Rivers

by S. L. Scott

  I put the underwear on and carefully slip into bed behind her. It’s not the side of the bed I normally sleep on, but with her body partially in the middle and taking up space on my side, I want her to know that she doesn’t just own my heart. She owns every part of my life, including the bed.

  When I wrap my arm over her, she moves back into my body, and whispers, “Are you okay?”

  I destroyed our lives by protecting a secret that caused her pain she should have never felt, and she’s checking on me. God, I love this woman. “I’m okay. Are you?”

  She turns in my arms. Her eyelids are heavy but open as she searches my eyes. Her hand finds the side of my neck and rests the tips of her fingers on my pulse. “Is it over? Did she give you the permission you were seeking?”

  She has a right to be upset and ask questions. I don’t think my answers are going to be as satisfying as she hoped. Because it’s just a word. It’s not like you were going to hell if you told someone. How can someone think like that? Live like that? Lie like that? I still feel shafted from Naomi’s ploy. But how I feel doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is Stella. “Do you want to talk about it now or in the morning?”

  “I have work tomorrow, and I don’t think having this conversation at six in the morning will work out well for either of us since we’ll be tired.”

  When her hand leaves my skin, I take hold of it again, wanting the contact. “She used me to make John Cables jealous.”

  “Oh God, Rivers,” she says, pulling her hands away and dropping her head into them.

  “I take full responsibility. I’m to blame.”

  Looking up, she touches my cheek. “Your heart is so big.”

  I cover her hand and keep it there, loving the feel of her touch on my skin again.

  Although her voice is quieter, more contemplative, she asks, “What happened?”

  I tell her about the house and car in the yard, how Naomi looked, and about her sleeping kids. I’m not going to lose Stella by leaving out the details. “She told me I was the only one who took the bait.”

  “She took advantage of you?”

  “I’m the one who fell for it.”

  “You fell for it because she knew what kind of man you are—honorable and caring. That’s the man I fell in love with. The man she wishes she had then and now. You’re still that man, Rivers. I hate that I lost sight of that. I’m sorry.”

  “I was nothing more than a tool she used to make John jealous. But I’m the one who fucked-up by helping her.”

  “I just can’t believe the lengths she went to, and how she threw our friendship away for temporary gain.” Again, she sighs. “It worked too. I hate her. I hate her so much, and then I hate that I have to hate anyone. I used to trust everyone first. Now I’m . . . I fell for it too. She spread the rumors about you and then never denied it when asked. She could have ended the speculation but chose not to.”

  Exhaling loudly, I say, “It didn’t matter that John hit her; she just wanted him to commit to her. Her plan was to target me to make him jealous. She laid down some story about him hitting her if he found out she was pregnant, so she needed money and help. It was a fucking ploy to make him want her more by thinking I liked her.”

  “Did her plan work for her?”

  “Guess so. He was hanging around my 4Runner when I was leaving.”

  “What did she have to say about us?” Her anger pitches in her voice, and she sits up.

  Remembering how Naomi shrugged, how she practically spit when she spoke Stella’s name, I roll onto my back, and reply, “She wasn’t too concerned.”

  “She’s the reason we broke up. Her games to win John destroyed us, and she didn’t seem concerned?”

  I was the fool. “I’m sorry.” Sliding down, I can’t find comfort in a bed I usually sleep well in. I close my eyes, wanting to turn back time, and feel like a failure that I can’t make this better for her. Stella deserves better than a fucking fool who falls for a jealousy ploy. “I gave her money to leave him. Money I didn’t have to pay my electric bill that month. She took it with fake tears in her eyes, telling me that money would allow her to leave him. I helped her fucking pack a bag and drove her to her mother’s house. Stella, I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”

  Feeling all the guilt I’ve carried with me for years come back, I close my eyes, wishing I could change the past and do it right the second time around. When she rests her palms on my chest, she gives me hope that maybe I can, maybe we can together.

  She slides back down in front of me and caresses my face with a firm hold in a silent request to open my eyes. When I do, she says, “After your mom’s accident, you were always making sure your brothers we’re okay, and the band kept working, even through the pain. You managed them, your career, paid the bills, and kept going to school. You, my love, took care of my sister and me. Don’t you see? You took care of everyone except yourself.” A tear falls down her cheek as she looks at me. “You’re so much like your mother with your heart of gold and good intentions. Your mother is so proud of the man you are. She may not be here to tell you, but she knows your heart.”

  Reaching up, she wipes a tear from my face I didn’t realize had leaked. Her forgiveness is spoken in the weight of her words. We don’t need apologies. We just need each other.

  “Naomi took advantage of your generous heart. You weren’t gullible. You just can’t bear to see someone hurting.”

  “I hurt you.”

  “Let me ask you something about that night. When you came to talk to me, would you have told me everything?”

  I taste the pain as if it were yesterday on the edge of my tongue. “I would have told you what I could. I wouldn’t have broken the promise I made to her. I believed she was in danger.”

  “That’s why she targeted you. She made you give your word because she knew what your word meant to you. Her lies were safe with you.” The heaviest parts of the conversation are exhaled.

  “Picking my stuff up—”

  “God, yes. Off the lawn. I’m so ashamed, Rivers. When I look back now, I can’t believe I was so callous with you.” I nod because I’m feeling so choked up about this fucked-up situation. So many wasted years.

  “It hurt so much that you didn’t believe me or have more faith in me, Stel. I got angry after that. Out of everyone who knew me, you knew me best. When you forgot who I was, how my heart bled for you, I stopped fighting, too hurt to keep trying.”

  “You’re right. And now, older and hopefully a little wiser, I can see what you’re saying is true. But at the time? I think I was already hurting. I was already feeling a little unsteady. And that’s not all on you, but the partying and drugs . . . it was taking a toll. On us. On me.”

  “I know. Now. I had nothing left. I just . . . I really didn’t consider that you’d believe the lies.”

  “And I got mad at you for giving up on us so easily. Rivers, I’m sorry—”

  “No. I don’t think we need to keep saying that, Stella. I should have contradicted the rumors.”

  “Yes, I think that’s what I needed. But now? I can see that we were caught up in a vicious circle. I thought I knew everything. We were only twenty. I thought because we pretended to be adults and lived like them, that I was smart enough to see the truth.”

  “I had no clue. I had no clue that trying to help her would destroy you or destroy us.”

  “I know. I know that now. And I’m glad you went to her so we could both process the truth together. We needed that.”

  “I love you so much.”

  Just when I think we’ll be spending hours confessing our sins and mistakes, Stella climbs on top of me. Pressing down on my chest, she hovers over my face. “Hey?”

  “What?”

  A bright smile lights up her face. “I’m so fortunate.”

  “How so?”

  Leaning down, she kisses me once, twice, five times before lifting up enough to reply, “Because you defied our fate and were brave enough to talk to me
that day under the oak tree.”

  “It wasn’t me who defied it. Our love was strong enough to change our fate.”

  Thinking of Naomi and John, I contemplate how little has changed with them. They’re more set in their ways, stuck in the life they chose. I realize how fortunate I am. Back then, we were young and stupid. We both lost five years with each other, but here she is sitting on top of me smiling because we changed our fate and created our own destiny. Together.

  Turbulence wakes me from the sweet dream I was having of my woman—her mouth on me, my mouth on her, fucking, loving, cuddling because damn it she likes to cuddle with me.

  Last night we didn’t just talk about the past, but I made sure she had plenty to remember me by in the immediate future. I gave her every ounce of my all before we fell asleep for the few remaining hours we had together. It was cathartic. And I felt as though a large hole in my heart was finally starting to heal. On the front porch of the house, she gave me a long hello kiss because she still insists we’re not allowed to tell each other goodbye. In return, I gave her the keys to Jet’s house.

  I don’t want her staying on the creeper’s property even if she has locks on the door. I don’t trust that asshole. Not one bit. She was thrilled about the idea, so it’s a win all around.

  Ridge stands as soon as the plane lands. “Go.”

  By the time we walk into the sunshine of California, a red Ferrari honks as it pulls up to the curb. Tulsa Crow and his wife, Nikki, and their newlywed smiles greet us. Tulsa shifts into park and stands on the seat of his convertible. His arms go wide and with Ray-Bans covering his eyes, he yells, “Welcome home, brother.”

  “Fucking hell, Tulsa.”

  Nikki laughs, then asks, “Did you expect less from him?”

  The paparazzi were already on our trail, snapping photos. Even with security by our sides, this scene is too Hollywood for me. I laugh at the “too” addition. Stella’s rubbing off on me, and I like it. “Alert the paps, why don’t you.”

  “Seems you already did, Riv?” Tulsa holds his phone for me to see.

  “What is that?”

  “You tell us.”

  An officer blows his whistle and thumbs for Tulsa to keep moving.

  I drag my suitcase up to the side of the car, but I’m stumped how this is going to work. “Hey, this is a fucking two-seater. How are you planning on fitting us in there?”

  Tulsa drops to his ass and fastens his seat belt. “I’m not.” Signaling to the Range Rover behind us, he adds, “You’re catching a ride with Jet. See you later, fuckers.”

  As he whips into traffic, Ridge and I head for the Rover. A tinted passenger window rolls down, and he says, “Curbside service, but I’m not carrying your suitcase, so throw it in the back and let’s get out of here.”

  “Good to see you too, big brother.”

  I load our carry-ons into the back and settle into the front seat. Jet reaches over and as we shake hands, we bring it in and pat each other’s back. My oldest brother is most like me visually with his dark hair and a small cowlick my mother could never keep down with her spit-hand attempt. Brown eyes and olive skin. Personality wise, I’m more reserved than either of my brothers, but we all have a few traits that define us as brothers.

  “You look good, Rivers. Healthy.”

  Happy.

  Stella.

  We have time to go over that without hitting him over the head with it the second I get in the car, but I feel her with me even though we’re miles apart. “You missing me?”

  He laughs. A little too much.

  Then I remember Tulsa’s phone. “Tulsa flashed a gossip piece.”

  “I was going to let you get in the car before bombarding you with it. Leave it to Tulsa to hit you with it the second you arrive.”

  “What is it?”

  “Guess you went to see Naomi while you were in Austin.”

  Fuck. “Don’t tell me she sold a story?”

  “Rochelle said the piece is hearsay at best, and the photos are weak. Not much details. She said to let it ride. No one will care in two days.”

  “Photos?” Stella. I grab my phone and plug in the site. Fuck! “This looks bad.”

  “Nah, but it sucks she made a few dollars off you.” Jet’s presence carries weight, an authoritative tone that makes you want to hear what he wants to say. So when he speaks, we listen. “Let it roll right off. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “I need to call Stella.” I dial the number and wait three torturous rings and then I’m tortured some more by getting voicemail. “Hey, I landed. Call me when you can.”

  I hang up and turn the phone over in my hand several times.

  “Sucks, but it will be fine, Rivers. Don’t stress. Anyway, we have a lot to go over now that you’re back, but first we eat. You guys hungry? Hannah’s cooked a feast. She knows how we like to eat.”

  Ridge says, “I’m ready for a home-cooked meal. I think I ate enough tacos to fill me up for a year.”

  “Starved,” I reply. Content in where Stella and I left our relationship, I watch the world fly by, feeling lighter than I have in years.

  Guess Jet notices. “Going back to Austin was good for you.”

  “Going back for Stella was even better.” I feel like myself again. No longer . . . incomplete.

  31

  Rivers

  “This is quite the turnabout,” Hannah says when I set a cold glass of water in front of her since hers is empty.

  “It’s water. I was going inside anyway,” I downplay. The truth is, I’d do anything to help her out. She became family well before she exchanged I do’s with Jet last year.

  My oldest brother is the one who sacrificed his own ambitions for ours. If one of us had to go without, he always chose himself. He and Stella are similar that way. What they don’t realize is we’re all in this life together. We can row the boat when they are tired. We can man it when they feel weak. We can step up and let them recover.

  Unless we don’t know. They hold their cards close to their chest until you get close enough to sneak glimpses of the burden they carry. The moment Stella allowed me in, to let me share her pain, she blossomed like a flower seeking the sun for me. And it is a beautiful sight to see.

  Hannah went a different route, bringing a son Jet never knew he had into the picture, into all our lives. Alfie dashed from the table as soon as he was excused to return to playing a video game he’s obsessed with. Jet’s family went from us to six in less than two years. Nikki made seven. And Ridge, former sufferer of cool name envy when he used his birth name of Dave, feels right at home sitting at the large Crow family table. Whether he’s Dave or Ridge, he’s part of the family.

  Hannah laughs but then leans over the side of a little portable baby bed when Violet, their three-month old, stirs. The baby grabs her finger and falls back asleep. Lowering her voice, Hannah says, “I mean you and Stella. Thank you for the water, though, too.”

  “Oh.” I chuckle. My own unburdening in Austin has allowed me to sit back and enjoy being around my family again and not harbor any envy or sadness that I was slowly becoming the odd brother out. I don’t want Stella in my life because of being lonely, though. I want her because she should have been here all along. She should be sitting here now. She’s the half of my being I’ve been missing. It feels good to spend time with these couples, these amazing people, and feel whole.

  I knock the top of my bottle against Ridge’s, and ask, “We didn’t have a chance to talk back in Austin—”

  “Not my fault. You were a bit preoccupied at the time.”

  I can’t deny I was utterly distracted in every minute of every day—happily distracted. “Nice try. What’s up with you and Meadow?”

  Tulsa practically spews his beer, causing Nikki to jump up from the chair next to him. “What the hell?” she asks, making sure she’s clean from the scene. Then Violet garbles, and she says, “Sorry.”

  Hannah smiles, waving her off. “She’s fine. Don’t worr
y.”

  He says, “Man, I haven’t thought about her in a while. How’s she doing?” I’d almost forgotten Tulsa used to have a crush on Meadow. With a constant threat of me kicking his ass hanging over his head, he was wise enough not to go near her . . . At least I think he didn’t.

  When Nikki sits in his lap, he wraps his arm around her without missing a beat. They’re good for each other and uniquely them—full of love for each other and for life. They soak in everything life has to offer and laugh with each other. A lot.

  Being a lead singer of her own band gives Nikki a perspective that not many other people understand. Not only does she understand what we go through to make our music, but she also gets Tulsa like no one else ever has. She has a freer spirit—a cool calmness—about her.

  I once said how incredible it is that Tulsa found his perfect match, and I meant it. He’s never looked better. He’s never been more focused when he’s hitting the drums, and although the Ferrari surprised me at the airport, his rowdier ways seem to be settling down.

  I set my bottle on the table, and say, “She’s good. Right, Ridge?”

  Ridge laughs and hits my upper arm. “You’re an asshole.”

  Jet starts laughing. “Do I want to know what that’s about?”

  Taking a long gulp of avoidance with his beer, he finally just says, “We messed around a little. Nothing serious.”

  A feeling of protection zips through me. “Does she know that?”

  He’s already shaking his head by the time I finish the question. “She’s the one who said it.”

  “Shot down?” Tulsa cringes. “Man, that’s rough.”

  Nikki asks Tulsa, “Did you date her?”

  Tulsa shakes his head. “Nah. She’s like a little sister to me.” Eyeing Ridge, he nods, and adds, “Like a hot little sister.” That earns him an elbow to the ribs.

  “How do you put up with his shit, Nik?” I ask, sitting back in the patio chair, stuffed from the food that still covers the table.