Chapter 20
Jace
I stand with Hayden, completely taken aback by her attitude and the way it made me feel.
Feral, like I wanted to push her up against the wall, and kiss her until I calmed her storm.
The more frustrated she got, the hungrier I became.
My body itches to be near her, to see if she molds into me like she did when we were young.
It wasn’t love at first sight; it was an addiction.
It was the addict in me, craving for another hit of her.
At every party, I wanted her eyes on me; I wanted to be the only one she saw.
Then, the night I left, I got a taste of her; she was temptation wrapped in my arms, teasing me with everything I couldn’t have.
I know I fucked up, I left, but I can’t change the past, or make her forget.
I wasn’t ready to be the person she truly needed.
Yeah, I promised to protect her, and I would have, but I couldn’t love her the way she deserved.
I would have broken her heart, one way or another.
I was an addict, and now I understand that.
It was never me ‘living my life,’ it was me killing the life my parents gave me.
It was fun at first, drinking, smoking, random sex escapades, until it became a lifestyle, a deadly one.
Silently, I dived into the rockstar life, and slowly it killed my parents watching their son fall.
Sending me away was the best thing that could have happened to me, and the worst that happened to us.
I stare at the door, hoping like hell she marches back in to scold me some more, to give me some sort of feeling on her end, instead of glares followed by one word.
Hayden walks to the bench, “Damn man, I like her.” He starts putting on weights.
“Yeah…” He nods his head, smirking as he pulls his headphones off around his neck.
“You’ve got a lot of work to do, brother.” He throws on his headphones and gets to work.
Don’t I fucking know it.
After our workout, Hayden and I get ready for dinner at his Dad’s tonight, we are the chefs. We hit the grocery store before heading over, getting ready to whip his old man something worth eating, instead of those frozen TV dinners the man's been living off of for the last few years.
Mr. Wilder is sitting in his rocking chair, watching the news, in his grey sweatpants and slippers, four blankets covering him completely. He looks like a mummy, all tucked in, when his house is sitting at sixty-eight degrees.
Mr. Wilder is in week four of his cancer treatment, and it’s really taking a toll on him.
Hayden and I got here when Mr. Wilder really needed us.
The heads up from Hayden’s dad made the transfer easier.
With the firehouse expanding, we were fortunate that everything lined up.
Hayden and I have been taking shifts, making sure he is comfortable and has everything he needs.
Lately, he’s been fatigued, losing weight from a loss of appetite, and his hair is starting to fall out.
We try to keep him in good spirits by watching Fight Club for the hundredth time and taking small outings around the house.
Hayden and I also take him to appointments.
Unfortunately, at his last appointment, they told him that the treatment wasn't working, and his body is shutting down.
They said that the cancer was advancing too rapidly, as it does with stage four prostate cancer.
The disease has now spread throughout his bones and lymph nodes.
After a lengthy discussion, he decided to stop treatment, to live the remainder of his life with his son, and we do just that.
Hayden and I have to take alternate shifts, so one of us can care for him at night. Right now, Mr. Wilder can go quite some time without help, but that will soon change. We are being proactive and want nothing more than to give him the best care in his home, where he is comfortable.
Hayden starts sauteing the veggies, and I begin seasoning the steak, per Mr. Wilder’s request. “He seems good today.” Hayden shakes the pan, sliding the veggies around and coating them with olive oil and garlic.
The fresh aroma fills the kitchen, pulling his dad’s attention from the news.
Using his cane, Hank shuffles out and takes a seat at the kitchen table.
“Jace, tell me about this girl whom I’ve heard about. My son here says she got you by the balls.” His raspy voice quickly turns to a laugh, followed by a cough.
I flip the steaks, lifting the tongs, and I point them at Hayden. “Are we telling stories?” Hayden puts his hands up in defeat.
Before I have time to respond, Mr. Wilder cuts in: “Hayden’s mom was a spitfire.
That woman knew exactly how to rile me up, and boy, did she enjoy it.
We used to go back and forth like you wouldn’t believe.
Sometimes it was for fun, and sometimes she meant business; both times, I followed it with a kiss.
She was my sweetheart, and boys, let me tell ya, I’m ready to see my wife again.
” He looks out the window as if he’s reliving the good old days.
Hayden gets the plates set at the table, “Yeah, Pops, this girl here, she was something. You should have seen Jace, it was like the man was mute.” We all laugh because Hayden isn’t lying, Lilla came in guns blazing, and I was not about to give her any more reason to shoot.
Taking our seats at the table, we begin to eat when Mr. Wilder looks up. I decide, hell with it. If anyone can help me get her back, Mr. Wilder can. “How do I get the girl? She's sassy, like salt, not sweet like sugar.” He sets his fork down on the table, and Hayden dies of laughter.
“Don't tell her that.” Hayden laughs at my comment, cracking himself up.
“That’s why this goof doesn’t have a woman.
Don’t listen to him.” Mr. Wilder sits straighter, “Tell her. Tell her everything, even if you think she might not like it, but when you do it, do it from a place of love, a place of caring. She isn’t a mind reader, and if she’s as stubborn as my wife, she isn’t going out of her way to find out.
It’s your job to tell the lady what you're thinking, what you want, and when you do, be sure to brace for impact. Son, women are easy. You just gotta listen to what they’re saying, even when they aren't using words.” Right… I know I look as puzzled as I feel.
“Okay, so they can’t read my mind, but I’m supposed to read theirs?” We all chuckle.
He leans back in his chair, “Exactly.” Uh-huh, because that’s sooo easy.
After dinner, we clean up and get everything together for the nighttime routine. Hayden gets to stay home tonight, and I have a shift at the fire station.
“Good night, Mr. Wilder. See you tomorrow, you boys behave.” They both wave and start Fight Club once more.
At work tonight, the chief went over the fire season.
May through November is busy, wildfires get crazy, and it’s our job to make sure they never make it to Mount Marian, our home.
Cody, my partner, and I just had two calls tonight.
One call was an old lady who got drunk and naked, then handcuffed us to the bed, so that she could seduce us.
She is a regular. The first time she called in, the crew made me go first with no warning that she would be nude, and my reaction was calm and collected, because I am a professional and all that, but when we left, the laughs didn’t end.
The second call was to an older man who thought an intruder was in his home.
Turns out he forgot he had a dog; dementia is no joke.
It’s like the brain dies before the body, the mind shifts, and everything becomes tangled and mixed up.
It’s heartbreaking to witness, and I assume it’s harder to live with it.
His daughter came rushing in, frantic at the sight of the lights outside her dad’s house.
She was laughing, but I know it’s hard when your parent has a debilitating disease, one they have no control over.
I get it, you have to laugh, or you cry, so we all laughed here, after telling her some steps she should take for not only her safety but her father's as well.
By the end of the night, I was ready to go home.
Worn out from the long day, both physically and mentally drained.
I have been in my new house for two weeks now; it’s in a nice part of town, on a cul-de-sac, it’s quiet, and exactly what I was looking for.
The house is quaint; it’s a split-level home.
It looks like something right out of a Better Homes the large, rarely used family room, then into the kitchen, painted bright yellow by whoever lived here before me.
The wooden screen deck off the kitchen is nice; fairy lights hang from the ceiling.
I find myself out there most nights, decompressing, giving my worries and fears to the stars.
My bedroom is down the hallway, past the bathroom, at the very end.
Downstairs, there is another family room, currently a workout room, with a small kitchen nook in the corner, two bedrooms, and another bathroom.
A big house for one guy, but it was in the perfect location.
Hayden stays here some nights when he isn’t caring for his dad or working.
He comes here for extracurricular activities, like bringing all his lady friends here for sex.
As soon as I step inside, Zeus comes flying around the corner, barking and jumping up my leg.
“Hey boy, how are ya?” Bending down, I give him some love.
Grabbing a glass of water, I watch Zeus do donuts as quickly as he can before he drops his ass on my living room carpet and begins to scoot.
What the fuck is he doing? “Zeus, quit rubbing your ass on my carpet.” Only, he doesn’t stop.
After making a late dinner and taking a shower, I monitor Zeus, and he does. Not. Stop. Something is clearly wrong. “What’s wrong, buddy?” He is scooting around, whining like he is very uncomfortable. Picking up my phone, I call my dad.
“Hey, do you know anyone who does emergency vet appointments? Something's going on with Zeus.” He gives me a number to call. “Thanks, Dad.” I hang up and type the number into my phone.
The line rings for a bit before someone answers, “Hello.” Her voice is soft and groggy.
“Hi, is this the emergency vet line?” I sit on the couch, listening to the women shuffle.
“This is my personal line; the clinic has an emergency number as well, and both get routed to me either way. I’m happy to help.” Zeus watches me while he scratches and scoots on his bum.
“That would be great. Something is seriously wrong with my dog; I think he needs to be seen right away. Can I bring him to you?” She lets out a soft chuckle, and I panic.
“Are you really a vet? Because my dog is rubbing his bum all over my clean carpet, and it’s bleeding now.
So if you're not the real vet, please don’t waste my time.
” Feeling even more annoyed, now that the woman on the phone is laughing.
“Yes, Sir, this is really the Vet. This is Dr. Lilla Lane.” I should have known my dad would give me her number, even after our long talk about who she was. “It sounds like he might have worms. We can make an appointment and get him looked at.” I shake my head.
“I don’t think I can wait; my anxiety won't allow it. Please come look at him.” I’m begging, not for the dog, but for me. If it’s worms, he’ll be okay, but I won’t. “He’s bleeding.” She sighs on the other end of the phone.
“Okay, want me to come to you, or do you want to come to the office. House calls do cost extra.” Lilla Lane in my house, ummm, yes.
“Sure, a house call is fine. I’ll text you my address.
” I send the text, and once she clarifies, she says she’s on her way and hangs up.
That’s when panic sets in. Somehow, I am no longer worried about my dog and his bleeding, scooting bum; now I am concerned about me and the rate at which my heart is pounding.
The house is clean, like a stage home, clean, because I’m never here, and I’m overly tidy; it’s a problem.
But it’s Lilla, my Lilla, coming to my house.
I grab the air freshener and fill the entire house with its fireside scent, including the downstairs bedrooms. I also put on a pot of tea and coffee because it’s early, too early.
Like, I woke her up early, she was probably in her sleep shorts, or no shorts…
without a bra. What the fuck is happening?
Caaaaallmm down, I can’t pop a boner, not now.
I take slow and controlled breaths, and immediately start thinking of the naked grandma to kill the blood flow.
At that thought, my doorbell rings, act cool. Jumping down the five stairs, I stop gathering myself before opening the door. “Hello.”