by Shey Stahl
“I’d fuck her again, too,” I add, glaring at Roan, who looks like he wants to cheese grate my head right about now. Welcome to brotherhood of the clinically insane. It’s just like love, but for assholes.
Every muscle in my body braces for a brawl. You know, I understand it. Why he’s being this way. Roan’s pain is real. I fucked his girl. And worse than that, took her virginity. Virginity he wanted. Virginity I took carelessly, without regard to her feelings and then told her to get the fuck out. In truth, she knew what she was doing when she asked me to take her to my room.
With Ricky between us, Roan growls out a breath and storms out. I smile and return to the kitchen with a pack of smokes in the other.
Camden returns, too, a game controller in hand. “There’s a chick with a kid at the door looking for you.”
That’s not something you want to hear when you’re twenty-three, is it?
I reach for my sweatshirt on the counter beside me. “Who is it?” I stand there, staring at him, my heart pounding in my ears, searching for an answer.
Camden shrugs, flopping on the couch beside some drunk dude who’s been snoring most of the morning.
Coming around the corner and into the foyer, the massive double doors leading into the house are wide open, and Amberly stands, wearing a sunflower yellow dress, her deep purple hair braided and hanging over her left shoulder.
I glance, though, briefly at the child.
Why is she here?
I drop my hood back; my dark eyes find motionless seas of green. My heart pounds, drowning out nonsense I can’t make sense of anyway. Nervousness crawls at my skin and I want to slam the door in her face. Sure, she knows where I live, and she’s spent her fair share of time here, but she stays clear of this place, always afraid of what it means. She knows what goes on here. “What are you doing here?”
Her face frowns, her disappointment in me greater than her unconditional love she seems to have. Or did. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Pale pink lips push out barely spoken words.
I want her mouth crying my name. I want my cock in her mouth and my cum dripping from her lips. I know, bad, but this is what she fucking does to me. It’s insane and one-tracked.
I hear her words, know what they’re asking, but still, I ask, “Tell you what?” It’s not like Amberly has ever been my girlfriend. In fact, she’s never even gone on a date with me. Not that I’ve ever gone on a date with anyone, nor have I asked, but she’d be the closest to that if I had.
The child holding her hand lets go, finds interest in a lizard on the porch and crouches down.
“Ava,” Amberly whispers, attempting to keep her voice at a volume the girl can’t hear. “Did you sleep with her to hurt me?”
Yes. No. I don’t remember.
“Wait, which sister are we talking about? Which one’s Ava? The one with the stick up her ass, or the one with the dick up her ass?”
Amberly blinks, slowly. Tears form, pool, and release all in the same breath it takes for her to realize I’m purposely being an asshole. I didn’t mean to make her cry, and ordinarily, it takes a hell of a lot more than that to make her cry. “Are you serious right now?”
I lean into the door, crossing my arms over my chest. Her face is delicate, fine cheekbones and sea green eyes that constantly destroy me. A wave of nausea hits me, making me swallow hard. “What is it that you want from me? Is that why you kept calling? Because I fucked your sister?”
Disbelief clouds her eyes and takes the color from her cheeks. “How could you have kept this from me? How could you keep her from me?” She shifts her eyes to the child in a discrete gesture.
“Her?”
“She’s yours.”
I laugh, my eyes lingering on her purple hair that inhabits my dreams and smothers my heart. “Slow your roll.” If I’m being honest, I knew about the kid. Not entirely, but I had an assumption after seeing Ava at the store about a year ago and the girl was with her.
Take a look at the girl. Do you see her, kneeled down petting the lizard that’s strangely still? Don’t tell her, but it’s because he’s dead. Shade stepped on him yesterday, and we didn’t move it because Scarlet was convinced he’d grow a new body like they do tails. Fucker’s dead. He ain’t coming back from that shit.
Look at the girl though. Do you see the eyes, the dark hair. . . the faint dusting of freckles? She’s my kid. Something inside my chest stirs as I watch her. I’m unfamiliar with the emotion. I wouldn’t say I feel anything toward her, or do I?
Amberly’s hands fly to her hips, her face stern and contoured in anger. “I don’t see the humor in it, Tiller.”
“Well then, I don’t know what you want me to say.” I lean, crossing my arms over my chest. “You wouldn’t give it up.” Her eyes are clear, distraught, unseeing what she’s been doing to me over the years. “So I went for the next best thing.” Dropping my shaking hand, I motion to the kid I refuse to look at again. I don’t want that feeling in my chest to return. And then I wait for her to say something, anything.
“What is it that you want from me?”
“You have a daughter. Don’t you want to know her?”
I don’t have an answer. Well, I have one. I’m just not going to give it to her. “Just because you have daddy issues don’t push your shit on me.”
Look at her face. She doesn’t get it. Or does she? Was that a shit move?
Don’t answer. I know what you’re going to say.
“Just because you have daddy issues don’t push your shit on me.” His hushed tone, the faltering of his gaze for the briefest of moments, it’s an indication he doesn’t want to be talking about this with me.
His words, his demeanor, something’s off. I stare at his face, his eyes, trying to decipher if they’re coal-black and soulless, or maybe he’s just being an asshole today. There’s something indescribable drawing me to Tiller. It’s his strong unnerving presence in my life and the ruggedness only he makes look good.
My gaze drifts to River, distracted by a lizard behind me and thankful she didn’t hear him.
I swallow down my nerves and decide to press on. “Did you know about her?” I ask, blinking slowly, wishing I was asking different questions. Ones that would give me the answer I don’t know I’m looking for.
He shakes his head and shrugs, so cool, so detached. “No, I suppose not.” There’s rashness in his expression that wasn’t there before.
Suppose not? Ugh, why is he so vague all the time?
My body shivers being this close to him, hatred bleeding from his soul. Hatred I’ll never fully understand because he won’t let me. His eyes, colored flawlessly like the canyons surrounding us, are smudgy with hints of black, browns, and flecks of blue. Same as River’s. But unlike her, his are expressive and misleading, and draw you in only to hurt you. They capture your soul like a chokehold, and the more you try to come back to life, he sucks you in with the square jaw made of stone and full lips that soften his hardened edges. Running his hand through his hair, his artfully sculpted rich brown locks stand on end. There’s green in his hair now, something he’s added since I saw him two weeks ago.
What else can I say about him other than he’s cagey and bitter at the world. Volatile and angry for reasons no one will ever understand. He won’t let you.
But then again, none of that matters because I only have two words to say to you.
Tiller. Sawyer.
His eyes hold mine like heavy weights. “What do you want me to say to you?” he asks, pressing for a reasoning. His voice is low, almost intimate. The way he looks at me is felonious, ruining me for anyone else because even in hatred, even like this, no one else will look at me like this.
“Why her?” I come back to it, again, always. My jealousy matches his eyes while he screams silently, why not me?
His eyes narrow, his lips curve sensually. My stomach flutters. Then he turns my question around on me to ask, “Why not me?”
I lift my brows. He lifts his too, as if he
’s challenging me. Heat crawls up my neck.
See? I knew that would be his answer. Sometimes I think the only reason Tiller tolerates our friendship, if you can call it that at times, is because he’s hoping to have sex with me.
His hostility knows no bounds. He doesn’t know when to quit. With the words, “Why not me?” my heart beats, wild, uncontrolled, trying to anticipate his reaction. Only you can’t predict him. His tongue is his weapon. He can bring you to your knees with his words.
I swallow down a pain blooming in my chest and blurt out, “Ava and her husband died in a car accident.”
His eyes don’t leave mine, giving nothing away. Seconds pass before he whispers under his breath, “Sorry.”
Scenarios flood through my head, rising and falling until I’m sure nothing he says or does will make this any different. I shouldn’t have come here, not when I hadn’t fully understood the meaning behind him being her father and what it could mean for River. Inadvertently, without meaning to, I could have confused her even more.
I don’t say anything. . . can’t. He’s silent also, unbearably so and staring back at me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to say something else.
You’re so mean!
My head throbs, pulsing like the beats of a heavy hitting drum. I have so much anger I want to take out on him that I want to pound my fists into his chest so he feels my hurt just the same. But I don’t touch him. He doesn’t experience this pain. My gaze drops, losing its battle, wilting under the burn of his eyes. It’s the opposite of what I want. I want to reach over and touch his cheek. I want to curl into his chest and listen to the beat of his angry heart. A place I’ve found comfort more often than not.
My eyes focus on the spark of his lighter and his words come out with smoke. “Why do you have the kid?” I feel the devil’s eyes on me, but I can’t look.
“Ava and her husband left her to me. Asked me to raise her.”
There’s something off about the way his stare falters. But then he snorts and shakes his head. “You’re off to a great start.”
Heat flushes through my body. “What are you talking about?”
He nods to River but turns when the door opens, a messy brown hair, bright green-eyed boy emerging. The same one who answered the door when we arrived. The boy smiles at me, then stands next to Tiller with his arms crossed. “Hey, lady.” He squints up at me, shielding the sun out of his eyes. “Why is that kid petting a dead lizard?”
Twisting around, I spot River about ten feet away on the steps of the porch running her fingers lightly over the lizard. I didn’t know it was dead, but now that I think about it, it hadn’t moved, had it? Shit. Pulling out my hand sanitizer, I rush over to River and wipe down her hands.
“Yucky?” she asks, looking at the wipe and then me.
“Yes, yucky.” Thinking she’s going to get Ebola or something equally as life threatening—or maybe her hands might fall off—I squirt the hand sanitizer I carry in my pocket in the palm of her hand.
“Go away.” Tiller pushes the boy inside, then shakes his head at me, stepping toward us. When he’s standing in front of me, he smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. It’s forced and cold and never directed at River. “Jesus, cool it with the alcohol. You’re gonna get her drunk off that shit.”
I stand, scowling at him and whisper, “Why are you so mean? I can’t believe you’re acting like this.”
“You can’t believe it? Really?” He shakes his head, then takes a drag of his cigarette. “I don’t know what you expected. She’s better off not knowing who I am. Even Ava knew that.”
“She asked me to come see you.”
He breathes out, heavy and annoyed. “That was a stupid idea.”
Heat rushes through my body. He’s right, but then again, it doesn’t make it okay. Reaching for River’s hand, I walk away, because ultimately, that’s what he’d been waiting for since I knocked on his door. It’s when I have River in the car, away from the intensity of his hatred, I think about why I came here and what I thought would happen. I don’t know the answer. I don’t regret it. My life with him, or lack thereof, it intersects far more than either of us can comprehend. He’s impossible for me to regret.
I still love him. I’ll never tell him.
Do you notice the way I can’t leave the driveway after she leaves?
What about the way my body feels like it’s a thousand degrees?
Do you feel the heat from where you are?
Do you think I’m happy about how that went?
If you said no, you’re right. If you said yes, what the fuck? Did you not just witness that bullshit?
I rub my hands down my face, but it doesn’t clear my head. Tightening my jaw, I glare at the car descending down the driveway. Goddamn it. What kind of shit is this? It’s fucking bullshit is what it is.
I think about Amberly long after she’s gone, purple and sea-green hot in my veins and compulsive in my chest.
Scarlet’s in my face the moment I close the door behind me and enter the house. “Who was that?”
I don’t answer. Why should I? Does it matter who it was?
Standing there, acting clueless, I stare at her.
Upset I’m ignoring her, she shoves my shoulder. “Tiller! I’m asking you a question. Who the hell was that woman and the little girl?”
I personally don’t see why she cares. Scarlet thinks everything that goes on in this house is her business. If you ask me, she’s taking this personal assistant shit too far.
Her gaze clings to my face, waiting on my answer. The sounds of splashing water from the waterfall in the foyer ping the air around us, filling the silence. I glare back, because I’m a fuck and don’t care. “Amberly,” I quip, brushing my thumb along my lower lip. She’s officially lost my attention, if she ever had it in the first place. “The girl don’t matter.”
Scarlet’s eyes flash with entertainment. She knows who Amberly is because of Shade and his big fucking mouth. When she doesn’t leave me alone, that’s when I really begin to lose my patience. “Did you get a look at her?” she asks, eyes widening. “She looks exactly like a Sawyer. Please tell me that’s not Shade’s kid.” As soon as she gets the words out, a blush creeps up her neck, settling in her cheeks. “It’s not, right?”
Walking into the kitchen, I want to laugh, or maybe play along because I’m also a fuck like that and the idea of getting Scarlet worried, excites me. But I don’t lie. Usually.
I offer a slow shake of my head, keeping my glare on hers. “It’s not.”
Her guarded expression liquefies into a smile, instantly satisfied. “She’s your kid, isn’t she?”
I know she sees the anger clouding my face. “Sometimes I think you insert yourself into my business because you’re bored with him.” She knows I’m referring to Shade, and it’s far from the truth. I cock my head sideways, arching a brow toward the other side of the house where he’s probably working out. “Mind your own goddamn business.”
Scarlet shoves me again. “You’re a jerk.”
I push past her to the fridge, reaching for a beer. Taking my beer and a bag of chips into the living room, I take a seat on the couch.
“Who was that?” Camden asks, curiously watching my reaction when I sit next to him on the couch. I steal the game controller from his hands.
Not him too. This house has no privacy. Pushing my hand through my hair, I drop my head back against the leather cushion and crack open the beer. I want a joint, a cigarette, something to make this all go away. My anxious heart pounds. “Nobody. What are you doing here? Isn’t it like a Monday? Shouldn’t you be in school or at daycare?”
Camden frowns. “For one, Tiller, it’s summer. And two, it’s Tuesday.”
“I knew that.” I didn’t.
He laughs, taking the controller back. “Sure you did. Now who was the kid? Is she yours?”
What the fuck is with everyone today? They usually never care what I do during the day.
“What do
you think?”
Do you notice the grin? He knows.
Are you surprised I have a kid? I mean, you saw that one coming, didn’t you? Or maybe you didn’t.
I didn’t do it purposely. Ava was just one of the girls in the room that night. I wouldn’t say I was consumed by drugs, but I wasn’t sober, that’s for sure.
That night, after the event at Mammoth, I did cocaine and spent a lot of time hanging out with Amberly who brought her sister Ava. The only one I could stand. I hate her sister Alexandra. But then, and I’m not entirely sure how this happened, I was alone with Ava.
I asked her, “Do you know what you’re doing?” when she reached inside my riding pants to palm my dick. She was on my lap, grinding against me, a half-empty bottle of Fireball in her hand.
She leaned in, whispering, “I know you’re never going to admit it, but you’re in love with my sister, so. . . how about the next best thing?”
I ignored her, for a moment, knowing she was offering herself up as a replacement for the one girl I would never have. I know I pointed out, “You’re married,” because regardless of what most think of me, I do value the bond made between and man and woman.
“I want this. I do.”
I let it go, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did, and we had sex. I didn’t use anything. I remember that much. Do I regret it?
That’s a hard question to answer. I don’t regret doing it, but I’ll admit I wished it would have been Amberly.
Three years later, about four months back, I saw Ava for the first time at a restaurant, in Malibu of all places. She’d been having lunch with some friends and the kid. We exchanged hellos. I noticed she was still wearing a wedding ring and then I took a closer look at the kid.
By the apprehension on Ava’s face, something struck me as odd, and I did the math in my head and knew by looking at her eyes that kid was mine.
We didn’t acknowledge it.
Ava saw the way I watched her, then smiled, brushing the girl’s hair behind her ears. “I’ll see you around.”
I nodded, unable to do anything else. “Okay.”