by A. J. Sand
“Kai, I don’t want to argue with you.” And I’m certainly not going to tell you everything Jeremy said to me. “I’m just asking you not to do anything. Pretend like it’s coming from Dylan.”
“You don’t think Bryson would do the exact same thing in my situation if he knew? You don’t think he would’ve actually killed Jeremy that night? You don’t think if you told him everything he wouldn’t be punching people in the face?” She had no doubt in her mind that Jeremy would’ve gone to the morgue and not the hospital that night.
“Okay, okay, calm down. Hey…did you ever talk to him about me after I left?”
“Uh…E you’ve had a long night…” Kai’s voice had suddenly dropped off into a whisper and that made her stomach clench and careened to her feet. Why was everyone always whispering around her?
“Tell me.”
“Not really. Even when I was absolutely certain about what had happened, I couldn’t imagine talking to him about something like that happening to his girl. Plus, you had asked me not to…and, well, Bryson wasn’t really in a position to talk, E. He wasn’t really in a position to do anything. Right after the last time I went to see you in Pennsylvania, I saw him and he was doing better, but he was mostly keeping to himself. He looked like shit, though. I’d never seen him like that.” Just how far into the pits of despair had her absence taken Bryson? I couldn’t get off the floor. She forced the memory of his words back to wherever her mind had cruelly stored them.
“Thanks for telling me.” It was the flaw of human nature to ask questions with answers you already knew and those you didn’t want to hear voiced but couldn’t quite escape the compulsion. “Well, here’s Abe again. And don’t come, Kai. I’m serious.” The sound of his continued argument shot through the phone as she handed it over.
“Ah! Fuck! Can you please not do that? I already told you where it hurts,” Abel said to the nurse before turning his attention back to the phone. A few passing nurses condemned his language with their whispers and exchanged looks as they stopped to peer into the room.
“Well, no need to ask where my brother is,” she heard Wes say, and Erica raced out to the hallway to greet him, but she stopped just outside the door, her stomach clenching at the sight. Wes was strolling toward her with…Bryson and Stazia in tow. Seriously? They were here together?
“Congrats on your big night!” Wes hugged her tight then dipped her backward, smashing sloppy kisses on her cheeks. “I don’t think Bryson likes it much that we’re pretty much making out right now.” Still tilting her back, he lifted his head. “Nope. He hates it.” Once he swung her up, he whispered, “That fucker say anything to you?”
“Jeremy? Yeah but, Wes, this is getting out of—”
“Look, I won’t kick his ass for you. I’ll make it about Abel. I’m the only person who gets to put my goddamn brother in the hospital.” Wes strolled into the room, and Stazia, with a pleasant smile at Erica, trailed him on her platform heels while yanking her teeny dress down. She really did look young, and her doe eyes were digging into Wes’ back. Erica watched them go with a sigh of relief before she turned to Bryson. He was wearing his glasses, khakis and a polo shirt with a light jacket over it, and seeing him suddenly dimmed every bad thing that had happened earlier. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been able to come; he was there now.
He grinned before dropping a kiss to her forehead, and his arms folded around her, lifting her off the ground. The feel of his lips at the curve of her neck brought even more comfort. Just once, it would’ve been nice to see each other under normal circumstances.
Bryson nuzzled her ear, his lips grazing the lobe. “Hi. I didn’t miss your big night on purpose.”
She hugged him tighter. “Hi. I know.”
When he put her down, his smile faded while he studied her, anger building rapidly in his eyes as his brow creased. “Is that your blood? Did they…?”
There were dark ruddy streaks all over the front of her tunic from wiping her hands off after trying to keep Abel comfortable while he was in the parking lot. “No. It’s all his. I’m fine. He is, too. No internal bleeding.” He, however, was ranting to Wes and Stazia about the damage to his bike.
“Wes said Abel told him you were about to throw down with the guys who attacked him.” He put up his fists like they were about to spar. “Why am I not surprised?” he said, laughing. She wondered how Wes had explained the reason behind the fight to him.
“I could’ve taken them!” she joked, lifting her fists, but there was nothing funny about seeing those guys hurting Abel like that. She was certain that it was payback for the altercation in the hallway. Erica squeezed out a trembling smile. “How’s your dad?”
Bryson shrugged and sighed. “Jeff is Jeff. The way he’s yelling at everyone about why he can’t leave, it makes me think it’s really his head that needs examining. Give me a sec to speak to Abel, and I’ll take you to go see him, okay?”
“Okay.” The word sort of sputtered out before her brain processed the result of her speaking it. Erica was nearly in a panic when he went into the room. She was covered in blood and dirt, and it was way too ominous for greeting her ex-future in-laws. Bryson was only in the room a few minutes, so there was no time to make herself at least adjacent to presentable. “Isn’t it past visiting hours?”
“Yup, but the nurses know from before that I was bringing him some stuff he wanted. If I don’t, he’ll be a pain in the ass all night, so it’s a win-win.”
“Is your mom here?”
“No…and stop worrying.” He led her through hallways until they found the right elevator. Once inside, Bryson rocked his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, jaw clenching, as the elevator rolled up to their destination. In a move akin to instinct, her hand was on the back of his neck, and he tensed for a second, but relaxed as she worked the muscles. It had always helped before. “Thanks. I’ve missed that.”
“How’s your hand?”
“A reminder of my embarrassment.” With his eyes still closed, he pressed out a nearly flat smile. “Stitched and doing better.”
It was probably not the best idea to dwell on that night. “So, were Wes and Stazia on a date or something? Because Wes doesn’t date. And were you chaperoning?”
Bryson snorted. “She has a crush and she’s been bugging me for weeks to get his number. I think she tracked him down herself. I’ve been here for hours. I ran into them in the lobby. I guess it was after one of you called him. He told me what happened, and it was the first time today I realized I had no freaking clue where my cell was. Still don’t. Today after Mom called, I just…” He opened his eyes finally, and his pensive gaze seemed to extend beyond the closed doors.
“It’s Jeff. He’ll be okay, Bryce. What does he always say?”
“Strong as an ox’s balls,” Bryson said, imitating his dad’s gruff tone. “I’m not sure why he’s so familiar with bull scrotum, though…” They both laughed, and it was genuine laughter between them, finally.
But his expression fell pretty quickly. “Really sucked hearing my mom cry today, though… Aunt Kirsten flew in from San Francisco to be with her. She sent the staff home and started cleaning up herself. I think she needs to keep busy. First time ever she brought up the ‘w’ word. Widow.”
“Oh no…”
“She’s just scared…” Uncertainty flashed in Bryson’s eyes even as his shoulders rose in an attempt at courage. He was, too.
“I should probably call her, but…”
Bryson pivoted and cradled her face then spoke with resolve. “No ‘buts.’ She’d like that, E. She told me she was glad to hear your voice on her birthday.”
Erica nodded and smiled with relief. “Okay, I’ll call.” And she meant that.
“God, Erica, if we had lost him today…”
“But you didn’t, okay? Let’s just be thankful for that.” When they reached the floor and passed the nurses station, she halted their steps on the way to his dad’s room. “Bryce, I look like
crap. I don’t want your dad to see me like this.” Shallow, yes, considering his dad was recovering from a heart attack, but she cared about what he thought of her, especially now.
Bryson placed his hands on her waist and awakened a flutter in her stomach. The way he stared at her, stripped her completely bare of every thought. Bryson leaned down, and his scent, the one beneath the cologne and aftershave, the one that came naturally, lit her body with a shiver. Her lips parted, searing from the nearness of his. Just the thought of them skating over her collarbone coupled with the flick of his tongue altered her breathing pattern and tickled a spot down in her loins. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, Erica Anne.”
A smile eased on her lips when his mouth touched her cheek. She was still smiling when he stepped back so that he would know she appreciated it. That she appreciated him. “Even covered in blood? Well, it’s good to know I’d be the hottest girl during the zombie apocalypse.”
“You’d be the hottest girl anywhere.” He chuckled but it ended on a hint of a smile. “I have messed up every time I’ve seen you. Except tonight. That smile is the one thing I’ve done right.” He shrugged out of his jacket and held it up for her to put her arms through.
“Thanks, but…” Erica turned around and slipped into it. “…I’ve screwed up, too. And right now, we’re just…we don’t know how to handle being apart and around each other at the same time.” Or the awful way and reason we are apart. She spun back to face him and caught the assent in his eyes.
“And all I want to do is be around you.” He kissed her forehead. “I miss you so much, Erica Anne.”
“I miss you, too.” The moment with Bryson had relaxed her, but the jitters were threatening the edges of her composure when they walked into Jeff’s room. Upright in bed, he was thumbing through Variety and grunting expletives under his breath. His eyes volleyed up to the television screen. Seeing him, his salt-and-pepper gray hair, glasses hugging his nose near the tip, and growing potbelly, brought back a lot of great memories for her.
“Hey, Pop. Still hanging in there?” Bryson said as he sat at the edge of the bed and pulled some things out of the bag he’d brought. “iPad only. Mom said, ‘No laptop.’ But I did bring your harmonica to annoy the nurses.” Erica was still hovering near the entrance, begging her legs not to fail her when she opted to move closer. Her heart was hammering violently. She pulled the jacket around her tighter to shield her tunic.
“Tell her I said, ‘Yes, boss.’” Jeff made a face at the television and then turned a kind smile to Erica. “You ever watch this crap? Why do women these days want to be courted on TV? And why do they cry so goddamn much?” He smiled wider. “How are you, kiddo? And would you quit acting like you need an invitation to come in the rest of the way?”
Erica took a breath and approached the bed. “Hi, Jeff,” she said, planting a trembling kiss on his cheek as he wrapped his arm around her. She didn’t expect him to be cruel to her for leaving his son, but it was a fact impossible to ignore with both of them there. “I’m glad you’re okay. Still spending too much time at Roscoe’s?”
“Yeah. Now I go alone, though.” Jeff said, winking at her.
Bryson crossed his arms over his chest and swung a confused look between them. “Wait, a sec. You’re the one who was taking my dad to eat fried chicken and waffles?” But he was amused not angry.
“She pleads the fuckin’ fifth, Bryce. Say it was her, I still knew where I was going. I’d go get some now if they’d let me out of this goddamn place,” Jeff said, nodding at Erica. It was true, she and Jeff would meet at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles once a month to eat and talk. She liked hanging out with her then future father-in-law, and he had also become a mentor to her. Now, especially as she embarked on her business venture, it would’ve been nice to have some of his advice in her ear.
“Dad, come on, you can’t eat that stuff anymore. And how come you don’t take a walk with Mom around the block some nights? She’s pretty cute when she’s swinging those pink five pound weights. You know she’d prefer you with her to exercising with the ladies in her book club.” Bryson patted his dad’s leg, his mouth sliding up on one side. “Okay, Pop? Mom says she hired a new chef who makes really great baked chicken and is willing to put a meal plan together for you.”
“A meal plan? Like tell me what to eat?” Jeff glared at him over the top edge of his glasses, and shook Bryson’s hand off his leg. “You know what? You nag like your mother, but she’s the only one I married, so only she gets to do that.” He turned to look at Erica when she giggled quietly; she loved their father-son relationship. “See what they do to me, kiddo? They want to deprive an old man of the good things in life.” He switched his iPad on and quickly started moving through the screens.
“It’s because we want you to have a life, Jeff, and lots of it.” Erica squeezed his shoulder.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He scrunched his brow without looking up. “You, too?”
“Dad, I’m serious about what I said earlier. I can postpone New Orleans—”
“If you do that, you’re dead to me,” Jeff said, with the kind of deadpan humor that always cracked her up. Bryson shot a playful glare at her when she snorted, which only made her laugh harder.
“Dad!” Bryson said, attempting to sound hurt, but he was unable to maintain his feigned distraught expression, especially when she was laughing, too.
“Go on your trip, son. You need the break, if you even know how to take one. Unless you’re just using my heart attack as an excuse for the real reason you want to stay in town.” Finally, Jeff’s gaze swept over her. Holy shit. When Erica made the connection she went completely red in the face…as did Bryson. They exchanged awkward smiles. Would Bryson really skip out on this trip, whatever it was for, because they were talking to each other again? She didn’t want him to not go, if it was important, but she couldn’t help feeling hopeful about him staying for her, either.
Bryson snatched his gaze back to his dad. “Uh…um...uh…I’m only going if you’re really okay, Pop.”
“I’m really okay,” Jeff said in a flat tone. “Happy? I need to answer some emails, and I’m pretty sure kiddo wants to go home.” He angled his head and she leaned down to kiss him. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m glad I could see you.” Erica’s arms tightened around him and she pressed the tears welling in her eyes into his shoulder. If they had gotten married, she probably would’ve been able to hug him whenever she wanted, like before. “Get better. I don’t want to come back here, Jeff.” She walked briskly past Bryson and went into the bathroom to dry her eyes under the pretense of allowing him time to speak to his father alone. A glimpse of her disheveled appearance tucked under Bryson’s enormous jacket made her laugh, though. She loved this one on him, and the scent of him that it carried seemed to wrap snugly around her, so it didn’t matter that the jacket didn’t fit.
Bryson was leaning against the wall just outside the restrooms, a contemplative stare angled at the ceiling, but he grinned when he saw her.
“You wore this on our first date,” she said as she walked to stand next to him.
“What? Oh yeah, I did, but…” He trailed off as his face slipped into a confused expression. “…You just thought about it?”
“You mentioned what I wore…that night at my place…”
“The blue dress, of course. Man, I remember I was waiting outside of the restaurant and I saw you park. I couldn’t believe you actually showed up. My heart was racing. You walked around to the passenger side, stuck your head in to reach for something, change for the meter I think, and I prayed for a random gust of wind to blow up that dress.” A chuckle followed.
“That’s not what you’re supposed to pray for!” She nudged his arm with her head but let it stay resting against him. “That’s so funny!”
His shoulder jerked when he snickered. “I know! So then I had to pray to rectify that prayer. I spent the whole night praying because of my dirty praye
rs. Interestingly enough, it worked out, though, because I got to see your panties anyway later.”
Erica giggled into her palm, and his head slide down to hers. “I bet you remember the color of those.”
“Of course. Black cotton boy shorts. Blindfolded, I could pick them out in a lineup. But you know what else I remember? You were biting your lip when you were walking over, but then your eyes lit up and you stopped. You just…just…I can’t even explain what it was, but I knew I wanted to see that look on your face for the rest of my life. And I always used to wonder what changed in that moment for you.”
“Um, well, I guess… it was because I saw you…” Now it was coming back to her. He was leaning against the outside of some little café that later they had only ended up going to sparingly during their relationship. He was in dark jeans, a gingham oxford, unbuttoned at the top…and that jacket. God, he had looked so sexy that night, but she wanted to be realistic. Just a pretty boy, all style and no substance. I was so wrong. “And yeah…I was thinking about your underwear, too.”
“I knew it! I wore Hugo Boss for you that night.”
“You always wear Hugo Boss, Bryce.”
“I know, but that night I did with purpose.” Bryson chuckled and then sighed. “Tonight has been the first time all day that I’ve really been able to laugh a little. And I’m really glad Pop got to see you. I’m glad you’re here with me, Erica.”
“Me too.” When they both got silent, it was the first time in a long time that it didn’t feel weird. The back of his hand was brushing against hers, and Erica did her best to ignore her desire to hold it. There was something about taking the hand of someone else, and something about the way the very act made her heart seize whenever she held his. Maybe because it was the simplest way to connect two bodies, and a small gesture that told the person next to you that they weren’t alone.
She didn’t want to be alone.
“I wish I could have seen you in action tonight at Luz, E,” he said, lifting his head.