Ask Me Why

by Rae, Harloe

  I hike up a shoulder. “Oh, yeah? You stink like grief and sorrow.”

  Her face crumples, and I almost regret my words. But she’s more prepared this time around.

  “You’re rotten to the core. I have no idea how you managed to conceive such a sweet child.” Her voice is dripping with venom, and I hope she bites. My muscles flex and I can barely hold off. From what, I’m not certain. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, my eyes greedily tracking the movements. I need to get the fuck out of here before actual damage is done.

  “Ollie,” I bellow. “We’re leaving.”

  “About damn time,” Braelyn mumbles.

  I point at her. “If it wasn’t for him, you’d never see me again.”

  “If only I could be so lucky.” She spits the words.

  I spin on my heel and stomp away from her fortress. I’ll gladly wait for Ollie outside.

  Her giggle grates across my frying nerves. “I hope your big head fits through the door.”

  I give her the finger without a backwards glance.

  Braelyn

  Sob

  An eerie chill creeps up my spine when the wind howls. A misty fog blocks the path and impairs my sight, but I know the way. The sound of twigs snapping close by sends me into a tailspin. When I whip around, nothing is there. Damn, I’m losing my shit. I comb through my hair and take a deep breath. As if cemeteries aren’t spooky enough on their own.

  I hustle down the precisely measured row. Desperation is chasing me, the need to erase this distance gaining urgency. Thankfully the plot is easy to find. The familiar carved letters calm my erratic pulse. This is all that remains. Moisture immediately clouds my vision.

  Devon’s tall headstone is stark against the dusk backdrop. I make quick work of clearing away the leaves and weeds covering the surface. It’s been several months since I’ve dug up the strength to visit. Guilt sinks into my bones, and I collapse in the dewy grass.

  My back thumps against the unforgiving stone. I wrap an arm around my knees, seeking comfort in the empty embrace. The cold seeps in. I welcome the numbness. That puts us on even ground. I take a cautious look around me. The graveyard appears abandoned, without a soul in sight. At least from what I can see through the haze. A ball of lava clogs my throat. I rub at the lump, but it only grows. Dammit.

  “Hey, Dev,” I begin. “Sorry I haven’t been by lately.”

  A flash of lightning streaks through the clouds. Well, that’s fitting. Might as well add possible electrocution to my list.

  “It doesn’t get any easier to visit. Maybe it’s even harder. Ripping at my stitches, you know? But I’ll never stop, not entirely. I couldn’t do that to you.”

  I rake my fingers through the overgrown sod covering his grave. The lush turf is flat and settled, deep roots growing stronger with each passing day. Devon has been buried long enough that there’s no evidence everything was once torn apart.

  “It’s been almost three years. Crazy, huh? I’m losing faith that things will return to some semblance of normalcy. Doctor Thair said I don’t need regular sessions anymore. She recommends maintenance appointments for when I’m feeling down. Not bad, right? Almost like I’m cured. Maybe the anniversary of your death has me sinking lower than usual.” My laugh is brittle. “But I’ll never be that carefree girl again. How could I, Dev?”

  My questions are rhetorical, completely one-sided, but this makes me believe we’re actually having a conversation. I prefer thinking of it that way, rather than me sitting here rambling to myself. I feel a bit better thinking that Devon is listening.

  “Sadie is doing well. She’s been so supportive. I feel guilty for how much she’s still helping me. Not sure how I’d manage the challenges without her. That makes me sound pathetic. Or maybe everything does. Not like it matters. But guess what? I’m still chugging along.”

  I avert my gaze, ignoring the smoky doom I imagine swirling nearby. “Ready for the random story?” I smile in spite of the thistles prickling me. “So, I had a dream last night. It wasn’t horrible. I mean, there wasn’t any screaming or blood or death. But maybe this was worse. I was sleeping in this massive bed. It was so freaking soft, like a cloud. Remember those commercials? It was definitely memory foam. You should’ve let me buy one. The softness was so legit.” I knock on my forehead, erasing the nonsense. “Anyway, I wasn’t alone.”

  My lungs fill with lead. This was a bad idea. I’m not in the right frame of mind. But leaving isn’t an option. Not when I’m already talking.

  I yank at a patch of wilting wild flowers and toss them away. A small hole takes their place, mocking me. I dig at the upturned dirt until my nails are caked. Cleaning up this mess gives me something to do. I shift on the hard surface, and needles prickle down my legs.

  “Okay, let me rewind. There’s this new customer at Thicket. Two of them actually, father and son. Ollie couldn’t be any cuter. He’s five and loves candy. I want to believe he loves the store too. He’s so bright, you know? Gives me a reason to smile. Unfortunately, his dad is the total opposite.”

  Thinking of Brance sets my skin on fire. Specks of ice attempt to stick, but melt in a shallow puddle. The metallic taste of copper fills my mouth. I startle, releasing my bottom lip from the guillotine of my teeth.

  “Brance is so horrible, Dev. But maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s been years since I’ve felt anything except hollow nothingness. Why this guy? He doesn’t deserve to steal my attention.” My breaths are harsh pants, puffing in and out too fast. “Is it weird that I’m discussing this with you?”

  I wait a few beats, almost expecting an answer. “He calls me sugar. What a joke. But that’s not the worst of it. Yesterday Brance used my grieving as an insult. Can you believe the nerve of that man? He doesn’t know about you or why I took off in a panic last week. I could be chronically ill, and he’d laugh at me. He’s just rude on purpose. The arrogant type that has the best answer for everything. Oh, and he’s a lawyer. Go figure.”

  The bricks on my shoulders crumble into dust. It feels damn good to let this all out. I’m really on a roll. “His boy is sweet as honey, and that should make him happy. But no, he’s an awful person. So, of course, I find myself wondering why he’s such an intolerable jerk.”

  I roll my eyes and huff out loud. “You’re probably laughing at me. I still can’t mind my own business. Always searching for reasons I’m better off not knowing.” I kiss my palm and place it on the cool stone. “Why didn’t you let me drive, Dev? I can’t let it go. You should have listened to me. Things could have been different. Instead, you’re gone.” The last word tumbles out on a sob. “Was it worth it?”

  Because I’m weak, or maybe lonely beyond reason, I wait for a response. Only silence greets me. My fractured heart splits further. I clutch my chest and try gathering the pieces. I’ll need the captured fragments one day.

  The downhill slide is fast and steep. A brutal kick to the ribs and all hope draining out of me follow close behind. In a blink, I find it hard to breathe without my body screaming. This is different than panic. The isolation and loneliness become overwhelming, crashing against me with unforgiving ferocity.

  There’s no use fighting.

  The wind vanishes from my sails, and I sag into a pitiful stoop. Smooth granite stops me from falling flat. There’s some hidden message waiting below the surface, but I can’t gather the energy to find it. I squeeze my hand into a fist and try to imagine the weight of his on top of mine. All I find is gaps and space. So much damn blankness. The longer he’s gone, the more I forget. The sound of his voice is barely recognizable. Our love was virile and strong, or so I thought. These days it’s hard to remember the happy moments. Loss is cruel that way. My mind plays tricks on me, warping cherished memories into a mysterious clump.

  Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I swipe them away. Why am I so weak? It’s always one step forward and five stumbles back. Something has to give. I can only hope that’s not me.

  My th
erapist’s calm tone tries to break through the storm wreaking havoc inside of me. I’m strong enough. Today is better than yesterday. Nothing will break me again. The healing process is a wicked beast. Since I was there in the wreck, my progress is harder to achieve. The impact feels fresh, this crater inside of me impossibly wide and deep. But in reality, the hole is shrinking. Even when I pick at the scab and pain rushes in, the intensity has lessened. More recently, the wound doesn’t hurt as much. I’m aware of the reasons, but I refuse to acknowledge him as one of them.

  A roar of thunder shatters the quiet misery I’m drowning in. The warmth recedes from the air, allowing a frigid blast to sweep in. If someone comes along, will they want to save me? Would I want them to?

  I wheeze, the quicksand pulling me under. It was a mistake coming here. The sky opens and freezing droplets pelt me from head to toe. The rope tying me to reality is fraying. I decide to let go for a minute, or maybe hours. In this space, time doesn’t really matter. I close my eyes and let the darkness take me.

  Brance

  Cheers

  I step into The Lair and take a moment for my eyes to adjust. The lighting is dim, glowing in certain spots to set a relaxed atmosphere. The main attraction is the glossy oak bar that takes up most of the space. I spot Jordan perched on a stool waiting for me.

  “Glad the ball and chain let you outta the house,” he greets. Jordan claps my shoulder when I sit beside him.

  I shrug his hand off. “Fucking hilarious. My son isn’t a shackle.”

  My friend chuckles. “I was referring to Mary.”

  That gets a genuine laugh from me in return. “I’ll tell her you said hello.”

  The bartender stops by, and I order my usual draft. I’ll save the bourbon for after dark.

  Jordan smiles at me. “In all honesty, I’m glad you could make it. It’s been too long since we’ve had a night to ourselves.”

  I give him a slow nod. “Sorry, man. It’s getting harder to be away from Ollie.”

  “No apologies. We aren’t young bucks in law school anymore, which is super fucking unfortunate.”

  A shrill screech whips up my spine and I shudder. “Not sure I want to relive those days.”

  “Ah, you’re right. But our first year wasn’t bad. Before Veronica ruined everything.”

  Her name is nails on a chalkboard. I almost cover my ears. “Let’s not talk about her. I just wanna chill.”

  A reflective silence surrounds us. Before I can get stuck in a ditch with those memories, my beer arrives. I take a few healthy gulps to wipe the slate clean.

  While settling in, I do a quick glance around. The bar is relatively quiet for a Saturday, which is fine by me. This establishment isn’t appealing for the rowdy crowd looking to party. That’s why I like it. Lair is a place to unwind without the pressure of more. I don’t need women constantly breathing down my neck, begging for drinks or a quick dicking in the bathroom.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love to fuck. I’m the furthest from an abstinent saint. Having a woman purr in my ear to take her harder gets me off. But more often than not, that hassle is greater than the reward. Especially lately. Or maybe it’s because I’m getting older and wiser. I’ve come to appreciate a quiet, laidback evening. That’s all I need today.

  Jordan clinks his glass against mine. “Here’s to making partner.”

  I shift my weight on the padded seat. “I haven’t gotten it yet. The promotion has been dangling in front of me for months. I’ve been busting my ass and still no word.”

  “That job is yours. There’s no doubt. Don sees the work you’re doing. He values you on the team.”

  “No, he certainly doesn’t.”

  Jordan shrugs. “That’s because you’re a Grade A threat. You’re younger, more attractive, and smarter.”

  I snort into my beer. “It’s a little early to be hitting on me, man.”

  “I’m just stating facts. If you wanna take a ride on my cock, I’ll need more drinks first.”

  “Your services won’t be necessary. I’m not that desperate,” I chuckle.

  He clutches the place above his heart. “You wound me, man.”

  “I think you need to get laid more than me.”

  Jordan waves me off. “I’m all good. But don’t let me keep you from fishing.”

  He clearly didn’t get my earlier message. Women are the last thing on my mind, except one. I almost bang my head against the bar over that one. Instead, I finish off my brew and order another.

  “How about her?” Jordan juts his chin toward a buxom brunette. “She’s sexy as fuck.”

  And she is. This chick is everything I’d typically eat for dessert. She’s dressed to fuck in a skin-tight dress, the color a deep shade of red. Her dark hair falls in loose curls that almost reach her ass. Ruby gloss coats her lips. This woman is a pop of color against the bar’s muted hues. I’m sure she planned that on purpose.

  She glances around while sipping her martini. Maybe she’s waiting for someone, or hoping to find company. Either way, she’s drinking alone. Easy prey. This vixen would deliver, no doubt. But I’m not in the mood to wake up with claw marks crisscrossing my back.

  I lick my lips, finding the lingering taste of hops and malt. There’s no flavor of desire waiting. My dick stays down, not even a slight twitch. As of late, my preferences come in a different package. Much to my displeasure. The war between body and brain continues.

  “Sure, she’s hot, but I’m not feeling her.” I turn to Jordan and find him slack-jawed. “What? I’ll never complain about beautiful scenery.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Someone else on your menu?”

  “Nah, not at all. I’m just focusing on my priorities for now. Ollie comes first, getting partner is a close second. Mostly so I can provide the best for him.”

  Jordan’s features soften. “Such a good dad. My pops could’ve learned some valuable lessons from you.”

  “Are you yanking my chain?”

  “I wouldn’t bullshit about that.”

  “All right, thanks. I appreciate it, man.”

  I pull my eyes away, scanning a row of framed black and white candid images hanging along the brick wall. I study the face of one woman, captured in laughter, and she morphs into Braelyn. What the fuck? I groan and scrub over my eyes.

  Jordan leans closer. “What’s your issue, Stone?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just dealing with a few brutal cases.”

  “The best cure is getting balls deep in a woman. Heaven in heels over there isn’t getting your cock hard, but there’s plenty of other options. Need me to be your wingman?”

  Not this again. “Stellar advice coming from the guy who doesn’t follow suit. I’ll pass.”

  Jordan leans an elbow on the bar. “No need to slay the messenger. What’s wrong with sweeping a woman away to Paris and confessing my devotion?”

  I make a gagging sound. “Everything is wrong with that statement. Way too complicated and messy. You sound like a bad hallmark movie.”

  “I’m more of a hopeful romantic.”

  “You’re a fucking sap,” I mutter.

  “Don’t get your pubes in a twist. One of us has to keep the faith alive.”

  “Guess that’s the difference between working with business mergers compared to failed marriages.”

  He sits up straight. “You chose that path.”

  “With zero regrets.”

  “I know Veronica destroyed your—”

  “Don’t start on her again. She’s ancient history. The only good she gave was Ollie, and that witch couldn’t care less. She never even held him. What kind of person doesn’t want to cradle their baby?” The beer is loosening my tongue, but this man already knows all the hell Ollie’s mother put me through. Shit, he was there for most of it. He probably sees straight into my black soul.

  “Yeah, that sucks hairy nutsacks. But if she had any interest, you’d be tied to her forever. That would’ve been a fucking disaster.” A tremor passes through him.
“Thank the Lord for small miracles.”

  “I’d consider that more of a jackpot. And I get the prize all to myself.”

  Jordan rings an imaginary bell. “Winner, winner.”

  I shift my weight. “Let’s be real, I was screwed up before Veronica twisted the knife.”

  “She was a final blow.” He whistles, and mimics a bomb detonating and exploding.

  I nod at his gesture. “Exactly.”

  “But you can get back up. Fight for love, man.”

  My scoff is a hollow echo. “I’m not drinking wine, Jordy. Cheese isn’t necessary.”

  “You’re too cynical.”

  “And you’re a sucker.”

  He doesn’t deny it. “We’ll see who ends up on top.”

  “I’ll leave marriage and happily ever after to you.”

  Jordan smirks. “You’re so kind. But for real, you’re suddenly not interested in getting your dick wet. Should I be concerned?”

  “Nah, I’m taking a little hiatus. I’ll be back in fine form once Don finally makes a decision.”

  He jabs my arm. “You’ve got this in the bag. Half the firm will walk out if he chooses anyone else. That’d be a stupid move. Doesn’t matter how intimidated he is.”

  “You’re my biggest cheerleader.”

  “I prefer coach, thanks. And since you brought him up, how’s the pops doing?”

  I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. “Retired. Playing golf on the daily. Has three girlfriends. Living the dream.”

  “Sounds rough. He’s my hero.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad he’s soaking in the luxury. That man deserves a medal for dealing with my mom all those years. Fucking unbelievable we all survived.” My stomach quakes, but I bury that shit. Like always. “I’m going to take Ollie down to visit. Bet my dad will love it.”

  He bobs his head, watching me for a moment. “How’s the new kid-sitter?”

  My neck almost cracks from the abrupt change in subject. Not that I’m surprised. I made the mistake of mentioning Braelyn after a board meeting last week. Knowing Jordan, he’ll never let this go. I cross my arms and stare him down. “Real funny, asshole.”