by Rachel Leigh
Saved by the bell, Grant comes walking out the door. “Eyyy, you made it.”
“Good to see you, Matt. Tell Sam I said hello.” I give him another pat to the back and turn to walk away. Glad I didn’t have to offer any sordid details on my home life. When people hear about the death of a loved one, they feel pity. Pity is something I abso-fucking-lutely hate. I don’t like attention. I don’t like talking about feelings. And I sure as hell don’t like sharing personal information about myself. I’m a very private man unless it’s a close friend or family member.
I immediately spot Rowan when we walk in. She doesn’t see me, and I can’t help but laugh when I hear her yelling at a guy at the bar. Finger shaking at him and all. I’ve had yet to see this side of her, but I’m not at all surprised. Gemma often talked Rowan’s feisty side. Even told me about a time she beat up a guy twice her size in high school because he grabbed her ass.
Mid-poke into the guy’s chest as he sits on the barstool, she catches me laughing in the distance behind him. The anger in her eyes quickly diminishes and a grin replaces the scowl on her face.
Mumbling something to the big, burly dude, she walks away from him and out from behind the bar. “Shake It Off” is being sung by a lady who has no business trying to be Taylor Swift, but the crowd wouldn’t care if it was a toddler singing it. They are all dancing to the beat on the crowded dance floor.
Watching as Rowan approaches me, I feel a sting in my chest. I imagine she is what the younger version of Gemma looked like. Aside from all the skin showing. Gemma was very reserved—more of a crew neck and knee-length shorts kind of gal.
“You made it,” she says as she hands me a can of Diet Coke. Her way of stopping me before I can even order up a beer. Not that I intended to. I’ve been cutting back on the booze. Trying to deal with life in the right state of mind.
“Thanks.” I side-eye her. “How’d you know I drink Diet Coke?”
“I dunno, maybe because that’s all that’s in the fridge. Did you forget that we live together?”
Live together? Is that what she thinks? Sure, she’s staying at the house for now, but it’s just because she’s biding time until the death certificate arrives.
As if my thoughts were written on my face, she recants her statement, “I didn’t mean it like that. Obviously I know that my stay here is temporary.”
“Right.” I nod, tipping back the aluminum can while holding my eyes on hers. An awkward tension plants itself right in the middle of us. The air is suddenly thick and unfulfilling. I can’t help but wonder if she wants to stay in Sunnyville. Sure is making herself comfortable here.
Becky, another bartender, joins us, breaking through the barrier of unease. “Just clocked out. Ready for that duet?” She nudges Rowan.
Much too comfortable.
Three cans of soda later, I’m ready to call it a night. The vast majority of the people here are tipsy. Rowan has been on the stage with Becky at least a dozen times. Okay, it was more like five, but still. The girl can’t sing. She’s having a blast, though, and I guess that’s all that matters. As for me, I’m not digging the scene any longer.
Just as I’m about to announce that I’m heading home, a familiar sound rings in my ears and heads straight to my heart, burrowing deep inside of it. All eyes at the table shoot to me and it suddenly feels as though those first lyrics are clawing at my insides. Grant pushes his chair back and I know exactly what he’s doing, but I hold up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine. I’m leaving anyway.”
Without another word, I’m pushing through the swaying crowd and out the door. Even in the lingering heat, the fresh air hits me like a glass of ice water in the face, snapping me out of my own misery.
Keeping on my path to my truck, I don’t stop. If I do, someone I know will see me and try to engage in small talk. The sound of footsteps drubbing down the sidewalk behind has me picking up my pace in a nonchalant way. Not running, but sure as hell not slowing down.
“Nash,” I hear her holler from behind me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
Of course she didn’t. She doesn’t know about the life Gemma and I shared. How could she? She was never around.
I wave her away over my head without even turning around. Little good it does. Next thing I know, she’s at my side. “Look, I said I was sorry.”
“For what?” I play it off like I have no idea why she would be apologizing.
“For singing your and Gemma’s song with Becky. I didn’t know that ‘Whiskey Lullaby’ was a song you two sang together.”
Ironic, isn’t it? Our song that we sang together at least a dozen times is now my reality.
We reach my truck and I hit the unlock button on my keypad while keeping them in my pocket. “It’s just a song. I hold no rights to it. Sing whatever the hell you want.” Grabbing the door handle, I pull it open and jump in, slamming it shut before she has a chance to stop me.
“Nash,” I hear her say on the other side of the rolled up window.
Don’t look at her.
And I don’t. I start the engine and peel out, leaving her behind me.
It’s after one o’clock in the morning when I hear the front door open and close. Following the spare bedroom door, opening and closing. Then opening again. Then the bathroom door. “Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. I’ve been tossing and turning, trying to sleep for the past hour. Just when I finally got close, she had to come in here and rattle doors all over the house.
Ten minutes later, the microwave beeps and the rage hits an all-time high. Tearing the blanket off from me, it drops to the floor.
I turn the handle so quickly, you’d think it was on fire. Heavy footsteps lead me down the hall, and the smell of popcorn fills my senses. “Seriously,” I huff. “It’s the middle of the night. I’m trying to sleep here.” My voice comes out much more agitated than I planned, but then again, I am pretty fucking agitated.
“I’m sorry. I was getting ready to start a movie and popcorn sounded good. Want some?” She holds the bag out to me.
“No. I don’t want some. What I want is to go to sleep.” Noticing her eyes skim my body, I realize I’m standing here in just my boxers. It’s much less intentional than the time I was drunk and trying to prove a point that this is my house and I can do whatever I want. The fact that this is my house still holds true.
She pulls the bag to her chest. “You’re still mad at me?”
The look on her face might be calming my anger a bit. It’s sorrowful and there’s an ache in her eyes that reminds me she had no idea. Only this time, I’m able to fully comprehend that because the pain has subsided.
Dropping my steeled shoulders, I put my pride on the back burner. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Sure seemed that way.”
“I just wasn’t prepared for it, that’s all. It’s the first time I’ve heard that song since the last time Gemma and I sang it together.” Explaining myself is not easy. Being vulnerable is not easy. Talking about my feelings is extremely fucking hard.
“For what it’s worth, I know you two sang it better than I did.”
I chuckle. “I’m not even gonna argue that one.”
My words bring a smile to her face. I almost forgot how nice it was to see her smile. Even if I am a big part of the reason she doesn’t these days.
“Sorry I woke you up. I’ll be more inconspicuous when I come in late from here on out.” She digs her hand into the bag of popcorn and pops a few pieces in her mouth.
“Nah, don’t be. I can’t sleep anyway.”
“You know what always helps me fall asleep?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I humor her. “What’s that?”
“A movie and popcorn before bed.” She holds up the bag with a grin on her face. “Care to join me?”
Dragging my bottom lip between my teeth, I shake my head. “I doubt that’ll help. I’ll just go toss and turn in bed until the sun comes up.”
“Oh, come on.” She swats me with her fr
ee hand. “You never do anything enjoyable. Get lost in the wonderful world of Harry Potter with me.”
I’m not really all that tired now. It has been a while since I’ve watched a movie. And it’s been months since I’ve had popcorn. “Sure. What the hell.” I grab the popcorn bag from her hand. “Might wanna make another bag. I’ll have this one gone before you even hit play.”
Laughing behind me as I walk into the living room, she opens the cupboard to get another bag, then throws it in the microwave. Figuring that I should probably put on some pants, I do so before making myself comfortable in the living room.
I never would have thought I’d be sitting on this couch watching movies with a woman who wasn’t Gemma, but the guilt of continuing to live my life without her is beginning to diminish more and more each day. What scares me the most is that the memories are getting vaguer each day, too. I’m holding on tight, but it’s like they are just slipping away from me.
Chapter Nine
Rowan
Looking out the small kitchen window over the sink, I imagine the life Nash and Gemma would have had in the house. A stack of white vinyl fencing lies to the left. He planned on giving her the white picket fence. When we were younger, it was a topic of many conversations. My memories of those days are sketchy, but I do know that we dreamed big. Gemma wanted to travel the world and live a thousand lives. I’m not sure when she lost her hold on her dreams, but it was probably when our parents died and she took on the responsibility of caring for me.
My only dream was to get married and have kids with a white picket fence and a little dog named Buster. I’m only twenty-two—the dream is still there.
Nash begins stirring in the living room. Taking the warm cup in both hands, I turn around and hold it up to my mouth to blow on it with my backside pressed against the countertop. “Good morning,” I say when he looks over his shoulder into the kitchen.
“Did I—” He looks around puzzled. “Did I sleep here all night?” He combs his fingers through his tousled hair that’s highlighted from the sun beam shining through the kitchen window.
I nod. “Mmhmm. Told you popcorn and a movie was the trick.”
“Did you—”
He doesn’t even finish the sentence, but I answer it anyway. “No.” I shake my head. “I started to doze off but carried myself to the spare bedroom before I did.”
It’s apparent my words appease him when he finally stands up and loses the scrutinous expression. Would it really be that bad if I had fallen asleep on the couch next to him? People fall asleep watching movies all the time. We are sharing a living space momentarily and he is my brother-in-law.
When I think about it like that—yes—yes, it would be bad.
Watching Nash stretch his arms up in the air, I notice how rigid his abs are. How perfectly toned his entire body is. I’ve never paid attention until now. He stretches his arms out and twists around, cracking his back and his eyes catch mine. Almost choking on the coffee that I was holding in my mouth; I swallow it down and turn away quickly.
Oh my God, Rowan. Quit it.
An unnerving feeling festers inside of me. There has always been a wall of tension between Nash and me, but something feels different this time. It’s not an awkwardness conceived from anger and resentment. This is because I was totally just checking out my sister’s husband—and he caught me.
Fortunately, I don’t think he caught my reaction. Probably just thinks that I’m an awkward person in general, which I am.
He starts walking into the kitchen and my body tenses up. “Got any more of that coffee?” he asks, as he literally shoves his hand down the front of his pants like I’m not even standing here.
I turn around quickly, feeling my face flush. “Uh, yeah,” I say, grabbing another cup and filling it to the brim. I set it on the counter for him and slide past with mine in hand. “I’m gonna go for a run. Be back later.”
As soon as I’m free from the possibility of embarrassing myself, I breathe a sigh of relief. Shutting the bedroom door behind me, I stand against it. What the hell was that? And why in the world did I say I was going for a run? I don’t run.
I’m ashamed of myself for even having these ridiculous thoughts. This is Nash. My sister’s husband.
Get a hold of yourself, Rowan.
I walked around the same block three times with no hurry in my steps. When I went on this spontaneous adventure, it was an excuse to get out of the house, but now I’m so glad that I did. Sometimes we need to be alone in our thoughts so we can sort through them without outside interference. I’ve concluded that I have no idea what I’m doing. I feel like bits and pieces of my life are scattered all over the place and I’m not sure where to start putting them back together.
There is no place that I call home. No one from my past has made any attempt to contact me since I’ve left the Mindful Rest Center in Los Angeles. The thing is, I don’t even care. I prefer to leave those people behind. But who do I have now? Gemma is gone. Aunt Lori is in Arizona. I suppose once my work here is done, I could go visit her for a bit. She’d welcome the company, I’m sure.
I’ve been enjoying my job at Hooligans. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stick around Sunnyville for a while.
Walking back up to the house, I feel refreshed and ready to take on the day. Nash’s truck is still here, which doesn’t surprise me. He spends the majority of his days at home. An idea suddenly hits me, and I go with it.
Opening the door, I walk in and immediately grab his attention. “Let’s go to Napa.” When he immediately laughs, I assume he thinks I’m joking. “Why is that funny?”
“You go on a run in flip-flops and decide you want to take a drive to Napa?”
Smirking, I kick off said flip-flops. “Uh-huh. Pretty much.” I sit down on the arm of the couch where he is nose deep in his phone. “I’m serious, Nash. I wanna see the vineyards. I mean, I’ve seen them, but I’ve never been able to do the wine tasting stuff.”
Lifting his head, he side-eyes me. “You can go do the wine tasting stuff. I’ll stay here.” Then he returns to his task at hand.
I snatch his phone, warranting me a devious glare. “Please, Nash? I don’t know anyone here and I think it would be fun.” I flash him sad eyes and a droopy frown in plea.
His posture dampens as he releases an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”
Bringing my hands together, I clap like an excited child. “Really?” Jumping up, I don’t even give him a chance to change his mind. “I’ll go get changed.” Stopping, I look back at him. “You should probably do the same.” After all, he’s sporting a pair of gym shorts and a plain white T-shirt that hugs tightly to his…oh my gosh, Rowan, stop it.
I pull on a pair of high-waisted denim jeans and a black T-shirt with a generic rock band name on it. I don’t even know who they are, but the design was cute, so I bought it.
A quick stop in the bathroom, and I pull my brush out of my necessities bag on the counter. I run it through my hair a couple times. My face is completely naked of makeup, as it has been for the last couple of weeks. I used to wear the stuff all the time. I wouldn’t be caught dead leaving the house without coloring my face in bronzer and my eyes in black liner. Dabbing on some blush and mascara, I call it good.
When I get back into the living room, I slide my flip-flops back on and drop down on the couch to wait for Nash.
Five minutes later, he walks out in a pair of khaki-colored adventure pants that have at least a dozen pockets, a breathable black long-sleeved shirt, and a backpack.
Holding back a laugh, I try to talk, but a few squeals escape. “Umm. Am I underdressed? I didn’t know that the wineries required us to deck out in hiking apparel?”
He arches his eyebrows with a smirk. “You said you’ve never been to a winery. I’m taking you someplace special.”
“Really?” I beam, all too eager. “I love surprises. Where are we going?”
Laughing, he begins tying his brown Ariat hiking boots. “I thought you
said you liked surprises? If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“How about a hint? Do I need boots like that? Because I don’t have any.”
Lifting his head, he eyes the closet next to the front door. “Grab Gemma’s.”
My eyes widen in surprise that he’s offering to let me wear something of hers. Granted, she’s my sister, but he’s extremely protective of her belongings. Especially that wonky looking centerpiece on the table. “You sure?” I ask, seeking clarity. The last thing I want to do is piss him off or ruin this day by putting him in a sour mood.
“Have at it. At least they’ll still get some good use.”
I walk over to the closet and eyeball the three-tier shoe rack in search of the boots. Finding them on the bottom, I pull them out and check the size. Gemma and I used to share shoes and tops all the time. It was bottoms that we couldn’t. I always wanted her height. She always wanted my tits and ass.
Taking a seat next to him, I slide both feet in and begin tightening the laces.
“I bought those for her a couple days before our wedding.” He doesn’t even look at me when he speaks. As though my face would mirror his pain. “I don’t think she ever got a chance to wear them.”
I stop tying the laces, “Nash, I don’t have to—”
“No. Wear them. She would have wanted you to.”
Would she, though? Would she be okay with the fact that I’ve been staying here with her husband for the past couple of weeks, taking up space that was once hers? Wearing her shoes? Going on a surprise adventure with Nash? Does she know I looked out at the backyard and for a moment I wished this was my home and that this really was my life?
No. She wanted me to be here for him. She literally asked me to do this. I’m here because of her last wishes. That’s the only reason I’m here. And it’s okay that I’m enjoying it.
After Nash fills up a couple water bottles, he turns his back to me so I can stuff them in his backpack. Grabbing a few snacks, I sneak them in. The bag is already packed full of all the supplies necessary if we happen to encounter an avalanche, a bear, or even an alien invasion.