by C. M. Owens
I barge into his small apartment, and he lets me through without protest. I don’t want his neighbors to witness his murder.
“That’s my car, John! You had no right. How did you even do it? The title was in my name.”
He frowns and then makes some unintelligible sound, telling me more with a grunt than he could have with words.
“You forged it and made it look like I signed the title over to you, didn’t you?” I bark, reading between the lines.
“I had no choice. The money went toward my new internet business. I was going to pay it back. It was just a thousand dollars to go with the other money I had scraped up.”
“Then why the hell do they want six-thousand in return?”
He curses as he drops to the worn sofa that sits off to the side. I look around, wondering where his shiny fiancée is.
“Because their interest rates are fucking ridiculous, and all the late fees—”
“I can’t get an apartment on my own because of the damn credit cards you got in my name—you’ve ruined my credit. All I can pay on them is the minimum. Twenty-thousand dollars you owe, and all I can pay is the minimum. That barely covers their interest rates. Now you’ve pawned the title on my car? You stupid, selfish son of a bitch!”
He jumps up from the sofa and glares at me. “I thought I had the right formula. The business was an internet launch, and I just needed a little funding. It crashed, though. I can’t help it.”
“It always crashes, John! Always! When will you just get it through your head that you’re not going to be rich? Just settle for the life you have and find a way to be happy. And quit ruining my life!”
I turn to leave. I don’t even know why I came here. I knew it was pointless. He’s broke, so he can’t pay to keep my car from getting swiped out from under me.
“Settle? Like you do? No thank you. I want to be happy.”
“Money won’t make you happy. Believe me, I know. I was born richer than most people, and I was pretty fucking miserable. Thanks to you, I still am.”
He laughs bitterly, and I turn to glare at him as I reach the door.
“I’m not trying to be rich. I just want to succeed, Brin. And you don’t know how to be happy. You settle. That’s all you do. You accept life and never fight back or even try to find real happiness. So don’t you dare try telling me how to be happy. Because God knows I’m not taking your advice.”
I pick up the closest thing, which happens to be a lamp, and I launch it at his head. It barely misses, unfortunately, and he ducks before I can throw the next thing—a shoe.
I wish I had better aim right now.
“You’d better hope I figure out a way to save my car. I swear, I’ll make your life as miserable as you’ve made mine if I can’t.”
I turn and walk away, battling back the depressing new reality I’m in. It’s sad to know I have a rich family that wouldn’t loan me six-thousand dollars even if I had the audacity to ask.
It wouldn’t matter if they would give it to me, because I won’t ask.
I’m going to lose my car.
***
BRIN
“What did he say?” Maggie asks.
If I tell her the truth, she’ll beg to loan me the money, but she’ll never let me pay her back. I can do this on my own.
“He said he’s going to give me the money tomorrow. So don’t worry about it.”
She gives me a look that swears she doesn’t believe me as she puts her purse on. “I’m going to meet Carmen. But we’re going to a restaurant outside of town—since she’s supposed to be out of town.”
I just nod, hating that I included her in on my lie. I just didn’t want Rye to know how pathetic I was, and I refused to let him think I’d be sitting at home and pining for him.
As she leaves, a tear tries from to escape from my eyes when they water. Not because of the fact that my life sucks, but because my bastard ex-husband said something I wish didn’t ring so true.
I settle. I don’t know real happiness.
I settled for him. I settled for our loveless marriage. I settled for living here with Maggie instead of fighting the credit card bills that he put in my name and destroyed my credit with, making it impossible to get my own place. And now I’m settling for what Rye allows me to have.
I settle for what he’ll give me. I allow him to call the shots and make the rules, because that’s the only way to keep him.
I want a real relationship. One where I can call him my boyfriend and spend the night with him without trying to keep my heart guarded. A relationship where I don’t stay in knots, worried about it ending at any second because he doesn’t want a commitment. A relationship where I can just breathe—the way I felt when we first started dating.
But he’ll never give that to me. Even though all of his actions say he’s falling for me, he keeps his walls very high. He only trusts me enough to tell me the things he wants me to know.
I’m tired of being everyone’s safe-zone. If he wants to be with me, he has to say it. He has to prove it. And this has to go deeper than it is right now. Or he has to tell me goodbye, because I can’t walk away from him.
It’s not his fault that I fell in love. He told me from the beginning this would never be a real relationship, but he made it impossible not to fall for him when he wouldn’t stop. He never stops.
When someone knocks at the door, I half expect to find him standing there, but instead I’m met by the pretty girl I once saw in the museum parking lot.
John’s fiancée. What the hell?
“Can I help you?” I ask through gritted teeth.
She gives me a tight smile. “I came by to make sure you received that final notice. John freaked out when I told him I mailed it to you. I was worried he’d try to intercept it.”
So it was her. Well, isn’t that just icing on the cake.
“Why did you send it?”
She frowns as she looks down to her ring, and I let my gaze fall to it as well.
“Because he’s an ass that wouldn’t have told you until after it was towed away.” Stunned, I keep silent, and she starts playing with her engagement ring before speaking again. “If I give this back to him, he’ll pawn it and keep the money. If I give it to you, then you can pawn it and get the money. I think it makes more sense to give it to the woman he has screwed over even more than me.”
Wasn’t expecting that.
She takes off her ring to hand it to me, and I accept it warily. “It’s only worth seven-hundred dollars, but you can put it toward some of the money owed to you. I made him appraise it because I wanted to know it was real. I should have known no one would buy such a small diamond unless it was real. He should come with a warning label: Douchebag Liar.”
I laugh and nod, and then I open the door wider. John apparently showed his true colors to her as well.
“Do you want to come in? I’m probably the only other person who completely understands what you’re going through right now.”
She looks around, and then she shakes her head. “I would, but I’m meeting my father. John is trying to borrow money from him to pay for a new startup business. I’m going to make sure Dad ruins him. He’ll never find anyone in this town to fall for his shit again.”
Good for her. I wish I could have done that. But if I could rewind time, the first thing I would do is get my frigging car title.
Before she walks away, Rye comes walking up the sidewalk in all his sexy glory, his short-sleeved shirt showing off his sleeved arm and half-sleeved arm of tattoos.
The pretty girl on my front porch grows wide eyes when she sees him, and I bite back a grin.
“Hey,” he says to me, coming close and pressing a kiss to my lips. I let him, because it might be one of the last times he kisses me.
“Hey,” is all I manage to say as he pulls back.
He looks to the girl still gawking at him, and he drops his arm around my shoulders.
“Rye Clanton,” he says while sticking out
his free hand.
She shakes his hand, though she’s almost trembling. “Heidi Mills.”
“This is my ex-husband’s ex-fiancée,” I say to his questioning look.
His eyebrows raise in confusion, and he tilts his head, still wanting more. It’s too long of a story to go through. And he’d swoop in like a knight in shining armor.
“She came by to pay back some money he owes me,” I say as a vague explanation, pushing the ring into my pocket.
Her mouth finally closes, and she swallows hard while returning her attention back to me.
“It was nice meeting you. I didn’t really get to speak to you last time. I wish I had. You might could have talked some sense into me.”
I smile weakly, thinking back to that day in the parking lot when the rear of my car was smashed all to hell. It seems like so much longer ago than it actually was.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. Some things you have to learn for yourself.”
She nods slowly, probably agreeing, and then she turns and walks off, glancing over her shoulder one last time at the man who is leaning in to kiss me again. Is what I want really worth losing him if he says no?
Yes. I want more than he’s ever going to give if I don’t say anything. No more settling, Brin.
“You didn’t go to Silk?” he asks, looking over my pink boxers and black tank top.
Sighing, I shut the door, and then I drop to the sofa. “No. Never planned to. I just didn’t want you thinking I was sitting ready whenever you felt like coming over and getting some.”
He grins, but he shouldn’t.
“That’s cute,” he says while sitting down beside me. “I was about to head over to Silk and find you.”
My heart beats a little faster, and I prepare myself.
“Why?”
He bends over and kisses my neck as his hand goes to my waist. “Because I wanted to see you. I saw you at the door, so you made this night much better by already being here.”
I push him back, and he tilts his head. “I don’t want to be the feel-good girl all the time. I’d like to be someone you want to see for more than sex.”
“Brin, I’m pretty sure we do a lot more than have sex, considering the vast knowledge you’ve accumulated about me over the past month. And don’t act like I treat you like shit or something.”
I groan in frustration while clutching my head in my hands. “You don’t treat me like shit. At all. I just feel like shit because you think this is something completely different than I do, even though I don’t understand how.”
When I look up, he’s already moving away from me, putting some distance between us.
“So you’re starting to want something. I told you this was for fun. You said you didn’t want anything serious.”
I laugh humorlessly while staring at the ceiling. “I lied. Just like I always do when it comes to trying to be with you, because I’m stupid like that.” When I bring my head back down, his jaw is tense, but that doesn’t stop me from continuing.
“I’ve wanted more since the day you towed my car to fix it. I wanted more the night you slept on my sofa with me. I’ve definitely wanted more since the day you carried me over to your house and made me have the best night I’ve ever had. So yeah. I want more. Every day I want more.”
“I told you it had to be simple,” he says, running a hand through his hair.
“Simple?” I ask incredulously. “This thing between us hasn’t been simple since we met. You’re the most complicated, contradictory, annoyingly frustrating person I’ve ever met in my life. You show up over here because you miss me, you can’t stay away unless you make yourself, and you talk to me like we’re best friends. That’s a relationship, Rye. You just don’t want me to fall in love, but I—”
“Don’t,” he cautions, a hard edge to his voice that I’ve never heard before.
I’ve never seen him look so angry.
“I knew better. You swore this wouldn’t happen. I told you I didn’t want it, and here you are trying to force me into something I don’t want. Something you knew I didn’t want. I don’t want a relationship, and you don’t know jack shit about being in a relationship any more than I do. So don’t try telling me that’s what we have. Because it’s not. Never was.”
I can’t believe him. Who the hell is this jerk?
He starts walking toward the door, but I jump off the sofa to grab his arm. “I don’t know anything about a relationship? I was married!”
The icy eyes that glare into mine aren’t the warm orbs of brown I love. “Yeah, and your marriage turned out real damn well, didn’t it?”
I drop my hand from his arm just as he shrugs me off, and then he walks out of my door, slamming it behind him and destroying me. I just stare at the door like any minute the man I know is going to come in and apologize for the asshole that just left.
But he doesn’t. And when the first tear falls, I’m not surprised. I finally fell in love, and now I know for a fact I’ve never been in love before Rye Clanton, because this hurts. This hurts so damn much.
Right now I hate him more than I hate John Abott because I wish I never fell in love at all.
Chapter 15
RYE
“Thanks for coming over,” Dad says as I step in.
“It’s too soon for you to be remarried, so I assume you have something of real importance to say.”
I can’t even look at him right now. I can’t look at myself either. Shit. I should have never gotten involved with her.
She’s right. I fucked with her head the entire time. It should have been strictly sex, because I complicated the hell out of things. We both did. It was messy from the beginning.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this. I can’t think about this.
“I have a few things to go over with you. Mostly financial stuff. I’ve just reworked my will, and everything is going to you when I die.”
If we’re not talking about his loose love life, then it’s something morbid like this. But this conversation is moot because people like him never die. Unless the wicked kill themselves, the good are the only ones to die, and they die too young.
I’ll live for-fucking-ever.
“I don’t want anything. Leave it to Marilyn.”
He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be getting our marriage annulled soon. Marilyn doesn’t deserve my life’s work. I barely know her.”
Another failed marriage. That’s not exactly newsworthy.
“Then find someone else who does want it. It’s guilt money. And I don’t want it. Ever.”
When a tear falls from his eye, I’m actually surprised.
“You’re going to blame me forever, aren’t you? You’re going to hate me forever for being a simple human. I didn’t know your mother was struggling, son. I didn’t know she was capable of doing that with you in the house. I would have gotten her help.”
Memories flash around my head, and I shut them down. Just like I always do.
“She was struggling because she was married to a self-absorbed workaholic that didn’t give a damn about her because he was too busy being a coldhearted son of a bitch.”
His jaw clenches, and he glares at me. “Don’t you dare blame me for her illness! It was a fucking chemical imbalance. My actions did not cause her issues.”
“No. You’re right. Your actions are just the reasons she slit her wrists.”
I turn to away from him, ignoring him as he follows and calls my name. I don’t have anything else to say to him. He never tried hard enough. Just like I didn’t.
I was just ten, and she didn’t care that I had to be the one to find her—to slip in her blood, to cry over her cold, still body. She didn’t love me enough to live, but she loved him enough to die.
Love is a coldblooded murderer. Love is a blanket of lies and spared truths. It’s a calculated monster that drains you of everything you have until you’re a husk of the person you once were.
“She didn’t kill he
rself because of me. It wasn’t like I was the only man she loved. She killed herself because of the disease that ate away at her mind. I could have gotten her help if I had known.”
I pause at the door, both of my hands fisted as the words process. It wasn’t like I was the only man she loved. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“You know it’s true. You can blame me all you want, but it’s not my fault. It’s not her fault. It’s just something terrible that happened too long ago for it still to be ruling you.”
I don’t have the energy to fight with him right now. My anger is still as absent as it has been lately, and all that is driving me is the pain I thought I had buried long ago. I just want to get the hell out of here and go home—where it’s quiet, peaceful, and smells like the girl I should have pushed away much sooner.
***
RYE
“So he said your mom cheated on him?” Ethan asks.
Wren sits back in his chair while I dump another one of the boxes on my bed, scattering the contents as I stagger and take another sip of the whiskey.
“Essentially,” I say, staggering again while throwing a trophy across the room.
I hate trophies.
They both stare as the pieces fall from the wall, carrying a few chips of sheetrock with it on the way to the floor.
“Did you punch him?” Wren asks cautiously, just as I grab a baseball from another box.
I throw it across the room, and it goes through the sheetrock and disappears into the wall.
I hate baseballs.
“Nope,” I say, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and refilling my glass. Ah, fuck it. I’ll just drink from the bottle.
“Do you believe him?” Ethan asks unsurely as my hand hovers over a picture frame.
The picture inside is of me at Little League. I take a painful breath, and then I pick the picture frame up and throw it across the room, watching it as it shatters against the wall.
I hate pictures.
“I don’t have to believe him.”
For the first time since I was a kid, I think about the dark side of my mother. The things I’ve always felt guilty for remembering. Her memory is supposed to be treasured, not tainted. She’s not here to defend herself, and in the end, I was the one who failed her the most. She deserves me to defend her now.