Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
RUSTY
I storm into the kitchen at Patty's. "What did you do?" Patty asks.
I must look as bad as I feel, which is a mile or two below rock bottom. "Nothin'."
"What are you fixin' to do?"
I grab a knife and start dicing carrots. With a vengeance.
"Where's your girl?"
"Home, probably. And she's not my girl."
Patty shakes his head and shifts cheese curds around in the fryer. "She likes you."
"I know. That's the problem."
Patty pauses. "You and I see this very differently."
"I shouldn't have come," I say, setting the knife down. "Sorry, Patty. I'm not in the right mind to be company for anyone."
Patty grabs my arm. "Hey, Sean said he saw Arlo shoutin' at you outside Mudcakes the other night. You know you're not him, right?"
"I wish. But thanks, man. You're a good friend."
I exit the kitchen through the bar, and head into the bathroom to splash water on my face. When I'm done, I grip the sink and breathe in to the count of seven and out to the count of eleven. I repeat it until the spots in my vision subside.
After giving myself a mental shake, I leave the restroom and spot a table of middle-aged men laughing together. One of them is Matt's dad. Matt has been an exemplary worker, so I go over to the table.
"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but you're Mr. Peters, aren't you? Matt's dad?"
He gives his friends a look I can't interpret. "I am. What's this about?"
"You've raised a good young man, sir. He works for me running our biggest fruit stand. He's the hardest worker I have."
Mr. Peters shifts to look at me. "You're his boss? Ain't you Arlo Fielding's boy?"
My hackles rise. "Yes sir."
The man nods and turns back to his drink. "Makes sense. To hear your old man tell it, you and Matt must be cut from the same cloth. Glad he's working out for you."
This should be a compliment, but even without the smirks from his friends, it's clearly not. "And what cloth would that be? Sir?"
I shift on my feet. I'm bigger than each of these bullies. They may have been tough once, but even if none of them are alcoholics like Arlo, they've gone soft? —
Holy cow. What am I doing? Am I sizing them up? Picking a fight? Matt is an adult now. He can escape his dad like I did. I'm putting my energy in the wrong place.
"You know, forget about it. I'll take it as a compliment to be anything like Matt."
I take a couple of steps away when I hear one of the men say, "Spare the rod, spoil the child. "
And I'm about to snap.
I run from the bar, blood coursing through my veins so fast, the world sounds fuzzy and dull. Panting, I bend over and am almost sick. Has he hit Matt? Can I really walk away knowing that Matt might go home to him?
I get on the phone. I’m breathing so rapidly, I almost hyperventilate. Tripp answers on the second ring.
"Hey, man," he says.
"Hey, I need space for one of my workers to live on the farm."
"The seasonal worker housing won't be finished till next month, but we can clear out a cabin. What's going on?"
"It's Matt Peters. I need him out of his house now. I'll pay for his stay."
"You're not payin' anything."
"Tripp—”
"Rusty," Tripp says firmly, "don't worry about it. I can put him up."
"I know you can. But I can't risk y'all booking a big event and him having to go home — " a sob rips from my throat.
"I won't let anything happen to him. I swear."
Tripp sounds so much like his grandpa that I fight back tears. "I miss Tag," I say. "I miss him so much. I wish I could talk to him."
"Talk to me."
"You're more of a brother than a father figure."
"A much bigger, much better looking brother."
My laugh is more snot than anything. "I'm afraid, Tripp. I'm afraid of being like Arlo. I'm so mad all the time."
Tripp breathes heavily. "You and me both, brother. But you're nothing like Arlo. That guy would steal from an orphanage. You'd spend a summer building one."
"Yet it can't make me stop being so angry. "
"Anger's not a real emotion. It's hiding something else. If you want to get past it, you need to figure out what it's covering."
I grip the back of my head and breathe in and out slowly. His words strike deep in my chest. "Thanks, man. And thanks for taking care of Matt."
"Anything for my tiny, baby-sized brother," Tripp says. "Rusty, you know I'm here for you. I may not have Tag's wisdom, but you're just as much my family."
"You too."
I end the call and rub my face with both hands.
"Hey stranger," a voice — my favorite voice — says. "Ready for that chat?"
I drop my hands and see Ash, her eyes red and swollen from crying. I'm not ready in the slightest. But after how I almost snapped at Matt's dad, I can't pretend I'm okay.
Ash grabs my hands and takes me to the side of the bar, away from windows or doors. The sun has already set, and the stars shine brightly in the night sky. It's too beautiful a night for the conversation we're about to have.
I take in a deep breath.
"Don't," Ash says.
"Don't what?"
"Don't say whatever you're about to say."
My head hurts from how tightly my eyebrows are pulling together. "I don't want this anymore than you do."
"Then it's settled! We transition from fake dating to real dating and keep going forever."
"We can't."
She chews on the inside of her cheek as her eyes well. If I didn't already feel like the worst person in the world, this would push me over the edge. I promised I would never hurt her.
Everything Arlo said about me is right. I'm a bad person. I'm no better than he is. I may not be a mean, miserable drunk, but I hurt people even when I'm trying to do the right thing .
I make myself sick.
And I've made Ash cry.
When I open my mouth, my voice sounds like it's coming from the dust. "We can't be together, Ash."
"Why not?"
"Because look what I’ve done to you! I can’t pretend everything is fine and that we can get the happy ending we both want."
She dashes a tear from her cheek. "What have you done to me?"
"I did exactly what Philip did! I hurt you! I made you cry! I erased you today!" I point to her, even though she's wearing her glasses and teal sweats instead of her earlier colorless appearance, and the humidity has already made her hair wave.
"I had a bad night last night, got a little carried away, and dressed up in boring clothes for a meeting. It's not a big deal!"
"I made you feel like you had to change yourself to earn my love. I would never want you to be with someone who could make you feel like you're not perfect the way you are!"
Her unnaturally large eyes drill into me. "Rusty, I'm not perfect the way I am. I'm a work in progress. I can accept and like myself and still make mistakes and stupid choices that I need to learn from. This is one of them! I overreacted because I was scared I drove you away."
"You could never drive me away!"
"Then who could? Who's keeping us apart?" she asks. "I love you. I'm in crazy, stupid, out of control love with you. I don't know what took me so long to get here, but I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere ."
I knew her feelings were changing. I heard what she said the other night to my parents, but she actually meant it?
She loves me?
Her words should cause me joy, not soul-wrenching agony. She's everything I want and everything I don't deserve .
"You're wasting your time with me. I'm not good for you."
"I disagree."
"Look at how much pain I've caused you in twenty-four hours!"
"And look at how much happiness you've given me in the last two weeks! The last year ! We're at the start of what could be a lifelong relationship. Did you expect that we would never step on each other's toes or say something hurtful?"
"Yes."
"That's too high a standard!"
"It's not too high. It's the minimum."
"It's impossible ."
"Then I don't deserve you! Don't you get it? My grandpa died of alcohol poisoning. Alcoholism ruined his first marriage. Whoever she was, she ran from him as fast as she could. His second wife — my grandma — didn't make it as far. She had to work two jobs to feed the family because my grandpa couldn't even hold down one. It ruined his relationship with Arlo and he died young."
"You don't drink!"
"But I can't risk it! Sometimes, Arlo had these moments of remorse, and he'd cry that he never wanted to end up like his dad. He'd beg for our forgiveness. And then a couple days later, we'd get a call from the bar again, and he'd bellow the second we got him home. I've spent my whole life trying to make sure I end up nothing like Arlo, yet I threaten and bully people just like him!"
She gives a disbelieving laugh. "Who have you bullied?"
"Teddy! Bill! Philip! I almost decked Matt’s dad ten minutes ago!"
She shakes her head, but it's because I've caught her in my snare the same way Arlo did with my mom. "Please try to understand,” I say. “I watched Arlo belittle and berate my mom for years. Nothing my mom did was good enough, and when I got old enough to tell him that, he punished her through me. I cannot become him. I cannot let you become my mom." My throat hitches. "I would sooner die."
The set of Ash's eyes changes as she raises her hands to my cheeks. "I don't want any misunderstanding between us," she says. "Are you telling me that you love me but can't be with me because you're afraid there’s a chance you’ll become Arlo?"
"Yes."
Her lips curl into a small smile. "Okay."
" Okay ?"
"Yeah. Okay." She moves her hands from my face to behind my neck.
"I don't get it."
"You've been in love with me for the better part of a year, right?" I nod. "And I was too dumb to realize we were perfect for each other partly because you hid a huge chunk of your personality and unintentionally friend-zoned me."
"Well — "
"Rusty, you waited patiently for me to figure out what you already knew in your heart, so I'm going to do the same. I'll wait patiently for you to figure out what I know."
"Which is?"
"That you are nothing like your nasty, miserable, pathetic excuse for a father," she says, sliding her hands up my neck and into my hair. "You are the very best person I've ever known, and that's saying a lot, because Greg is practically Father Teresa." Her fingers are firm on my head, pushing pressure points in a massage that makes my legs wobble. "Farm Boy, we have the kind of love that could last the ages. We could be the couple everyone else holds up as their ideal. Girls would turn down men who don't look at them the way you look at me. Guys would hold out for a girl who's as obsessed with them as I am with you. We are it . I've gone my whole life wanting to feel the way you make me feel. Now it's my turn to wait for you to catch up."
I feel like my heart has been put in a blender and is being poured out in front of me. Her telling me she loves me now hurts worse than my unrequited love ever did. "Ash, it's a risk I can't take. I'm Arlo's son. Boyd’s grandson. I don't get to be with you."
"Oh, sweet boy, you don't have a choice. You promised me that we'd still be us and that our friendship wouldn't suffer. You never pushed me, but unfortunately for your sake, I'm not as noble as you are. I'll try to give you the time you need, but you know how I get when I hyperfocus. Nothing else exists until the project is complete. And you are my project. Or we are."
Frustration makes me remove her hands from my neck.
She puts them back up immediately.
"Ash — "
"Whoops! I can't imagine how they got there."
I remove them again, this time holding them in mine.
"This is nice," she says, looking at our hands.
I drop them. " Ash. "
"Yes, lovah ?" She overemphasizes the word. Then she snorts. "I really hate that word. Doesn't it just sound gross? So why do I love calling you my lovah so much?"
"Please don't make this harder than it has to be."
"Then look in a mirror and see yourself the way every other person in the world sees you. And then give in and let me have my way." She smiles, biting her lip far too playfully. "You know you want to."
I want to more than anything. But that selfish instinct is exactly what Arlo would do.
"I can't. I don't get to have you."
I kiss her hands and then drop them and walk to my car.
"See you tomorrow, Farm Boy!" she calls after me.
And because I'm an awful person, I'm already looking forward to it.