Chapter 17 #2
She looks at me, then. “Wow, really? I mean, I'm not surprised you were a star jock."
I laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. That's how the four of us became such good friends—me, Rye, Cole, and Nyx were Three Rivers sports royalty from the time we hit middle school. Rye was the QB, Cole the running back, Nyx the tight end, and I was the running back. Some people called us the four horsemen, and others the three musketeers, because there were actually four of us."
She chuckles at this. "Some high-brow humor there."
"Actually, only Mrs. Jones, the lit teacher, called us that."
"Now that makes more sense."
"Anyway." I rake my hand through my hair. "A year or so after graduation, Marty and Marcus Gershwin threw a giant-ass party in a field on their parents' property, and I mean that shit was massive. Pretty much the whole school showed up, as well as quite a few kids who had just graduated or or were home from college."
"Nothing good ever happens at parties like that," Ember says. "Been to a few of them."
I eye her. “Really?"
She shrugs. "Sure. I was great at sniffing out parties. By the time I had my license, I was pretty damn sick of Phish concerts, so once Mom was occupied I'd take the van and go looking for trouble. And I never found as much trouble as those rural small-town field keggers."
I laugh. “Facts."
"So. You and Amy, the golden couple, were at a kegger. What happened?"
"I got obliterated. Like, how did I not end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning type of obliterated." I shake my head. "So fucking stupid. I'd driven, of course. Most of the party, Amy and I were together. We were always together. Usually at those things we'd camp out by the bonfire and sort of…hold court, I guess. But that party, we ended up getting separated. One of Amy's friends was having drama with her boyfriend or something, so all the girls in the crew were huddled together talking about it, which meant I was left to my own devices."
Ember cringes. "Oh boy."
"Yeah. It's not like Amy was policing my alcohol intake—she could get just as wasted as me. But when I was with her, I was usually more concerned with when I could sneak her away from the party so we could mess around."
She grins. "Of course you were."
"I couldn't begin to tell you how much I drank. Only that the last thing I clearly remember is realizing way too late that I was not in good shape. I realized this when I puked everywhere, fell into it, and couldn't get up."
Ember cringes again, this time in disgust. “Ew."
"Yeah. For a while, I just laid there hoping I’d feel less…whirly."
"That doesn't work," she says.
"No, it does not." I rub my face. "This is where it goes sideways. See, there was this girl, Cassie Miller, who was sort of obsessed with me. I swear I never encouraged it—I tried not to be a dick about it, but I was with Amy. Cassie never got the hint. She'd wait for me at my car after school and try to seduce me, follow me into bathrooms and offer to blow me, show up at my house on the weekends."
Ember looks at me with wide eyes. "Wow. That's…a lot."
"Yeah, it is. I even had Amy try to talk to her—let's just say that didn't go well and leave it at that." I sigh. "I was almost passed out on the ground. In my own vomit, remember. So, y'know, not at my best. All I remember is a dark-haired girl appearing and talking to me. Touching me. How I got hard with as drunk as I was, I don't know. At this age, I’d have whiskey dick, but I guess when you're nineteen, it's different. I dunno. I just know I couldn't see straight—and I don't mean seeing double, I mean I was seeing, like quadruple, and it was all spinning. It felt like I was on an out-of-control merry-go-round."
"Oh god." She looks at me. "It wasn't Amy, was it?"
"Nope, it was Cassie taking her shot. I…" I cover my face and groan. "Right there on the ground, in front of the whole party, when I was hammered."
"Jesus. What a whore."
"Amy watched the whole thing happen. But she didn't realize how drunk I was. She'd been with her girls most of the night. So all she saw was Cassie and me fucking."
"Did you tell her no?"
I shrug, shake my head. "I was so far gone I couldn't have said anything. And I don't think I realized it wasn't Amy. I don’t really remember it, to be honest, just a vague memory of being drunk and some girl with dark hair on top of me."
"Fee," she whispers.
"I guess Nyx and a couple others got me home. No clue. I woke up late the next day, and—"
"Your parents were fine with this?" she cuts in.
"Well, Mom was long gone by then, and Dad was an alcoholic and a workaholic. So no, no one gave a shit what we did."
"God, Fee."
I rub sweaty palms on my jeans. "The first thing I did was call Amy to make sure she got home okay. She wouldn't answer my calls or my texts, or return my voicemails."
"No. She blamed you?"
"I showed up at her house, and her dad ran me off with a shotgun." I close my eyes, the pain of memory sharp and acidic. “I called her friends and they wouldn't answer. I followed her to work the next day and she called the cops, saying I was harassing her."
"Jesus. What? For real?"
I nod. "Yup. I called her a hundred times a day. Sent her fuckin' thousands of text messages. Wrote her fuckin' letters and put 'em in her mailbox. Left notes on her car. Everything I could think of. I even did that fuckin' John Cusack thing with the radio outside her house. Her dad nearly shot my ass." I shrug and then slap my thighs. "I kept at it. Everything I could think of to get her to just…fuckin' listen to me. Hear me out."
"She wouldn't? She just…cut you off totally?"
I nod. "And then one day, Cole told me she'd left. Transferred from the community college here to a nursing program down in Metro Detroit. I never saw her again."
Ember sits in silence. "Holy shit. What a bitch! Even if you had intentionally hooked up with someone else, you'd think if you loved someone, you'd at least give them five fucking seconds to say their side." She tilts her head to the side. "Wait. You said you had a scholarship for Michigan. But after graduation, you were still up here?"
"Amy wanted to stay up here together. We had a whole plan. She was gonna get her nursing degree and I'd work for Dad, and we'd get married, buy a house, have kids, and live happily ever after." I sigh. “I’d already passed on the scholarship by then.”
"You gave up U of M for her?"
“Yup. Full ride."
"And then she ghosted you and moved away after convincing you to give up a full ride to a Big Ten school."
"Correct."
"Because you got sexually assaulted and she just assumed it was your fault."
"Pretty much."
She looks at me with sorrow and compassion. "Fee, that's awful."
"I've lived with that guilt ever since. I just—"
She rocks forward, slicing the air with both hands. "Wait, wait, wait— guilt ? What guilt? You were the fucking victim!"
"Not how I saw it. Not how she made me feel. I never talked to anyone about it—I wouldn’t…couldn’t. Everyone else was just as hammered as I was, so it's not like too many people had a clear memory of it anyway. I dunno. I just…I should've done something. Said no. Stopped her. I'm stronger than her. I could have." I close my eyes. "I shouldn't have been so drunk. I should've…I dunno. But it never once occurred to me that I was a victim. That I was…" I shake my head. "I can't even say it, even now. Fucked up, sure, but I felt like I'd ruined everything by letting that happen."
She shakes her head, looking away thoughtfully. "You never dated anyone else, did you?"
I shake my head. "No." A shrug. "Tried a few times, but…no. I never felt like...like I deserved to. No one gets it. Cole, Rye, Nyx, they all feel like I should just be over it—it was so long ago and it was not my fault, but…I just can't convince my heart to believe it. Maybe it's…I dunno. The way she treated me, like I’d murdered her dog in front of her or something. Giving up that scholarship—my dream of getting out of Three Rivers and doing something big with my life. Plus all the shit with my fucking parents."
"We gotta get back to your parents," she says, “You touched on it in the hospital, but I need more. For now, though, explain the accident, now that I have the sordid backstory."
"I went out with the boys. I was…missing you. Not in a good place. And I got a little sloppy. Brian—one of Cole's rookies—drove us home. I passed out in bed, and he took Cole home. I woke up thirsty—you know that feeling, I'm sure."
She nods, feigning retching. "Ugh, yes. I don't get drunk anymore. Not worth it. Cannabis is clearly superior for just that reason."
"Not gonna hear any arguments from me on that score, especially after this." I rub my face. "Well, when I woke up to get a drink, there was a woman in my room with me. She handed me water and helped me drink, gave me Tylenol."
She shakes her head, waving her hands. "Whoa, hold the fuck up. What ? She was just in your house? In your room ?”
"I thought I was hallucinating. I haven’t seen her, spoken to her, messaged her, nothing since that party. And then I wake up hammered and she's sitting on my bed. Acting…sweet. Putting her hand on mine, touching my leg. Telling me she drove four hours after leaving her husband so she could come see me."
"But she just walked into your house like that? Who does that?"
"Well, according to her, she drove by not planning on stopping, just to see where my house was so she could come back later, but my front door was wide open. And that does make sense—I don’t usually go in that door, and Brian walked me inside and then had to get Cole home, so it does make sense that he'd leave assuming I'd close my door. But, again, I was hammered. So she came in to make sure nothing bad had happened."
Ember frowns. "That makes sense, unfortunately."
I chuckle. "Why, unfortunately?"
“Because I want to hate her and that's perfectly logical." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "So, when I walked in, what I saw was a gorgeous woman leaning over you in your bed with her hand on your dick. But that's…not what happened, is it?"
"No. I moved her hand and told her no before you walked in."
She closes her eyes, wincing as if in pain. "And I ran away without letting you explain. Just like her."
"The, um, parallel did not escape me, no."
"And then I go and almost get myself killed." Her face screws up with intense, conflicted emotion—anger, regret, guilt. "I shouldn't have been driving. I knew it. I was too upset. Crying too hard. And you were calling me and part of me wanted to answer and hear you out but I was scared of what you'd say, because I…" she trails off, shaking her head.
"You what, Em?" I shift closer to her.
She doesn't seem to hear me. "I remember looking down at the seat, at my phone. Looking up. And there was a raccoon in the road. I braked and swerved, even though I knew better. I fucking know better, but I hit the brakes and jerked the wheel like a fucking moron." She shoves her crutches away and they hit the ground with a clatter. “And now look."
“Hey, easy." The most I've touched her since the accident is holding her hand—aside from whatever was necessary to help her, that is, but that's clinical contact; now I tentatively put my arm across her shoulders. "It's okay."
"It's not!" She shakes her head savagely, scrubbing angrily at her eyes. "Nothing is okay. I'm not—you're not. We aren't."
"Honestly, Ember, I don't know what we are."
"Me either." She looks at me with reddened eyes. "It feels weird, now, though, doesn't it? Sort of…I dunno…friend-zoned, kind of."
I nod. "I know what you mean, and yeah."
"That's not what I want," she says.
"Me either."
She turns toward me, cast nudging my ankle. "When I left California…" Her voice trembles, but she shakes it off. "I wasn't sure what I wanted. I still…I'm not, like, over Dutchie. But I talked to Faye a lot and…I promised him."
"Promised him what?" I ask.
"That I'd move on. Find someone else. He made me swear on our wedding bands. But I…I miss him. It feels wrong to enjoy life, to…to fall in love, to enjoy sex with someone new. It feels like I'm betraying him. I know he's gone. I know I have my whole life ahead of me, but…like you said earlier, try convincing my heart of that."
"I understand," I say. "I mean, sort of. I understand feeling something that you know you shouldn't."
She rests her hand on my knee. "By the time I made it here to your house, I was all in, Fee." She tips her head back, sniffing. "I was coming to tell you that I…I wanted to be with you. I wanted to try. And then I saw you and her, and…"
"Worst-case scenario," I say.
She nods. "Exactly. But I should have slowed down and listened. I'm sorry." A thoughtful pause. "What I don't get is why she thought she could waltz back into your life like nothing happened."
"I mean…she did apologize," I say. "I just…I dunno."
Ember frowns at me. "What? Say it, Felix."
"If it wasn't for you being in my life, I would have taken her back. But it wouldn't have lasted."
A brief silence. "No?" she asks, her voice soft. "Why not?"
"Because I don't know her anymore, and she doesn't know me. I'm not the same person I was at nineteen, and neither is she. She’s had a whole life—college, a career, a husband, kids, friends, all of it. She's looking at me and seeing nineteen-year-old Felix in a thirty-two-year-old body. But I'm not him anymore. I've had my own life. We…" I shake my head, sighing. "No, forget that part."
Ember touches my hand, looking at me with curiosity. "Don't do that, Fee. Don't hold anything back."
I eye her and then shrug. "Fine. I was gonna say that we would have gotten together, and it probably would have been pretty great at first. She's been neglected, I think. Her husband cheats on her. So she's probably starved for attention. It'd have been hot at first. Reconnecting with an old flame, thinking we're making up for lost time or healing old wounds, that kind of thing."
I don't miss the hurt in her eyes, the hardening of her expression.
" But …" I say, emphasizing the word to get her attention.
"But what?"
"What do we have in common aside from the past? Not a goddamn thing. She's rich. She's used to a certain lifestyle. I don't know dick about purses but I'm pretty sure the one she's carrying is pretty expensive."
Ember cackles. "Try abhorrently expensive, Fee. That was a Birkin."
I shrug. "Means nothing to me."
"Twenty grand, give or take a few thousand. And even if you have the money, they're exclusive and nearly impossible to get. Like, you have to be on a list."
I snort and roll my eyes. "That's more than my truck is worth." I wave a hand. "But that's exactly my point. Look, there's nothing wrong with having money and spending it on things you find valuable. But that just doesn't fit with who I am. I don't know…I guess I just…the more I think about it, the more I realize if I was to get back together with Amy, we'd very quickly realize that our shared history isn't enough to overcome everything else. How she left me, the effect that her leaving and the way she left had on me and on my life, the decade and some years of living two totally different lives. And no amount of sex, no matter how good it may have been, can cover over all that."
Ember nods. "That makes sense."
"There's one other issue I keep coming up against when it comes to Amy."
She looks at me again, curious but cautious. "Hmmm." It's not quite an interrogatory sound, more of an "I'm listening but I'm skeptical" verbal expression.
"She's not you."
This gets her attention, eliciting a small, hopeful smile. "Go on."
I guess I'd thought that would be enough, but it seems she needs elaboration.
"When she was here, apologizing, touching me like she had every right to, acting interested, telling me she fantasized about me during sex with her cheating asshole husband…I felt nothing for her. Zero. If I felt anything, it was…pain. Guilt. Regret. Bitterness. Anger." I hesitate, and then go for broke. "And yeah, listen, she's aged well. She is, objectively speaking, a very beautiful woman. She's taken great care of herself."
"Great," Ember whispers. "Your ex is tall, skinny, has big tits and a great ass, she's rich, single, and probably does hot yoga and runs marathons."
"How do you know she has big tits and a great ass, Ember?"
"I don't. I'm assuming."
"You may be right. I didn't look all that closely, if I'm being honest."
Again, this statement brings her attention back to me rather than the rug beneath her feet. "No?"
"I told you—I felt nothing. Because she's not you. I saw her again at the hospital—"
She frowns, cutting me off. "Wait, she came to the hospital?"
I nod. "I think she feels partially responsible for what happened. She said she was sorry. I just…I didn't really give her the time of day, to be honest. I didn't know how to feel about her, how to—where to put her in my mind or my heart or whatever. So I more or less ignored her."
"Fee, I…I'm worried you're not thinking clearly about her," Ember says, her voice small, her eyes on the rug again. "About the situation. What if she is who you're meant to be with? What if…what if you can bridge the divide of the years and everything that happened and have the happily ever after you should have had?"
"Just one problem, Ember."
She rolls her eyes at me. "She's not me. Right. You said that, Fee."
"I'm not attracted to her. I don't know that I've ever had a type, per se. The girls I've…well, dated is a strong word for it. Seen? Been with? Whatever. There's no pattern."
Her brow scrunches. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because it turns out I do have a type. And it's not tall, skinny, rich women with black hair and too much makeup."
She lets the corners of her mouth lift in an almost-smile. "I'm pretty sure I've heard this one, but go on."
"It turns out my type is short girls with white-blond hair."
"Those are a dime a dozen, Fee," she whispers. "Might have to be more specific."
"Oh, hmmm—you're right. She has to have the biggest, juiciest tits I've ever seen."
She looks down at her chest. "Oh." She cups and lifts her breasts. "Like these?"
"Exactly like those," I say. "But that's not all of the requirements."
"There's more?"
"Oh yeah. She has to have an ass that doesn't quit. Her eyes have to be the most unique shade of gray on the planet—the color of quicksilver." I shift closer to her. Stare into the aforementioned silver eyes. "She has to be…undomesticated. Wild. The kind of woman you know you're never, ever gonna tame. She has to drive a 1967 VW Bus covered in stickers, and it has to be pumpkin orange."
"Fee," she whispers, eyes shimmering. "Stop."
"Mmmm, not quite done. Just a few more items on the list."
"Fine," She sighs, her expression complicated—curious, cautious, hopeful, scared. "I'll bite. What else?"
"Well, let’s see—she has to be amazingly brave, resilient, strong, and kind. Funny. Weird."
"I'm not weird," she protests in a whisper.
"Yeah, you are," I say. "She also has to be willing to adopt crazy old ladies as surrogate grandmothers. She has to click with my friends. She has to have an easy laugh."
"Easy laugh? What's that?"
"Someone who’s easy to make laugh. It makes you feel funny, and that's excellent for your self-esteem."
"Oh," she breathes. "And I'm an easy laugh?"
"Yep."
She swallows hard. "That's a big list to fill, Fee. Is that it?"
“One last thing," I say. "The sex has to be out of this fucking world."
"But we haven't even actually had sex, Fee," she whispers. "We just…messed around a little bit. Once."
"And that was, by far and bar none, the hottest sex of my life."
She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. "Don’t lie to me or butter me up, Fee."
"What makes you think I am?"
"I'm not all that."
I laugh. "Ember, I literally described exactly, specifically you."
She just looks at me, uncertain and emotional. "I don't feel like that, Fee. I don't feel…sexy. Or confident. Or…anything. I feel beat up. Not just physically from the accident, but…everything. Life. I've lost everything and everyone. GramGram, Mom, Dutchie, Faye. My life on the road. My sense of purpose. I need help to do everything. I'm living with you because I literally have nowhere else to go and no one to…to take care of me. You're only doing it out of pity."
"Okay, honestly, Ember, that last part pisses me off a little bit." I run my hand through my hair, sighing. "There's no pity involved. And you have options. Lainey and Layla would take you in and help you get back on your feet, literally and metaphorically. I know Bear and Noelle have a spare room and they'd help. Shit, Cole's sister lives alone and she's a freaking home care nurse. You're here because I want you to be here. I want to be the one to help you. It's not fucking pity , Ember, it's….if anything it's self-interest. I want to see you every day. I want to…I want to see what could be between us."
Ember drops her gaze. "I'm in a weird place, Fee. The accident changed things for me."
I swallow my hurt. "That's okay. If you'd rather find somewhere else, I get it. I'll take you wherever you want to go. I've got the Cartwright sisters on TikTok—I can DM them."
She shakes her head, tears leaking again. "No, Fee. I don’t want to go anywhere else. I just…I don't feel like myself right now. Maybe it's the TBI, I don’t know. I just…I think I might need to focus on getting better before I can think about being involved with you. Like that, I mean."
I nod, feeling guilty for the disappointment that burns in my gut. I take a moment to swallow it, bury it. "Of course, Ember. There's no time frame on anything. No pressure. No expectations."
"I do care about you, Felix," she whispers. "So much. I'm attracted to you. I think you're the most amazing man I've met in a long time, maybe ever, and you've done so much for me. I just…Dutchie hasn't been dead a year, and now I meet Faye, fall in love with her, and lose her. And then this accident, and I just feel…scrambled up in my head. My emotions are all over the place. Things are foggy. And I…I just…I guess I'm saying I just need time."
"And you've got all the time in the world," I tell her. "I'm not going anywhere and I'm in no hurry."
"I feel like I'm letting you down. Disappointing you," she says.
"Never," I answer. "You're doing what you need to do for yourself. I'm just here to facilitate that. And if…" it hurts to think and hurts more to put out into the world. "If it turns out that things between you and me can't be what I want, that's okay. If you…if you don't feel that way for me anymore, that's okay. I can handle that. I promise."
She lets out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Fee. I'm sorry." She levers to her feet. "Can I…can I just have some time alone in my…in your guest room?"
"Hey, don't be sorry." I summon a smile, stand up and help her to her feet. "You can have all the time alone you want in your room."
She swings down the hallway to the first door on the right, pauses to open it, and covers her mouth. "Fee?" She turns to look at me. “You…you did this for me?"
"Like I said, Bear and Noelle did the actual work. I didn't want to leave you."
All her stuff is in there—a bureau holds her clothes, a shelf holds her books, and a desk holds her laptop. On the bureau is her box of jewelry—miraculously, it survived the accident unscathed. Noelle went out of her way to make it pretty, also; colorful throw pillows, a bright patchwork quilt covering the bottom third of the queen bed, landscape paintings and photographs on the walls, and a vase on the nightstand with flowers. I had Bear bring the safe in, also—it's in the closet, with the code on a sticky note for her to memorize.
I gesture at the safe. "Your cash and antique jewelry are in there. That's the code. I can change it for you, if you want. Or tell you how to." I point at the door beside the bed. "There's a full en suite in there, and all your shower stuff is there."
"Fee…" She leans on her crutches and wipes her eyes. "I don't know what to say. I've never had a room like this. One that's…"
“Yours," I finish for her. "It's yours for as long as you want, even if we're only ever friends and roommates."
I'm at the end of the hallway, keeping my distance so she doesn't sense my hurt and disappointment—I know she needs time, I know she's been through a lot, and I know my feelings are selfish. I won't burden her with them.
"Fee, c'mere." She waves me closer, still leaning on her crutches.
I lick my lips, hesitate.
She laughs. "I'm not gonna bite, Fee, Jesus."
I cross the space, stopping a foot away. Smile for her, even if it feels a little forced. "Hi."
She searches me, and then rolls her eyes and sighs. Sets her crutches against the wall, holds her hands out, forcing me to take them or let her lose her balance. She hops toward me on her good leg, wincing as her ribs protest.
"Ow, ow, ow.” She slides her hands from mine and rests them on my shoulders. "Sorry, okay—Felix, listen to me." She gazes up at me with compassion and understanding. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying. I don't want to be just friends or roommates with you. My feelings for you haven't changed. I care about you deeply. I'm attracted to you in a way I’ve never felt for anyone before, including my husband, and to be honest, that's one of the things I need time to work through. I just need time. I need to put myself back together. And I really, really hope you'll be there waiting for me when I'm ready."
I open my mouth to answer, but she puts her fingers over my lips.
"You deserve all of me, Fee. My whole heart, everything I am. And I want to give that to you. But I can’t— yet .”
Stupid feelings, making my eyes burn. Fuck.
I shake my head and check the ceiling overhead for cracks, blinking hard. "Sorry, I'm just—shit. I feel like an idiot."
She palms the back of my head and pulls my face down so I have to meet her eyes, and she lifts on her tiptoes, soft lips touching mine briefly. "Felix, you have the biggest, most tender heart. You hide it well, but I see it. Be patient with me, okay?" She wipes her fingers beneath my eyes. "And this? Don't hide it from me. It's okay."
"It’s not. It's stupid. You don't need to deal with my shit."
She laughs. "Fee, you've been through a lot, too. You're allowed to have feelings about it. And I want you to share them with me." She kisses me again, another soft, damp, quick touch of the lips—a promise of a kiss. "Just be patient with me, okay?"
I nod. "That I can do."