by Witt, L. A.
The weed had worn off. The lingering buzz of my last orgasm had faded, leaving only the dull ache I’d still feel tomorrow.
Rain smacked against the windows and drummed on the roof. The wind had kicked up too. The weather was probably calm in Bluewater Bay tonight, but it was all coming down in Astoria.
For the longest time, I just listened to the falling rain and the whistling wind, and when all of that occasionally died down, the soft sound of Scott breathing beside me.
I did feel somewhat better after talking to him earlier. That, however, unnerved me.
Should we have been having these deep conversations? Should it have been this easy to talk to him? I wanted to believe it was because he was a counselor and was trained to be easy to talk to. He’d gone to school for this, for God’s sake—he got paid to coax difficult topics out of people.
But I’d never once felt like I was talking to a therapist. Most of the time, I all but forgot that’s what he did. He was just . . . Scott. And Scott was easier to talk to than anyone I’d hung around in recent memory. Even more so than Anna.
Two weeks ago, I’d playfully suggested that a bed-and-breakfast was a little on the romantic side for the kind of relationship we had, but now that we were here, it didn’t seem as funny.
We weren’t a couple. We were fuck buddies. Sure, we hung out a lot, and drove around to find random places to eat, but at its core, this thing was friends with benefits. Scott didn’t date guys like me. I didn’t date at all.
But here we were, lying together in a Victorian-style bed-and-breakfast after some amazing sex and some conversations that were way too intimate for a couple of guys who were just in it for some dick. Lying there with sweat on our skin and smoke in our hair was one thing. But moving my hand up and down his arm because I just needed to touch him, and not being able to imagine being here with anyone but him, and not wanting to be anywhere but here . . .
I sighed.
Just what I needed. Something else that could blow up in my face.
Chapter 19
We arrived in Bluewater Bay late on Sunday night. We were both exhausted by then, and Monday morning promised to be brutal, but that didn’t stop us from going one last round in his bed before we collapsed.
I made a bleary-eyed exit around five and hurried home to change clothes, arm up, and head over to Anna’s. I was nearly to her place when she texted me.
At Levi’s.
Must’ve been another rough night with Leigh.
I texted back, Be there shortly.
When I arrived, Anna was clinging to a cup of coffee, and she didn’t say much. Levi looked pretty haggard too—the makeup artists were going to have their work cut out for them to hide those dark circles under his eyes. Though his character was never exactly the picture of rest and health, so maybe he was making the artists’ job easier.
Anna sat back, rubbing her eyes. “What do I do with my car? I drove over here last—”
“What about the bodyguard?” I asked. “The one filling in for me?”
“He came with me and had a friend pick him up after he was off.” She lowered her hands. “But now my car is here, and so is yours.”
Levi set his coffee cup down. “Carter and I can drop your car off before we come to the set.”
Anna exhaled, her tense shoulders relaxing slightly. “You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” He held out his hand. “We might be a few minutes late, though.”
She dropped her keys onto his palm. “I won’t tell the boss if you don’t.”
They both managed to laugh, but neither sounded like they meant it.
“Well.” She pushed her chair back and rose slowly. “I guess we should go. Finn wants to bitch at me about . . .” She paused, then waved her hand. “God, who cares? He’s always bitching about something.”
Levi laughed humorlessly. “It’s what he’s good at it.”
“Yeah. Seriously.” She turned to me. “Ready?”
I nodded. “Whenever you are.”
“Okay.” She hugged Levi and murmured, “Thanks for babysitting me.”
“Don’t mention it.” He held on to her for a second, then let her go. “You know the door’s always open.”
“I appreciate it.”
They exchanged smiles, and then Anna and I headed out. As I drove us down the driveway, she sighed. “So, how was your weekend?”
I glanced at her, eyebrows up. “I’m guessing it was better than yours.”
Anna laughed bitterly. “I would hope so.”
I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel. “Is, um, everything okay? Between you and Leigh?” Damn, that was a stupid question. Of course things weren’t okay, or Anna wouldn’t have crashed at Carter and Levi’s. Again. But hopefully she understood what I really meant. Was this just another fight? Or was this one of those “the Horsemen are on the horizon” fights?
Anna sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on between us, to be honest. I think . . . I think it might be time for, well, some time apart.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” I said quietly.
“Yeah.” She stared out the window. “Me too.”
I tapped my thumbs on the wheel. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Scott and I had brought Astoria’s weather back with us.
* * *
After I’d dropped Anna off that night, I headed home, and Scott texted me to let me know he was on his way. The sky was still as clear as it always was here—stars as far as the eye could see—but I could feel the storm clouds the second he walked into my apartment.
He didn’t look at me. We kissed, but halfheartedly. Cold panic crept up my spine.
What’s wrong? What’s happening? What am I missing?
Testing the water, I said, “It’s, um, a bit late to go out. Do you want to order something?”
“Sure.” His tone was as noncommittal as his expression, and he didn’t look at me even as we sat together on the couch.
I twisted slightly so I was facing him as that chilly panic turned to icy dread. “I’m not as good at getting people to talk as you are, but . . . you seem like you have something on your mind.”
He avoided my eyes and chewed his lip. My gut clenched—that was never a good sign.
“If something’s bothering you,” I said cautiously, “we can talk. God knows we’ve talked about my situation a lot.”
His eyes flicked toward me. Then he mirrored me and draped his arm along the back of the couch. Possibly an attempt to look relaxed, but I wasn’t buying it—not with the tightness between his eyebrows.
“Okay, yeah,” he said after a while. “Something is bothering me.”
“All right.” I watched him, waiting.
“It’s . . .” He stared at the cushion between us for a long moment. Finally, “Have you gotten anywhere with convincing your daughter to try talking to you again?”
My chest tightened. “Not really, no. I told you, she doesn’t want to come see me, and she’s not interested in talking to me.”
“Have you thought any more about getting a—”
“I’m not getting a counselor,” I said through my teeth. “Jackie and I have been there, done that, but . . .” I shook my head. “No disrespect, Scott. I don’t doubt for a second that you’re good at what you do, and that you help people. But my ex-wife and I—”
“Aren’t getting anywhere on your own.”
We locked eyes. His expression was harder than I’d ever seen it.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “We’ve been back less than twenty-four hours, and suddenly I’m supposed to have everything together?”
“It isn’t that. But after Astoria, I keep thinking about it, and . . .” He exhaled. “Look, I can’t tell you how to handle things with your family. But I can’t sit here and watch it, either. So I think . . .” He sat up a little. “I think I need to go.”
Every emotion I’d been bottling up threatened to explode right then and ther
e. I wanted to break down sobbing because I couldn’t handle anyone else washing their hands of me. I wanted to flip the fuck out and curse him up one side and down the other. I didn’t know what I felt, or which of those feelings I could safely let slip past my carefully guarded defenses.
Struggling to stay as stoic as possible, I gritted my teeth. “So, what? You’re done with me because I can’t fix things with my family?”
“It’s . . . it’s not quite that simple. The thing is, I can see the problems, and I’ve tried to gently point them out as much as I can, and point you in the direction of some solutions, but you’ve resisted at every turn. And I was walking a fine line anyway because we’ve talked about your situation a lot, and I can’t be your lover and your counselor.” He rose, sliding his hands into his pockets, and started walking away as if he needed to pace, but he only made it a few steps before he stopped. “The thing is, the counselor in me can’t cope with sitting back and keeping my mouth shut over something like this.”
My heart sped up. I stood too, so we’d be eye level, but he had his back to me. I swallowed. My throat ached with one set of emotions while my chest tightened with another.
Scott spoke first. “The thing is, we went to Astoria to give you a break. But now you’re back.” He finally faced me. “And you’re still avoiding everything.”
“Because I haven’t magically resolved it all the minute we—”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Anger was rapidly gaining an edge over everything else. “I’m not avoiding anything except taking your advice. I don’t need to justify this shit to you or anyone else, but I have. Repeatedly. I’ve explained to you why I’m not taking—”
“Yeah, you have. And to be honest, I think if you really want to fix this thing, you might not have many options left.” He exhaled hard, shaking his head. “It’s like living here in Bluewater Bay because you don’t like the rain. Sooner or later, whether you like it or not, that rain is going to make it over those mountains and land right on top of you. The longer you stay here and let this thing build up without doing something, the more damage you’re going to do to your relationship with your kids.”
“And what can a counselor possibly do that we haven’t already done?” Because at the moment, the only counselor in the room is cutting me right to the fucking bone.
He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe ask questions you haven’t thought of. Or help you and your daughter put things into words.” He put up a hand. “I can’t play counselor and . . . well, this? It’s unethical, and it blurs lines I just can’t blur. But I also can’t stay here and watch your family come apart.”
“Haley isn’t interested in talking to me, Scott. I’ve tried. I’ve tried and I—”
“She’s a kid. Step up and be the fucking adult, even if that means bringing in another adult to mediate.”
“And then what? Force her to have a relationship with me?”
Scott exhaled sharply. “That’s what she thinks you’re trying to do.” He’d barely raised his voice, but for someone as even-keeled as Scott, that slight growl was on par with throwing something across the room. “You really want to fix things? You need to listen to her. Your daughter needs to know she actually has a voice here.”
“She also wants her mother and me to get back together. We can’t—”
“You can listen to her,” he said through clenched teeth. “She isn’t going to dictate what you and your ex-wife do, but she needs to be heard. Even if what she says can’t change anything, she needs to know you care about what she says. And if you and your ex-wife can’t make that conversation happen, then you need to bring in someone who can.”
I groaned. “It always comes back to that with you. That we need a fucking therapist.”
“Maybe it’s time to consider—”
“Look, I’ve tried the therapist route, and it didn’t work. I’m not going back to it.”
His lips pulled tight, and he closed his eyes and took a breath as if he were nearing the end of his rope.
“If that’s a deal-breaker,” I said, keeping my jaw tight so my voice wouldn’t crack, “then just say so. If I have to buy into what you’re selling in order for us to—”
“I’m not selling you anything, Jeremy!” He gestured sharply and swore under his breath—another imaginary object hurled against the wall. “What I’m seeing, though, is you spinning your tires and getting nowhere with your kids. I can’t help professionally because I’m intimate with you, so I—”
“So you’re just going to tell me to hire someone? To appease you?”
He straightened. “I can’t and won’t tell you what to do.” He inhaled slowly. “But I also can’t and won’t watch this thing play out the way it is. I can’t watch you keep hurting yourself instead of reaching out and getting some help.” His Adam’s apple jumped. “All I can do is walk away.”
“So, that’s what you’re doing.”
“What else can I do?”
Quit breaking things. Like me.
I shifted my weight, wondering when a motion like that had required so much work. “Maybe tell me what this is really about?”
His lips pulled tight. “What?”
“We had a great weekend together, and you know damn well I’ve got a lot to sift through.” Not to mention all the things I thought about while you were asleep, and—I cleared my throat. “Now suddenly you’re doing a one-eighty and throwing an ultimatum at me.” I folded my arms tightly. “What’s the real problem?”
He swallowed, but kept his jaw clenched and didn’t break eye contact. “What else would it be about?”
“You tell me.”
With a huff of humorless laughter, he shook his head. “This is ridiculous. Don’t try to make this my fault, and—”
“Then don’t hide behind your hand-wringing over my family,” I snapped. “If you’ve got a problem with me, or with what we’re doing, then fucking say it. But don’t—”
“My problem is that I can’t watch you—”
“Bullshit.” I ground my teeth. “And what the hell difference does it make? You were going to leave eventually anyway because you don’t date cops.”
Scott flinched. Then his eyes narrowed. “You know what? I’m done here. Fuck you, Jeremy.”
Before I could throw anything back, he was gone. Imaginary projectiles shattered against walls, and I jumped a mile when the door banged shut behind him.
I swore into the stillness. Fine. I didn’t mind advice, and I didn’t mind help, but giving me an ultimatum? About how I handled my family?
Fuck you, Scott.
Chapter 20
There must’ve been a full moon or something in the water that night. After tossing and turning for what seemed like days, telling myself over and over and over that I didn’t need some judgmental asshole in my bed, I snagged a few restless hours of sleep. Then I headed over to Anna’s, where it had apparently been a shitty night as well.
Leigh was shoving a box into the backseat of her car when I pulled up. Anna stood on the porch, arms folded, features taut, with even heavier circles under her eyes than usual. Stoic, but exhausted.
As I got out of the car, Leigh glanced at me but said nothing. Anna was quiet too. While Leigh made three more trips into the house and crammed three more boxes into the car, we were all silent.
Without a word or a second look, Leigh dropped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
As Leigh drove away, Anna gestured for me to come inside.
“We’re obviously not going to our appointment,” she said over her shoulder. “Might as well have some coffee and relax for a little while.”
I didn’t argue. And I was grateful as fuck we wouldn’t be going to the counselor’s office.
We went into the kitchen, and the silence didn’t move as she made coffee for both of us. With anyone else, I’d have pressed to make sure she was okay and insisted on making the coffee, but Anna probably needed to keep her hands busy. She n
eeded something to focus on.
After she’d poured us some coffee, I leaned against the kitchen island and she stood by the sink.
“Well.” Anna tightened her jaw and gazed out the window at the empty spot in the driveway. “It’s over.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
She shook her head slowly, as if that took way more energy than it should’ve. “To be honest, I’m not.”
“Really?”
“I think you were right.” She set her untouched coffee cup down and released a heavy breath. “We should’ve called time on this thing ages ago.”
“Even still, it’s hard when you finally get to that point.”
“It is, and it isn’t. I’ll miss her because of the good times, but the bad ones were getting exhausting.” Her eyes flicked toward me, and her lips pulled tight. “I can’t even imagine what you went through.”
“Me?” The words startled me so hard I almost tumbled off my chair. How the hell did she know? I hadn’t told anyone yet. “What . . . what do you mean?”
“I mean, an actual divorce would be so much more complicated.”
Oh right. That breakup.
She sipped her coffee. “The only reason we have to even talk after this is to separate all of our stuff. The house is mine. None of our accounts are joint. It’s just . . .” She waved a hand at the boxes and stacks of dishes on the counter. “It’s just stuff. We don’t even have any pets.” She picked up her coffee and brought it up to her lips. “I can’t imagine going through this with kids involved.”
Ouch.
“Yeah, I guess that’s . . . that’s lucky.”
She sipped her coffee and put it back down again. “Speaking of which, are things getting any better with your kids?”
I stared into my coffee cup. “I don’t think you want to listen to me complain about—”
“I just spent an entire night ripping apart my relationship and screaming at my finally-ex-girlfriend, and you’ll probably end up hearing me bitch and whine about that for a while. I won’t tell your boss if you don’t that there’s a bottle of Bailey’s going into the next pot of coffee.”