Unrequited(14)

"Ivy says you're emotionally unavailable and that you like being the good guy, so you stick with one woman until you’re bored and then move on. She said in all the years you dated, you never once said ‘I love you.’”

A nerve in my forehead started throbbing at the idea of Ivy and Winter discussing me as potential boyfriend material. I hadn't been the greatest boyfriend to Ivy. At the time, in high school, baseball was the most important thing, followed by my family and my boys. Ivy was convenient. A girl to take to the prom and homecoming. Someone who was more than happy to accept my unrefined backseat, basement, and sometimes bedroom skills. When we both went to State, she drifted into a different crowd, and while I regretted that I didn't catch on to her downward slide and help her, I wasn't torn up that she'd begun cheating on me.

Then I realized I just characterized my dating relationship with Ivy. As a playdate in kindergarten. Oh fuck. Ivy had told Winter that all my relationships with women were superficial. By comparing a four-year relationship with a kindergarten playdate, I’d just confirmed with my own careless words exactly what Ivy said.

"I'm a different person today." How different, though, even I didn’t know. I hadn’t pinpointed yet what I wanted from Winter, but it was more than a one-night stand.

"Right." It wasn't a good enough answer for her because she moved to the driver's side door and opened it. "I'm so sorry about your dad. I know how it feels."

And she did. Maybe that was why that night resonated so strongly for me. Every comforting word Winter whispered came from her own well of grief that ran deep. But I'd seen Ivy not a month before that night with Winter, and she'd said similar things, and I'd just felt relief when I dropped her off. I didn't feel relief watching Winter's taillights drive away from me.

That I hadn't loved anyone I dated in the past wasn't far off the mark, but that didn't mean I wasn't capable of love.

It meant I hadn't met the right girl.



•••

I slept poorly and woke early, which was for the best. I needed to be at the build site before Henry showed up. Downstairs, the house was quiet. Even though I lived with four guys, two of them college students, we had some early risers. Noah, one of the former Marines I’d told Winter about, was training for an upcoming pay-per-view match. He could be out running. The other Marine, Bo, spent most mornings in bed with his girlfriend. Adam was a night owl who saw the ass side of most mornings and hit the sack around the time most people were climbing out of bed to start a new day at work. Mal…he was a mystery. Four years of college and three years of living together and I still didn’t know him or his schedule.

I checked my phone, but it was curiously blank. No texts from Winter. No messages from my mom. I probably needed to drive out to the farm to make sure she was okay.

I pulled the cast-iron frying pan out of the drawer and set it to heat on the stove. As the bacon fried, Bo’s girlfriend AnnMarie stumbled into the kitchen wearing a long gray USMC T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“You have a good night?” I asked. Her cheeks pinkened. “That good?”

She ignored my comment and pointed to the pan. “Are you making that just for yourself?”

“If you make coffee and toast, I’ll throw in the eggs and bacon.”

“Deal.” She scooped coffee grounds into a filter. “We’ve missed you around here. Are you avoiding us?”

“Yes. Your boyfriend wants to throw me out of an airplane.”

“It was a joke,” she claimed. At my doubtful stare, she revised, “Maybe he was half serious, but he only suggested it because he loves you.”

I let that fabrication slide and turned to my bacon. “His love is painful.” After my dad died and I'd broken it off with Verity, I'd gone on a month-long binge of drinking and sex with women I barely knew, ending with that night with Winter. My well-intentioned roommates took this as a sign that I needed distracting. “I still have bruises from the last time we went paintballing.”

I pulled up my T-shirt and pointed to the left side of my abdomen where Noah had shot me twice. AnnMarie tsked sympathetically.

“I don’t see any marks.”

“They’re psychological,” I informed her.

She laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

I plated eggs and bacon while AnnMarie buttered toast and poured coffee. “How’s it going with you these days?”

“I’m glad school is almost over. I was thinking about getting a job. Bo said he was going to be busy doing more work for you.”

I made a face. “The Riverside project is keeping me too busy to oversee our flips, but I think Bo can handle them.”