by Susan Ward
I need to get a grip, ASAP. Focusing on my messages seems better than giving full attention to the Eric discussion. Swipe, read. Swipe, read.
“There’s going to be quite a bit of press at the end of the driveway—” Damn, my dad’s voice penetrates all thought. I rub my eyes and lock on my screen, struggling to read a text. “I don’t know how long, but until things get resolved, not one word to anyone…”
My brows lower. It’s confusing we’re having a meeting about this, because not talking outside of the family has been drilled into my head since birth.
Same old speech.
Say no evil where it can land in print, and seriously, did I really have to haul my ass out of bed for this? Crap, jerk mood still on board.
I feel Krystal watching me, and it doesn’t surprise me when my cell vibrates with a notification a few seconds later.
Krystal: What’s going on? Why are you sitting alone? Is it Eric :--( R u OK?
Me: Nothing going on. I’m fine. What’s Avery doing here?
Krystal: I thought Dad talked to you last night. About Eric and everything.
Me: He did. Left some things out. Why’s she here?
Krystal: She was with Eric last night. You know, when he left. Mom wanted to talk to her so Dad brought her home. Then out of nowhere she gets an invite to stay at the house and write about Dad in some book she’s doing.
Me: What are you talking about? Avery’s not writing a book. And if she were, why would Dad do that? He hates that shit.
Krystal: Duh. ***rolling eyes*** How could you not understand what this is? How long have you been a member of this family? You should recognize Dad’s Eric ex-girlfriend screwed over treatment.
My fingers pause over the keys because whatever Avery is, she’s not Eric’s girlfriend. I’d have known. Seen signs. That’s not something Eric would have kept from me or I’d have missed.
Out of my peripheral, I catch a fast look at the scene around the breakfast bar.
Me: What’s she doing on her phone? Texting or blogging?
Krystal: Who? Avery or Khloe?
Me: Avery!
Krystal: Why?
Me: She’s a blogger. I don’t like that Dad’s talking and she’s on her phone. She works 24/7. When the phone’s in her hand, she’s blogging.
Krystal: Crap. Well, that’s just dandy. And she’s living with us. Hold on. I’ll try to peek.
I watch as Krystal leans across Avery to grab a napkin. Damn, my sister is good, almost as sneaky as when we were kids.
Krystal: No big deal. Texting someone named Emmy.
Me: What about?
I press send and then mentally kick myself. That habit has to end, going drone over Avery’s screen. And fuck, now I’ve got my sister doing it.
I’m about to tell Krystal don’t bother checking but I see her moving across Avery again, this time refilling her plate, and what flashes in her eyes before she plops on her chair makes me want to know what she read.
Krystal: Damn. Her fingers are fast. Didn’t catch everything. Something about Eric being intense last night and how she’s worried about him.
Me: Is that it?
Krystal: No. Not telling you the rest.
Me: Don’t leave me hanging.
Another chat box on my cell lights up.
Tara: E, text me back. I’ve been trying to reach Eric for 2 days. No show for visitation. Can’t reach him. Seriously worried. He always shows for Hana.
Me: None of the fam called U?
Tara: Why are you asking me that? Called me about what? Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Something’s happen to him, hasn’t it?
I stare down at the screen in disbelief. Fuck, no one in the family called Tara so she’d know what’s going on. I can’t believe my fucking eyes. Jeez, who gives a fuck if they’re in the process of divorce? Her and Hana are family, and always will be.
Me: Nothing’s happen to him. He’s fine.
Tara: Don’t be that way, E. I can tell when you’re not telling me things.
Me: I’m at the folks’. You going to be at your place later? I can swing by.
Tara: Yes.
Me: Don’t know how long I’ll be tied up. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Everything is all right, Tara. I’ll explain when I get there.
New text and I open it.
Bobby: Jake and I are hitting The Cove for drinks after this. You look like you could use one. This is out of control. You in?
Me: Can’t do. Plans.
Bobby: Fuck that. Don’t bail on us. Have some brews. We don’t get to do that shit often enough. You owe it to your bro-in-laws. The married guys in the room don’t ever get out alone.
Me: Can’t do it. U good for surfing tomorrow?
I hop back into my chat with Krystal.
Me: Are you going to tell me what she’s texting her sister or not?
Krystal: Jeez, don’t be so demanding.
Me: What is she telling Emmy?
Krystal: ***growling at you*** Stuff about my brother I don’t want to know.
I lift my face from my phone to lock her in a narrow gaze. She makes a face, but eventually starts typing again. I watch the bouncing ball. Waiting. Waiting.
Krystal: Going on and on about the amazing sex they had last night. Happy now? I think I’m going to puke. She’s very graphic.
It feels like I can’t breathe. Like there’s a motherfucking anvil on my chest. It’s not like I was in doubt they hooked up, but right up until now it was worked out in my head that it was meaningless.
Eric didn’t just nail her last night. Avery wouldn’t be dumping details to Emmy if it were meaningless sex. Whatever she has going with my brother is way more than that.
Without thinking, I leave the sofa and head toward the door.
“Ethan, we’re not done,” my dad says at my back.
I don’t look at him. I can’t. She’s there sitting at the island, too. “Well, I’m done. I’ve got a date. I’m outta here.”
I head down the hall to my room to grab my shoes. I’m being ridiculous. I know that. Especially that last piece of bullshit about a date.
It was stupid to say that.
Avery’s with Eric.
She couldn’t care less.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Ethan”
As I sit stoic in the car on my way to my sister-in-law’s house, I decide that on the scale of being screwed over by my brother Avery ranks higher than Tara. Most guys probably wouldn’t see it that way since I never slept with Avery, but logical or not, fuck it, that’s how I feel.
I think that I haven’t slept with her makes it worse. All that could have been garbage rattling around in my head combined with the garbage of overinflated expectations. Like how great we would have been together. That feeling of being cheated because I won’t ever get to know it. Now that Eric’s gotten with her, anything that might have been between Avery and me is in the crapper, fini. Suffice to say, I don’t fuck Eric’s leftovers.
My stomach turns and I try to tell myself it’s the gremlins that won’t leave my body from a night of getting wasted, but I know it’s more. Thinking of Eric with her makes me want to ram my hand through the car window, and the only upside of my anger is that I’m not driving.
Dillon makes the turn off PCH to Laurel Canyon toward Eric’s house, which for the last year has only been Tara’s. “Are you going to fucking talk to me or just sit there brooding?” he asks, shifting his eyes from the road to assess my mood before going back to focus on his driving.
My jaw clenches as I shrug. “Fuck you. How’s that for a conversation starter?”
He laughs. “Well, that’s a start. We’re getting somewhere. Maybe next you could thank me for taking you home instead of letting you take off with the bangers on the highway to hell last night.”
It’s a struggle not to laugh or crack a smile. Dillon’s a good friend, and undoubtedly saved my ass from a long regrets list given the shape I was in after being dumb enough to leave the concert w
ith those crazy-ass chicks, but I’m not ready to behave human with anyone yet.
I stare out the window, relentless in not looking at him. “Let me guess. You’re not enjoying hauling my ass around any more than I am. Next time, try handing over the keys when I ask for them.”
“Can’t do it, E. You know the SOP. No leaving the grounds without me until further notice.”
I roll my eyes, since he has an uncanny way of sounding like he’s still in the military when he wants to, like that’s going to make this bullshit smell less like shit. Perhaps the least of my annoyance is that I’m stuck in a car with him, given Dillon refused to give me the keys to any of my parents’ cars, but when consumed by blasts of richly justified anger, that perspective is lost and almost anything makes me one pissed off jerkwad.
He holds out his arm across the center console, flexing his muscles. “What’s the matter, E? Afraid having me around will give you some competition with the girls?”
I run a hand through my hair, wanting to ignore that, but my gums start flapping anyway. “Yeah. That’s it. You beating me out with the girls is right up there on my priority list of worries.”
His eyebrows wiggle. “I can see how it’d be. I’m the superior specimen. Women love a guy who can shoot straight and hit their target.”
I scowl. “Keep telling yourself that, Dillon, and you won’t feel fucking old anymore. What are you? Sixty? Seventy? If you shoot at all, it’s blanks. They’ll be begging for me after you.”
He laughs in that annoying way guys who always come out on top do. Usually I find him funny and enjoy verbally sparring with him.
“No blanks in my barrel. What I lack in stamina, I make up in know-how.”
“Keep telling yourself that, old man. Maybe your wife will stop right-swiping me on Tinder.”
His eyes widen and my muscles tense up. The wife comment was out of bounds and I shouldn’t have said it. Rachel’s the best, and if she were my wife, I’d fucking rip the head off a guy who’d talk out of turn for a snarky comment’s sake.
I can feel Dillon’s eyes run my profile and how I’m sitting in my seat. Damn.
“You going to tell me what’s bugging you, E, or do you expect me to leave it alone and let you enjoy being an asshole?”
We’re parked in Tara’s driveway, and I open the door, setting one foot on the pavement before looking back at him. “Eric’s gone. Someone has to fill that slot.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
The front door to the house opens.
“Not any worse than every other fucking thing does for me.”
I climb out before he answers because Hana is running toward the car. Eric’s daughter is a cute, rambunctious, blond-haired, blue-eyed five-year-old who wiggled her way into my heart when I didn’t want her to.
It was unavoidable, I guess.
Keeping my distance from my brother’s family wasn’t possible after Hana was born. The combination of knowing this girl is as close to being mine as any child could be—seeing as Eric and I have identical DNA and I once loved her mother—and knowing she’d been stuck with my douche of a brother as a father made it certain I’d step up to look out for her.
“Hey, Hana Banana,” I say, crouching down, and I realize she must have been confused by the car and driver, and that she’s been running thinking I was Eric. I’d have given anything not to see her face cloud over the instant she figures out I’m not.
“Uncle Ethan.” There’s enough letdown in her voice that it can’t be missed, and she peeks around my body, hoping Eric’s in the car. “Is Daddy with you?”
I gently run a hand over the top of her head. “Sorry. Not this time. He’s working, or he’d be here. He sent me with a kiss for you.” My throat catches a bit because we’re getting close to an age when she’s not going to buy that anymore, and I dread the thought of how hurt she’s going to be once she’s old enough to know things.
I give her a loud, sloppy one on her cheek, wanting to make her giggle, but nothing.
She frowns. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Dillon. He’s driving me today. You remember him from Grandma and Grandpa’s?”
Her face falls more.
I stand up and hold out a hand. “Why don’t you take me inside the house so I can visit with you and your mom? I’ve missed you. I don’t like it when I don’t get to see my favorite girl.”
She slips her small fingers in mine, and she starts to walk when I do, but keeps peeking back over her shoulder.
“Guess what?” I ask, in an effort to end her preoccupation with the car.
She looks up at me.
I smile. “I’m off the road for a long time. If it’s all right with your mom, we can hang out more together. Would you like that?”
Her saucer eyes lock on mine, and it feels like forever before she nods. Getting the silent pouts from Hana hurts like hell. She’s naturally a chatterbox.
Shortening my strides to match hers, I ask, “You look very pretty today. Like a princess. Did Mommy pick that dress or you?”
Her fingers curl in the fabric but she doesn’t lift her gaze from the ground. “I did. Daddy sent it to me.”
“I could tell. It looks like something your daddy would buy for you.” Which is a lie because the pink sundress covered in prints of shells has Mom written all over it. It strikes me the lengths we go as a family, lying because of Eric, and also brings home that not all the ways we do it are bad.
Her features scrunch up and she looks on the verge of tears again. I want in the worst way to put a smile on Hana’s face but thus far I’ve failed.
“Ethan!” Tara’s voice gushes, causing me to look up to see my sister-in-law hovering in the open doorway.
I’m used to how beautiful Tara is. It lost effect on me a long time ago, but unexpectedly my pulse ticks up at first glance at her. My reaction takes me off guard and I really don’t like it. I never want to feel anything, good or bad, for her. Her stirring anything in me kicks awake too many emotions better left undisturbed.
It took a lot of time to get beyond her being the hurricane inside me and me trapped in the eye of it. To move her where I wanted us to be: an ugly footnote in my life of no importance.
But, fuck, here I am again feeling all twisted up because of her, and I’m unclear how that happened.
“I got here as quickly as I could,” I say, not sure what else to tell her.
“I know you did. You never let me down, Ethan.” Her fingers curl around my shirt the second I’m within reach of her, her body too close to mine, her forehead against my shirt. “But I’m going out of my mind with all the things I’m reading. No one has told me anything about what’s happening to him. One day he calls, says he’s coming to see Hana, and then the next he disappears. No one will talk to me. None of his people will answer my questions. I’ve called your mom a dozen times and she hasn’t called me back. I don’t know what to think. I’ve been so afraid.”
With a finger, I lift her chin so she’s looking at me. “I’m sorry the family hasn’t kept you up to date. A lot’s been going on, but that doesn’t excuse them not calling you. It’s unforgiveable and I’ll fix it.” I glance at Hana, then back to Tara. “There’s nothing to worry about. You have my word on it. Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right, Tara.”
She nods, her hair teasing my chin. “If you say it is, I believe you.” A ragged breath sighs out of her then she traps me in the endless green of her eyes. “Tell me he’s all right.”
Fuck, how can she still love him with all the shit he’s pulled? “He’s all right, Tara.”
She searches my face anxiously, and somehow my blood manages to pump even faster, and I know it’s not exclusively because I just lied to her.
Fuck, I need to get it together fast.
This isn’t good.
The last thing I want is to get tangled up in Tara again.
Jesus Christ, what the hell is the matter with me?
What are these st
range sensations blasting through me at random? Probably nothing. And I’d have to be dead inside not to be feeling things with Tara today. The train wreck that’s been Eric for nearly a year, I can see in every line on her face.
Yep, she doesn’t look like I expected to find and that’s why she’s slipping through my guard.
Her model-perfect face carries a tension that robs her of a great deal of her natural beauty. Her curvaceous body is all but swallowed by frumpy oversized sweats like my sister Kaley would wear on early morning carpool days. Her long brown hair looks like it needs a brush and her giant green eyes are red from crying. The combination makes her appear vulnerable and weirdly maternal; two ways I’ve never thought of Tara before.
She curls her arm around mine and looks down at Hana. “Go to your room and play for a while. I need to talk privately with Uncle Ethan.”