by Lola StVil
“I’m sorry that I’m not running my love life the way you want me to.”
“Yeah, me too. Because maybe if you take five seconds and look at what you have, you wouldn’t be so quick to throw it away.”
“I know what I have.”
“No you don’t! If you did you wouldn’t have sent a sweet, caring, intelligent, hot piece of ass out into the cold for other women to pounce on. For God’s sake, he raced in to help with the Will drama, he’s put up with all the roadblocks you put in place, and he’s doing it all with a smile because he’s just happy to be around you.
“And how do you repay him? You don’t tell him you love him, although everyone knows you do. You keep him in the dark about major happenings in your life and you lie when he confronts you. I mean, for the love of God, tell me you’ve at least given him a decent blow job.”
“Are you serious? Look, not all of us measure love with our tongues, okay?”
“Right, so I’m wrong because all I talk about is sex and sex acts. I’m the foolish whore in your book. The one who only knows about sex and has no concept of love.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No but your tone did. And you know what, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just a ‘good time’ chick who doesn’t know the first thing about being in love or being in a relationship. But there is something I know a lot about—making stupid mistakes. And you letting that man walk out of here thinking you don’t give a damn about him—that’s a big fucking mistake.”
***
Jana gets her stuff and leaves. I try to stop her but she says she wants to go home and get some rest. So tonight I’m an awful girlfriend and also a horrible friend. I would follow her but I have no idea what to say. Jana’s right about everything. She usually is, but I know this is about more than just Wyatt and me. There’s something else going on and I will find out what it is but now is not the time. This day has felt more like a year. Why, oh why, can’t today just end already?
I lean on the wall for support and bury my face in the palm of my hands. I can feel a headache creeping in. It’s behind my right eye and chances are in the next hour or so it will advance and be a full-on migraine.
That’s perfect. Just fucking perfect.
I close my eyes and rant, “Fuck me!” as I rake my hands through my hair.
“Can’t now, sweetheart; rain check?” a deep booming male voice replies. I open my eyes and practically jump out of my skin. There’s a man standing directly across from me. I didn’t even hear the elevator door open. This guy is over six feet tall, exquisitely muscular, with searing blue-gray eyes, mid-length dirty blond hair, and five-day-old stubble that only adds to his sexy “just-out-bed-and-I-don’t-give-fuck” look.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask, standing up straight, now on high alert.
“You’re in front of my brother’s place, sweetheart, so I think the question is, who the hell are you?” he says pointedly. He’s Wyatt’s brother? Wow, what the hell did they put in that gene pool and can I please have some?
Seriously, Winter?
“Hi, I’m Winter.”
“Oh, yeah…‘the pause,’” he replies as he rakes over me with his eyes.
“That’s actually not my name but—sure, okay. So you’re one of Wyatt’s brothers? Are you the one who’s married to Shelby?”
“Fuck no! Life’s way too short for that.”
“Yeah, she’s something else. So who are you—I mean, what’s your name?”
“Logan.”
Of course it is.
“So, no one in your family believes in calling first, huh?” I mumble to myself. He grins. Damn that smile is hot.
“You’re kind of a smart ass and you have a nice ass. So yeah, I get it.”
“Get what?”
“I get why ‘the pause’ happens when he talks about you,” Logan adds.
“That’s very rude.”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I don’t think Wyatt would appreciate the way you’re talking to me. In fact, neither do I. So change your tone or get the hell out.”
“Yup, I can totally see it,” he says, looking me over yet again, this time with a smile of approval.
“Do you have a message for him?” I ask, wanting this to be over.
“Yeah, tell him I’m headed out of the country, so I can’t make it this year; he’s up.”
“Will he know what the last part means?”
“Yeah, he’ll know.”
“Okay, I will let him know,” I promise. He wants to leave yet he remains standing where he is. I can see him struggle with what he’s about to say.
“Shelby said you were…you know, a good girl and shit. Is that true?”
“Um…yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t think I’ve earned the amazing dinners he made me or apparently any of the good things he’s done for me, according to my best friend, but I’d like to think I’m good to him. Or not. Look, I don’t know. You have caught me on a really odd day,” I admit as I get more and more flustered. He looks at me as if I’ve somehow revealed something scandalous and beyond belief.
“What is it?” I ask, getting annoyed.
“Wyatt cooked for you?” he asks incredulously.
“Yeah, why is that such a big deal with you people?” I beg. His eyes soften and suddenly this big, tall, looming hunk of sexy “badass” guy is hugging me. It takes a few moments but eventually I hug him back because, well, it’s rude otherwise, right?
When he steps out of the embrace, his tone hardens and he looks into my eyes and warns, “Look here, sweetheart, you seem nice and everything and I hope to God you are. But you hurt my kid brother and I’m coming for you.”
Yeah, you’re way too late for that.
He nods briskly and sprints to the elevator. Macy enters the hallway and purrs as she watches the elevator door close on him.
“Wow, who the hell was that and can I have some?” she says. I roll my eyes and push her nosy ass back inside.
I need a drink or three; right now!
For the record I have no fucking idea where I’m headed. All I know is that I can’t be home right now. When I hit the street, my anger comes with me. It keeps my body from really registering just how fucking cold it is outside. But trust me, it’s freezing. New Yorkers quickly make their way to their destinations as the wind whips past them. They are bundled up in scarfs, hats, and thick coats: none of which seem to make a difference against the bitter cold.
I don’t think about which direction I’m going; I just go. I walk fast and cut through the crowd as if I have a place to go. But I’m not walking to get somewhere, I’m trying to “out walk” all the shit I feel. I’m good with being angry because that’ll pass. But the other stuff, the questions, they won’t go away.
How could she keep the Street Kings situation from me? She had plenty of chances to tell me what was going on, if she didn’t it’s because she didn’t want to. Does that mean she isn’t letting me in right now or she isn’t letting me in ever? I know her ex did some fucked-up shit to her, but how long is she going to cast me in that asshole’s shadow? I thought she needed time but maybe it’s more than that?
I told her I love her and God knows I do but she has yet to say it back. I always thought it was a matter of her working up the courage but maybe I was wrong. Maybe she hasn’t said it because she doesn’t feel that way. Maybe I’m pushing her in a direction she really doesn’t want to go.
FUCK!
I know this is fast for her, that shit was fast for me too. I have never wanted a woman with the intensity that I want Winter. I barely date women. I find one I like; we fuck and we move on. I don’t make promises. I don’t lie and tell them I feel things that I don’t. I’m open about wanting to stay casual and needing to stay focused on work.
I can’t remember the last time I thought about someone as much as I do Winter. The hold she has on me is thrilling but also scary as hell. I’m falling so hard and so goddamn fast; it’s all I can
do to hold on. But all of that was worthwhile because I knew she was falling too. We were in the same whirlwind, for better or worse, but maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I’m in love by myself…
The thought that Winter may not feel what I feel for her hits me like a heated blade through the chest; it fucking burns. And when I think of her going to another guy for help, it’s like that blade is twisting and digging deeper into me.
My anger returns and this time it’s aimed at Decker. He knew better than to keep that shit from me. That’s not how partners work. She must have felt some kind of connection to go to him, though. It’s not like she went to just any random cop, she went to him. Is she trying to tell me something? Are they trying to tell me something?
I’m pretty sure there’s nothing going on between them but I’ve been wrong before. Wrong or not, I need to know for sure. I guess in the back of my mind, I was always headed to Decker’s place because when I look up, I’m on his street.
***
When he opens the door and sees me standing there, glaring at him, he knows right away why I came. “If you’re going to beat the crap out of me, be a decent guy and do it in the kitchen near the cold beers,” he says as he opens the door wider and heads back inside. I follow him into his relatively new apartment, where he’s surrounded by boxes. He makes his way to the kitchen and I follow.
“Is there something going on with you two? I need to know that shit and don’t you fucking lie to me,” I threaten.
“C’mon, Hunt, if you really thought there was really something going on with us, we would have been having this conversation in the ER,” he says as he hands me a cold beer. I stare him down angrily. I’m looking for any sign that my partner has betrayed me and there isn’t any. My gut tells me he’s not the problem. But then I think I already knew that. I take the beer from him and down it quickly. He hands me another one.
“Don’t just stand there looking pretty, help me with this shit,” Decker says as he walks into one of two bedrooms. In the middle of the room stands a stack of white plywood, bags of screws, and tools.
“What’s it supposed to be?” I ask.
“I need to set up a dresser for Mia so she can have somewhere to put her stuff when she’s staying with me. She picked this out, and if I ever get my fucking hands on the guy who constructed it, I’m send him to his grave,” he vows.
“What does she think of your new place?”
“She’s glad she has her own room and she’s excited to decorate it. I want to have it ready for when she comes down again. Karen’s new house is like a fucking castle. And Mia loves it. Then she comes down here and has this tiny apartment and…I want to make it nice for her.”
“You got a good kid, she’s easygoing. You know that.”
“Yeah thank God for that. I couldn’t compete with all the shit Nathan is buying her,” he says.
“Who the fuck is Nathan?”
“Karen’s new boyfriend. He owns a golf course, wears khakis, and drinks imported beers. Dick,” Decker scoffs.
“Wow…”
“Yeah, and according to Karen, Nathan has a ‘decent job that lets him keep decent hours,’” he says, mocking his wife’s voice. He picks up a nearby hammer and starts to pound a nail that refuses to go any further into the wood.
He goes on, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? She thinks I enjoy busting my ass at one in the morning trying to find some lowlife who just put a bullet into some poor store clerk? I’m a goddamn cop and sometimes I can’t control what time I work or for how long. But unlike her golf asshole boyfriend, what I do matters!”
“I’m gonna take that hammer from you and maybe you stand over there, away from the sharp objects,” I reply as I start sorting out the tools to put the dresser together.
“How long has she been dating this guy?” I ask after what I hope is time enough for him to calm down.
“Three months.”
“Is it serious?”
“I don’t know. He can have Karen and all the bullshit that comes with knowing her. If the neighbors’ house is bigger than ours, it’s an issue. If one of her friends gets a nice gift from their husband, I gotta hear about it. Because obviously keeping up with the fucking Joneses should be top priority. She wants this Nathan guy, she can have him. But I won’t let him raise my kid. That little girl is my life.”
“You won’t lose Mia.”
“That’s just it, I could. I could lose her. And I don’t know how I would deal with that shit.”
“You’ll get your new place set up and Mia will love her room. And that judge will see how crazy she is about you and grant you joint custody,” I assure him.
I hope to God what I’m saying is true. Decker and Mia are the closest father and daughter I know. I’d like to think I’d have that kind of closeness with my own kid someday. I think somewhere way in the back of my head, I kind of pictured my kid with Winter’s eyes.
Winter…
The weight of the past few hours is suddenly bearing down on me. I try to avoid feeling anything and focus on the task of putting a dresser together for my favorite athlete.
“I know the part where you came here to kick my ass but what happened before that?” he asks carefully. I shrug and remain silent as I continue to work.
“C’mon, what happened?” he pushes.
“What happened is you allowed her to put herself in harm’s way,” I remind him.
“I watched that crew myself in addition to having some of my buddies patrol the area. It wasn’t enough, that’s on me. I’m sorry about that. Are we good, man, or what?” he says.
I don’t want to accept his apology but the truth is I know he would never let anything happen to Winter. I also know that the possibility of losing custody of his little girl is twisting his insides out. The last thing I want to do is add to that shit.
“Fine, but next time you keep something like this from me, I’m shooting you in the fucking balls.”
“Good luck, Karen’s trying to get those in the divorce,” he replies.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Do some work for God’s sake, and get me another beer,” I order as I reach for the bag of screws.
A little while later, we’re all done and the dresser has been perfectly assembled. We had time to set up the matching bed, and now Mia’s room is starting to come together. I set out to the living room, beer in hand.
“You going home now?” he asks.
“No idea,” I admit.
“Did you try and talk to her?” Decker asks.
“Yeah and according to her, she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to bother me.”
“Okay, look. I know this is none of my business. But I’m your partner and I’m gonna say what the fuck I need to say,” he informs me as he takes a swig of beer. “I don’t know why she didn’t come to you but it has nothing to do with her wanting to connect with me. She knows you trust me and she knew she could do the same. Again, I don’t know Winter but I think she’s got a past.”
“How do you know?”
“Man, it’s not hard to see. She’s hot, she’s smart, and she could be out running around like crazy but instead, she’s spending ten to the twelve hours at work and going home alone. Someone, somewhere, did some shit to her and she’s closed herself off. I don’t know what that is and you don’t have to tell me. But what happened to her in the past, how bad was it?”
“Bad…” I reply, trying not to get worked up about her asshole ex-boyfriend.
“Okay, so she spent a lot of time figuring out ways to keep people out—maybe she’s still working on the whole ‘let down your guard’ thing,” he suggests.
“Maybe.”
“Did you really cook for her?” he accuses. I nod slightly.
“Then you know where she stands with you. So go home and find out where the fuck you stand with her. Although, I think I already know.”
“How’s that?” I push.
“I was married for six years,
and if my wife looked at me, just once, the way Winter looks at you…we wouldn’t need divorce lawyers.”
***
I hear the key in the door and look over at the alarm clock by the bed. It’s 2:13 in the morning. My staff left a few hours ago, and I tried to act like my world wasn’t falling apart. I cleaned up the kitchen, put the leftover pizzas in the fridge, tidied up the living room, and took a shower. I lay in bed, in the dark, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep until he came back. Since it’s his house, I was sure he’d come back. But that’s the only thing I was sure about.
I play out different scenarios in my head of what will happen now that he’s back. In one version, he throws me out of his house—it seems unlikely but right now, with my luck, it could happen. In a different version, he tells me it’s been swell but he’s changed his mind about us. I also have a third version where he comes home and he’s okay with everything and he doesn’t hate me. But that version also has cartoon birds that land on my shoulder and sing; so needless to say, it’s a little far-fetched.
I’m glad he’s back, I’ve been counting the minutes, but now that I actually hear him at the door, I pray to God for a little more time. But that’s not how this stuff goes, so I hop out of bed and walk in just in time to see him enter. I can’t think of what to say so my mouth is working without my mind. Great. All I can do is hope for the best.
“Hi,” I greet him, hoping to God I sound casual.
“Hey,” he says in a small whisper.
“If you’re hungry there’s some pizzas in the fridge. And if you like pineapple, it’s your lucky night,” I reply.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Oh, okay.” He hangs his jacket up and heads to the kitchen, where he downs a bottle of water. I follow him and watch as he drinks.
“There’s also breadsticks—you know, the cheesy kind. I don’t really know why they bother, I mean it’s basically the same as pizza too, you know,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.