13. Leni
Chapter 13
Leni
“Happy birthday, beautiful!” I hug Marlowe hard, kissing her temple.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Len,” she breathes back, wrapping an arm around my waist.
While Marlowe certainly knows how to party, there’s an edge to her that I don’t understand. She’s not tipsy and she’s not at ease the way I expected her to be. Instead, she almost looks relieved that Talon and I are here.
“What’s going on?” I lower my voice.
Marlowe shakes her head, emotion swelling in her eyes. “Toby’s drunk.”
What else is new? Toby can’t handle his liquor for shit. “And?”
“He’s saying things…things that don’t make sense,” Marlowe admits. “I don’t understand.”
“Like what?” I ask, a warning bell clanging in my head. Is he angry? Is he spewing the type of shit that precedes a smack to the cheek? Or a bottle of scotch thrown across a room in a moment of anger?
“Stuff about my family, my parents.” She sucks in a breath, her eyes darting around. While the deck of Toby’s parents’ lake house contains clusters of people—some of Marlowe’s and my friends from high school, most of Toby’s friends from God knows where—no one is paying attention to us.
“Happy birthday, Marlowe,” Talon says, leaning around me to grin at my best friend. “I’ll go grab some beers.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” I smile at Talon, relieved that he gets it. For a guy who has never had a girlfriend before, he doesn’t suck at reading social clues.
Not that I’m his girlfriend or anything.
“What stuff? Grandpa McIntyre?”
Marlowe shakes her head. She blinks rapidly, as if to hold back tears. “He’s saying my dad isn’t my dad.”
“What?” I gasp. “Why would he say that? And how the hell would he—” The words die in my throat because Marlowe’s dad and Toby’s dad have been best buddies for ages. Since they were in high school.
“I don’t know. I don’t understand. But the way he’s saying it, Len, and the way my parents have been acting lately… A part of me thinks Toby is telling the truth. That he knows more about my family than I do.”
“Where is he?” I ask, glancing around the deck. Toby isn’t on it. Figures; he’s such a shitty boyfriend.
Marlowe shrugs. “He took the boat out with a few of the guys.”
“Oh,” I say, not commenting more.
Marlowe offers a watery smile. “I know what you’re thinking.”
I sigh. We promised we’d be straight with each other. “You deserve better.”
“Do I?” The fact that she asks is alarming. What happened to my fun-loving, larger-than-life, confident friend?
In two years, I know I changed. I had to. But standing here, studying Marlowe, I realize she has too. Toby, her family, and the circumstances of the past few years have tarnished her shine.
“Yes,” I say, my voice clear.
Marlowe snorts. I wrap an arm around her waist and she drops her head to my shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re here, Leni.”
I kiss the top of her head, realizing how much we need each other. Now more than ever. “I am too, Len. And this is going to be a great birthday.”
She laughs and shakes her head, knowing I’m full of shit.
“It can be,” I continue. “This year should be the year you go after what you want. If that’s answers, get them. You deserve better, across the board. Don’t settle for less.”
Marlowe holds my gaze for a long moment before nodding. “You’re right.”
“I know I am.”
“And you need to take your own advice too.”
I roll my eyes. “Calling me on my bullshit, huh?”
“Someone has to.” Marlowe grins and holds out her hand.
I shake it. “To the next year.”
“Another trip around the sun,” she says.
“And a fresh beer,” Talon says, stepping up with three Solo cups balanced between his hands.
“Thanks, Talon,” Marlowe says, helping herself to a beer.
“Can’t be empty-handed on your birthday.” He winks at her.
We toast to Marlowe’s birthday. I take a pull of my beer and smack my lips together. “Yuengling?”
Marlowe nods.
“Damn, Leni,” Talon remarks. “Didn’t take you for a beer girl.”
Marlowe chortles. “She’s German.”
“Fair,” Talon remarks.
“I’m partial to pilsners, particularly Beck’s,” I share.
Talon smirks. “I’ll make a note of that.” He wraps an arm around my waist and I lean closer, as if pulled by a magnet.
“Y’all are cute together,” Marlowe comments.
I straighten from her words, tension trickling through my body.
Is anyone taking photos tonight? Will Dad see them and wonder why Talon and I seem so comfortable around each other? Is Talon?—
“Thanks,” he says easily, taking another pull of his beer. He isn’t bothered by Marlowe’s observation. In fact, his hand splays wider on my lower back, his pinky slipping slightly underneath the band of my jeans.
Marlowe gives me a look and I roll my lips together to keep from cheesing too damn hard.
I have no idea what Talon and I are doing. It’s a delicate dance. A little push, a little pull. But it’s exciting and exhilarating. It’s a breath of fresh air after the shit Craig put me through. And I want to enjoy it.
The sound of a boat engine pulls our attention, and we all turn toward the dock as Toby drives up. The guys on the boat are rowdy, much drunker than the rest of us hanging on the deck, and a sheen of panic slips across Marlowe’s expression.
“I’ll be right back,” she says, stepping toward the dock.
“Let us know if you need backup,” Talon offers, correctly reading the situation.
Not for the first time, I’m relieved, hell, maybe even a little grateful, that Dad insisted he come along this weekend.
Talon’s arm tightens around me and I shuffle closer, resting my head against his strong chest.
“She can do better than him,” he echoes my thoughts.
“Much better,” I agree before glancing up at him. “Thank you for coming with me, Talon. I know this isn’t how you’d want to spend a day off but?—”
“I’m right where I want to be, Leni,” he says sweetly. Seriously. One side of his mouth tugs upward and he leans down to drop a kiss to the crown of my head.
We stand like that for a while, watching the guys get off the boat. Noting the argument that erupts between Marlowe and Toby—wild gesticulating and him stalking away. The scent of barbecue pulls my attention and Talon jumps in, offering to help with the grill.
The guys that kept their distance when we first arrived begin to approach him. And he’s so damn cool. Easygoing and charming. Guys laugh like they’ve been friends with him for years, and women smile at him with hearts in their eyes.
But I notice how he keeps the conversation at the surface level. I note how he doesn’t offer anything about himself, sticking to funny stories that contain no personal details. He doesn’t break off into deeper one-on-one conversations with anyone, preferring to flip burgers and address the group at large.
Some people ask him for a selfie, which he poses for easily, even pulling me into a few.
There’s music and laughter. Beer and shots of vodka.
And when I look at Talon, there’s a tug that doesn’t exist with anyone else. There’s a connection, an understanding, something more, that causes butterflies to beat their delicate wings in the center of my chest and makes me smile with hearts in my eyes.
When Talon smiles back, I note them in his too.
As the night continues, the rowdiness increases. Toby’s friends from the boat are wildly drunk, hard liquor flowing through their veins. As a group of women—one I recognize from high school—doubles down on a game of beer pong, they begin to catch up.
Someone starts a bonfire and marshmallows are roasted, squished between graham crackers with chocolate to make s’mores. Sticky fingers and swaying hair, an inky, starlit sky, and the gentle ripple of the lake. Mosquitos are kept at bay by tiki torches and citronella candles. The scent wafts in the air, mixing with beer, perfume, and the heavy tanginess of summertime.
“Have you seen Marlowe?” I ask Talon as he takes a swig of water from a plastic bottle. He nursed a beer for most of the day and swapped his one pint for water when he started barbecuing.
He scans the backyard before shaking his head. “Not for a while.”
I tilt my head toward the house, something twisting in my gut. I can’t put my finger on what it is but it’s strange that I haven’t seen her in hours. A few years ago, I would have assumed that she and Toby wandered off to have some alone time, but Toby just shotgunned a beer and is daring a friend to dive off the deck into the lake. What a fucking tool. “I’m going to check on her.” I point toward the back entrance of the house, where drunk friends spill out, clinging to each other and laughing hysterically.
For a beat, they remind me of me and Marlowe. Or me and my sister. Nostalgia hits me square in the chest and I wonder if I’ll ever have that carefree, live-in-the-moment, giggling hard rush with either of them again.
“I’ll come with you,” Talon offers.
I place a hand on his chest, feeling his abdomen tighten, muscles clenching, below my fingertips. Damn but is he distracting in the best way possible. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
Talon’s jaw clenches, but he nods. “If you don’t come back in a few, I’ll find you.”
I nod, a thrill shooting down my spine at his protectiveness. After months of fearing my boyfriend’s anger, it’s nice to spend time with a man who is intent on keeping me safe. “I’ll be fine.”
I move toward the house, weaving through throngs of people on the deck, and push through the back door.
“Jesus,” I mutter, taking in the mess that exploded in the kitchen. Various liquor bottles line the counters, caps missing. A stack of Solo cups has tipped over, rolling around the countertops and floor. Pizza boxes are stacked on the island, a few pepperoni slices and crusts discarded beside them. Pools of sticky, sugary substances gather in puddles. I step over a spot on the floor, frowning as I can’t discern the type of liquid. It smells rank—like stale beer with an undercurrent of vomit and I cover my nose, gagging into my palm.
“Are you okay?” I ask a woman who stumbles and sways.
She grins at me, her pupils blown.
“I got her,” a guy says.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Kevin! I love you!” she declares, throwing her arms around his neck.
He stumbles as she melts against him but a moment later, he hoists her into his arms. “You need water, Mel,” he mutters, moving her onto the deck outside.
Shaking my head, I venture deeper into the house, keeping an eye out for Marlowe. The nautical-themed space, carefully decorated by Toby’s mother years ago, when we were in high school, is now dated but clean. Cared for. After this weekend, it looks like a frat party gone wrong and something about it bothers me.
Toby and his friends aren’t nineteen-year-old punks anymore, trying to pull one over on his parents without knowing their limits. They’re adults—college graduates who should know better. Who should have more respect. Especially Toby considering this is his parents’ place and they don’t need to let him use it to host parties.
Rolling my eyes, I bend to pick up a handful of empty beer bottles and place them on the coffee table. Knowing Toby, he’ll blame Marlowe, and she’ll incur his parents’ disappointment instead of him.
“I want to leave,” Marlowe’s voice rings out.
I turn instantly, heading in the direction of her distress.
Down a narrow hallway, past a bedroom and a bathroom, I push into the second bedroom unannounced.
Marlowe’s eyes swing to mine. In front of her, her cousin Keller stands, a hand on her elbow. Marlowe’s eyes are ringed in red and puffy from crying. Keller looks devastated and tosses an arm around her shoulders, his eyes snapping to mine.
When he sees it’s me, he relaxes. “Close the door.” He motions toward the door I left ajar, and I nudge it shut.
“Mar, are you okay?” I keep my voice light.
Marlowe looks gutted, like the entire Earth shifted under her feet and she’s lost her balance. She lets out a shaky sigh, her knees buckling from whatever she’s mentally processing.
Keller shifts forward, catching her before she hits the floor and settling her on the edge of the bed.
“What’s going on?” I ask, perching next to her. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me. The second her forehead hits my arm, tears wrack her body. Her upper body trembles form the ferocity of her sobs, but no sounds escape her lips.
“What the hell happened?” My tone is sharp as I wrap my best friend in a tight hug. I look to Keller for answers.
“Jesus,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as he hangs his head and grips the back of his neck. When he opens his eyes, they’re layered in sadness and shame. “Marlowe,” he murmurs, as if waiting for her to clue him in as to what to do, what to say, next.
Marlowe sniffles, sucking in gulps of oxygen. “Tell her. You can tell her.” Her voice cracks and she tucks her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks are bright red, but there’s a resoluteness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
Keller works a swallow.
“Toby was right. My dad, Rick ”—there’s an edge to her voice now—“isn’t my real dad.”
I gasp. “What? How do you?—?”
The bedroom door snaps open and Toby shadows the doorframe. He glowers, his expression unreadable, his pupils blown. “What the fuck is going on here?” he slurs.
He points between Keller and me, his mouth dropping open.
“Are you going to fuck him, Len? I fucking knew it. All these years, you being a stuck-up, snotty, un-fucking-touchable tease. And now you’re gonna give it up to Keller?” He stumbles forward, reaching out a hand to grasp the doorjamb. Anger rolls off his shoulders as he pierces me with dark eyes. “Why not me? I’d make it fucking good for?—”
Disgust rolls through me as I stare at him, shocked. My body begins to shake as I process his words.
Un-fucking-touchable tease.
Is that why he’s hated me all these years?
Did he ever think something would happen between us? He’s my best friend’s boyfriend!
I shudder from his words, from the mental picture he painted. From his warped perspective. And then, I realize that he still hasn’t noticed Marlowe sitting beside me.
She sucks in a breath and my heart breaks for her.
“Shut the fuck up,” Keller says, stepping to Toby.
Behind Toby, I spot a petite blonde. She gasps, ducks her head, and turns away. And the situation worsens.
“Huh?” Toby turns around. “Megan! Wait.” He clenches the doorjamb harder as he sways. “We can kick them out. I still call dibs on the bed!”
“Your girlfriend’s in there!” Megan hisses, sounding horrified.
Understanding hits me square in the chest and nausea churns in my stomach. Toby was about to hook up with Megan, at Marlowe’s birthday party, in his parents’ lake house.
“Marlowe?” He narrows his eyes. “She’ll understand. She’s so fucking accommodating. Who better than me can she date in our town? No one!” He chuckles to himself.
Marlowe slumps even lower, defeat kicking her down, as my anger swirls. What is wrong with Toby?
He looks too drunk to comprehend what’s happening. Instead of apologizing to Marlowe, he glowers at Keller. At me.
“Why’re you being such a fucking cockblock?” Toby slurs.
Fury rolls over Keller’s expression. His eyes narrow and his mouth twists. “Get the fuck out of here, Toby, before I put you to the fucking ground.”
Toby shakes his head, confusion rippling across his face. He spots Marlowe and his eyes widen. “Why’re you crying, Mar? I threw you a fucking party. What more do’ya want?”
“Stop talking, Toby,” I warn, feeling Marlowe go still beside me. I reach for Marlowe’s hand, but her fingers are cold, rigid, in mine. I have no clue how she’s processing these bombshells that keep landing in her lap, exploding in her face, and I think she’s just starting to shut down.
Toby sneers. “Oh, shit. Leni, you’re gonna tell me what to do? Finally back, gracing us with your presence. Why don’t you give me whatever you’re giving Keller. Or that fucking football player.” He grabs his junk obnoxiously.
“That’s enough.” Keller steps closer, angling his body between Toby and Marlowe and me.
I stand and try to pull Marlowe up beside me, but my friend doesn’t move. She doesn’t even look up. Her lips mouth silent words and her face is blank, an expressionless mask I hate.
“Fuck you,” Toby breathes out heavily. He cocks back his arm, his hand curled into a fist. As he moves forward, he shifts his weight, and throws off his balance. Stumbling forward, his fist comes for me like a freight train.
I throw my hands up, turning my face away, and cower over Marlowe, bracing for the blow that never comes.
Instead, there’s a scuffle. Movement of shoes. A cacophony of swear words. And when I raise my head again, Talon’s presence eats up the space. His expression is dark and unreadable.
His biceps bunch and the strong planes of his back seem to expand as he hunches over Toby. One hand is wrapped around Toby’s throat and his knee is planted in the center of Toby’s chest.
His voice is deadly quiet. Even and measured and ice-cold.
Not losing his cool but looking like he could snap at any second.
Toby’s face is bright red, his eyes wide. He taps the floor with one hand, but Talon continues to talk. Toby smacks the floor again, more frantic this time, and I start to worry that he can’t breathe.
“Dude,” Keller murmurs.
Sighing, as if annoyed, Talon loosens his grip. “Look at her again and I’ll fucking end you.” It’s not just a warning, it’s a promise. “Speak to her again? I’ll draw the process out and make it fucking hurt.” And as Talon shifts to his feet and Toby sucks in a lungful of air, everyone in the room knows it.
Keller looks at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say shakily. Adrenaline pools in my mouth and fear shudders through my limbs.
The sound of a bottle of scotch hitting the wall rumbles through my mind.
The skin along my collarbone sears.
The heavy weight of Craig’s hand on the back of my neck holds me hostage.
“I’m going to take her home,” Keller explains, reaching for his cousin and pulling me from my thoughts.
Marlowe lets Keller support her. She leans on him like a child, nearly clinging to his arm for security.
“I want her to get a good night’s sleep and wake up in a familiar place, with family,” Keller continues.
“Yeah,” I agree, frowning. “She can come home with me.”
Keller’s eyes hold mine. Years of friendship allow me to understand the gravity of the situation, the concern in his irises. “I know, Len. But she’ll have questions, so many questions. And knowing my mom, she’ll have answers.”
“Right,” I murmur. “Do you need anything?”
“Nope. I got her.” Keller scoops Marlowe up. She buries her face in his chest, and I run a hand through her hair.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Mar. I love you,” I tell her.
Her eyes flicker to mine and a spark of recognition floods her gaze. “Leni.”
It’s all she says before Keller carries her from the room.
A cold breeze sweeps through with their departure. The door closes behind them and a heaviness—a hot, angry, disbelieving ribbon of tension—settles over the space.
Feeling the wind leave my sails, I plop back down on the edge of the bed.
Talon stands in the corner of the room. His arms are crossed over his chest, his stance wide and imposing. And his eyes—those gray, thundercloud, too-observant irises—are trained on me.
My shoulders slump and I pull in a breath, wondering what I say now.
Before I decide, Talon pushes off the wall and strides toward me. “We’re leaving,” he says, decisively.
The tension breaks and confusion pours in. We are?
He holds out his hand, pulls me up, and leads me from the room.
Apparently, we are. I turn my thoughts off and follow Talon, knowing he’ll keep me safe. I trust him.
I barely clock the surprised expressions of the partygoers as Talon leads me out of the lake house. I don’t fully inhale or blink or understand anything unfolding around me until I’m settled in the passenger seat of Talon’s ride.
He reaches over me, clicking in my seat belt, and places my purse in my lap. Where did he find it?
“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, smoothing my hair back from my forehead and dropping a kiss there.
I gasp, looking up at him, but he’s already jogging back into the house. He emerges a few minutes later with our weekender bags slung over his shoulders.
He stows them in the trunk, slides behind the wheel, backs out of the driveway, and reaches over the center console.
Talon takes my hand, and I squeeze his fingers, reassurance rolling through me. He’s here. I’m safe. Everything is okay.
We drive away from the lake house and in my mind, a metal door clangs closed.
I don’t look back.