4. Archer
Chapter 4
Archer
I knew the moment Cyrus strutted out of the kitchen that coming here had been a bad idea. His usually unruly hair was tamed by a bandana, highlighting the deep furrow between his eyebrows. The one he got whenever he was thinking too much. The one he always had when he looked at me lately, like I was a problem he had to solve.
Cyrus thumped a plate down in front of me. Burgers were my weakness. Hell, food was my weakness.
“Eat. You’re too skinny.”
And there went my appetite.
“Can you not? You sound like Grandma.” Grandma had forever been shoving food at people. No matter their shape, size, age, or authority, she’d push food on them and tell them they were too thin. It was cute if you were a doddering old woman. Less cute coming from Cyrus.
“It’s true. Do you even eat? I swear you’ve lost weight.”
I did eat… but I had lost weight recently. I skipped breakfast to get out of the house so I wouldn’t disturb Cyrus and Marshall’s life any more than I’d already done. Stress killed my appetite the other half the day. When I got back to their place, a plate of dinner was always waiting for me, which I dutifully ate.
Instead of saying any of that, I picked up my burger, held his gaze, and took the biggest bite I could manage .
“Real mature.” Cyrus rolled his eyes, but thankfully he took the hint and stopped pestering me. For thirty seconds. “What did you do today?”
I shrugged. “The usual.”
Cyrus sliced the air with his hands. He always had been quick to anger and though he wasn’t angry yet, he was definitely annoyed.
“What does that even mean? You’re like a fucking ghost. You’re never home. You live with me, but I never fucking see you. I don’t know what you’re doing all day or if you’re okay. Jesus Christ, Archer.”
I tried to look unaffected by his outburst and I wasn’t sure if I succeeded. To buy myself time to answer, I drained my drink and set the empty glass on the table.
“I have time before my savings run out.” My statement did nothing to improve Cyrus’s mood.
“You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.” I grinned at him and popped a fry in my mouth. “These are excellent fries. You should try them.”
“I could co-sign a loan for you.”
“You could, but I won’t let you.”
“Why not? Archer, we could have you up and running in no time. If you won’t let me loan you the money, you should at least let me help you get the loan from somewhere else.”
How did I tell him that I’d reached for my dream once only to have it snatched from me and I wasn’t sure I had it in me to try again. Losing not only my livelihood, but someone who was supposed to be my best friend had sucked the life out of me. It had taken something amazing and turned it into ashes. I wasn’t sure I had the inner strength to rise like the phoenix, but I didn’t know what else there was for me.
If I shrugged one more time, Cyrus would probably rip my arm off and beat me with it. Instead, I chewed an uncomfortably large bite of burger before swallowing. I was saved by having to respond to the appearance of Shane, the owner of the bar. Cyrus’s boss was also, from what I heard from Cy, his friend.
“I thought you boys could use a refill.” Shane set our drinks down and I liberated my straw from my old cup and thrust it into my new one, stirring the ice. Yes, it annoyed Cyrus. Yes, I knew it did. Thus the basis of its appeal.
“You’re a pain in my ass, Archer.”
Cyrus had been defeated, for now. I’d won the battle, but not the war, or whatever. And Shane was still standing there, lurking. I looked at him and arched my eyebrow, waiting for him to get the hint and leave. He did, and watching him go wasn’t a hardship. The man was fucking built. I’d give anything to sink my teeth into his peach of an ass.
I turned my attention back to Cyrus. Guilt had been a good friend of mine lately, and looking at him only made it swim to the surface and thicken in my throat. Before my life had gone tits up, Cyrus had a lot less stress. That furrow in his brow hadn’t been a permanent gully on his face. He was probably going to crack a few molars if he kept grinding his teeth.
“Why won’t you let me help you?” Cyrus asked.
“You are helping me. I’m literally living in your house.”
Cyrus snorted, his lip curled the way it did when he was gearing up for a good rant. “Do you? Because I never see you. Marshall never sees you. We don’t know where you are and what you do all day.”
“I’m out robbing banks and getting high. Knocking over liquor stores and lying dead in ditches. Fucking hell, man. I’m sitting in the library—drawing. Or the park—drawing.”
It was all I had and fuck Cyrus for making me feel guilty about that too.
“I’m going home. Thanks for dinner.” Standing up, I yanked the money Marshall had given me out of my pocket and tossed it down on the table.
Cyrus didn’t try to stop me. I wouldn’t have listened and he still had to work. I hated fighting with him even more than I hated not seeing him. Which was why I had been avoiding him. I couldn’t avoid Marshall, though. I still had to fucking sleep somewhere and, after the fight we just had, skulking off to a hotel would only make shit worse between Cyrus and me.
I grabbed an Uber back to their place. All the walking I was doing was starting to wear me down. The early mornings and the lack of proper sleep didn’t help. And, yeah, my diet sucked. Fuck you, Cyrus.
Marshall was watching television in the living room when I used my key to unlock the front door. He was in the recliner by the window and had a lap full of knitting. His gaze flicked to me and he offered a gentle smile.
“How’d it go?”
“About as shitty as I expected, so thanks for that.” I flopped down on the couch, too tired to move. Or think.
There was silence except for the low drone of the TV and the sound of knitting needles clicking softly. When Marshall spoke, it startled me.
“Cyrus is at work for a few hours yet. We could watch Spaceballs .”
“Hell, yes.” Cyrus did not share our love of cheesy movies. I’d been busy avoiding everyone and hadn’t been around to indulge in a movie night. Maybe I was being a dumbass. My presence didn’t seem to bother them. Hell, if I listened to Cyrus, it was welcome .
Marshall put his knitting down and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back seconds later carrying two bowls. “Popcorn. White cheddar for me. Dill pickle for you.”
He sat on the chair, reached for a remote, and started a DVD.
“You had this well planned. What if I’d said no?”
“No one says no to Spaceballs .”
I didn’t bother telling him that Cyrus would’ve said no. The movie started and saved me from having to talk. A small fucking blessing that was. I didn’t want to talk because every conversation lately was about how to help me. What did I need? What could they do?
If I had the answers to those questions, that would be great. But all I had was anger and broken dreams. It was hard to be here, an interloper in Cyrus’s perfect life. His dream job with his dream boss, his perfect husband and his knitting in their little, one bedroom house. Because they were it. They weren’t going to have kids and had no need for a home office. They’d never planned on having guests overnight. They didn’t even have a pull-out couch.
Something had to give. I couldn’t sit around and brood all the time. I was wasting my time doing nothing. Pouting. Drawing stupid squirrels and resisting the urge to unblock my old partner so I could send him not-so-vaguely-threatening messages. But he was exactly the kind of asshole who would go crying to the cops. And then if he did end up dead, I’d be suspect number one. No, thank you. Orange wasn’t my color.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’d find a solution to my problem. Something. Even if I took a shitty job that I’d hate, it was better than doing nothing. I was vaguely aware that sleep was pulling me under, but I wrestled against it. I tried to wait until everyone else had gone to bed before turning in, but the early mornings were catching up with me .
The movie was still playing when Marshall took the popcorn bowl from me and told me to lie down. I shot him a look, but didn’t have the strength to argue. By the time my head it the pillow, Marshall was covering me with a blanket and I was passing out.
When I woke, for a second I didn’t understand where I was. All I knew was that my bladder was full to bursting. I tossed the blanket off me and stood. The house was dark and mostly quiet. slipping into the bathroom I shut the door quietly and took a piss.
Coming out of the room, I almost ran straight into Cyrus. Startled, I jumped and grabbed at my chest. “Jesus, Cy.”
Cyrus’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I wanted to say thanks for coming for dinner. If you come again, I promise not to be an asshole.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Did you just apologize to me?”
Even in the dim light, I could see Cyrus roll his eyes. “You wish.”
That was as good as it was going to get. Cyrus hated being in the wrong.
“I’ll take it.”
“You know I just want what’s best for you, right?”
Groaning, I pushed past him and went back to the living room. Cyrus followed me—he couldn’t help himself. Too tired to stand there and argue, I dropped down onto the couch. Putting my back to Cyrus, I covered myself in the blanket and shut my eyes.
Cyrus sighed and retreated back to his bedroom. He’d done so well too, with his almost-apology. I should cut him a break, and I knew it. But it was the middle of the night and the only talking I wanted to do was in my sleep.
Tomorrow, come hell or high water, I was going to find a way to fix my mess of a life.