the corner and out of sight, disappearing down the hall and up the stairs. Another turn, another corridor, and the door to my bedroom appeared on the right.
I could hear that nobody was coming for me, and that was fine by me. In our old apartment, I could have walked fifteen feet and slammed the door to my bedroom, but in this stupid oversized house I had to go through multiple hallways and ascend a flight of stairs first.