"Why?"
"Because, boy, I wasn't happy. And the farthest from home I've ever been is here, not thirty miles from the farm where I grew up."
"So close?"
"Right around the corner." He shakes his head, scratches his arm, swats at a fly. "While I was away, Dale died. He fell from his horse and broke his neck. Howard got married, had four kids. And I am here."
Alone. He didn't say it, but I can hear it loud and clear.
"You want to go home," I whisper.
"I do, but it's been so long since I last talked to Howard I can't bring myself to call. You know how it is." He sighs. "Pride. Resentment. Distance. But I'm old, boy, and not growing any younger. When you reach my age, you'll realize that home is where your heart is. If my brother came to me now … Hell, I'd sell this shithole of a place and move back in a heartbeat, know what I mean?"
I nod, loath to tell him I have no clue. I mean, sure, when you have no roof over your head, no real family, you appreciate friends like nothing else. So Helen was my home for a while.
But what I also learned during my fun teenage years was that the people you care for may vanish from your life and leave you in the cold just as easily. With Helen gone, my home was gone, and I was left mourning.
As for Amber … Amber hasn't answered, hasn't acknowledged my gifts, my cards, my words. All I scribbled for her, letter by painful letter. Christ, I've sat and stared at the drawings I made of her. I tried baking breakfast muffins the way she taught me. I dreamed of her. Remembered how her skin tastes, how her hair smells.
Hell, I've even found myself buying coconut shampoo and coconut soap, because the scent reminds me of her.
But it doesn't matter, does it? It never does. Maybe it's time to give up, leave her in peace. Maybe that's what she really wants.
Oh come on, Jesse Lee. Don't be all surprised and shit. Nobody gives a fuck that you love her, that you want her. That you'd do anything for her. You wanna stay with her?
Nah. Don't you know it yet? You're just too much damn trouble to keep around.
Regards, The World.
Mel closes shop early tonight. He insists he's fine, which is bullshit, but I hope all he needs is a good night's rest. After I help him lock up, I head home, worried and damn tired. Despite the exhaustion, I feel ready to snap, a headache hammering behind my eyes.
So when my cell rings and it's Seth, asking if I'd like to grab a beer, I'm game. I'd be game for anything right now, to be honest. Hell, I'd drink gasoline and light myself on fire. Anything to stop the thoughts churning in my aching head.
We meet in Halo, our usual place, and huddle around two bottles of Abita Amber. Shane and Ocean are there, too, shooting pool and cracking jokes.
"You okay, man?" Seth lifts the bottle to his mouth for a swig and regards me over the rim. "You haven't looked up from your drink since you arrived."
I shrug, look up at him to make a point, and go back to studying my fucking beer.
"Still no word from Amber?"
I shake my head. It has to stop hurting at some point, right? Has to, or I'll go mad.
"Man, that sucks ass. But at least you still have a chance." He upends his beer, swallowing it down, then glances at the pool table.
A chance?
I follow his gaze and find again my nemesis. Cassie is leaning against the bar, dressed in hot shorts and a short blouse that leaves her taut belly bare. Beside her is Manon, sleek, pretty and the object of Seth's current obsession.
I frown at her. "What chance?"
"A chance, man. Unlike me. I'm unlucky. Always getting the wrong end of the stick."
"What do you mean?"
"Manon. She's with someone. I even saw her with the guy, dammit. So yeah." He raises his bottle and drains the last drop from it. "Sucks."
"Seth, focus." I remove the bottle from his hand and shake it at him. "Amber. Chances. Does it ring any bells, or were you talking out of your ass?"
"No, man." He slouches back in his chair and rotates his bad shoulder with a wince. "It's just that Micah heard that Amber was happy with the flowers you sent her. That's positive, right?"
Right. "Where did he hear that?"
"Kayla, I bet. Who cares?"
But then why hasn't Amber texted me or called me in all this time?
"I swear I don't get chicks," I mutter, viciously stripping the label from my beer bottle. "With a guy we'd hash it out, punch each other bloody, then go for beers."
"Heh. Better not try that with Amber." Seth snickers, though his gaze has wandered back to a certain dark-haired girl. "It won't go down very well."
"Wasn't planning on it." But I don't know what else to do. "I think I should let her go. Give it up. Hell, for all I know I'm harassing her with my gifts and calls."
"Didn't you just hear me say she was happy with your flowers?"
"Yeah. Micah heard from Kayla." I make air quotes with my fingers. "Bullshit, man. I don't believe it. She'd have called me if she believed me. And if she doesn't, then who cares about the fucking flowers?" I rub a hand over my face. "Christ, I'm beat. Think I'll head home to bed."
"First time I heard you call that apartment home. Wasn't it Jackass and Co.?" He grins, and I snort.
He's right, though. "I haven't had any problems with the guys recently."
They have been sort of … nice, in fact. Friendly. Gage even helped me make the muffins, and Travis, well he helped eat them. Idiot. As for Alex … I can't figure him out, but he's been hanging around, quietly loading the laundry in the machine and washing dishes.
Can't remember the last time I did the dishes, not in the funk I spent the last two weeks in.
"Well, I'm leaving, too." Seth gets up to go. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."
He takes a detour to talk to his cousin, Shane, and I hang back, not wanting to talk to the guys. Not in the mood. Depression clings to me like a grimy film, darkening the world.
Seth performs a complicated handshake with Shane, says something to the others, and then we're on our way out of the bar.
The night air is cool. The streets are quiet, few cars passing by, although groups of people wander from bar to bar, laughing and talking.
I remember watching them when I slept under the stars, wondering how it must be to not have a care in the world, to go out and have fun with your friends and not worry. And not fret. Not ache in your soul.
Well, I was wrong. Looks like money doesn't change the ways we hurt.
And as we stumble through quiet back streets and stop, about to part and go our separate ways, that past returns with a vengeance to show me just how wrong I was.
The blow catches me in the back of my knees, throwing me to the ground. Pain explodes across my jaw and I roll on my side, groaning.
Right on time to see Simon and his goon beat on Seth with baseball bats, while kicking him in the ribs.
"No!" I scramble to my feet and launch myself at them. "Leave him alone. Fuck off!"
I kick and punch, but there are three of them, and Seth is out for the count, clutching his leg, his face white like paper.
Whatever happens to me, I need to draw them away from him. This is about me, and it's perfectly clear in my mind that, if one of us has to die tonight, it has to be me.
Another blow catches me in the side, and I hiss at the burning pain. Grabbing my assailant's bat, I drag him away from Seth. Pulling the bat toward me, I kick him in the shin, and as his grip loosens, I take the bat and swing at the other two.
One of them is Simon-huge, pissed and with a gun sticking out of his belt.
It's ridiculous. I'm outnumbered, Simon wants my hide, and my only chance is to lead them to the main street where others might see them and help me. My only saving grace is that Simon doesn't seem intent on putting a bullet through me. He wants to play, wants to see me rolling in pain, crawling and begging.
"Come on, Simon," I goad him. "Come get me."
He works his jaw, hefts the bat. "You little shit. You thought you could betray me? Report me? Thought I wouldn't know?"
Yeah, he's pissed all right.
"I was never loyal to you in the first place, motherfucker." I spit at him, saliva and blood. I think one of my teeth is loose. "You think you can beat up whoever stands in your way? Fuck you."
He says nothing, moving in-for the kill, I think, and I swing the bat as I back away, toward the main street. At least they've left Seth alone. Simon's beef is with me.
Good.
Block, parry-with a fucking bat, dammit, never imagined how heavy the motherfuckers could be-and I'm damn glad for those self-defense lessons Rafe gives us every week at the gym. Only, I have two thugs battering down on me, and the third guy …
Dammit, where is the third guy?
I lift my bat to block more blows, arms rapidly growing heavy, as I try to spot him. I manage to protect my side from yet another incoming, sidestep a kick-
A blow on the head from behind drops me like a stone. I hit the ground hard once again. I think I see people heading toward us and yell for help, but I'm not even sure I make it as darkness swirls in my eyes.