Chapter 33
Heathen
I met a middle-aged man once at a bar. He was sitting there, staring into a glass of dark whiskey like he was trying to see his future, like the drink cupped between his palms held all his truths and he wasn't very impressed with the answers they were giving him.
I clapped him on the shoulder and started a conversation with him. Turns out, he made a lot of mistakes in life. He wanted to provide the best life for his family, and in trying to make that happen, distance grew between him and his wife, to the point that she left him because he was never around.
"She said I care about my job more than I care about her and the kids," he had muttered, his voice clogged with emotion. "Can't she see I did it all for them?"
I didn't understand back then why he was so torn up about it. What was the point in getting upset over a woman who couldn't take a step back from her own selfishness and take a long, hard look at what was right in front of her?
It wouldn't take years of therapy to try and figure out why I instantly wanted to blame her. Hello, mommy issues.
What I couldn't see back then was his dedication to his wife and family is what got him up every morning. Without them, he felt like he had nothing worth living for.
I don't know what happened to that man. I never went to that bar again, but I'd like to think that they reconciled. Honestly, how many relationships end because one person is blind to how the other person really feels?
Could he have actually changed? Was he a workaholic so his family could thrive or is that just what he told himself to feel better about leaving his wife practically a single parent?
"Does it even fucking matter?" I mutter, the coffee I've drunk burning a hole through my stomach lining.
"What was that?" Rooster asks, making me snap my eyes up to him.
"Nothing."
"Is it nothing that has you sitting in here at the crack of dawn, muttering to a coffee cup?"
"You're up this early also, idiot," I remind him.
"I haven't gone to bed yet," he says with a shrug, heading to the coffee pot, as if he has no intentions of going any time soon, either.
"Is this about your wife?"
I narrow my eyes in his direction, my sleep-deprived brain trying to determine if he's mentioning Kaylee to get a rise out of me.
"I'm just drinking coffee, man," I mutter and drop my eyes back down to the cup, much in the same way as that man in the bar did all those years ago.
What if they didn't reconcile? What if the next day he stepped in front of a bus? What if he lived a lonely miserable life after that night?
God, I don't want to be a miserable fucker who's pining after a woman I've only known for a fucking week.
I just met her. How in the world has she become so damn important to me so quickly? It doesn't make sense.
"You're bent out of shape because the woman you didn't think you'd fall for has you all tangled up in knots," he says as he pours a cup of coffee. "I don't know much about relationships because I'm just not the type of guy that lets people in, but if you're as upset as you appear to be, maybe you should do something about it."
"What does he need to do?"
I groan with irritation as Bandera comes into the kitchen, also arrowing straight for the coffee pot.
"We’re discussing Heathen's plan on getting his woman back," Rooster answers, making me snarl in his direction.
His smile is wide as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips, and I swear I see a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Do you find joy in my pain?" I ask, wanting it to sound more like a joke, but it comes out so sullen and ridiculously sad that his smile quickly fades away.
"Shit, man," he mutters.
"What I'm hearing is that Kaylee is single," Bandera says.
"Kaylee is single?"
"I swear to fuck," I growl at Twisted as he enters the room, immediately joining the conversation like we're all fucking best friends.
"How in the world did you mess things up with her?" Twisted asks, pulling a coffee cup out of the cabinet. "She was head over heels for you."
"She wasn't," I argue.
They all give me their full attention, a line of assholes staring at me like I've somehow ruined their lives.
"Seriously?" Bandera asks, his eyes darting between the other two men. "How could he not see it?"
"Mommy issues," Rooster mutters, giving me a sad look. "Sorry."
"Just how fucking deep did you dig into my life?" I snap at the man, feeling like my privacy has been invaded.
Rooster pulls in a deep breath, holding his coffee cup against his chest with two hands before he speaks.
"You know all those physical tests we had to do?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"And the ones where you had to go through the dossier of several cases to find the link to the sex trafficking ring?"
"Yeah."
"I had a lot of tests as well and had to prove that I could use my resources to get every ounce of information that was expected of me."
"That doesn't answer my question," I snap.
"Yes, it does."
"It doesn't," I argue.
"You never returned that copy of The Secret Garden to the library."
My cheeks heat when Bandera laughs.
"I never borrowed that book from the library," I hiss.
"Yes, you did," Rooster says before taking another sip of coffee. "Eleven times."
Bandera throws his head back, laughing like a wild man.
"What are you laughing at?" Rooster asks, directing his attention to the other man.
I don't know what Rooster found on Bandera, but his question instantly shuts the man up as pink coats his cheeks.
"What did you find out about him?" Twisted asks, hitching a thumb in Bandera's direction.
"We aren't talking about him right now," Rooster says, looking back at me.
Bandera takes a step away as if he's going to slink out of the room before the attention can be turned back on him.
"I say you go to that friend's party tonight and sweep her off her feet," Twisted offers.
"I think getting involved with a woman while working for Cerberus is a very bad idea," Bandera offers, making me want to wrap my hands around his throat.
"Don't talk about his wife like that," Rooster snaps. "It's likely he'll kill you."
Twisted puts some distance between him and Bandera, as if he thinks Rooster's speculation might come to fruition and he doesn't want to get caught in the crossfire.
The ridiculousness of it all makes me smile, but it also makes me want to rage and throw shit.
I've never been the type of guy to sit and talk about my feelings. I've always been a man of action. If there was something that could be done to solve a problem, I was the first to line up and volunteer to get shit done. It's why I feel so out of place in this situation. I never should've let her walk away, but also taking someone's free will doesn't sit well with me either.
"You have to get her back," Twisted offers. "If you don't, you're going to just sit around and mope."
"He'll get over her within a week," Bandera says, but when my eyes land back on him, I see his words as a challenge.
"Is this some good guy and bad guy thing?" I ask, waving a hand between him and the other two.
"Is it working?" Bandera asks, making me realize that they either planned this intervention of advice or they're just really good at reading a situation.
"Maybe?" I mutter, because I knew when I lay in bed all night staring up at the ceiling and missing her like a phantom limb that I'd go after her.
How could I not?
I don't feel complete without her in the bed beside me.
"You have to wear a costume," Twisted offers.
"I'm not wearing a fucking costume."
"It's a costume party," Rooster says. "It's literally in the title."
"You have to make a grand gesture," Bandera adds.
"What the fuck do you know about it?" I snap, still not having forgiven him for his initial opinions on the situation.
"His favorite movie is 10 Things I Hate About You ," Rooster helpfully supplies.
"Dude?" Bandera snaps at the man, bringing a smile to my face.
"Really?" Twisted chuckles.
Rooster turns his attention to the other man, and Twisted snaps his mouth closed.
"I don't think it's fair that you know so much about us, and we know hardly anything about you," I mutter.
"We aren't talking about me," Rooster says, even though both of the other men are nodding in agreement with me. "Twisted is right. You have to wear a costume."
"That's too embarrassing," I argue.
"Are you afraid of being embarrassed in an effort to get your woman back?" Twisted challenges. "Why do you care what others think?"
He's got a very good point, and it cements my decision to wear a costume for this grand gesture that's needed to prove to Kaylee that I care for her and with me is where she belongs.
I can't help but feel like I'm stuck in the middle of some romantic comedy with the way these three guys are grinning at me.
Kaylee came into my life because she was on the verge of possibly being sex trafficked to some piece of shit who would buy her like they would a fucking dairy cow. Life doesn't work the way it does in PG-13 movies. People get hurt. The guy doesn't always get the girl.
It makes me realize that I could’ve easily show up dressed as her knight in shining armor and she'll take one look at me, decide I've lost my fucking mind, and file a restraining order against me.
But I can't take the chance that she won’t smile and fall into my arms and promise to be mine forever, and that's what has me on my feet and out the door in search of a Halloween costume that would do my declaration of love justice.