by K. S. Thomas
She whines, plopping herself back into my pillows. “I hate this.”
I drag the bag off the bed and let it drop to the floor where it lands on the carpet with a thud. Then I stretch out alongside her. “You hate this because you don’t get to leave, or you hate this because you have to stay?”
“Wait. You just asked me the same question two different ways.”
I shake my head, hooking my finger into her belt loop and tugging it to get her undivided attention. “No, I didn’t. Are you jealous because I’m taking off on an adventure without you? Or, are you worried about being here on your own? Is there some reason staying where you are is a problem? Anything you haven’t told me about but should have?”
Cooper’s eyes stay locked on mine for a long while as she contemplates my questions. “I like where I’m at right now. Mags is amazing, like a hippie aunt or something, I mean, she’s not exactly normal, but normal is overrated. I’m good where I’m at, I swear.” She sighs. “And I’m not jealous. I’m actually happy for you. I think this is going to be really good for you, I mean, an opportunity like this for a kid like us, that’s pretty fucking amazing really. And, you can stop making it sound like Mr. B is forcing you. I know it was a big deal he chose you. I’m not surprised, but I still get that it means something.” She nudges my shoulder with hers. “Guess you’re kind of a big deal around here now.”
I laugh at the thought. “Hardly. But I appreciate it, you know? I mean, sure, I’m going to be working, but I’m going to learn some real skills, shit I can use in the real world after school and make some decent money doing, the kind of money we could survive on.”
“We?” Her big blue eyes are even bigger than usual. Apparently, this news comes as a surprise to her.
“Yeah, we. What? You think nine weeks is going to erase the last nine years? You’re part of the reason I’m doing this, Coop. For both of us.”
“Oh.”
I yank the belt loop again when she starts to turn away. “What?”
This time I’m the one who’s surprised. Her eyes are all glassy and her cheeks are flushed a bright pink redish color I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
“You always do that,” she sobs, distinct exasperation escaping along with her tears.
“Do what? What did I do?” I ask, a solid dose of panic rising rapidly to the surface of my brain. I hate seeing Cooper cry. She almost never cries. And when she does it’s usually for the dumbest reasons, all things considered, and I never see it coming. Like right now.
“You robbed me of my moment. Here I was, having a perfectly selfish fit about my best friend ditching me, something I was completely content believing was all in your best interest, therefore entitling me to have my selfish fit, albeit entirely unfounded and unfair. But no. That’s not really what’s happening here. I’m not having a selfish fit over your selfish desire to improve your life. No, I’m having a selfish fit over your stupid selfless desire to improve my stupid life. You suck, Gunnar. You suck a big fat twat.”
I gape back at her, temporarily dumbfounded. “God, that was crass, Coop.” I grin. “A big fat twat? Really?”
“I’m distraught here, Gun. I’ll come up with something more eloquent after I’ve had a chance to calm down and think rationally.”
I lean in toward her until my forehead meets hers. “You never think rationally.”
“You weren’t supposed to point that out. It was my loophole.”
I chuckle quietly. “Sorry.”
“Would you stop it with this bullshit already?”
“Fine. You’re an ass. Get over yourself and quit trying to ruin my trip.”
She nods, sniffing loudly. “Better.”
I move my head again, putting space between us. We both lie on my bed staring up at the ceiling for what feels like forever. I’m just waiting. For her. Any minute now, she’ll tell me what’s really bothering her. I know she’s fine here. She’s been head over heels for Reed McAllister for months and from what I’ve seen since they started dating, it’s mutual. Not that I hang with them, but even keeping a safe distance hasn’t kept me from getting a first row viewing of their happy couple hood. Which means, no matter how she wants to spin it, she’s also having no thoughts whatsoever about hitting the road for any new adventures with me, now or anytime in the near future.
“I need you,” she whispers.
“You don’t,” I whisper back. “You don’t need anyone. Never have. You just let me think you do to make me feel better about sticking around all these years.”
“Why do you?”
It’s not the first time she’s asked. Probably won’t be the last. Not as long as I keep giving her bullshit answers, but they’re all I’ve got. “Because you run slower than I do, and someday, when we steal something bigger than a loaf of bread and the cops come after us, that’s going to come in really handy.” It’s not even a good lie, but it doesn’t matter. The truth wouldn’t do either of us any good.
“Gun?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to miss you.”
She won’t. She’ll be with Reed. I’m going to miss the hell out of her though.
Reed
Present Day
“Who the hell are you?” I ask, still tugging my t-shirt down over my stomach. When I heard the commotion coming from the kitchen, I assumed Cooper was back. I definitely didn’t expect to find another dude hanging out of her fridge, carton of OJ pressed to his mouth.
He chokes briefly, nearly coughing up the juice, before he pounds his fist to his chest and clears his throat to speak. “Ed. I’m Ed.” He places the open carton of OJ on the counter and walks toward me, hand stretched out in front of him. “Sorry man, I saw the girls walking toward the bakery, I just figured the place was empty.”
I shake his hand, out of habit rather than desire to. “Reed. I’m staying here with Cooper.”
He nods. “I heard.” His dark eyes narrow like he’s studying me. He’s tall. At least a foot taller than me. He looks oddly familiar, but that’s hardly an uncommon experience for me. “We went to high school together.”
I frown. “Were we friends?”
He laughs. “Nah, man. We didn’t exactly hang in the same circles.”
“But you were close with Cooper?” Were we really so different back then?
“Gun mostly. Cooper got stuck with me by default. Then, Cammie came along and I guess it kind of sealed the deal on our foursome.”
I nod, trying to keep up with the information. “I met Cammie last night. She seems nice. She your girlfriend?”
This time he looks almost sick. “No, dude. She’s my sister.”
And now I know why he looks familiar. They’ve got the same mouth, same nose and even though her complexion isn’t as dark as his, they share the same jet black hair as well.
“Oh.” I grin. I totally get that expression now. I’ve been confused for Kerri’s boyfriend a time or two myself. It always turns my stomach. “Sorry.”
He waves his hand, dismissing the mix up. “No worries.” He turns, heading back to his previously abandoned drink. “Anyway, I’m sorry about busting in on you. I would have gone to my sister’s but I know her, the girl never goes to the store. Never home long enough to bother with it. But this place is always stocked. Not that Coop’s on top of feeding herself more than my sister is, but Gun’s kind of a freak about keeping the kitchen stocked, probably because he’s always in it. When it comes to that man and cooking, he doesn’t like to work with limited ingredients, you know what I’m saying?”
I don’t. I don’t have a fucking clue what he’s saying. Mostly because all I heard was Gun and how he bought the OJ, after that, all the words coming out of Ed’s mouth just sort of slurred together. “Keep it.”
“Huh?” He looks confused, juice halfway to his lips, preparing to take another gulp.
“The OJ. Keep it. It’s yours.”
He makes a face. “You’re one of those germaphobes, huh? I swear I don
’t have cooties.” He laughs at his own joke.
“It’s not your germs that bother me,” I say curtly, tempted to march for the fridge and start emptying it out.
Ed’s eyes follow my stare and I can sense an understanding settling in. “You’re never going to be able to get rid of everything he’s touched in here,” he points out the obvious, a distinct defensiveness to his tone. “Whatever you do or don’t remember, you need to know. They’re best friends. Gun and Coop. Shit they been through together, can’t be erased. Can’t be forgotten. God knows they’ve both tried.” He screws the cap back on the juice, a poignant move on his way back to the fridge. “You got the girl, man. That’s just going to have to be enough for you.”
“You didn’t come here looking for a drink,” I point out as he starts back for the door.
He pauses, turning back to look at me over his shoulder. “You know, you haven’t changed much Reed McAlister.” He smirks. “You’re still very...perceptive.” His smirk stretches into a mocking smile and then he’s gone. And I’m stuck here, with no knowledge of how or why I haven’t changed and why that means I have to live with Gun’s damn OJ in my fridge. And I don’t know which pisses me off more.
Cooper
“This is good coffee.” I have another sip. It’s not great but it’s put our previous conversation on hold, so it makes me think it tastes better than it really does.
“Gun’s is better.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth as if she can stuff the words back in. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I frown at my cup, which suddenly appears laden with disappointment. “It’s true.” I sigh and remind myself that drinking subpar coffee is still better than discussing my sudden lack of sex drive, then take a determined gulp, disregarding the scorching sensation as it travels down my throat.
“Oh, shit,” she mumbles, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head as though she’s experiencing a sort of mind exploding epiphany, “that’s not the problem, is it?”
“That I’m stuck drinking crap coffee for the rest of my life because Gun has abandoned me for all eternity? I mean, it’s a problem, sure...but I can get past it.” I laugh to try and hide just how completely gut wrenching it is to even utter his name. I’m sure it will change. I’m sure I’ll get past that, too.
Her hand clasps my arm and she gets serious. “No...not Gun’s coffee.” She makes a face, her brows rising, her mouth scrunching while her pupils bob up and down trying to convey some sort of message I’m not getting. “You know...is Gun better than Reed?”
The realization of what she’s been insinuating hits and it’s a swirl of guilt and disgust dropping into my gut like lead. “No! God, Cammie!” I shake, trying to physically discard the ick spreading over my skin from head to toe. It’s not working. “I can’t believe you would even say that.”
She shrugs, sipping her coffee and shaking our bag of pastries in front of my face with her other hand. “Cinnamon bun?”
I snatch the bag and scowl. “Not every inappropriate thought can be erased with a sweet, Cammie. Especially not after it’s been vocalized.”
She says nothing. Out loud anyway. Her expression says plenty.
“I’m not wrong,” I insist, shoving a gooey wheel of dough and buttery, sugary cinnamon in my mouth.
“Neither am I,” she counters, noticeably putting off filling her mouth. Means she has more to say. “Something is keeping you from jumping that man’s bones, and if it’s not Gun, what is it?”
“Maybe I just want to savor this time, take it slow and really appreciate every moment of getting to know him again, getting to know who he’s become...”
Her brow arches slightly, shifting her expression from stern to curious. “Are you saying he’s changed? Like, he’s not the same guy from before the accident?”
“Neither of us is. You really think I’m the same girl he wanted to marry seven years ago? I’m not. Only difference is, he doesn’t know it and I do.”
She sighs, her eyes closing as she exhales. “Cooper,” she says softly, “You’re scared he’s going to change his mind?”
Am I?
“I don’t know what I am. But would it be so wrong to be nervous? Cautious? He showed up seven years after I lost him. When I finally moved on. Finally accepted that I’d never get him back. Never have a chance to live a life I dreamed of. And I was finally okay with it.” I pause to take a breath but Cammie cuts in before I can continue on my train of thought.
“Are you saying you wish he hadn’t shown up?” She frowns, disbelief and disgust mingling on her face. “Why is it so fucking hard for you to be comfortable with more than just the blah standards of life? And even if you can’t find enough self-worth buried beneath all that self-loathing to welcome this fate-filled gift being dropped in your lap, don’t you at least think enough of Reed to let him have it?”
“Of course, I want him to have it. Damn it, Cammie – I want myself to have it most of all. I know I deserve a happy ever after. I do. But I’m not exactly used to getting them, am I?! So excuse me if I need a minute to set my heart at ease and be sure this is here to stay, that he’s here to stay, before I give up every ounce of worry and second thoughts about what may or may not go wrong here the instant I allow myself to feel safe or vulnerable.”
“Or naked.”
“Yes, I think being naked would entail feeling both safe and vulnerable,” I grumble and dive into my cinnamon roll for a hearty bite. I’m so done discussing this. I hate being psychoanalyzed all the time. After the accident, I experienced a constant stream of ‘are you sure you’re okays’ and ‘what’s really going ons’, followed up with an endless supply of options for me to choose from when it came to my own emotions. I could take it from Gun, for no better reason than that I had to. I was stuck with him. We were in every mess together, so this post accident trauma was no different. But Cammie, God love her, the advice she doles out may come from her heart, but it’s never once come from experience.
She shrugs, refusing to commit to this down and out and extremely severe stubborn moment of pouting I’m engaging in. “Or, maybe getting naked is the key to feeling safe and vulnerable. Maybe, having a little faith, and baring yourself – literally, will break down any fears you’re allowing to create distance between you and your happy ever after.”
“Can you eat your goddamn cinnamon bun already? Give your mouth something else to chew on for a while.”
She laughs. “God, woman, you do need to get laid.”
“I got laid yesterday. That’s hardly the problem.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I had more cinnamon roll left to shove them back in with.
“Wait. What?” Cammie looks confused. She would. I just spent the last twenty minutes explaining to her that I haven’t had sex with Reed yet.
“With Gun,” I state the obvious, eyes bulging out of their sockets, “right before Reed showed up.”
“Oh.” She grimaces. “Ew.”
“Ew? Why ew?”
“Just, you know...two guys in one day.”
I shake my head, unable to process this new twist. “Are you kidding? I didn’t sleep with two guys in one day! That’s how this whole stupid conversation started!”
“But imagine if you would have.” She finally takes a bite. “Ew,” she adds one more time, mouth full and grossed out syllable completely muffled.
Chapter Twelve
Gun
7 Years Earlier
“We’re here,” Kevin, my boss, announces gruffly prompting me to look up from the paper I was reading on the drive over here. I like newspapers. Learned to read thanks to the Sunday Funnies once upon a time. Could have been one of those nerdy book people if I’d had the chance, based on the way I’ve devoured any and all papers and magazines I’ve collected from recycling bins over the years. It’s nice reading something current for a change. Kevin caught me reading a week-old edition left behind on a doorstep on a job a while back. Never said much about it, but I’ve found a current pape
r on the passenger seat of his truck every morning when I get in ever since. It’s weird, having a dude like Kev look out for me. He’s old enough to be my dad, but treats me like an equal. Even when he’s teaching me, he never talks down to me, not just that, he expects me to get it, expects me to do well. Outside of Cooper, no one’s ever thought I was capable of anything outside of fucking up. Well, and Mister B. I owe him huge for this.
I fold the paper up and slide it between the seat and the middle console where it won’t get ripped or crinkled. I still have two more sections to peruse at lunch.
“Holy shit, this place is huge.” And old. Probably a hundred years or more. The roof doesn’t look much younger.
“It is,” Kev agrees, opening his door and sliding out until his boots hit the ground. “And it’s pro-bono. So we really need to keep our work tight and on schedule.”
Kevin’s big on giving back. Not just by taking on screw ups like me to be an apprentice over the summer, but also by fixing up and replacing roofs for families who otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford it. And it’s not just about keeping them dry and warm when weather rolls through, bad roof means losing your homeowner’s insurance as well and that can unleash a whole new can of worms when your house is still under mortgage. All shit Kev’s been teaching me since I started working with him.
“What’s the story?” I eye the house. Once upon a time it was really impressive. “Single Mom? Health crisis? Death in the family?”
“Nope. This one’s just for you. Foster family.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” He laughs. “I’m gonna get you set up and then you’re taking the job on your own. Your give back for working with me.” Every guy he interns gets one. Usually a job that stays with them, makes them remember where they started. Why it’s important to pay it forward to keep from going back.
“I’ll do it up right, Kev. You’ll see, you won’t be disappointed,” I promise.
Kevin nods, and I know he’s confident I’ll keep my word.
Then, the front door opens. A man steps outside to greet us. And every thought or effort I ever wasted on the future disappears completely.