Beyond the Pale

by Jennifer Millikin

  Just as I’m about to knock, the door opens. Mrs. Sterling yelps and jumps back, her hand flying to her mouth. She recovers quickly, laughing at herself, and apologizes. “Finn, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone when I opened the door. Sorry about that.” She’s dressed and her purse is in her hand. She looks as ready to go as I am. Her smile falters as she looks over my shoulder and her eyebrows pull together in confusion. “I didn't hear Lennon come back this morning,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me.

  “Back?” Now I’m the one who’s confused.

  “She showed up late last night, and…” Her sentence dies out as she realizes what she’s saying. “She must’ve left and come back for breakfast.”

  “Cool,” I say enthusiastically. Fake. “I’ll go find them and steal a muffin. You have fun wherever you’re going.”

  Mrs. Sterling glances down at her purse. “Oh, right. I’m running late.” She hurries through the front door and past me, saying goodbye as she goes.

  I walk in the house and look around. I’m afraid of what I might see, but determined to find Lennon nonetheless. The kitchen is empty. The living room is empty. I check the other rooms too. Empty, empty, empty. Finally, out of options, I open the door I really don’t want to open.

  Brady’s room is empty too. His bed is unmade, the covers thrown over one side. Meaning he slept alone. Nobody else climbed from the other side of the bed. My heart heaves a huge sigh of relief. Thank fuck.

  I retreat back to the kitchen and sit at the table, gazing out the large window to the sparkling pool. Maybe they went out for breakfast. Which is still rude, considering Brady knew I wanted to get started early, but I’m so relieved I didn’t just find Lennon and Brady in bed that I don’t mind Brady’s tardiness.

  I pull out my phone to text Brady, but an email pops up and distracts me. It takes me twenty minutes to respond to the guy who manages my portfolio, mostly because I don’t know what he’s talking about and have to look up some of the terms. I know numbers just fine, but I don’t speak finance.

  When my email is sent, I thumb over to my messages. I’m about to fire one off to Brady when a movement outside catches my attention. The pool house door swings open and Brady steps through it.

  What the fuck?

  Lennon follows.

  No. No no no.

  Maybe it’s not what it looks like. Maybe it’s not what it seems.

  But something in my gut tells me it is.

  Did Lennon choose?

  My heart does this awful terrible thing where it feels like stone or concrete, something hard and angry, while simultaneously melting, right down into nothing.

  “Finn!” Lennon’s shocked voice pulls me from my own shock. She has stepped into the house ahead of Brady, because, ever the gentleman, Brady has held the door open for her.

  Guilt washes over Lennon’s features. Her eyes are full of it, like water filling a glass. Her cheeks redden, her chin dips.

  Brady doesn’t look like her. He sighs and rubs his eyes.

  And me? I want to do the right thing. I want to stand up and shake his hand, tell him congratulations.

  The best man won.

  I can’t. I’m too sick inside. Ripped to shreds by Lennon, even when she wasn’t trying to hurt me. I guess it will be me who won’t stop loving her immediately but will pull away for a while to lick my wounds, to heal and return only to love her the appropriate amount for a long-time friend.

  Except I really don’t fucking want to.

  Lennon steps forward, tears in her eyes. “Finn—”

  I cut her off with a wave of my hand. It’s rude, but I can’t help it. Her face falls and her lips close.

  Standing, I direct my gaze at Brady. “You ready? We’re late.” I walk to the island and turn around. “Pack an overnight bag. We’re going to work late and get started again early.”

  Suddenly I’m itching to work, to use my hands, to feel sweat covering me.

  Brady clears his throat. “I already did. You mentioned it was a possibility, so I went ahead and planned for it.”

  “I also planned to be halfway there by now.” I look away, not interested in seeing their expressions. Why wasn’t Brady ready when I told him I’d be here? Were they too consumed by each other, doing the things I thought I’d be the one doing with her?

  “Are you guys going somewhere?” Lennon’s voice is small, and I hate it. Hate that this situation has made her feel afraid of asking a question. I never want her to feel timid when it comes to me.

  So I look her in the eye, even though it kills me. I take in her beautiful, uncertain face with tears stuck in her lower lashes. And even though my chest feels hollow, I manage to tell her where we’re going, and even though I know she’s not mine, my heart still can’t stand being without her and so I say, “You and Laine should drive up and hang out.”

  I tell myself I’ve said this for Brady’s benefit, so he can see her, but the truth is I’m a selfish bastard and I want her there for me.

  Her face lights up like the sun. Her smile, a mixture of relief and happiness, beams directly into my mutilated heart.

  “We’d love to,” she answers quickly.

  “Great,” I say, turning away. There’s only so much I can take, and watching her smile is too much. “Brady, meet me in the truck.”

  I leave them behind to do whatever goodbye it is they need to do. The best I can do is try not to picture it and get sick. When I get to my truck, I turn on the music and tip my head back, closing my eyes. Less than a minute later, the passenger door opens. My eyes open and Brady climbs in, tossing his bag in the back. Lennon’s car is already gone.

  Without a word to Brady, I put the truck in drive and pull away from the curb.

  “How long are you going to sit there stewing? You could just ask.”

  “Ask about what?”

  Brady sighs and shakes his head, and I get it. I’m acting like a child. Why can’t I just acknowledge the giant fucking elephant in the room?

  “Fine, Finn. Since you won’t ask, I’ll tell you. Nothing happened with Lennon last night.”

  “TMI, friend. I don’t need to know if she prefers the mornings.” I wince as the words leave my mouth. I can’t believe I’ve just said that about Lennon. I don’t mean to disrespect her; my hurt feelings are taking the form of a sharp tongue.

  “Fuck, man. Would you knock it off?”

  I spare a glance at Brady, then settle my gaze back on the road. “Congratulations.”

  “Nothing happened, Finn.”

  “She stayed the night with you for no reason?”

  “She found something in her mom’s desk. She was upset.”

  I look over sharply, and Brady shakes his head disbelievingly. “It’s fucking nuts, man. Her mom’s not her mom. She’s her aunt.”

  Brady spends the next few minutes filling me in, and by the time he’s finished, my mind is reeling.

  “Holy shit.” I almost don’t believe it.

  “I know. She was a mess. So upset. I listened to her talk and we ended up falling asleep.”

  I’m no detective, but this part of the story doesn’t ring true.

  “In the pool house?”

  “Yeah.”

  Since we’re stuck in this truck together for another ninety minutes, it’d probably be a good idea to let him off the hook. But then, I wouldn’t be acting like myself if I did that.

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “Sorry, Brady, but I’m not buying it. I’ve known you for as long as I can remember, and the Brady I know would have given up his bedroom for Lennon and slept in the pool house alone, or on the couch.” I put on my turn signal and get into the next lane. “I don’t need any of the dirty details, but you don’t have to lie to me.”

  “I already told you nothing happened. That’s not a lie.”

  “But you ended up falling asleep together?”

  “Yes,” Brady grits out.

  He’s annoyed, so I press him further. “After?”

 
; “We kissed, okay?” Brady’s voice gets louder. “Is that what you want me to tell you?”

  No, not really. I don’t want any of this to be happening.

  But the more I think about it, the more I see a sliver of shiny hope nestled among the darkness. “Is that all?”

  If all they shared was a kiss, then she hasn’t chosen.

  “Yes. Why?” His question slips out cautiously, like a thief peeking out from a dark alley.

  Using one hand to grip the steering wheel I place my free hand on Brady’s shoulder and give him a couple of strong pats. “Brady, my friend, I’ve been kissing Lennon since high school.”

  “What?”

  “And I kissed her last week.”

  “Are you fucking with me?”

  “Nope.”

  I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am. Or at least I should feel bad about how much I’m enjoying it. But I don’t.

  Brady’s phone vibrates in the center console. He picks it up and reads his message, then starts typing.

  “Is it her?”

  He grunts his response.

  “What are you saying to her?”

  He finishes typing and places the phone back where it was. “She asked for the address of the cabin.”

  “Did you say anything else to her?”

  He’s silent, so I look over and see him shaking his head.

  “Are you going to?”

  He doesn’t respond right away again but this time I can’t look at him. I can see inside the car of the person in front of me and they’re looking at their phone. The little piece of shit car is swerving all over the place.

  “Asshole,” Brady mutters. “When are they going to make it illegal to be on the phone while driving?”

  “When more people die, I guess.”

  As soon as I get the chance, I change lanes and speed up, leaving the texting driver in my exhaust.

  “So?” I ask Brady.

  He sighs. “This is going to sound bad, but I wish she’d just choose already.”

  I laugh once, an empty sound. “You and me both.”

  “Is it weird? That we’re talking about this? Technically we’re on opposing teams.”

  “The only thing that could make this more weird is if you were my best friend. Oh, wait.”

  Brady chuckles. “She loves us both.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have something with her that I don’t have.” His voice is despondent, making me almost feel bad for him.

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t have a word for it. It’s just... something. A pulse. A current.”

  He’s right, and yet... “When she was upset last night, she went to you.” Why am I reminding him of that? I’m consoling my competition.

  “True. Maybe that means something.”

  God, I hope it doesn't.

  “We could ask her to choose.” My earlier thoughts are coming back to me. “Like an ultimatum.”

  Brady shakes his head. “Not an ultimatum. That would mean she has to choose or something bad will happen.”

  “Something bad will happen, Brady. It’s been eight years since we’ve seen her, and nothing has changed. I don’t know about you, but I tried to forget her. I got as far as a three-month relationship, and my heart never even took a baby step away from Lennon.”

  “Me neither. And, since you were honest about kissing Lennon, I should be honest and tell you that I saw her two years ago in Dallas.”

  I turn and stare at him. I need to look back at the road but I don’t fucking want to. Brady points somewhere out the windshield, giving me a reminder I don’t need.

  My gaze leaves him and goes to where it should be, but my mouth is set in a grim line and my jaw is clenched.

  “You went to visit her?”

  “I was there for work. I met her for dinner. Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing.”

  I should’ve done it. That’s what I’m really mad about. I should’ve hopped on a plane and shown up on her doorstep. I should’ve bent her over backward and kissed her until all the breath in her lungs belonged to me.

  I stare ahead and drive. I thought I had this competition in the bag, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore.

  23

  Now

  Brady

  I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but helping Finn is making me appreciate my job.

  Installing hardwood floor is more difficult than I thought it would be. At first I thought of it like a puzzle. But, no. There’s a lot more happening beneath the rows of wood we walk on.

  I asked Finn why he didn’t just hire someone to do the job for him. He looked at me like I was beyond help and told me there are some parts of this house he wants to be touched by only his hands.

  I blinked at the intimacy in his words. His sentence had two meanings, and only one made me uncomfortable.

  I wasn’t lying to him on our drive. My night with Lennon did not extend beyond a handful of passionate kisses. I thought we were going there, to a place we’ve never gone before. She laid below me on the bed, matching my kisses, my wandering hands, my intensity. Then, like a puff of smoke, the woman who was lost in the moments with me disappeared. Lennon’s lips no longer met me hungrily; instead, she merely accepted my kisses. Her hands stopped searching. I felt it the second it happened, but I wanted it, wanted her, so badly that I didn’t stop right away.

  When she whispered my name, I knew it was over. I rolled off her and looked up at the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. It wasn’t just her words that let me know how sorry she was. Regret saturated the air, filling it until it became something I could gather. No longer was Lennon in my arms, but in her place, I held her apology.

  We fell asleep on top of the covers. When I woke with the sun streaming in through the cracks in the blinds, Lennon smiled at me. She reached over and brushed hair from my forehead.

  “You’re handsome in the morning.”

  I cracked a smile. “As opposed to the rest of the day?”

  Lennon groaned and rolled off the bed. She stood and stretched. Her shirt pulled up, exposing an inch of her creamy skin. Skin I’d had my hands on last night. Skin I don’t know if I’ll ever touch again.

  I led the way from the pool house and opened the door for her to step into the main house. And that’s when I saw the reason Lennon disappeared from my arms last night.

  And now I’m working beside him, watching him use a flooring nailer. It’s a tool I’d never heard of until he pulled it from the back of his truck and explained what it was.

  Despite being at odds, we make a good team. I rack the flooring (another term I learned today), which means I’m arranging the boards in the order they should be installed. Each bundle of wood tends to be the same color, so they have to be mixed and matched. Finn follows behind me, installing what I’ve arranged.

  We break for lunch, mowing down the sandwiches Finn picked up in town. Brighton’s a small town, but it has everything someone could need. I can see Finn settling here. He always hated Agua Mesa.

  “You want one?” Finn holds out a beer so cold I can see the sheen of moisture on the outside.

  Grabbing it from his hand, I pop the top and take a long drink. Finn does the same.

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” Finn says, finishing off a bag of chips.

  Our phones buzz at the exact same time. Lennon. Nobody else would be texting both of us at once.

  Finn is first to his phone. He reads the message and tosses the phone aside.

  “She and Laine will be here in half an hour.” He glances at the unfinished floor.

  I ball up the paper from my napkin and shove it in my bag, along with my empty chip bag. Finn stands, and so do I. We both drain the rest of our beer and toss the now empty cans into our bags.

  Finn inclines his head to our stopping point. “We still have about an hour’s work, so let’s get to it.”

  Finn helps rack the flooring, an
d when it’s time for him to use the flooring nailer, I keep going on my job arranging the rows of wood. In the end, it takes us a little over an hour. It’s not completely finished. There are still corners to cut, and some areas where the wood doesn’t meet the wall. Lucky for me, Finn forgot his jigsaw, whatever the hell that is. I could ask, but I’ve asked enough questions for today, and my ego is just about done feeling like I can’t hack it as a mountain man. Finn obviously can; in fact, it suits him.

  It’s a new reality where Finn is the one who has something come easily to him. I should be happy for the guy, and deep down I am. It’s just that right now I’m not feeling particularly hospitable.

  Finn glances at his watch. “I thought Lennon said she was going to be half an hour.”

  I hadn’t realized that, but I guess he’s right. Lennon is late.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, Finn.”

  Finn sends a worried glance outside. “The road to this place from town is winding. What if—”

  His sentence is halted by the sight of the white SUV pulling through the opening in the fence. Without a word to me, he strides across the room and through the front door.

  I frown, but I’m quick to follow. At least he left it open for me.

  When I get outside, I find Finn hasn’t gone any farther than the bottom step of the front porch stairs. He leans against a support beam, his arms crossed and his hands tucked into his sides. For someone who shot out of here like his ass was on fire, he sure as hell didn’t get very far. Or he stopped short when he remembered he’s still sore about how he found Lennon this morning. Probably the latter, knowing Finn.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Lennon calls, leaning her face in the space between the doorframe and the open door. She glances apprehensively at Finn.

  Laine hops out and shuts the door. “We stopped on the way and found the cutest bakery. Supposedly they make the world’s best blueberry muffins, but they were already sold out for today.” She makes a show of pouting, and Lennon laughs.

  She rounds the front of the car and goes to stand beside Laine, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “Blueberry muffins are this girl’s favorite thing on the planet.”