by Olivia Chase
All the rest of the shit, I’ll figure out later. Things will work out.
His motorcycle is in the driveway where he left it before he went to Vinnie’s. I exit the car and knock on his door. When he answers, my heart does that familiar skip it does every time I see him. His dark hair is mussed with sleep, a light scruff on his face. His eyes are wary when they lock on mine. “Kendra.” His voice is wary too, not as warm as I’d hoped it would be.
“Um.” I shift in place. “Can I come in?”
“Oh. Yeah.” He leans back and pushes the door open, and I step inside his house. It’s clear he is uncomfortable with me; he hasn’t reached out to touch me like he normally does, and he’s distant as hell. The wall around him is almost visible.
“You feeling okay?” I ask as we make our way to the couch.
He shrugs. “Been worse.”
“Axel…” I begin.
He shakes his head. “I’m fine, Kendra. Don’t worry about me. I should have seen it coming. The person to blame here is me for dropping my guard and forgetting my place.”
His words, delivered so flatly, with no emotion, stick in my chest. I want so badly to reach over and touch him, to get the comfort of his fingers in mine, but it feels like we’re sitting miles away. “This isn’t your fault,” I tell him vehemently. “My dad was the jerk here. What happened was unacceptable. I’m just sorry he treated you that way. You deserve better.”
Axel sighs and leans back away from me, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “Whatever. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will,” I say, then draw in a deep breath. “So, I had some ideas on where we can present your plan—”
“Kendra,” he says without looking at me. “No.”
“But I can help you—”
“I don’t want your help. And there is no ‘we.’ We were a hot one-night stand that got confused and complicated. Never should have happened.” He’s speaking like there is no connection between us, like he never felt anything. Like we’re a mistake.
I feel like I’m being hit by shrapnel, small cuts all over me that dig into my skin and burrow their way deep. “That’s not true. I know you’re just saying this because of what my father did.”
“No, this isn’t just about your father.” He scrubs the back of his head. “This shit isn’t working for me. I’m not a relationship kinda guy. And you and I, we were never gonna last. We both know it.”
Pride fills me with anger at his words. “Are you serious right now? My dad dicks you over, so you decide to dump me.”
Axel looks square at me. “This isn’t working for me, even your dad aside. I saw my father a while ago. Visited him in prison, told him about your company’s deal. He said he wanted to take it, wanted to sell the house.” He pauses. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t trust you.”
That knocks the air out of my lungs. “What?”
“You’re loyal to your father first and foremost,” he says evenly. “Daddy’s girl through and through. You’re always doing what your father says—no one would ever be the top priority in your life because you’re too busy living to please him.”
The words hit me uncomfortably in the chest. Echo the very thoughts I had last night. And it makes me mad, because Axel knows me so intimately, and clearly doesn’t give a shit about what was developing between us. The anger slides into my skin, pulls me out of the sad shock that was threatening to take over. “Well, since we’re coming clean with our perceptions of each other,” I spit out, “you’re being ridiculous in trying to keep up this ‘Beckett code of honor’ that no one in your family even lives by anymore.”
His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare. “The fuck you say?” he grits out through a clenched jaw.
Good. I let his anger fill me, bolster my own. “You keep talking about honor and pride, but you’re using it as a crutch to keep your family at arm’s length. They hurt you, made you feel abandoned, so you act like you’re some kind of warrior bravely holding down the fort. But truth is, they evolved, and you aren’t. You’re clinging to some outdated notion without looking at the damage you’re causing by refusing to bend. Maybe your brothers all recognized that your code of honor was toxic.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he growls in a warning tone. “Mind your own business.”
“Oh, you mean the way you manage to make broad assumptions about me and my relationship with my father? Right,” I scoff. “Grow up, Axel. You should patch things up with your brothers. They’re good people, and they care about you. You keep them away through your own actions, not because of anything they’re doing to you.”
“I like how worldly you sound about things, given that you have no idea what it’s like to make your way in the world alone.” The words are delivered softly, but they hit their mark. “You have your daddy’s money, his credit cards, even the job he gave you. When the fuck have you ever had to worry about how your bills were going to get paid? You have no idea what life is really like, living in your pampered existence. You’ve never had a rough day, not like the rest of us.”
I just stare at him, so many thoughts and feelings pounding through me. I want to cry. I want to scream. But the worst part is, he’s right.
No, the worst part is, this is the end of us.
I was naïve to think it could ever be otherwise. And worse still, we’re proving my father right.
I feel nauseous.
I stand, struggling to keep the wave of emotion threatening to burn my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I’m not going to cry in front of him. I will hold some semblance of dignity here. “Okay then.”
He doesn’t move from his spot, just stares at me. Silent.
“Goodbye, Axel,” I say, then turn and leave. Close the door behind me. Get in my car. Drive away.
I head toward the highway and just drive. His words are echoing through my head, shaming me, infuriating me. He’s so arrogant. And he’s so right. And I want to hate him for it, for poking holes in my careful image of myself.
I thought that he didn’t just see me as some rich, entitled girl. But there I was, sneaking him into my daddy’s mansion, forcing him to dress up and interact with my father so I could pretend we could fit together.
Jumping on the business plan he made because it gave him “legitimacy” and purpose that I thought my dad could support.
Deep shame and frustration fills me, and I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. And now the tears fall, hard and fast, and I’m sobbing and not trying to hold it in anymore. Because my heart hurts, and everything has changed. I can’t go back to the girl I was before I met Axel. I can’t blindly live in my bubble of privilege and innocence.
My phone is vibrating. It’s my father texting me. I ignore it—I’ll be dealing with him later. For right now, I just need to process it all. Come up with a plan of action.
Everything has changed, and it’s time for me to change along with it.
The hours of driving in the quiet have helped. By the time I arrive home, it’s late afternoon, and my mind is clearer. Not that my heart is feeling any better—it’s broken and devastated. I want to curl up in bed and sleep until the pain fades, but I can’t.
Time to put on my big-girl panties and deal with my life.
I go to my room and hop on my computer, beginning my search. A couple of leads look promising, so I dig up my resume and update it, then fire it off, sending a silent prayer that something comes of one of these jobs.
I know I can’t work for my father anymore. Not after all of this. I can’t even stand the thought of being around him right now. Though when he gets home, we’re going to be having a hard talk.
When I texted Michelle asking for advice earlier, she told me there’s a vacancy in her apartment building, on the floor above hers, and she has an in with the landlord, who’s her mom’s best friend. So I have an appointment tomorrow to visit the place.
I’m sure it’ll do just fine. I’ve been to her apartment
before, and it’s a good space in a nice part of town.
The nice thing about working for my father while living at home was that I could put aside the bulk of my paychecks, so I have a nice little nest egg to start. Not to mention the money I’ve saved while working in college. It’ll be enough to get me on my feet for a few months while I adjust to my new life and find a job.
I fold my laptop closed and look around my bedroom. I’m starting all over. It’s scary as hell…but there’s an excitement that comes with my sudden independence. I can do this. I’m strong and capable.
I head downstairs when it’s dinner time. Daddy is sitting at his usual spot. His gaze is wary as he looks at me, and he gives me a small nod.
“I’m not staying for dinner,” I tell him, standing behind a chair. “I wanted to let you know that I’m going to be moving out.”
He didn’t expect that coming, given the expression of surprise on his face. “Look,” he says slowly, his tone deliberate. “I know you’re upset with me, but you don’t need to make any rash decisions.”
“I also quit,” I continue. “I’m giving my two weeks’ notice, and I’ll bring in my official resignation letter tomorrow.”
This stuns him into silence.
“Well.” I turn to leave.
“Wait,” he says, standing and coming up to me. His brow is furrowed. “Kendra, I know you’re incredibly upset with me, but you’re acting out of anger.”
“No, I’m acting out of self-preservation and pride,” I retort. “Don’t presume to tell me how I feel. I know what I’m thinking and what I want.”
“Don’t twist what I say.” His voice is rich with frustration, and he scrubs the top of his hair.
“I’m not. I’m also not interested in discussing this right now. I have a lot of packing to do, and I don’t have anything else to say to you.” I leave the dining room, hearing him sputter after me, but I don’t turn back.
When I get to my room, I’m shaking, and I sink into the chair at my desk. I’m officially going to be on my own, like it or not. It’s time for me to find my own strength and take control of my life.
It feels like I blink and everything’s changed.
Like mere seconds have gone by.
In reality, it’s been weeks, but most of the time I’ve been so overwhelmed and stunned by everything that I’ve done…everything that’s happened to me.
It’s like I’m just catching my breath, finally, when I stop and take the time to truly reflect on how different my life is now.
I’m sad, deeply sad, but at least I’m not totally alone.
“Cheers,” Michelle says, clinking her plastic red Solo cup against mine. She takes a sip of the rum and Coke I made and smiles. “Your bar is coming along nicely,” she says with a laugh. “This isn’t well rum.”
“Top shelf for you, baby,” I tease as I sink onto my couch cushion. It’s been three weeks since Axel and I broke up, since I confronted my father that I was leaving and quitting my job. I moved into this apartment a few days ago.
There isn’t a lot of furniture yet—a couch, chair, coffee table, some lamps, a small kitchen set and a bedroom set. But it’s all mine, bought with my own money. I’ll fill the rest in as I can afford it.
There’s a statement I never thought I’d have to make. Affording things was never even a minor consideration before now.
Michelle looks around at my living room. “It’s coming along nicely! So, how was your first day of work?”
I was hired on at a competitor of my father’s, entry level, making a lot less than I was when I worked at my dad’s company. The manager was excited to have me join on though, and everyone there is friendly and welcoming. I spent the day getting acquainted with the accounts we’re working on and seeing what I can do to help keep things moving along. Over the next few days, we’re coming up with plans on new accounts we can take on and how I can assist in that as well. “It was…good,” I say with a smile. “It’s nice to feel jazzed about my growth potential there.”
We chatter about a variety of things. She tells me about a couple of bad dates she went on recently, and we laugh over how they ended up unfolding. I’m not at all ready to date, not when I still ache for Axel so badly that I can’t breathe for it sometimes.
I miss him terribly.
Does he even think about me?
The question haunts me every day. I want to go to him and show him how I’ve changed. That I’m my own woman—I have my own apartment, a new job, a bank account, even my own credit card (with a very low limit, but that’s fine—I’m building real credit). But he probably wouldn’t care about it. In his mind, I’m still far too different than him, despite my budding independence.
Michelle stretches and yawns, puts her empty cup on my coffee table. “Fuck, I’m tired. Gotta get my ass in bed. Morning comes awful early.” She stands and hugs me, then heads out.
I clean up after us then pour myself one more cocktail, setting back into the couch and streaming music through my portable speaker from my phone. It’s so weird and hard living on my own. All those things I took for granted that I’m doing for myself now. My dad’s cook, Bettina, and I have been texting since I moved out, and she’s teaching me how to make easy recipes on my own. Thank God for her.
I invited her to come over for dinner tomorrow night to taste the meal I’m attempting—lasagna. She warmly agreed, thanking me for the invite and saying she’ll bring a side dish. Hopefully it’s big enough to serve as a possible meal, in case I screw up the main meal.
She asked if I was inviting my father. I know she’s trying to get us to talk, unhappy with the tension between us, but I can’t do it. I’m still so mad and hurt by what he did, how he treated Axel. I’m not ready to see him, even though he texts me regularly asking to talk. I don’t reply.
It’s been weeks since I spoke to Daddy or to Axel. I feel like a completely different person than I was before everything went down, before I made these huge changes. But that deep sadness, that ache for Axel, it hasn’t gone away. No, it’s still there, haunting me in the thick of night. Whispering to me how he probably isn’t thinking about me at all, even though I can’t get him off my mind.
Hell, he wouldn’t know how to find me in person even if he wanted to. I’m not at the same home, the same job. The only way to reach me is via my cell phone, and that’s been painfully silent.
It’s fine, I tell myself. I get off the couch and change into jammie shorts and a tank top. He still was a catalyst for change for me, and I can at least be glad about that.
I try to let that lukewarm thought warm me as I slide into my cold bed and close my eyes.
Axel
I take a drag on the beer I pulled from my fridge. My emotions are in a knot in my chest. I keep telling myself that I don’t care, that Kendra wasn’t good for me and I was shit for her. But I can’t sleep. The last few nights have been torture.
She’s embedded beneath my skin. I sent her away, told her that she didn’t mean anything to me. And it was a fucking lie.
I fucked up so badly with her, and I don’t know how to fix things.
I settle into the couch and look around the house. The place that belongs to Butch, the only real home I’ve known. I’m the final stand. The only one left who cares. Not even my neighbors give any fucks about what happens to us.
Why am I being so stubborn?
Butch wants to sell.
I’m holding on to a dream. To a ghost. It isn’t real.
It took all of my pride to look up Charles on the internet and send him a text. To tell him that Butch is ready to sell.
But I had to do it. This isn’t my home anymore.
Charles is supposed to arrive in a few minutes. Sealing my fate. I can’t go back from this. And that’s probably for the best. I need to change; I know that much. Butch already signed documentation assigning me permission to do these dealings on his behalf. This is the last thing I’m going to do for him, so I’ll do it right.
&n
bsp; There’s a rap at my door, and I get up to answer it. “Hey,” I say to Charles, giving him a quick nod.
“Hello.” Charles comes in, bearing a thick folder of paper, and settles on the opposite end of the couch.
We just sit there for a moment, looking at each other. There’s pain in both our eyes. I fucked up with Kendra, I know that much. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, pushed her away. But it’s clear he fucked up with her too. The shit he pulled with me…she’s still angry about that. I can tell by the way Charles is acting.
Some of the arrogance and pomposity has been wiped off his face. I wish it felt satisfying, but I only feel pity and a sense of loss for both of us.
Charles exhales hard and digs through his papers. “So you’ve been granted power of attorney,” he says. “Good. I just need a copy of that document, and we can have you sign off on selling his property.”
I hand a copy to him, having anticipated he’d want one.
It takes a solid half hour to fill out all the fucking paperwork. I initial, again and again, trying to not be frustrated as we move through the process of selling Butch’s house. It is what it is, and he wanted this.
I have to let go.
We finish the paperwork, and Charles closes the folder. Looks at me.
“So. Have you…” He clears his throat and looks away. “Talked to her any?”
The vulnerability he’s exposing to me makes my heart lurch. So I’m not the only one who is fucking reeling from the loss of a relationship with Kendra. Part of me actually feels pity for him. Because I can see how it’s impacted him.
He’s not the same man I knew before.
I suppose I’m not, either.
Charles shifts in his seat and peers at me. “We fucked up.” The words are delivered so evenly that I almost don’t even hear them, in a weird way. It’s too smooth, like nothing happened.
I frown. “What’s going on with you?”
Charles sighs, stares up at my ceiling. “Oh, she’s not talking to me. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I’m guessing you haven’t, either.”