When I’d had a bad night, he’d take me in his arms and say, “It’s okay. I’m with you.”
When he held me, I knew he was there, both for me and with me.
I rub the base of my neck, soothing myself. My heart aches because I wanted him to kiss me. To remind me what it is to be held by him. To tell him all of my secrets and listen to his. I wanted to say, “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” I want him to love me, but I just can’t handle more heartache.
Thirteen
Wes
Every part of our body heals at a different pace. Broken hearts and aching souls are the slowest. I thought my wounds were cured, but I guess some of the cuts hadn’t closed all the way. I just didn’t realize it until Abby’s presence popped the stitches. She could tend to them, but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. Not anymore.
How can we mean nothing after everything we’ve shared? Our friendship was strong, one of the best relationships I’ve had in my entire life. Are we broken beyond repair? I take a deep breath, but it’s not enough. I feel like I’ve been taken off life support.
I loved you, she said. Loved, not love. Fuck, I need a scotch. As I walk back to the gallery, I run a hand through my hair and wonder if the Mexican restaurant on the corner of 3rd and Detroit is still open. They have a great selection of tequila and whiskey. Reaching for my pocket, I rub the quartz that I carry around with me.
I don’t need booze, I chant as my mantra. The pain will go away.
I used to get drunk, not because I liked it, but because it made me feel something other than the pain of not having her. Drowning myself in a bottle or two of scotch night after night only diffused the memories for a little while. Once sober, everything would come back to me sharper, more vivid.
Since I lost her, I had no fucking clue what to do with the rest of my life. No matter what I did, I couldn’t erase what had happened to her from my fucking head. Then I tried to wipe her away entirely—obliterate her existence once and for all. Forget her long, hazelnut curls. Those big, expressive dark eyes. Her silky voice and angelic smile.
Her lips.
Her kisses.
The way she’d bite her lip when she was planning her next adventure. The way she scrunched her nose when she didn’t want to do something but had to anyway. The way she organized her pantry but would have a fucking mess in her drawers. Our endless hours of counting so that she could fall asleep.
I miss everything about her. Our nights together, when I had her in my arms. How could I forget the feel of her body against mine? It’s impossible to ignore or suppress the way I feel about her. For the past year, I’ve been avoiding even talking about her because it’s easier to just ignore the elephant in the room. I thought avoidance was the only way to mend myself.
My mind, my heart, and my soul were broken—they’re still a fucking mess. It’s tough to move on when part of me will always belong to her. Back then, I cried almost every day. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much in my life. I hated myself for not knowing how to keep her beside me.
Today I don’t feel like drowning in tears, but my heart cracks from her rejection. Nothing can stop the wreckage. It’s like all the time I spent forgetting her never happened.
I enter the gallery and find Sterling almost immediately. Once we’re alone, I breathe one word, “Asshole.”
I wish I could punch him, but we’re not kids, and this is a public place.
“What’s your problem?” He fakes ignorance.
“You should’ve told me she was going to be here.”
“Abby?” He casts only the slightest of glances at me before focusing on the woman next to him. “Thank you for coming.”
And he walks away without sparing me another second.
“Yes, Abby,” I say, following behind him.
“Would you have come?” His voice is brisk, business-like.
“Of course, I would,” I say without missing his stupid grin. Fuck, he got me. I might’ve skipped the opening had I known.
“You wouldn’t have,” he corrects me.
“Look, I have no idea, but only because you didn’t give me that chance. I’m here to support you. If you had told me, I’d have been ready for her.”
“Are you going to buy the painting?” He stands right in front of it.
“You could gift it to me.”
Since when do I have to pay for his art? I never charge him when he needs a new computer, an upgrade on his software, or a ride on my plane. We’re brothers, friends, and we share everything, don’t we?
“That painting isn’t mine; it’s Abby’s,” he says with a note of doubt in his voice. “She’s raising funds for her baby.”
The word shifts my center of gravity. I lose my balance, and it feels like everything is falling apart.
“What baby?” That b word hits me like a punch to my gut.
Sterling moves his lips, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. I’m completely in shock. He laughs and pats me on the shoulder.
“The baby is a project she’s been working on. It’s costly, and she only has money to develop it. She’s trying to find ways to maintain it.”
“Can we help her?”
He chuckles. “There he is, her white knight ready to save the day.”
“It’s a question,” I say defensively. “Just like when I asked if you wanted my help when you announced the opening of this place.”
“Well, ask her, not me. It’s Abby’s project,” he emphasizes her name. “If you want the painting you’ll have to ask her and pay her. Same with her plans.”
“She doesn’t want to see me.” I hide the pain that squeezes my chest at the sound of my own words.
“That’s it? You’re giving up?” He lets out a puff of air and rolls his eyes. “It’s like our parents’ separation all over again. One fine day, they both left, and I was alone waiting for them to get their shit together.”
“Our parents never separated,” I refresh his memory.
“You were at Stanford, oblivious to what was going on at home. Mom was always threatening to leave, Dad promising that he’d start delegating work. She actually left for Arizona and Dad moved to New York for a while.”
“To visit Aunt Cindy,” I remind him.
“Nope, that’s what she told you.”
“Sorry, Slugger. I had no idea.”
“It’s in the past. That’s not my point. What I want to say is that I’d appreciate it if you’d fix your shit now instead of brooding for another three years.”
“I can’t make her love me.” A bittersweet crest of emotion fills my voice.
He arches an eyebrow, tilting his head toward me. “Ah, so you want her to love you back and not just be friends. At least you recognize the obvious.”
There’s no middle ground for us. We can’t just be friends after what we had. She’s the love of my life.
“Just don’t make this fucking complicated,” he snarls like he used to when our parents annoyed him. “I’m done being the adult in this relationship.”
“You’re the adult?” I hold my stomach as I laugh. “Mr. I Screwed The Landlord And She Screwed Me Back.”
“Fuck, that’s a big name. You sound just like Abby, and I like her nickname for our old lender better. Le’Bitch. We dated; she wanted more,” he growls.
“You should come with a warning.”
“Abby suggested a tattoo.” He laughs.
“Property of Kara Nicholson?” I poke him with the only ex who’s ever mattered in his life. A little payback for not giving me a heads up about Abby.
“Shut the fuck up.” His face turns red. The vein on his temple is about to pop. “Let’s just keep this moving. I’m about to close down.”
He takes a deep breath, glaring at me. “Are you going to stick around?”
I check the time. “I’m leaving, but I’ll see you at the house.”
— — —
After what happened to Abby, I couldn’t sleep well at home. I tri
ed moving back to my parents’ house. It was depressing to live in their mansion. Eight rooms and not a soul to keep me company. Maybe that’s another reason why I drank so much. Once I sobered up, I found a rare gem. A penthouse located in the heart of Cherry Creek North. It’s too big for me. I invited Sterling to move in with me. He accepted only if he could pay for half the property.
By my calculations, I live just fifteen minutes away from Abby. How long has she been living here? I can’t believe we haven’t bumped into each other when I’m in town. How is it possible? Sterling should’ve said something by now.
How long have they been this close? I feel betrayed, yet at the same time, relieved that Abby had someone to lean on during the past few years.
As I arrive at home, I find Oakley, my dog, sitting right beside the door waiting for me with her leash between her teeth. This girl owns me, and with those beautiful eyes, I can’t deny her a walk. I never can.
“You want to go for a walk?”
She nods giving me a slight glare.
“I wanted to hit the gym,” I tell her, hooking the leash to her collar. “But you know who was there, at Sterling’s opening.”
Oakley huffs and shakes her head.
“I know, I said I wouldn’t talk about Abby again, but I didn’t expect to see her.”
She responds with a bark. I don’t know if it means Oak wants to meet Abby or wants me to shut up. I stick to the latter. This walk should help me work through all the emotions vying for space in my body.
Frustration, anger, and pain.
I’ll call my therapist tomorrow. This time I’m not pushing away my feelings. If I plan on fixing our relationship, I have to ask for help and start processing my emotions. There’s so much I wanted to say when I saw her, but instead, I froze. I envisioned this encounter happening so differently. I’d take her into my arms, kiss her, breathe in her scent.
She swears we’re over, but we’re far from it. The magnetic force between us is as strong as it was three years ago. There’s no way to ignore it.
Does she really not care? Has she been able to forget me?
It’s been three years and yet the taste of her remains on my lips. The sound of her voice plays in my head, like a song composed only for me. I crave her mind, her soul, and her body.
It’s no wonder I feel unbalanced after being so close to her. There’s so much I wanted to get out of my system, and I failed.
“Hey, I figured you’d be walking your mutt.” Sterling walks toward us.
Oakley growls at Sterling. They tolerate each other, but there’s no love between them.
“Oak doesn’t appreciate being called a mutt.”
“Chester does, and he’s a purebred.”
“Who is Chester?” I frown.
“Abby’s pup,” he says casually, looking around the area. “This place is dead, and it’s not even eleven.”
“It’s a weekday,” I remind him. “How’d it go overall?”
“Great. I sold all the pieces we had for sale. A few people asked for my card. They’re interested in commissioning some sculptures.” He rubs his arms. “It’s chilly tonight. How long are you in town for?”
“I leave tomorrow.” I curse under my breath. I won’t be able to see Abby until I’m back. “We have the pre-launch of the new video game next Friday.”
“Is everything all right with Ahern Inc.?”
“Seems strange that you’d care,” I chuckle.
Before I lost control of myself and subsequently the company, Sterling didn’t give a shit about the business.
“Do you have any idea what I went through to keep that forsaken place afloat while you were fucking around?”
It wasn’t obvious, but the guy worked his ass off for the company. Once he took over and dismissed the board, he contacted a friend of his who owns one of the country’s leading staffing agencies. He hired a CEO, a CFO, an operations officer, and an information security officer. All the positions I’d been handling since Dad died.
The company functions a lot better than it did when Dad was alive. We oversee everything, but thanks to Sterling, we have people who have the passion and drive to continue with what my father started. I only have to check in on them bi-monthly.
For the past year, I’ve been working on my own company. Ahern Brothers, which is a software company with two subdivisions: SAW Entertainment which develops games, and CorpSolv where we develop different kinds of software for corporations.
“I have so many questions about Abby,” I say when we arrive at the house. He might be able to shed some light on what is going on with her.
“You can ask, but I might not answer all of them.” Sterling isn’t rude, but a little defensive—protective.
Feels like our roles have changed. He didn’t care that much about Abby when she first came to our house. It wasn’t until she went to London that they began to interact more, but now they seem too close. Almost as close as Abby and I were.
“Since when are you guys so close?”
“It’s a sibling thing. You don’t get along while growing up, family tragedy strikes, and you get closer.” He tilts his head my way. “I told you several times. She’s like my little sister. No one was there for her, except for me.”
Guilt crushes my entire body. But I couldn’t be there for her when I was barely able to stand on my own two feet.
“Why didn’t you mention that you two were still friends?” My voice comes out edgy without meaning to.
“It didn’t seem necessary,” he answers with his usual cool tone. “What happened before caused you to drown yourself in booze. Why would I mention her at all? You were a fucking mess, not to mention Mom. What the fuck happened between them?”
He frowns, lifting his chin and watching the starry sky.
“Mom feels like she failed Abby. Abby mentioned once in her letters that it was a long story.” I shrug because there’s no way to understand how they went from being so close to not talking to each other.
My mother has changed a lot since Dad died. She’s a happy woman and lives her life like it’s her last day. She no longer checks on us daily. She stopped sending me care packages. When she first moved to Arizona, she sent them weekly. Because God forbid, I didn’t have enough shirts, ties, or underwear.
“It’s their relationship, not ours,” I remind him. “We can only be accountable for what we do.”
“And what are you going to do about Abby?”
That’s a loaded question and only takes me a few seconds to respond, “Show her that we were made for each other, that our love isn’t gone, and that she should take a leap of faith.”
“It’s going to take some work.” He shrugs, but I notice a smile with an air of victory crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“So, you agree that’s not impossible,” I say, seeking some reassurance.
“Only because she might be fond of you,” he argues. “I’m warning you to be fucking careful. I don’t want to see either one of you getting hurt.”
“Any advice?” I ask, opening the door to our building.
He remains quiet while we wait for the elevator.
“You’re on your own,” he finally says once the elevator opens in the living room. Then he shrugs one shoulder. “I usually don’t believe in the second chance shit, but with you two, I can see it working.”
“Why is that?” I unleash Oakley and walk to the kitchen to make sure she has enough water in her bowl.
“You two aren’t together because of the circumstances. Life threw her a nasty hand. That’s different from breaking up because one of you wasn’t invested in the relationship.” He shakes his head and waves. “Have a good night, Wes.”
It wasn’t just bad timing, but I get what he’s saying. We loved each other but had no idea how to handle our relationship. Abby and I can’t let go of what we had, but we can’t start where we left off either. We need a clean slate. This time we’re not hiding secrets. It sounds easy in theory, but I don’t
know if I’ll be able to convince her to start over.
Sterling stops mid-step and turns back around. “Every morning she goes for a run with Chester. Make sure to bring a few treats for him. He’s easy to bribe. You want him to love you. And use your mutt’s tricks to lure her. You know how she is with animals.”
“Thank you, Slugger.”
“Don’t fuck it up!”
Fourteen
Abby
At twenty-six I’m finally starting to love the parts of myself that I hated when I was younger. Funny how life changes and things look so different as we get older. We evolve, transition, and sometimes, become the exact opposite of what we once were. Though, in my case, there are a lot of things that haven’t changed, like jogging or having at least two cups of coffee every morning.
My daily routine consists of waking up around five, feeding Chester, stretching, and heading to the park with the pup. We run for about an hour and then I start prepping for my day.
Nighttime is still the hardest. Chester wakes me up when I have nightmares and stays with me for the rest of the night. The bad dreams don’t happen as often, and I don’t cry as much as I used to, but they’re still there. I’m learning to hold myself. It took me a long time, but I finally found sanctuary within myself.
I’ve also learned to survive without Wes. Although, seeing him last night made me miss our friendship, our long conversations, and the peace I felt when he was around. I yearn for those nights when we stayed on the phone until I fell asleep.
“If you met him, you might like him.” Chester turns his head slightly and barks once.
Sterling is right; I need more contact with humans. Chester barks again as he pulls me. He wants me to walk faster. Looking ahead, I spot someone sitting on the steps of my front porch. I can’t help but smile when I recognize Wes, who happens to have a furry companion next to him as well. Chester fights my hold. He’s rushing toward the strangers who he assumes came to visit him. This dog loves to bark at strangers in hopes that they’ll pet him.
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