by Emery Rose
I shrugged. “No reason.” I had another question, one I’d been dodging for over a year, my guilt and shame preventing me from asking. But I thought about it all the time, and tonight seemed as good as any to get it all out there. “Do you ever think about that guy you shot?”
He was silent for a few seconds, squinting at something in the distance like he did before he answered tough questions. “Yeah, I do. My shrink loves me. I’ve got more baggage than the cargo container on a jumbo jet.”
I burst out laughing and he laughed with me. I didn’t know why but it was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard. My humor faded when I thought about the baggage he carried, and the part I’d played in adding to his load. “I’m sorry,” I said, hoping he knew I meant it. Sometimes words were so damn inadequate.
“Yeah. I know.” He stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “You need me to stay on the couch tonight?”
“It’s late. Go home. I don’t need a babysitter.
Tate handed me a mug of coffee and I added milk, but the color didn’t change.
“You brewing tar in that pot?” I asked, glancing at the pot on the burner in his garage. It was seven-thirty in the morning and I was operating on no sleep. After Killian left, I’d gone to bed and stared at the ceiling with too many thoughts racing through my head. Until finally, I’d hauled my ass into the shower. Then I stopped by to confess my sins to my sobriety companion.
“It’ll put hair on your chest,” he said.
I took a sip, confirming that it probably would. If it didn’t eat a hole through my stomach lining first. But I needed the high-octane caffeine today, so I drank it. A jackhammer was working on my head and every muscle in my body ached.
“You need some aspirin for that headache?” Tate asked, eying my aviators, still firmly in place even though I was inside his dimly lit garage.
I shook my head.
“Don’t be a stubborn fool. Take the goddamn pills.” He shook two out of the bottle and I popped them into my mouth and washed them down with liquid tar.
We wandered out to the bay and I stopped in front of the ’69 Mustang Shelby convertible that Tate’s been working on for months. “Sweet ride,” I said, running my hand over the custom cherry-black paint job.
“Yeah. I was gonna sell her, but I haven’t found the right buyer.”
“You love her, and you can’t let her go.”
“I guess you’d know something about that.” He shook his head, looking at my face. Not so pretty in the light of day.
I worked my jaw. “My battle wounds.”
“Hurt?”
“Nah. I’ve had worse.” I followed him outside and leaned against the wall I’d painted a few months ago—a titan carrying the world on his shoulders with the name of Tate’s garage Atlas Motors. I puffed away on my electronic cigarette, the vapor disappearing almost as soon as it hit the air, and watched the traffic go by.
“You should try meditating,” Tate said.
I scoffed. “Meditating? Don’t tell me you’ve taken up yoga, too. Next you’ll be telling me you booked us a spa weekend.”
“Says the guy sucking on a pen.”
I took another unsatisfying drag of my fake cigarette and waited for a rush that never came. But still, I persevered. The definition of stupidity.
“Ava’s text stopped me from drinking that whiskey last night,” I said.
“You made the decision for yourself. Own it. And next time you get a craving, call me.”
“Will you talk me through some phone meditation?”
He snorted. We continued watching the traffic while I vaped and drank my strong coffee. I tipped my head back to catch the early morning sun on my face and tried to convince myself that everything would be okay.
18
Ava
My dad was going to be okay. That was the main thing.
“Stop fussing over me,” he grumbled as my mom hovered. She wouldn’t let him move a muscle and lying around on the sofa, being waited on hand and foot, was not his idea of a good time. He was desperate to get out of the house, back to work and back to a normal life. If it was up to my mom, he’d be retired by now. She kept leaving stacks of glossy travel brochures on the coffee table, within easy reach, but he barely glanced at them.
Tuesday morning, and I couldn’t get out of this house fast enough. I hadn’t intended to stay so long, but my mom had guilted me into it. “Your father could have died. The least you can do is spend quality time with him.”
Quality time had consisted of my dad reading the newspaper and watching TV while I updated the bar’s social media, texted back and forth with Eden, the guys at work, and Connor. When my mom hadn’t been hovering around my dad, she’d taken me aside for plenty of heart-to-hearts about Connor. Lana, as usual, had sided with my mom.
“Dad just had a heart attack,” I told my mom. “Can you drop this, already? What I do with my life is my business. Who I choose to spend my time with is my choice.”
My mom pursed her lips. “That boy will only break your heart again, Ava. Mark my words. But if that’s what you want, then be my guest.” She jutted out her chin. “Go ahead and choose him. See where that gets you.”
I checked my phone as a text came through from Connor.
CONNOR: I’m here
I didn’t need to ask where ‘here’ was. We’d met on the same street corner all through high school. How sad that we were twenty-four and still sneaking around. I jumped up from the faded floral chair in the living room and shouldered by purse, texting a reply as I crossed the room to the sofa.
AVA: Be right out
I hugged my dad goodbye. “Love you, Dad. You’ll be up and around in no time.”
“Not if your mother has anything to say about it,” he grumbled.
I patted him on the shoulder in commiseration. Sometimes I wished he’d fight back, instead of going along to keep the peace. My dad hated confrontation, of any kind, and avoided it whenever possible. Maybe holding all that frustration and bottled feelings inside was what had caused his heart attack. “Love you too,” he said gruffly, safely hidden behind his newspaper.
I found my mom and Lana at the kitchen table. Lana was in front of her laptop. She had a sales and marketing job she’d never bothered to explain, but apparently, she had flexible hours and worked from home a lot. Why was she wearing a silk blouse, skinny jeans, and stilettos to sit around in our kitchen?
“Bye Mom. Lana.”
Lana didn’t even lift her head from the laptop. My mom stood and hugged me, her arms squeezing me tight. She smelled like Coco Chanel, the perfume she’d been wearing for as long as I could remember. When she released me, I set Lana’s folded cashmere sweater on the table. It had been an oversight to turn up at the hospital in a tank top and jacket without any clothes to change into. When my mom had seen my new tattoo, I thought we’d have to rush her to the hospital for a heart attack.
“Do you need a ride to the subway?” Lana asked, surprising me.
“No. I’m good. But thanks.”
She nodded and ducked behind her laptop again, her fingers clicking on the keyboard.
“We’ll see you for Thanksgiving,” my mom said.
Ugh. Thanksgiving. Too soon for another visit with my family. I shouldn’t be so ungracious. My dad had a heart attack, for God’s sake. A reminder that my parents wouldn’t be here forever. I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “Yep.”
I exited my house and gulped in the cool, damp air as I walked to the corner. As I got closer, I slowed my steps, taking in the bruises on Connor’s face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I asked, confused.
“What did Jake Masters do to you?”
I averted my gaze. “I told you all about it.”
He took my hands in his and tugged me closer, looking into my eyes. I stared at the bruises on his face. “Connor…”
“Baby. Tell me what happe
ned.”
“Did you get in a fight? Did Jake—”
Connor pressed his finger against my lips. “Tell me what he did.”
“We need to go. I have tons to do at work…”
His hands gripped my hips. My feet were off the ground and somehow, I was straddling the bike, facing him. “What are you doing?” I tried to get off the bike, but his hold on my hips tightened, keeping me in place, his eyes never leaving my face.
I fixated on a spot over his shoulder. His hand cupped my chin and he tipped my face up, forcing me to look at him. “What did he do?”
“I’m okay, Connor,” I whispered. “I put it behind me.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
I swallowed. “No.”
“Did you think it was your fault? Did you believe you did something to deserve that?”
I looked into his eyes. “Did you? Is that what you believed, growing up?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“It’s kind of the same though, isn’t it? You never did anything to deserve that treatment. It’s so much easier to believe the bad things people say than the good things. He called me a slut. And everyone believed it.”
“I didn’t. Killian didn’t.”
“I know. Because you guys… you understood how bullies operate. Better than anyone. Remember Holly?” He nodded. “We’d been friends since grade school. We used to play Barbies together, have sleepovers, share popcorn and a tray of brownies…” They all sounded like such stupid, inconsequential things but in grade school and junior high, those things had been important. “But when we got to high school and Jake started paying attention to me, everything changed. Holly and my other friends shut me out. They believed the rumors… and they talked about me behind my back. They said I’d always acted like I was better than them…” I stopped and took a deep breath, surprised that even after all these years, their words still had the power to hurt. “And I never tried to defend myself. If they wanted to believe the worst, then they weren’t really my friends. It hurt, and I felt so alone. Until you. You were the only friend I needed. You were there for me… always.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, his hand stroking my hair. “Baby… tell me.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Tell me.”
I’d been holding it inside for so long. Now, when I envisioned it, I felt like it had happened to someone else, not me. “He dragged me around to the back of the school by the dumpsters. And he… pushed me on my knees and unzipped his jeans and…” I swallowed hard, watching it all play out like a movie. Connor’s arms around me tightened and I pressed my cheek against his chest, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of leather and spice. I felt safe in his arms, like the bad stuff couldn’t catch up to me if he was holding me close. “He grabbed the back of my head and guided himself into my mouth. I tried to sink my teeth into him… he smacked me across the face and yanked my head up by the hair.” I could still feel the tears stinging my eyes, the gravel digging into my knees as I knelt in front of him. “He said if I tried that again, he’d punch me hard. I didn’t know what I was doing… he kept pushing my head down and it was gagging me. When he came inside my mouth, I got to my feet and spit it in his face. I tried to run, but he grabbed me and said I needed to be taught a lesson. He tossed me in the dumpster and Killian… that’s when he turned up.”
Connor didn’t say anything. He just kept me wrapped in his arms, stroking my hair.
“It’s okay. It was a long time—”
“It’s not okay,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “You were fourteen. Nothing about that is okay.”
I knew that. I was trying to console him. “What made it okay was you. Being with you… the sex and everything… I felt like I was taking back some of my power. Because I was doing something I wanted to do, and you would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to. And all those times…when I was daring, and we did it in all kinds of crazy places, I felt empowered. It was like a big fuck you to Jake Masters, which probably sounds stupid but… I didn’t feel like a victim anymore.”
Someone cleared their throat. I pulled away from Connor and looked over at Lana. She held out the pearl grey cashmere sweater. “I thought you might need it. It’s chilly.”
I climbed off the bike and faced her, wondering how long she’d been standing there and how much she’d heard. “But it’s yours.”
She forced it into my hand. “Keep it. It looks good on you. It matches your eyes.”
“Do you think a sweater will make up for what you did to Ava?” Connor asked, his voice low and angry.
“Connor… just let it go.”
“You’re her older sister,” he said. “It was your responsibility to protect her and stand up for her. Instead, you stabbed her in the back and you’ve been doing it for years.”
Lana narrowed her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. “And what have you done for her? Besides mess up her life?”
“He was there for me—”
“Seriously, Ava? How was he there for you? How many times did you get in trouble because of him? The only thing he ever brought into your life was trouble. You should have stayed with Zeke. The whole family loved him.” She turned on her heel and walked away. I was tempted to toss her sweater on the sidewalk and stomp on it, but I tied it around my waist, buying time before I faced Connor. Lana had always been vindictive, and it seemed that time hadn’t changed her.
“Zeke met your family,” Connor said, his voice flat.
I turned to face him but couldn’t quite look him in the eye. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking at me anyway. He was staring down the street, his jaw working to contain his emotions. “Yeah, it was… my dad’s birthday lunch. I just… I shouldn’t have brought him.”
He handed me my helmet and put on his own.
“Connor…”
The Harley rumbled to life and he revved the engine. “Get on the bike. I need to get to work.”
I climbed off the back of the bike and took off my helmet. Connor looked straight ahead, his jaw clenched, and I suspected it had been that way for the whole ride. When I’d wrapped my arms around him, hanging on tight as he drove too fast from Bay Ridge to Williamsburg, I’d felt the rigid tension in his body. I looked down the street at the waterfront, trying to find the words. “How about a Chinese takeout and movie night? You can come over after—”
“Ava. Connor. What’s up?” Zeke stopped next to me and glanced from me to Connor. Inwardly, I groaned. Talk about shitty timing. “Whoa, dude. What happened to your face?”
Connor locked his jaw and remained mute, his gaze focused straight ahead.
“Hey, Zeke. Give us a minute. I’ll see you inside.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
I watched him walk away and waited until he was inside the bar before I returned my attention to Connor. “Don’t listen to Lana. I don’t care what my family thinks.”
“But I do. I’ll always be the guy who fucked up your life.”
“Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me. Take me back to a better place.”
“Life doesn’t work that way, remember?”
He removed his helmet and I leaned in and wrapped my arms around his neck. “It’s only ever been you, Connor.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, his hands cradling my face. I pulled back to look at his face. After what I’d just told him, I hadn’t expected him to look sad. “Did you hear what I said?”
He gave me a little nod and opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. I searched his face. The yellowish-green bruises reminded me of how his face had been battered a year ago. And his eyes… there was no light in them. I took a few steps back, realization dawning on me. “Where did you see Jake?”
“The Candy Store.”
The Candy Store? What the hell had he been doing there? At a club he used to frequent… a club I knew damn well Danny Vargas hung ou
t at. All my self-preservation instincts kicked into overdrive. “Why were you there?” I watched his face, waiting to catch him in a lie.
He let out a breath and carved his hand through his hair. “I didn’t score. I ordered a drink, but I left it on the bar.” Connor held my gaze and I saw that he was telling the truth. When he used to lie to me, he could never look me in the eye. For someone who used to lie often, he’d never been very good at it.
He pulled on his helmet and the Harley rumbled to life. “See you tonight.”
19
Connor
Ava’s living room glowed pink from the Good Vibes neon sign above her gray sofa. We were eating Chinese food with chopsticks, passing the containers back and forth, not bothering with plates and watching The Avengers, although for me it was just background noise.
Listening to her story this morning, about what Jake had done to her had made me nauseous. Furious. Hurt. Angry. Sad. I couldn’t help wondering why she’d never trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I would have understood her so much better if she had. I’d tried to be there for her, but at fourteen, what the hell did I know about girls and the way they operated? Not a damn thing. I just remember thinking that she was fragile and that I needed to tread lightly. I’d always wanted to protect her, to show her that not every guy was a scumbag like Jake, but I hadn’t known the half of it.
“Are you done?” I asked, jerking my chin at the food containers.
She nodded and stood up from the sofa, reaching for the containers. “I’ve got it,” I said. Ava sat down and tucked her legs underneath her. I cleared the containers and dumped the empties in the trash, stowing the leftover Lo Mein in the fridge. Fucking Jake Masters. I slammed the fridge door shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, taking deep breaths to try and calm the fuck down. It didn’t work. I kicked the cupboard below her sink. Once. Twice. Three times for good measure.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How could anyone do that shit to a fourteen-year-old girl?