by Aubrey Irons
The fair, for instance - one perfect, still-frame memory of a day. Emily, Serena, and I - laughing, smiling, having the time of our lives, and not once thinking about what comes later. Because there is no later when you’re in a moment like that. A moment like that is past, present, and future all rolled into one freeze-frame snapshot of time.
But fairs end. Perfect afternoons turn to evening. Daughters grow up and don’t want you picking them up anymore.
The girl that meant more than you ever wanted to admit to yourself leaves you and your indecisions behind.
“What are you doing awake?”
I sigh. “Can’t sleep either.”
“Oh.”
I shake my head, clearing the melancholy. “You know what would help us both, I bet?”
“What?”
“Hot cocoa.”
Emily beams and I chuckle.
“Oh, too big to have your dad help you up into chairs, but not too old for some hot cocoa with him, huh?”
“Nope!”
I grin, ruffling her hair before I turn and grab the mix from the cupboard.
“How’s the temp?”
“Perfect.”
“Awesome.”
Emily and I sit across the island from each other, the kitchen lights dimmed in my attempt to get her sleepy for bed.
“You look sad.”
I glance up, my brows raised. “Me? Nah.” I shake my head. “Just thinking about work stuff.”
“And Serena?” she says teasingly.
I grin wryly at her. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a smart-ass kid?”
She giggles.
The room goes back to silence as we sip our cocoa.
“Dad?”
I glance up. “Yeah, honey?”
“You know I’m getting older, right?”
“I am painfully aware of that, yes.”
She nods and looks back at her mug again before she glances up at me.
“And you know I’m old enough to know Mom’s not coming back, right?”
The sting in my eyes and the tightness in my chest come fast, and I’m up and around the kitchen in seconds, wrapping my arms around her and scooping her against me.
“I love you, kiddo.”
“I love you too, Dad.” She hugs me back before I finally let her breathe. I pull back and she looks up at me. “And I know Serena isn’t going to be my mom, you know.” She looks down at her mug. “But I’d like it if she was my friend.”
I smile as I reach out and stroke her hair. “Well, then I think she’s a very lucky woman.”
Emily beams. “Dad, I think a movie would help me fall asleep.”
I chuckle. “Yeah I bet staying up another two hours doing anything would put you to sleep.”
“Can we call Serena and try it?”
The smile drops from my lips as I swallow the sourness in my throat. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, kiddo.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s late, that’s why.”
“What about tomorrow night?”
I sigh and drop my eyes to the floor. “Probably not, honey.”
“Why?”
Because she’s gone. Because she peeked behind the curtain of my bullshit and saw the nothing she wanted to be a part of. Because I kept something from her I had no right keeping from her. Because I broke basically every single one of my rules with her, and now that she’s gone, I’m not even sure how to go about rebuilding.
“Dad?”
“Serena had to go home, honey.”
Her face falls. “What?”
“She had to go home, back to Houston.”
“No! Why?” Emily’s bottom lip sticks out as her brow wrinkles.
“I-” I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I lie.
“But I thought she was going to be my friend!”
“I know. I’m sorry kiddo.”
Emily buries her face in my arms, as I pull her tight.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I stroke my daughter’s hair. “What if we started a movie. Think that might help?”
She nods in my arms.
Twenty-minutes and two ensemble Disney songs later, she’s sound asleep next to me on the couch.
I turn off the TV and scoop her up gently into my arms before I head upstairs to tuck her in.
“Night, honey,” I whisper, kissing her forehead before tiptoeing out of her room and closing the door.
Back downstairs, I sink into the couch again, the ache I’ve been trying to hold back for her sake finally tearing its way out.
Fuck.
I don’t know how this happened, but here it is, and there’s no pretending that the tightness in my chest isn’t there.
This was good, for a while - this little bubble I had set up for myself. Emily and my job - that’s it. As long as I filled my time with just that, there was never any room for anything else.
And yet somehow, I made room. Somehow, I rearranged. I adapted. I opened up and let in the girl I never saw coming. The girl I never wanted to see coming. And now that she’s gone, she’s the only thing I want to see.
I broke the rules. I ignored the signs, and the warnings that I set up for myself long ago, and now I’m feeling what I never wanted to feel again.
Loss.
I push my fingers through my hair, letting my breath out.
Except that’s bullshit. Breaking the rules, letting go, and letting her in didn’t lead to this pain. Shutting down did. Closing her back out did. Letting her in changed something in me, and brought something to light inside of me that I’d honestly decided was going to stay dark. She’s the good thing and the second chance I’d been running away from for years, and now that I finally wised up and stopped running, she’s blown right past me.
I made my career and my name as a player by never backing down. No matter how hard the fight, not matter how bad the odds, you do not stop. You never quit. You never take a knee and let the clock run dry.
You fight.
You lay your heart out and spill your blood on that field.
I did the same with the rest of my life. When I was shattered, my whole life breaking around me, that was the same mindset I cemented inside. Because I had to, for Emily. Never quit. Never lie down and let the world break you.
I did it the first day I walked into that boardroom, every face in the room giving me a skeptical look and just waiting for me to fail, or waiting for me to be the dumb jock they all thought I’d be.
Never say can’t. Never say “it’s too hard.” Never stop fighting.
And I didn’t.
Except somehow, I’ve let that go. Here I am, beat down but not beaten, but I’m letting myself be beat. Lamenting about the shit hand I’ve been dealt. Sitting here in the dark shaking my head at the mistakes I’ve made.
Landon Reece, who the fuck are you?
This is letting go.
This is taking a knee.
This is lying down and letting the world break me.
And that ain’t me.
I sit up sharply, my eyes alert, my heart pounding, and my hands clenching at my sides. No, this isn’t over, this is just bad odds. This is fourth quarter with a twenty-point deficit, but it’s not a loss.
Not yet at least.
Because I’ve got one play left. I’ve still got a pint of blood to bleed.
This fight isn’t over.
I’m standing, grabbing my phone and making the call before I can even bother thinking it through. I don’t have to. Not this time. This time, I’m done thinking about it, and sticking to my predefined lines, and staying inside my own little life that I’ve built.
I’m done playing by the rules.
“An hour? Perfect.”
I shove the phone in my pocket as I take the stairs two at a time. I could call a sitter, or a neighbor, but I’m not going to.
This isn’t just about me, after all.
This is about us. All of us.
“Daddy?” Emily frown
s as I gently wake her, blinking and rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I have to go somewhere, honey.”
She pouts. “Oh.”
“I think you should come with me.”
She perks up, blinking again and clearing the sleep from her eyes as looks at me curiously. “I can?”
“Yep.” I stand and go to her closet, pulling a backpack out and shoving some of her clothes inside.
“Where are we going?”
I grin as I turn back to her. “Well, I’ve been dying for some good guacamole, and someone once told me that they make it really good in Houston.”
It takes about half a second for her to understand what I’m saying, and her eyes suddenly go wide as her jaw drops.
“Feel like coming?”
“Yes!” She jumps out of bed and throws her arms around me.
I might be out of practice, but it’s time to jump in, and I have to make this right with her.
It’s time to cut the bullshit, break the rules, and tell Serena Roth exactly how I feel.
It’s time to stop watching the game from the sidelines, and it’s time to win.
Chapter Forty
Serena
“Did you really think I’d say no?”
I smile as I look down, shaking my head.
“You can, you know. I wouldn’t blame you,” I mumble.
Archie Jacobs, London’s dad, chuckles that rumbling laugh I remember from growing up spending at least half my time at their house
“Serena, of course you can have your job back. Hell, I’m begging you to take it back. The kid we got to replace you is a goddamn disaster.”
“Archie, I know loyalty means a lot to you, and I know me running away-”
“Stop, stop.” He sighs, waving his hand in tempo with the shaking of his head. “Knock it off, darlin’. I know and you know that you running off to Denver wasn’t any sort of backstabbing move. I get it.”
I give him a wry smile, still feeling like I’m guilty of treason or something, even though it’s clear Archie doesn’t see me like that.
“You want a drink? Let’s have a drink.”
He pushes back from the big wooden desk of his office, rising and turning to the bar cart in the corner.
“Archie.”
He turns, giving me a grin. “Yeah?”
“You know I can’t let you have a drink, not after the scare you gave us a month ago.”
It’s barely been a month actually, since Archie’s heart attack that scared the hell out of all of us. Since then, London’s had her good ole’ boy of a Texan father on the straight and narrow to start being a little healthier in his habits, which means not having BBQ five times a week, no more fried food, no more donuts, no more cigars, and definitely no whiskey drinking at eleven o’clock in the morning.
Or as Archie puts it: “no more fun.”
He sucks at his teeth, eyeing me mischievously. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Tempting. But you know London would kill me if I did. And if something happens to that heart of yours, you know she’d throw me into the hole right after you.”
Archie lets out a whooping laugh, holding his sides as he slides back into his seat. “Yeah, alright, fair enough, fair enough. Hell, at least I’d have some swell company up there if you came along for the ride.”
I snort.
“You know that fiancé of hers is trying to get me to start jogging with him?” He rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively.
“Aww, Archie, I think it’s sweet. He’s just trying to bond with you.”
“He’s tryin’ to damn well kill me with that goddamn cooking of his is what he’s doing.”
This time I laugh.
I have to laugh. If I don’t laugh, and if I don’t keep making the hurt inside with jokes, and empty banter, and familiar faces and smiles, I’ll lose it. It’s been a week since I left Denver. A week since I called London, took a cab directly to the airport, and came back.
Back home.
And I know I left things badly. I know I walked away from so many loose ends that there’s no way I won’t have to eventually go back and sort them out. But not now. I can’t face the music just yet.
I can’t face him yet.
Because I didn’t just run away from a failed experiment, and a board of phonies who jumped ship the first chance they got, and a mountain of lies surrounding my past, my family, and everything I thought about both.
I ran away from the first man to truly see me in a very long time. Maybe ever. I ran away from something good, and it wasn’t until the wheels touched back down in Texas that it really hit home.
I ran away from something I never thought my heart would feel again.
From all our talk of boundaries, and “just casual”, and rules, I know now that we were both just kidding ourselves because we were too scared to see what was in front of our faces.
Because after a week back here, away from him? I know one thing I did run away from.
I ran away from love.
And I could really go for that eleven a.m. whiskey right about now.
“Listen,” Archie clasps his hands and leans forward on the desk, his eyes full of emotion. “I’m real sorry about what happened up there, Serena.” He sighs. “London told me, about Sam I mean.”
I nod, looking down at the edge of his desk. “Surprise, huh?” I mumble glumly.
“Well I just thought you should know it’s all bullshit.”
I glance up at Archie, a serious look on his face. “All of it. Billy was one of the best men I ever knew, and damn near the best father, second to me of course.”
I grin, shaking my head as he winks.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what any of that shit they dug up says, darlin’. The man we both knew and loved? The man who raised you all by himself into a hell of whipsmart, confident, poised young woman?” He points a finger at me across the desk. “That man was your father. Period. End of discussion.”
I nod, my eyes dropping to the floor.
“He was proud of you, you know. And he’d be damn proud of the woman you’ve become.” He stands. “Love matters more than blood, Serena; know that. And shit, I don’t know Sam Horn, but I did know Billy Roth. And I don’t give a crap about whatever the genetic tests and papers say, you are exactly like the man who raised you, and nothing like the coward that walked away. I can say that without a single doubt.”
“Thanks, Archie,” I say softly as he comes around to lean against the front of his desk.
“You know what my biggest regret is?”
I look up at him mournfully, shaking my head.
“That I didn’t have a son. ‘Cause man I’d have loved puttin’ the two of you together so I could have a second daughter just like you.”
The sob wrenches from my throat as I stand and throw my arms around him, hugging him fiercely.
“You’re my family no matter what, Archie.”
We rock like that for a minute or two before I finally pull away and wipe the sappy tears from my eyes.
“So you want the job or what?”
I laugh, giggling as I wipe the tears and nod. “Yes. Please.”
“Thank Christ. That kid at your desk right now is worse at email than I am, and that’s seriously saying somethin’.”
I grin as he smiles at me.
“Welcome back, Serena.”
Chapter Forty-One
Serena
The smells of the farmer’s market waft over me - sweet corn, veggies so fresh the dirt’s still caked on them, the donut truck with the freshly made pastries cooling and dripping glaze in the window. The chicken farmers hawking eggs, with a few of their brood pecking at the dirt around their stall. The fancy, hipster, house-roasted, pour-over local coffee company brewing mouthwatering aromas across the market.
Yeah, this I missed.
This is familiar.
I know I haven’t been gone long - not in the scheme of the bigger picture
of things. But it feels like it’s been forever. Forever, where I lost myself somewhere up in Denver.
Forever, when I lost myself in the last man I should have.
That’s over now.
I say it to myself for the thousandth time - the hundred-thousandth time, really - since I got into that cab back in Denver the night I left. But it has to be over, because here I am, back in my old life. My old job, my old friends, my old apartment, my old car.
This is where I belong, I guess. If I didn’t, something would have worked out in Denver.
It did.
I close my eyes and take a breath, shaking that thought from my head.
No, it didn’t. If it’d worked out, I’d still be there.
With him.
I swing by the donut shop first, frowning at the insane line and taking it as a sign as I detour for the tomato lady. She recognizes me, at least in a cursory way, smiling as I fill a bag with fresh vine-ripened beauties. Maybe I’ll make gazpacho for my dinner with London and Holden tonight.
I make the rounds, filling the canvas shoulder bag I brought with vegetables, and cheese, and freshly baked bread, until I find myself at another stall, frozen in front of the display of avocados.
And all of a sudden, the temporary feeling of being okay - the illusion that I’m fine - drops silently to grass at my feet.
I’m not okay, and this isn’t fine.
I ran when I should have stayed and fought. I got scared when I should have been brave, and I blinded myself when I should have just opened my eyes and seen what was in front of my face.
My shoulders droop as I reach for one of the big green avocados, hefting it and smiling softly at the memory of taco night with Landon and Emily. The grin grows wider as the memories of that night come back to me - the laughter, the feeling of being part of something as fun and as wonderful as that two-person team of those two. I remember feeling warmth, the happiness, and the closeness of it all.
The love.
The smile fades from my face as I stare at the fruit in my hand, and I’m about to put it back when the voice comes from behind me.