20. Gil
CHAPTER 20
GIL
J ack had been trying to call me all week, but I kept sending him to voicemail. I knew it was only a matter of time before he actually showed up at my house, but it was Wednesday and he’d yet to go that far. I hadn’t really heard from Rowan, which was fine. Our relationship didn’t require daily check-ins, and I knew he had his hands full with Fisher, his job, and all the work that needed to be done on the house.
Another reason I’d never wanted to be a parent was because I never wanted to risk being a single parent. I didn’t have the patience for that kind of thing. I barely had the patience for Fisher, but there he was again, like a goddamn barnacle. I set down my beer—the first one of the night—and used the back of my hand to wipe sweat off my forehead as he cruised his bike up my driveway. He shoved down the kickstand with an unhappy sound, setting his bike to rest right beside my motorcycle.
“Do you have any soda?” he asked, glancing at my beer.
“No.”
He fidgeted with the earbud in his right ear.
“Are those on?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Then take them off.”
He huffed, but pulled both earbuds out and put them into his pocket. “Can I have that ride on your bike?”
No hello.
No how are you.
“It’s almost dinner, isn’t your dad expecting you home?”
“He’s on a date,” Fisher said with a shrug. “He left me money for pizza.”
“A date?” My voice cracked on the ask, which was embarrassing, but if Fisher noticed it—which I’m sure he did—he had the decency to not call me out about it.
“With some guy from work. Brian, I think.”
The single drink of beer I’d taken roiled around my stomach and I tossed the whole bottle into the trash. Rowan was allowed to date. In fact, I should have been encouraging it. I’d made it very clear to him what I wanted and what I could offer and dating wasn’t on the table.
So why did the thought of him being out with another man make my skin crawl?
The thought of another man becoming familiar with the sharp jut of Rowan’s hip bone and the cluster of freckles that danced up toward his waist made me want to break Brian-from-work’s fucking hand.
“Oh.”
“They had lunch on Monday, Dad said,” Fisher went on, unbothered at the storm building in the middle of my chest.
“Cool,” I said, feeling very not cool about the whole thing.
“He said not to wait up for him.”
“Yeah.” I slammed down the hood of the Cougar and shot Fisher a scathing look. “Let’s go for a ride.”
If he was on the bike, he couldn’t fucking keep talking. Well, he could talk, but I wouldn’t be able to hear him and that was the only blessing I needed.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Move your bike out of the way. I’m gonna go grab you a jacket and helmet from inside.”
I slammed the door on my way into the house, needing to shake off some of the energy that had begun to manifest itself in my bones after finding out Rowan was out on a date. I knew Rowan worked at the bank, so that meant Brian worked at the bank, because he’d never be the kind of man to date a customer, and I was relatively confident Brian from the bank didn’t know how to make Rowan come as good as I did. So even if their date went that far, it would have to be their last one, right?
That was what I told myself as I got my leather jacket out of the closet. I grabbed a spare for Fisher, even though he’d be swimming in it. Some protection was better than nothing. I dug out a spare helmet from the hall closet, thankful that Fisher was close enough to adult size that it would fit him well.
Back in the garage, I got him zipped up and clipped in. Even with his face pinched behind the pads of the helmet, I could tell he was flushed and excited.
“I want my dad to be happy again,” he said, and I thought about Rowan and Brian before snapping the visor down in place to shut Fisher up for the second time.
“He deserves it,” I agreed, wheeling my bike out of the garage so there’d be more room for Fisher to climb onto the back.
After I got him situated and explained all the safety rules to him, I turned the key. The roar of the engine wasn’t loud enough to drown out Fisher’s excited yelp, and I patted the top of his hands after they tightened around my stomach.
“You ready?” I asked.
He nodded like a big bobblehead behind me.
And we were off.
Rowan had technically only approved a ride to around the block, but he was out on a date which meant Fisher and I had nothing but time, and even with a twelve year-old clamped on behind me, I still did my best thinking on the bike. I rolled to a stop when we reached the end of the street, checking in on Fisher again.
“You good?”
“Oh, my God, this is the best!” he shouted through the helmet.
I chuckled and set off, not going so far as to take him up the mountains on his first ride. Those turns were sharp and steep, and I didn’t trust him to stay on the back. Instead, I rode us around the edges of town, deliberately avoiding the main streets where all the restaurants were since the last thing I wanted was to run into Rowan.
That might have been a lie.
I found I wanted to see Rowan far more than I should, but I definitely didn’t want to see him on a date. What I wanted to do was go home, call Jack, and try to make sense of the very unexpected feelings that had suddenly come up out of nowhere, but Jack was my ex’s brother and he’d picked his side. I was well and truly alone, save for the pre-teen behind me whom I’d lose as soon as Rowan found someone who could give him all of the things he deserved.
Fisher’s voice in my head saying how he wanted his dad to be happy was loud as a cannon shot and on repeat as I finally looped the perimeter of town and headed back to my house. Rowan had been a married man; he had a son to raise. Happy for him was a partner and dinner dates and school plays, or whatever kids like Fisher did. Happy for Rowan was not going to be coming over at the end of the night for a quick bang and hoping he didn’t fall asleep before sneaking out to go back home.
I was going to lose him.
I was already losing him.
When I rode up my driveway and came to a stop, Fisher was off the bike immediately, yapping and gesturing with his hands. I unclipped the strap at the bottom of his helmet and yanked it up over his head.
“—the wind! That was so cool and you went really fast on Miller Road and I thought I was gonna fly right off, but I didn’t.”
I’d barely gone forty-five on Miller Road.
I reached out and tugged the pull on the zipper, divesting Fisher of my spare leather jacket.
It had been Philip’s once.
“I’m glad you had fun,” I told him. “You should probably head home and get that pizza now.”
“Ignoring my dad is only fun if he’s home,” Fisher said, reaching back into his pocket for his earbuds. He popped them in, and I knew he didn’t have any music on. I would have to let Rowan know his kid was scamming him half the time. “Can you teach me how to change oil or something?”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him. “That’s your dad’s job.”
“He pays someone to change his. I don’t think he knows how.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Can’t you just teach me since we’re here?” Fisher pressed.
“I don’t need to change any oil.” The Cougar hadn’t run in over a year. It needed a new engine, not fresh oil.
“What about a tire or something?”
A laugh bubbled out of me, and I waved Fisher off dismissively. “I don’t have any tires to change tonight, kid.”
“You were out here to do something on it when I showed up.”
“I was out here to drink and think,” I corrected him.
“The hood was up!” Fisher pointed at the Cougar. “You had a wrench.”
“I was thinking ,” I assured him. “What grade are you in? Tenth? They have shop at the school.”
“I’m in seventh.”
I had no fucking clue about kids.
“It’s too late to be working on cars,” I said. “But when I’m ready to, I’ll let your dad know and you can come over.”
I didn’t even have Rowan’s phone number. I bet Brian did.
“Fine,” Fisher grumbled.
His hair was a mess from the helmet, and he still had indents on the sides of his face. He muttered under his breath the whole time he got situated back on his bike, the protests only quieting down once he was out of earshot. I watched him go, then sat in the silence of my garage until the stillness hurt my ears.
I closed the big door and brought all Philip’s old gear back inside. Instead of putting it back into the closet where it belonged, I left it sitting on the coffee table. Maybe as a reminder or a punishment, I wasn’t sure. I thought about calling him, which was probably the worst idea I’d ever had, second only to taking Rowan Verne to bed more than one time.
The worst part about Philip getting married was that it was the only thing I’d ever wanted for him. I loved Philip and I wanted him to be happy. I wanted his parents to be happy with him, and that wasn’t a future he ever could have had with me. He’d risked so much by bringing me home to meet them, just by being with me in the first place. I’d never truly appreciated the sacrifices he’d made for me until we were already split up, but it was those realizations that made me confirm I didn’t want to be in a relationship ever again.
The sacrifices were worth it, he’d told me. Jack had said the same thing. That’s just what you did when you loved somebody. You sacrificed, and I thought that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. I never imagined love to be the kind of thing that required you to shave off parts of yourself to make another person whole, and that was what Philip and I had done for each other. I hoped the woman he was about to marry was whole on her own, without needing to make changes to fit the person Philip—and his parents—wanted her to be. I hoped Jack could be as good a friend to her as he’d been to me. I hoped…
I hoped all sorts of things all through the rest of the night, and I wish I could say when Rowan showed up on my porch at ten-fifteen in gray chinos, a pink button-up, and a blue and yellow bowtie, that I turned him away. His hair was a little messy, loose curls tangled on the top of his head, and when I opened the door he smelled like the ocean.
He was wearing cologne.
“Hey,” I said, swallowing back all the bile that was trying to force its way out of my mouth since Fisher had shown up hours earlier.
“Hey.” The corner of his mouth quirked up a little, and I loved how Rowan didn’t stutter around me anymore. “Can I come in?”
I looked up him and down, checking his clothes to make sure he was all in order. His hair was the only unkempt thing about him, and all I’d have to do was pull his pants down two inches to find the scattering of freckles I wanted to mark as my own.
Rowan was nothing if not an honest man.
If he’d fucked this Brian guy, he would tell me. More so, I’d be able to tell without him even saying a word. Rowan wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face. His arrival on my porch confirmed their date had ended early and without any clothes coming off. That should have been a relief, but it was barely more than a band aid on a flesh wound.
My time was running out.
“Yeah,” I said, voice low and scratchy. “Come on in.”