Chapter 13
Thirteen
I take super-hot showers to remind me of what burning in hell feels like.
—Jasper to Audric
JASPER
Dru:
Good news and bad news. Good news, I remembered to sort the Secret Santa participants. Bad news, you get Calliope.
Dru, Apollo’s wife, was in charge of our club Christmas party this year.
I wasn’t sure how I got added to the Secret Santa, but I knew that it likely had a lot to do with Dru, and her unwillingness to leave anyone out.
Me:
I didn’t realize I signed up.
Dru:
You didn’t. And neither did Calliope. So that’s why y’all get each other because I forgot to check to see if everyone added their names to the list. Sorry not sorry. One gift. Twenty bucks. It’s not that big of a deal.
She was right. It wasn’t that big of a deal.
And I could handle a twenty-dollar gift.
But, since I liked giving gifts that people would actually use, I wouldn’t half-ass it no matter how much I spent. Or who I got.
Which was why I stopped at the Dollar Store on the way back to work after holding Dalton for two hours.
I picked up several bags of chips and took them into the break room with me when I got back.
Since no one was here, I started on my twenty-dollar gift, and had the fourth bag of chips almost sorted out when Gunner walked in carrying a to-go drink from the gas station down the street.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Gunner had a frown on his face, but I knew it wasn’t due to me not being here earlier. I hadn’t been expected until after lunch anyway.
“I’m sorting out the folded chips from the non-folded ones,” I mumbled as I continued my task. “Why?”
I thought about not answering truthfully, but I saw no point in lying.
“It’s for Calli’s gift…and birthday,” I murmured.
“When’s her birthday?” he asked.
“Next week. December twenty-sixth, to be exact,” I answered. “But I know that she likes this particular brand of chips, and they’re only out for the holidays, so I bought as many as I could and started to sort through them, picking out only the folded ones.”
“How do you know that she only likes the folded ones?” he wondered.
“Watched her eat,” I admitted. “When we go out to Mexican, she only reaches for the ones that’ve been folded, or partially folded. And she’ll eat all the folded ones out of the bags of chips and give the rest away when she’s done.”
“That’s pretty interesting,” he said. “It’s almost as if you like her.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
I did like her.
Even though she drove me fucking nuts and said and did things that I didn’t necessarily like hearing.
Calliope may be abrasive as fuck, but she still got my heart racing despite her faults.
Ultimately, that was my problem.
I shouldn’t like her.
“Didn’t you tell her a few weeks ago that she was irresponsible? That she needed to learn to grow up?”
I had done that.
“I was frustrated,” I excused my behavior. “She broke down on the side of 635 where there’s barely enough room to pull over, let alone pull over and do anything safely. All of that could’ve been prevented if she’d listen to that little ding that tells her she needs to get fucking gas.”
Hell, Calli breaking down was a pretty normal experience.
It’d just been me dealing with her breakdowns the last several times.
Not because no one else would help her, but because I was the one who wanted to help her.
I just plain wanted her.
Which was the worst idea ever.
The age gap.
My issues.
Her issues.
We just weren’t ever going to be compatible.
“Yo.”
I looked away from my sorting to find Gunner pointing at Cutter.
I looked back down at my sorting.
“Listen up, motherfucker,” I heard Gunner say as he raised his voice at Cutter. “You have been putting this off for a long fuckin’ time. It’s time to grow a pair of balls and actually sign up for that fuckin’ marathon. You owe me!”
I had to hide my laugh behind my hand.
“You’re the only one who didn’t run it. And it’s happening. It’s not my fault that you’ve put it off until the end of the year. You promised you would get it done and it hasn’t happened yet. You literally have ten days left.”
Cutter sighed. “I’m not sure that this matters. It’s just a run. You’re making it a big deal.”
“You bet your bike, and if you renege, you’re going to give it to me.”
Cutter started to grumble, arguing, and I went back to my sorting.
A while ago, the entire club—sans just a few that were too old or too out of shape—had a pact that they would run a marathon. I wasn’t sure why or how, but they’d all agreed, and bet on it. If they didn’t, they would have to give up their bikes.
Everyone else had gotten theirs done in a timely manner.
Everyone but Cutter, who always had an excuse each time that they were supposed to run.
He’d run out of time, though.
He’d put it off too many times that they’d given him a timeline.
The end of this year, or they were taking his bike and auctioning it off to donate the proceeds to Gunner’s Angel charity.
Since it was Cutter’s baby, he’d agreed.
But Gunner was right.
Cutter had put it off way too many times, and was running out of time.
And I didn’t think the club would let him back out.
“I already signed you up for a race this weekend.” Gunner’s eyes gleamed.
Gunner walked out on that announcement, leaving the two of us alone in the room.
“What the fuck are you even doing?” Cutter grumbled.
“Sorting out potato chips,” I said. “What does it look like?”
He was silent for a long moment then said, “Want to run with me?”
“Sorry, no can do,” I said. “My body just isn’t limber like it used to be.”
“Oh, get the fuck out of here,” Cutter said. “You’re a goddamn athlete and you know it. And don’t give me any of that ‘I can’t cool off’ bullshit. We both know that you know the warning signs if you’re getting overheated. You’re running this with me.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“Because you want to impress a certain someone,” Cutter whispered. “But also, if you don’t train with me, I’ll tell everyone you have the hots for Doc’s sister-in-law.”
My eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m fuckin’ talking about.
” He rolled his eyes. “All those mooning looks you give her. You never let her out of your sight. And though you talk mad shit to her all the time, you don’t let anyone else do it.
I think you gave that prospect a bloody nose two months ago, didn’t you? Wasn’t it about her?”
He knew he was fuckin’ right.
Goddammit.
“When is it?” I growled.
“Christmas Eve.” He winced.
I studied the ceiling. “I’m not like Gunner. I’ve easily got thirty more pounds of muscle on me compared to him. I can’t just go pop off a fuckin’ marathon and not die from it.”
Like, seriously, no joke. I wouldn’t be able to do it.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be a pussy,” he said just as Gunner came up behind me and snorted.
I looked over at him and he flipped me the bird. “What are you looking at?”
He walked out the door, and I couldn’t help but think I was really fucking myself here.
Goddammit.
“So, what time should I pick you up?”