When Forever Changes

by Siobhan Davis

  We reach the counter and place our drink orders with Slater. He winks at me, expertly filling various drinks while taking more orders from customers at the bar. Emma leans in close to my ear. “She wants Slater, but he only has eyes for you.”

  I gawp at her, wondering if I need my ears checked. “That’s … that’s … preposterous!” I splutter. “He’s like one of my brothers!” I wince as I say it, realizing I’ve been using that excuse for a long time. If I really searched my heart and my soul, I’d see he’s not like that. Not at all. But I’m not ready to face up to that truth just yet. If I ever will be.

  Emma inspects my face, her expression turning soft. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  My cheeks heat up. “He doesn’t have those kind of feelings for me.”

  “Honey.” She leans in closer so he can’t hear. “He’s incapable of hiding it. It’s so obvious, and I don’t even know either of you that well, but I have eyes in my head, and I’m telling you Slater has the hots for you.”

  I shake my head, not wanting to believe it.

  “What’s more, I think you might be feeling it too.”

  Emma’s words lie dormant in my mind the next couple of weeks as I settle into a new routine. The guys are like passing ships in the night, and it’s rare that we’re all in the house at the same time. Ryan and Myndi are practically glued at the hip now, so I still see a lot of my brother, and I see Slater at work, of course, but I’ve been purposely keeping a distance between us, unsure how to deal with the fact he might have feelings for me. I focus on my studies, and when I’m not working, I’m usually in the library or out running. I go home on Sundays, but that only makes me sadder because everything reminds me of Dylan.

  I’m trying so hard to be strong, and it’s a little easier now he isn’t able to call or message me, but it’s not that easy to let go of the past. To forget the guy who has meant everything to me. To move on from a future that won’t ever come to fruition. I manage to keep it together during the day, but at night, my memories return to haunt me, and I sob into my pillow every night.

  When Ryan is here, which is only half the time, he usually slips into bed with me in the middle of the night, holding me and making it better. But I can’t rely on my brother to get me through this. I’ve accepted the reality of my new situation, but try telling that to my heart, because it’s still pining for the only boy I’ve ever loved.

  I return to the brownstone Sunday night with my guitar in tow. I kinda lost interest in it a couple of years ago, but now, more than anytime recently, music has become my solace. I’m sitting on my bed, attempting to play the latest Shawn Lucas hit when there’s a knock on my door. “Come in,” I holler, setting my guitar aside.

  Slater opens the door and lounges against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account. That sounded good.”

  I snort. “Don’t lie. That was horrid, and you know it.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “You’re going straight to hell for all the white lies,” I tease.

  He pushes off the doorframe, strolling toward me, and my heart starts fluttering. He sits down beside me, and the citrusy scent of his cologne swirls around me like a blanket. Butterflies dance in my chest, and when he runs a hand through his hair, my eyes follow the movement in greedy fascination. He’s growing his hair out again, and I like it. I can imagine grabbing fistfuls of his hair as we … I halt that thought, shocked at how easily my mind went there.

  “You’re just a little out of practice,” he adds, and my eyes blink rapidly while my pulse thrums wildly. Until I remember he’s talking about the guitar and not my abandoned, lonely vagina.

  I blush, and he smiles funnily at me.

  I rub the back of my neck. “I know. I can’t even remember the last time I picked up my guitar.”

  His grin turns wicked. “Should I warn Ryan to bring his earmuffs out of the attic?”

  I thump him in the shoulder. “I was never that bad.”

  “I’m only messing with ya. You know you’re good.”

  “Not as good as Caleb.”

  “But Caleb lives and breathes music. You went through phases.”

  “True. I liked it but not enough to keep it up.” I purse my lips, looking down at my guitar. “I’m not even sure why I brought it back here, to be honest.”

  “I think it’s good you’re rediscovering yourself.” He reaches out, tugging on a stray strand of hair that has fallen loose from my ponytail.

  My heart stutters in my chest, and our gazes lock. “You think I lost myself?” I ask, my voice cracking a little.

  His eyes search mine, for what I’m not sure. Tentatively, he raises his hand, cupping one side of my face. I swear I stop breathing. Butterflies are racing a marathon inside my chest, and my heart feels ready to erupt from my ribcage.

  “I think you know you did,” he whispers, staring at my mouth.

  My chest visibly heaves, and his eyes drop lower on my body. My nipples instantly pebble, and I’m praying he can’t see through my thin sweater and cotton bra.

  When he lifts his eyes, meeting mine again, I have to smother a gasp. His pupils are dilated, his dark gaze swallowing me whole. My core pulses, and my hands feel clammy, so I wipe them on the side of the bed, never taking my eyes from his.

  His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and he leans in a little closer. My heart is going crazy, jumping around my chest like fireworks on the Fourth of July. His hand tightens on my face, and he brushes his thumb across my cheek, eliciting a trail of shivery tingles. My tongue darts out, and I wet my lips. His eyes track the movement, and he scoots in closer beside me, grasping the other side of my face and tilting my head up slightly. He looks at my mouth again, and inner conflict flares in his eyes for a brief second, but then it’s gone again, and he’s lowering his head, lining his mouth up with mine.

  Oh my God.

  He’s going to kiss me.

  Slater Evans is going to kiss me.

  And I’m going to let him.

  I close my eyes as he moves to bridge the last gap between us.

  A massive thud on the window scares the living daylights out of me, and I shriek. I open my eyes instantly. Slater’s expression is a mixture of confusion, frustration, and relief. Another thud hits the window, and we both stand. “What the hell is going on?” Slater stalks to the window and lifts the blind.

  He cusses under his breath, and I walk toward him. “What is it?”

  “See for yourself.” He grips the window ledge tight, a muscle clenching in his jaw.

  I peek around him, struggling to believe my eyes.

  Dylan is outside, throwing stones at my window. From the way he’s staggering about, I can tell he’s drunk.

  The sight of him hits me hard, and I close my eyes, silently begging him to leave. I’m never going to get past this if he won’t let me go.

  Another stone hits the window, and I open my eyes. Slater looks like he wants to pummel Dylan into the ground. He’s shouting now, but we can’t hear him through the window.

  “Shit.” I rub at my temples. “I’d better go down to him before the neighbors call the cops.”

  Slater turns to me, gripping my shoulders. “Belle.” His voice is choked, his expression tormented. “I … I …”

  Thunk. The stones just keep on coming, and I know I have to face him even if it’s the last thing I feel like doing.

  I shuck out of Slater’s hold, shooting him an apologetic look. “I need to go. We’ll talk later. I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Dylan, what are you doing here?” I stand in the open doorway, wrapping my arms around myself as I stare at my ex.

  “We need to talk, Dimples,” he slurs, staggering all over the place as he walks toward me.

  I rear back from the toxic fumes pouring off him in waves. “You’re smashed, and you
shouldn’t be here.”

  He makes a grab for me, but I sidestep him, avoiding his reach. “Please, baby. Please, come back home. I miss you.”

  Sighing, I count to ten and draw upon patience that is in limited supply. “That’s not gonna happen. There is nothing you can do or say to undo the damage. Please just stop trying.”

  He slouches against the wall, pinning bloodshot, pained eyes on me. “I made a mistake. Why can’t you forgive me?”

  That supply of patience is growing thinner by the second. “I’m not doing this again with you, Dylan. You chose to cheat on me behind my back and lie to my face. There is no getting over that, so just quit this … whatever this is. I’m not changing my mind.”

  His eyes dart behind me, instantly darkening. Slater gently places his hand on my lower back. I know it’s a show of support, but I asked him to stay upstairs for a good reason. Dylan’s lips twist into a snarl. “Oh, I see how it is,” he spits out. “You stand there all high and mighty pretending like I’m the only one at fault, when you’re nothing but a lying whore.”

  I plant my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re fucking him! How is that any different than what I did?” His words hurt, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s slurring and swaying and completely trashed. And I’m not going to argue with him when he’s like this either.

  “I haven’t been with anyone during our relationship or since it broke down, and that’s the last I’m saying on the subject.” I move to close the door. “Go home, Dylan.”

  He shoves his foot in the door, stopping the motion. Snatching my arm, he yanks me out of the house. “I’m not leaving without you.” He starts dragging me down the path, his fingers digging into my arm. “This has gone on long enough.”

  “Stop it!” I try to wrestle out of his grip, but he has an iron-strong grasp for someone so drunk. “You’re hurting me.”

  Strong hands rip me away from Dylan, and Slater plants me behind him, shielding me with his body. I grab hold of his shirt, burying my face in the cotton, thankful he’s here. “I will only say this once, Woods. You ever touch Belle without her permission again and I will fucking end you. Don’t care if I go to prison for it. Stay the hell away from her.”

  “She isn’t yours!” Dylan roars, shoving Slater, and we both stumble backward.

  “I’m not yours either,” I shout back, losing control of my tenuous emotions. “And you made that choice, not me!”

  “Stop your lying bullshit!”

  “You have ten seconds to get the fuck off our property or I’m calling the cops,” Slater says, extracting his cell from his back pocket.

  Dylan sneers. “Call them. See if I care.”

  I wrap my hand around Slater’s wrist, stalling him. “Don’t. Please. I don’t want to involve the cops.”

  I step in front of Slater, trying to appeal to Dylan one last time. “If you ever loved me, Dylan, you will let me go. Please. Just let it go.”

  “So that’s it, huh?” He glares at me with so much hatred in his eyes, and I can’t understand what I’ve done to deserve it. “You’re a fucking cunt! I fucking knew you’d trade me in for him!”

  My mouth hangs open in shock. I can’t believe he’s just said what he’s said. It feels like I’ve never known him at all. The Dylan I know would never be so crude and demeaning.

  Slater’s entire body goes rigid, and I know he’s working hard to restrain himself, but Dylan is pushing his buttons on purpose. “What did you just call her?”

  “You heard me!” Dylan hisses, swaying unsteadily on his feet. “She’s a cunt! You’re a cunt! You’re both fucking cunts.” He yells so loud it’s a wonder the whole street hasn’t heard him.

  A car door slams, and I look up in time to see Ryan racing across the front lawn. “What the actual fuck is going on here?” he demands to know, his gaze bouncing between us.

  “And here’s another pair of cunts,” Dylan unhelpfully adds. “Let’s just call this the House of Cunts. I’ll even get a sign made.”

  “He is fucking wasted.” Ryan looks disgusted, shaking his head in dismay. Myndi appears at his side, and he pulls her in protectively to his body.

  “Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious.” I rub at the tense spot between my brows.

  “I see you got yourself a new cunt, Ryan.” Dylan eyes Myndi up and down. “I always thought she had a nice rack, but not in Gabby’s league. Gabby’s tits are fucking awesome. Man, I miss sucking your tits, babe.”

  I drop my head, embarrassed and appalled. Ryan looks like he’s seriously contemplating murder.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Slater says, crossing his arms and leveling a thunderous look at Dylan. “You have ten seconds to get out of here or I’ll make you, and, trust me, right now I’m sorely tempted to smash my fist in your mouth until you shut the fuck up.”

  Dylan drops down on his butt, bringing his knees to his chest and grinning up at us. “You know what? I think I might stay here tonight.” He picks a stone out of his pocket, tossing it up and down in his hand.

  “The hell you are,” Ryan grabs him by the shoulders, attempting to pull him up.

  Dylan lashes out, seizing Ryan by the shirt and yanking him down to the ground. Ryan takes a tumble, cursing as he shoves Dylan off. There is no strength in Dylan’s grip thanks to his inebriated state, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He swings his fist in my brother’s direction, but Ryan easily dodges his efforts, clutching his wrists tightly and holding them together. “Dylan. Cut this crap out, and get your sorry ass home. You’re not helping your cause here in any way.”

  “Your sister’s a cunt. She’s a fucking cunt!”

  A muscle ticks in Ryan’s jaw, but he holds it together well. “So you’ve said, and, no, she isn’t, but I’m not in the mood for a pissing contest when you’re wasted, and we’ve given the neighbors enough of a show.” He hauls Dylan to his feet. “I’m taking you home.” He tugs on Dylan’s elbow as he glances over his shoulder at Myndi. “Go inside and wait. I won’t be long.”

  “Ugh.” Dylan wobbles precariously on his feet, clutching his stomach. “I don’t feel too hot.”

  “Yeah, buddy.” Ryan shakes his head. “I’ll bet.” He gets Dylan in the car without much protest. “See you in a while,” he tells us before hopping behind the wheel and speeding away.

  “Wow,” Myndi says as all three of us stare blankly at the retreating car. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say aliens have abducted Dylan Woods and sent an imposter back to Earth in his body.”

  “An obnoxious asshole of an imposter,” Slater supplies, absentmindedly taking my hand in his. “And you didn’t hear the worst of it. He’s completely out of his mind.”

  We walk slowly back into the house, gravitating en masse toward the kitchen.

  Myndi makes a beeline for the coffee pot, while Slater opens the refrigerator. “Beer or wine?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.

  “Actually,” I say, opening the overhead cupboard, “I need something stronger after that.” I remove the bottle of vodka I stashed there last week and pour myself a shot, relishing the burn as it glides down my throat.

  We don’t talk much after that. We transfer to the living room and put Netflix on, but I’m not paying attention, my mind churning a hundred miles a minute. I throw my head back on the couch and close my eyes. Slater’s big hand lands on my shoulder, and he gives me a solidarity squeeze. It’s the most natural thing in the world to lean my head on his shoulder and seek out his comfort. It’s something I’ve done countless times, but it feels different now after what transpired upstairs.

  That day in the car outside the club, I suspected Slater was going to kiss me, but I convinced myself afterward that I was exaggerating. But there’s no way I’m mistaken this time. He was going to kiss me upstairs before Dylan turned up and
ruined everything. And I really wanted him to.

  What the hell is up with that?

  Before I can quiz myself any further, Ryan returns, flopping down on the small couch beside Myndi.

  “Thanks for doing that,” I say, because I know it took a lot for Ryan to act reasonably with all the crap spewing from Dylan’s mouth.

  “I only did it for you. I fought the urge to beat sense into his stupid ass the whole trip.” He scrubs a hand over his chin. “What the fucking hell is wrong with that dude? He’s like Jekyll and Hyde or something.”

  I worry my lip between my teeth, deciding to voice my recently-realized fears. I clear my throat. “I’m actually wondering the same thing. What if there is something wrong with him?” I sit up straighter, propping my elbows on my knees and cradling my head in my hands. “I didn’t see it when I was living with him, but it’s more apparent now. I think he’s sick.”

  Ryan sits beside me, taking my hands in his much larger ones. “Gabby. I know you want to believe there’s some big explanation for this, but I think the truth is much simpler. Dylan’s just finally let all the glory go to his head. He thinks he’s King Dick now, and he’s got a taste for the player lifestyle and he likes it.”

  “It’s no surprise he’s struggling to let you go too, but he can’t have it both ways,” Myndi adds.

  “But what if that isn’t it? What if he is sick? What if that’s why he’s acting so weird?”

  “Belle, he’s not acting weird. He’s just being a giant bag of dicks,” Slater states.

  “I know you want to see the good in everyone, Gabs. That you want to find an explanation for why Dylan has done what he’s done, but it’s exactly how it appears. He’d rather get wasted and fuck around than stay committed anymore.”

  I look down at my lap, my chest heaving, hating the look of pity on Ryan’s face.

  “I’m sorry if that hurts, but you can’t let what happened tonight set you back. You’re moving on, and you need to let him go too. He made his decision, and he’s not your responsibility any longer.”