Chapter 11
Eleven
FELIX
M y house feels empty, now. Which is odd, because Ember was only in it for a few hours, but in that time she filled it with life and personality. It's always felt empty because it is…but now, without her in it anymore? Feels like a tomb.
She has my FJ40, so I can't even busy myself with that. I consider heading out to my build site, but for once, I just…don't want to.
I putz around for a while, doing a few odds and ends I've been putting off—fixing the guest bathroom sink so it doesn’t drip, replacing a handful of screens that have been ripped and patched a billion times, replacing the loose, creaky boards on the steps to the back deck, putting WD40 on the squeaky hinges of the door into the garage…
It's bullshit busy work, but it keeps my mind occupied…ish.
Okay, no, it doesn't.
More than once, I find myself standing around with a tool in my hand, staring into space, thinking about Ember. Mostly, I'm daydreaming about her body and the borderline miraculous things she did to me.
Thinking about that stuff is a hell of a lot easier than thinking about what she told me. Or about my own shit. Yeah, no. Fuck that.
Daydreaming about those big, fat, juicy tits is way better than thinking about Amy Quincy, or Ember's tragic history.
Problem is, thinking about those big, fat, juicy tits makes me horny, and as has been established, Ember is gone.
Eventually, I run out of busy work projects, leaving me at loose ends again. I could bust into the materials I have stored in the basement and start putting down that luxury vinyl plank like I've been putting off for months, but it's already almost nine o'clock at night and I'm in no mood for that.
My phone rings as I'm contemplating what the hell I'm going to do until I'm tired enough to fall asleep; it's Riley.
"Hey, Rye. What's up, bro?" I sound pathetically glad to hear from him—because I am.
"Whoa, you sound chipper. You on coke or something?" Riley says.
"Fuck you, no, I'm not on coke."
"There's the grumpy Felix I know and love."
"I'm not grumpy.”
"He said, grumpily."
I groan. "I was glad to hear from you, but now I'm rethinking that position. Did you call for a reason or just to annoy me?"
"What are you doing right now?"
"Not a goddamn thing. Why?"
He sighs. "If you were smart, you'd be balls deep in Ember right now."
"Hey, don't talk about her like that," I snap. "It's not like that. She’s not like that."
He chuckles. "Wait, hold up—you get shot down?"
"Rye, do me a favor and fuck all the way off with the questions."
"Mmmmm…probably not. Come outside."
I peer through my front window—his big silver truck is at the curb behind the flatbed with Ember's van on it. "You're here."
"Excellent powers of observation, Sherlock. I'm kidnapping you. Let's go."
"Go where?"
"I dunno. Get into some trouble."
"You broke up with April already?"
"I'll tell you in the car. Fuckin' come on."
I sigh. "Alright, alright. Be right out."
I grab my wallet, keys, and phone, slap a ball cap on my head, and stomp into my Redwings. When I slide into the passenger seat of Riley's truck, I'm immediately greeted by the fact that his truck is immaculate, despite being older than mine and despite the fact that he lives in his every bit as much as I do mine.
"Who cleans out your truck, man?" I ask. "Fuckin' Snow White and her forest critters?”
He yanks it into gear and pulls away from my curb. "Um, me, bro. Unlike you, I'm not a fuckin' slob. Every time I get gas, I clean it out, and every Saturday morning I vacuum it and wipe it down. Which is why my truck looks like an adult human drives it and yours looks like a rabid racoon on meth drives it."
“Rabid racoon on meth, " I mutter. "Fucking dick."
"So. You and Ember."
"No."
"Oh, c'mon, brother. You gotta gimme some thing. Her van is on our flatbed outside your house and she's not with you. And your FJ40 is gone."
I frown at him. "How do you know that?"
A shrug. "You left the garage door open."
"Well? Turn around so I can close it."
He waves a hand. "Nah. Mrs. McCready will keep an eye out. That nosy old bat never sleeps."
I snort a laugh. "You're not wrong. Fine. Whatever."
He pokes me in the arm. "Something happened. Tell me."
"We…messed around."
He grins at me. "Are her tits as fucking magnificent as I want to believe they are?"
"However magnificent you're imagining they are, they're a billion times better."
"You lucky motherfucker." He glances at me. "So…why'd she leave? Pussy game is weak since you're a fucking monk?"
I growl. "Fuck you, no. My pussy game is not weak, you trashy shitbag." I shake my head. "I'm not a monk. We’ve talked about this already.”
"And you haven’t used it in how long?"
"We’ve talked about this already, too,” I say. "Also, I'm not talking about Ember anymore."
"Oh fuck off, Fee. She's got great tits—that's all I get? I coulda told you that."
"She's more than her tits, Rye."
"That ass, though, amiright?"
I give him a glare that promises bodily harm. "Riley Frederick Crowe. Do not fuck with me on this. I swear to fucking god I will break your goddamn jaw."
His eyes widen and he turns his head exaggeratedly slowly to stare at me as we come to a red light. "Okaaaaay, then. Message received. You have never once used my middle name." He slaps a hand on my shoulder. "I'm just fuckin' with you, Fee. I'm sure she's got a great personality."
"RILEY!" I shout.
He leans against his window, covering his mouth with his hand, cackling like a mentally handicapped hyena. "You are serious about this."
"Yes, I fucking am," I snap.
He gives me a long, sober look. "Like for real, for real?"
I close my eyes and stare at the ceiling of the cab. "Yes, for real.”
"Like, you care about her?"
"I…I don't know. Yes. Maybe. I think?" I shake my head. "It's complicated."
"It's never complicated."
"This is." I look around. "Where the fuck are we going, anyway?"
"We're meeting Cole and Nyx at The Borderline."
I groan. "Fuck me. Really? That skeezy-ass dive?"
The Borderline is a shitty, sticky, smelly dive bar that's on the county border some twenty-five or thirty minutes east of Three Rivers. It's a popular spot on the weekends because they always have a live band and great specials on domestic pitchers. It's where locals go when they want to get naked-wasted. Part of its draw, band and beer aside, is that they share a lot with the one taxi company in the whole county, and they've developed a deal with the taxi people that keeps drunk people from driving and the taxi company solvent.
Riley chuckles. "Yeah, it's Nyx's idea."
"Of course it is. That toothless hillbilly loves The Borderline."
"I'm gonna tell him you called him that."
"You will not," I say, pointing at him.
"He’s sensitive about his teeth."
"It was a joke."
" You're a joke."
I sigh. "Very mature, Rye."
Nyx lost most of his front teeth in a bar fight. He has implants, now, but for a while he had to wear denture things that he was super sensitive about. He still gets pissy if you bring up his teeth, even though you can't tell anymore.
Riley elbows me. "Come on. No more jokes, I swear—what's up with you and Ember?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. After we…" I tip my head side to side. "It wasn't a hookup. Whatever. After whatever happened, happened, we talked. She told me some stuff she's been through, and…" I shake my head again. "She needed time alone to process her feelings."
"You tell her about Amy?"
"No. But she knows there's something."
"You're one big ball of issues, bro—of course she knows there's something." He glances at me. "You're still hung up, aren't you?"
“No."
“You are! You're hung up on Amy still." He groans. "Bro, for real, you may need a therapist."
"Bro," I mock, "Shut up."
He rolls his eyes. "Oh, very mature, Fee."
"We didn't talk about me. But let’s just say that yes, my issues did present themselves."
"What's she like?" he asks. "As a person. I'm not being a jackass this time."
"For once," I mutter. "She's amazing. She's lived a crazy life, been through a lot of seriously hard shit and she's still…just full of light and life. She's funny, interesting, strong, resilient.” I sigh. "But she has things in her past that are…holding her back. Which obviously you know I understand more than most."
"Yeah, I do know that. So what are you gonna do?"
"Fuck if I know. What can I do? If she's not ready, she's not ready. And honestly, I don’t know if I am, either.”
Riley stares at me. "You don't know if you're ready…to not be a lonely, grumpy old ogre?"
I glare at him. "I'm not grumpy!"
"Hey Siri," he says in a loud, clear voice. "Call Nyx."
"Calling Nyx—cell phone," a disembodied voice says from the speakers.
It rings twice and Nyx's voice fills the cab. "Motherfuckin' Riley Crowe in the hizz-ouss!"
Riley laughs. "You're already into the whiskey, aren't you?"
"Fuck yeah, man. You on the way?"
"Yeah, me and Fee."
"How'd you convince his cranky ass to crawl out of his cave of solitude?"
Riley hoots uproariously, driving with his knee so he can clap his hands. "What'd I fuckin' say!"
"Oh for fuck's sake," I grumble. "I'm not cranky or grumpy and you're both assholes. What I get for thinking I could go out with my friends and not take a bunch of shit."
Nyx laughs. "I'm on speaker, huh?"
"Yeah, you are," Riley says. "I was calling to ask you for one word that describes my brother."
"Crank-o-saurus rex!" Nyx yells. "That's you, Fee! Crank-o-Saurus rex. You know what you need, my man? A blowjob and at least six shots of whiskey. I can provide the whiskey, but you're on your own for the first part."
"Got that handled," I mutter, not quite suppressing a grin at the memory.
Riley hoots and claps even more raucously, clapping me on the arm. "And you're still cranky? Jesus. Stubborn motherfucker, you are. That girl is a fuckin' smokeshow, Fee. You got head from her, and you're still pining after Amy?"
"You're fucked in the head if that's true," Nyx adds.
"Fuck you both. I'm not pining after fucking Amy." I snatch Riley's phone out of the cupholder. "See you in a minute, Nyx. Gotta kill my brother." I end the call and toss the phone back into the cupholder, giving my brother a death stare so vicious he taps the brakes and pulls over onto the shoulder.
"Fee, I was just—" He starts.
I slug him in the jaw—hard enough to prove a point, but not hard enough to cause any real damage. "I fucking told you, Rye. It wasn't like that— she’s not like that. She's not some Tinder bunny that I hooked up with while she was on vacation. I don't mind sharing details in those situations, and I don't mind the crude fuckin' jokes, either. But Ember is different. So fuck off with the crass bullshit or the next time you'll be scheduling a visit with Dr. Pritchard." That being Three Rivers' orthodontic surgeon.
Riley jacks the shifter into neutral, working his jaw with a speculative expression. "Wow, okay."
"I fuckin' warned you."
He nods, a hardness in his gaze. "You did."
I rub my face with both hands, knowing my temper got the best of me. "Rye, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've hit you."
The hardness evaporates. He rubs his jaw while shaking his head. "Nah, you warned me. I have a hard time knowing when to quit, especially when making people laugh."
"Fuck knows Nyx's laugh is hard to resist," I say.
He snorts, nodding. "Yeah, it is." He eyes me. "You're for real about this chick, huh? Like, real feelings and shit."
I sigh and then groan. "I don't fucking know, Rye. I told you, it's complicated. Usually, it's not actually all that complicated—usually, it's more of a matter of a decision you don't wanna make. This is…" I shrug. "It's actually complicated. For her and for me. And for us, assuming there can be an us. Assuming she wants there to be and assuming I'm fucking even capable of that."
"Don't be a dipshit, of course you are."
I roll my neck, twist it to the side to pop the joint. "Rye…listen, this isn't me sharing details. This is me confiding in my brother and best friend here, okay?"
He twists in his seat to face me, still rubbing his jaw with the back of his hand. "Dude, you got me good." He hikes his left foot up against the console, knee resting against the steering wheel. "I'm listening, Fee, and this stays between us, I swear."
"We didn't even have sex, like actual sex, and it was still the most fucking…" I shake my head, at a loss for words. "I felt… connected to her, man. Like deep, and real. And all we did was mess around. And to make matters—I dunno about worse, but just more intense, I guess, she outright admitted she was using me to avoid dealing with her feelings. For me? About the situation? I don't know. But that's what she said. And after she told me her story, she freaked out and bolted. She was…she couldn't avoid her feelings anymore, so she fuckin' ran. I mean, she's coming back since I'm having Nyx fix her van, but still."
Riley stares at nothing for a moment. "Some of the most intense sex I've ever had has just been messing around and not, like, penetrative sex. It's something about the intimacy of…I dunno how to put it. There's something about holding back from sex that creates a strange kind of…yeah, intimacy is the right word. Just your hands, just your mouth—I don't know, Fee. I get it. But I gotta warn you, in my experience, when you share something like that with someone, that kind of intimacy, when you do have actual sex with her, it's gonna fuckin' rock your whole goddamn universe."
I sigh, tipping my head back. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of. And I think that's what she's afraid of." I frown at my brother. "And hey, man, look at you talking about intimacy and shit."
He grins and laughs, flipping me off. "Ohhh fuck you. I know I have a reputation as being a himbo, and I admit it’s well-deserved, but there's more to me than that."
“There is?" I say, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Since when?"
He turns back front and pulls the shifter into gear, pulling away from the shoulder. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Actually, yeah, I would. For real."
He shrugs. "I dunno. Seeing Bear turn his life around. It's had an effect on me. Watching him fall in love with Noelle and putting a real life together with her, I guess it…" he rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head with another shrug. "Suddenly, a different chick every weekend was losing its appeal."
"Every weekend?" I say, laughing. "Every night, more like it."
"Not any more. Not for a long time, actually," he says. "My last few relationships have lasted a few months each. I was with April for almost three months." He points a finger at me. "Not a word—that's a long time for me."
"And what happened with her?" I ask.
"Nyx was asking too, so I'mma hold off on that until we're all together."
"Wait, three months?" I ask. "Really?"
He nods. "We kept it quiet for a while. I…" he swallows. "I liked her. I was hoping…ahhh, fuck. Never mind."
"You were hoping what, Rye? C'mon, bro, I opened up to you."
He sighs. "I was hoping it'd be different. I want something different. I want what Bear has." He grabs the giant wrench that is his shifter and pushes it into the next gear.
I nod. "Yeah, I know what you mean, actually. Seeing the way they are together…"
He clears his throat. “Sex is fuckin' awesome, don't get me wrong, but…what they have that I want is the nonsexual stuff."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
He shrugs. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."
I grab his forearm. "Rye, brother. We like to fuck with each other, but you know I'm on your side. I wouldn't mock you about something you're for real about."
"It's the little stuff. Couple weeks back, April and I met them for drinks at the Cellar. We parked together and walked in, right? Well, Bear and Noelle were ahead of April and me, and they were holding hands." He pauses, sighs. "It's such a stupid little thing, but it's stuck in my fucking head. She was holding his hand with one hand, and she had her other hand around his arm, and she was all up against his side like she couldn't get close enough to him. And every time he was talking to her, she was looking up at him with this look on her face. It's fucking haunting me, Fee." His voice drops to a murmur. "She looked at Bear like…fuck, I don't know how to put it."
"I know exactly the look you mean," I say. "Like he's the most important thing there has ever been. Complete and total adoration."
He nods. "Yeah, exactly. Complete and total adoration. No one's ever looked at me like that, man. I mean, look what we came from, huh? The way Mom and Dad treated each other? The fucking divorce? How ugly shit was for years afterward? The shit they both pulled, the shit they put on us?"
I thunk my head against the headrest. "Jesus fucking Christ, Riley. Why the hell'd you have to go and bring up all that shit?"
"Because it's fucking relevant, Fee. Why do you think we're both so commitment-phobic? Don't tell me you haven't put that shit together."
I stare at him. "The hell are you talking about?"
He rolls his head on his neck in a gesture of disbelief. "Dude, I'm talking about Mom and Dad. Their toxic-as-fuck relationship was the defining feature of our lives growing up. Dad getting drunk and slapping Mom around. Mom throwing fuckin’… everything at him? Plates, mugs, bowls, fuckin' silverware. The screaming matches at three in the morning. Mom cheating on Dad with the literal UPS guy and making sure he caught 'em—"
"If you use the phrase 'balls deep' in reference to our mother, Riley, I swear to fucking god…"
He cackles. "I wasn't going to, as a matter of fact. I was gonna say in flagrante delicious or whatever that fuckin’ phrase is."
I laugh. "I think it's 'delicto' or 'delecto' or something like that. Sure as fuck isn't 'delicious.'"
He waves me off. "Whatever. You know what I mean."
"What does that shit have to do with us being commitment-phobic? Which I am not , by the way."
We pull into the parking lot of The Borderline—the lot is packed, and the only spot is in the far back. He parks and shuts off the engine, but doesn't get out.
"You are, too, and so am I. We don’t trust people. We don't trust women in particular, Fee, and why do you think that is?"
I think back, and I realize with a nauseated horror that he's right. My distrust is compounded by my distrust of myself because of what went down back in the day, but it goes deeper than that. I've never even tried to let anyone get close to me—I troll Tinder for easy, no-mess hookups with random chicks on vacation. It's cheap, meaningless, and strings-free. We both know the score, which means it’s risk free. No chance of the girl wanting to get close, wanting to put her hooks into my heart.
Why didn't I want that?
Because I watched what Mom's infidelity did to Dad. It wasn't some accidental drunken hookup—it was intentional, calculated. Our UPS route driver was an acquaintance of Dad's, someone he'd known most of his life.
When Dad walked in on them, it was…bad. He nearly killed the guy, for one. Spent two months in jail for aggravated assault and battery, and his already problematic drinking habit only worsened to apocalyptic levels after he got out. He was the one to file, and Mom fought him every step of the way, just to fuck with him, just to spite him, even though she wanted out worse than he did. And no, Dad was far from innocent. He didn’t beat her but he did get wasted regularly and started shit with her, and more than once he slapped her. She slugged him back, of course, because our dear old Mom didn't take any shit from anyone, least of all Dad. The divorce was long, nasty, messy, and chaotic. They talked shit about each other to us boys constantly. Pitted us against the other. Used us for leverage. Dad especially was bitter and angry—after jail and the divorce, he never again referred to Mom as anything other than “the whore" or "that fucking whore." He never dated again, and every female he ever encountered thereafter until the day he died, he treated with disgust and disdain.
Hard not to absorb all that, I guess. And clearly, it left scars on Riley and me both.
He's watching me. "Yeah, now you get it."
I frown at him. "When did you become so introspective?"
He rolls his eyes. “When every woman you seriously date says the same damn thing, you start paying attention."
"And what do they say?" I ask.
He doesn't answer right away. "That I'm fun, great in bed, and nice to look at, but not real boyfriend material. That I'm…shallow. A hound dog. Man-whore. Himbo."
"Rye, you're not—"
He cuts me off with a raised hand. "You know what really fuckin' sucks, bro? Realizing that they're all right." He blows out a blustery breath, shaking his head. "Fuck all that mess. Let's get bombed."