Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
If I had any sense I’d make an excuse and leave, but apparently, I have no sense around this girl… so, instead, my hand moves of its own free will and I hook a finger under the chain, lifting it up to get a better look at it.
“You’re wearing your constellation again.”
“I never take it off,” she replies. “It’s my favorite gift anyone’s ever given me.”
My heart stutters. “Why?”
“Because it came from you.”
And, right then, I know I’m utterly fucked. I try to think of my English final to keep the blood in my head instead of having it rush south, because that would be extremely bad.
“Um…” I release the necklace and opt for running my hand through my hair. Breathe, motherfucker. “Do—do you wanna go get a drink?” Did you just fucking stutter, idiot?
Ember’s smile practically lights up the night’s sky. Then, it fades. “I’m not allowed to drink.” Her brows furrow.
I give her a droll look. “You’re telling me you’ve never had a beer or taken a shot at a party?”
“I exercise my fifth amendment rights and refuse to answer.”
A chuckle bubbles from my lips, and I shake my head. “Okay, smarty-pants. Come on, we’re getting a drink.”
The bar’s in the corporate district in the city, not far from a local community college.
Students and nine-to-fivers alike come here to decompress after a long day.
It’s usually packed, but for once, there’s barely anyone here—probably on account of it being the holiday season and people being home with their families.
The bouncer recognizes me from my high school days, and waves both me and Ember in without asking to see our IDs. I slip him a hundred, clap his shoulder, and lead Ember inside.
The atmosphere is dim and cozy—Christmas lights hang from brick walls, and fairy lights decorate the old fixtures on the ceiling.
There’s a banner behind the wooden bar reading Happy Holidays!
The bar itself is moderately-sized, and it has a bunch of high tables lining the floor, as well as some low tables with armchairs in the back.
I lead Ember there, wanting her to be comfortable.
And wanting it to be dark enough so that if the unthinkable happens and I get a hard-on, she doesn’t notice. Fuck, please let me not embarrass myself tonight…
“You look stronger,” Ember says when we sit, eyeing my biceps.
“I hit the gym when I want to blow off steam. You already know this.” What she doesn’t know is that I also fuck hard and occasionally freaky when I want to blow off steam.
“Yeah, uh…” she’s still staring at my biceps. I may or may not subtly flex them. “It’s, um, working.”
Thank fuck, a waitress appears right then. She’s an older woman in her fifties who looks none-too-happy to be working tonight.
“What can I getcha?” she grumbles, not even attempting a smile.
Ember’s brows furrow, and she glances at the two menus laid on the table.
I catch her gaze. “Trust me?”
She nods.
“Whiskey neat for me, and a strawberry daiquiri for my friend,” I say. The word friend tastes wrong, but I ignore that.
I ignore everything that might point to an attraction between me and Ember. Shit, maybe taking her to a bar and drinking with her isn’t the best call. I’d never let her get drunk—I’m not a total idiot—but alcohol has been known to loosen inhibitions.
“I’ve never had that. What is it?” she asks once the waitress leaves.
“It’s kinda like a strawberry smoothy, except with rum and lime and other good stuff. You’ll like it.” She’s always had a sweet tooth.
“Oh.” She brightens. “That sounds good.”
“It is.”
“Right.” She traps her lower lip between my teeth, and I pointedly avert my gaze before sordid fantasies can take over my brain.
“Is there… any reason in particular you brought me here?” she asks after a few beats.
Well, Ember, I brought you here because, in trying to stop thinking about you sexually, I decided the best course of action was to isolate us and throw some alcohol into the mix.
“I thought you’d like a strawberry daiquiri,” I say solemnly.
She smiles. “I guess we’ll find out if you’re right soon enough.” She bites her thumb nail, then quickly corrects the gesture, lowering her hands and folding them in her lap.
I search her expression. “You’re nervous.”
She shrugs. “I just sent out college applications. It’s been a crazy week.”
I don’t think that’s the only thing she’s nervous about, but I don’t push. “How’s your dad?”
Her brows draw together, and I immediately feel like an asshole. I shouldn’t ask—I already know.
I can count the number of times I’ve seen her dad sober on one hand.
He’s largely a functional drunk, and thankfully, he never drinks on the job.
But when the sun goes down and work’s over, he picks up the bottle—and then he hits the tables.
Ember confided in me over Thanksgiving that she’s afraid he might start messing with her college fund, which is why she’s applying for every scholarship imaginable.
“He means well,” she says softly. “He just… can’t help himself. He’s not mean or abusive. He’s never hurt me. I think the life he’s lived has just broken him. He never recovered from my mom leaving.”
My lips tighten into a flat line. I breathe deeply, in and out, to try to hold myself in check… but then, I can’t help myself.
“That’s bullshit.”
Ember’s head jerks back, and I internally wince at my tone.
It came out too harsh, but I think she needs to hear it.
Her father’s behavior is inexcusable—much like my father’s behavior.
Both of them have made very poor decisions that affect their children, not to mention their relationships with their children.
“What?” she asks, frowning.
“I said, it’s bullshit. Life chips away at all of us—that’s the nature of being alive.
It’s not easy, Ember, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy.
We struggle, we fail, we succeed, but regardless of what happens, we keep going.
Your father deciding to drink himself into a stupor is inexcusable.
It’s cruel, neglectful, and frankly, problematic as fuck.
Don’t make excuses for him; he doesn’t deserve them. ”
She swallows, gazing down at her hands. I think I see her eyes briefly shimmer with tears, and my heart falls. Christ, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to—
“He’s not perfect. He’s not even all that good, but he loves me in his own way,” she says softly.
“How do you know?” I ask. “When was the last time he was home to tell you he loves you?”
“I have a home because he loves me,” she replies, a bit more harshly. This is the point in the night where I either need to start treading carefully, or risk crossing a different sort of line. “Besides,” she goes on, voice softer. “He’s… he’s all I have, Max.”
“That’s not true. You have me.” She’ll always have me. There’s very little I wouldn’t do for this girl.
“I won’t,” she whispers. “Not always.”
Before I can ask what the fuck she means by that, the waitress returns with our drinks.
I watch Ember bring hers to her lips, watch those luscious fucking lips I can’t stop staring at part, and watch her delicate throat work with a swallow.
Her eyes brighten and she licks her lips, and suddenly, I’m picturing myself devouring those lips with my hand wrapped around her neck, controlling the air that she breathes.
“Mm,” she hums her approval. “Good choice, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I pick up my drink and take a sip, hoping that the burn chases away the raging inferno of need I feel for this girl. It doesn’t. “What the fuck do you mean, you won’t always have me?” I prompt.
She takes another sip of her drink. “I mean, you go to college a thousand miles away. You want to go to the vet program in your university after undergrad, and I’m sure you’ll get accepted and excel.
Then, you’ll probably find a nice girl to settle down with—a girl who won’t like you having other female friends—and that’ll be the epilogue of our story. ”
I blink slowly, taking a beat to digest what she’s said and holding myself back from barking out a response. Breathe, motherfucker.
“I’ll give you a list of reasons as to why you’re wrong,” I say carefully.
“First of all, there are plenty of great vet schools—and one of the best ones is in this state. I’ve already put feelers out there.
If I get accepted, that’s my top pick. Even if not,” I go on, watching her expression, “then I’ll come back here after. I don’t want to be far from my family.”
That’s a bald-faced lie. I don’t want to be far from Ember. Or from my mother—I might have lost some respect for her the day I realized she married a gangster, but I still love her dearly. I’d never abandon or ghost her.
“You’ll still find a girl—”
“If a girl has an issue with our friendship, then she’s not the one for me.” You’re the only one for me—
Fuck, I need to stop.
“You say that now—”
“I’ve already ghosted multiple hookups when they started commenting on how often you and I speak.” Ember’s eyes widen at that revelation, and I seal my lips. Oops. Might’ve been too soon to let that tidbit of information slip.
“What?” she breathes.
I knock back the rest of my drink. “Yeah. I’m not giving you up, Flame. I grew up as a spoiled only-child—I’m not good at sharing.”
She tilts her head to the side, looking confused, intrigued, and unnerved all at once. “What do you mean?”
“Ask me after your birthday.” My mouth is moving faster than my brain; I need to shut the fuck up right now. Instead, I switch topics. “Finish your drink—it’s getting late, and we should get home.”
I tried to keep my mind off it, but later, I realized that I made my decision that night. Ember was mine, no ifs, ands, or buts.