Chapter 1
One Month Later
Another day, another dollar.
I couldn’t tell you why my piece of shit stepdad’s dumbass saying is the first thing that pops into my head every single morning when I wake up.
But here I am, slamming my fist down on the old digital clock I have on my nightstand to snooze the fuck out of the alarm, repeating those four words for no reason.
Sometimes I wish those memory wipers from Men in Black existed. Can’t say I haven’t thought about using one a time or two. Can’t imagine how nice it’d feel to wake up and not be bogged down by years worth of bad memories.
Things aren’t so bad now, I remind myself.
I rub my hands over my face, forcing myself to fully wake up.
When I finally open my eyes, I’m faced with the remnants of the mistakes of the night before.
There are empty beer bottles lined up next to the bed, clothes discarded around my room, and a pale blonde woman has made herself comfy on the other side of my mattress.
She’s passed out with her bare ass up in the air.
The only thing covering her is a shirt of mine I doubt I offered, given the fact that every single drawer of mine is hanging open like a raccoon was rummaging through them.
Shit.
Don’t remember inviting her in here. Don’t really know how I’m supposed to get her out either. This is, uh—this is a first.
Not my first time with a woman, fucking obviously. But it’s the first time I’ve let myself go too far and not get her out the door, safely in a ride home from literally anyone besides myself before passing out.
I blame Daisy Stiles for this.
If she didn’t get me all riled up last night, I wouldn’t have been looking to blow off steam any way I could, after she pushed every fucking button I have trying to get me to crack on this insane bet we agreed on. I would have known better. I do know better.
“Hey.” I poke the blonde. She doesn’t budge. I sigh deeply and try again. “Hey, uh, it’s check out time, honey.” I internally cringe at the pet name, but fuck if I know what else to call her.
She groans into the pillow and starts to wiggle, trying to get closer to me. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up.
“Wait, where are you going?” she asks. “It’s so early. Let's go back to bed and pick up where we left off.”
“Let’s not,” I say, standing with my hands on my hips, surveying for any further damage. I spin to face her again. When I get a good look at her, not a single familiar thing pops into my head. I couldn’t pick this woman out of a line up. I sort of feel bad. “Wait, where’d we leave off?”
I normally sleep naked because I normally sleep alone, and I just realized I’m still in the same clothes I left the house in last night, jeans and all.
“Well, you weren’t exactly in the mood for fun last night.
Going on and on about flowers and how much you hate them because all they do is eventually cause a mess or whatever.
It was annoying. But like, in a cute way, y’know?
It’s okay, August. Like I said, we have time now…
” Nameless Barbie rubs her palm on my sheets, seemingly inviting me back into my own damn bed. Alright, I’m irritated.
“It’s Gus. Only family can call me August. And thanks for the offer, but I’m passing. And you should be on your way. I’ll leave you to get dressed.” I turn to stalk out of the room when I hear her whine.
“Are you always this grumpy?”
Christ. Why is she still here? “Yeah. Best leave so you don’t have to deal with it.”
“Come on, Gus, don’t you want to play?”
“No.” The one word answer will have to suffice because I’m shutting the door behind me before she can say anything more. I do hear something solid slam against the door though.
“I’m telling you, I’ve never seen this chick in my life,” I say with my head cradled in my hands.
I’m sitting in a chair at Red’s, hunched over, elbows on my knees, nursing a migraine.
Serves me right for my stupidity. “And she moped around the house for a whole fucking hour after I told her to leave.”
The unidentified woman wouldn’t shut up, bitching and moaning the whole time about how she thought I’d exceed my reputation and instead, I disappointed her with my lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom. I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I just wanted my silence back.
“Did you even get her name?” Miller questions.
“Why the hell would I do that?” I ask incredulously.
Miller shakes his shaggy head of hair while laughing. “Yeah, guess you got a point there. But, what happened last night? Everything was cool and then you kind of took off.”
With my best friend Sawyer being preoccupied with the imminent arrival of his two children and taking care of his pregnant fiancée, Margot, I haven’t really wanted to burden him with bitching about Daisy.
I mean, the both of us bitching to and about each other is the whole reason we’re in this mess right now, trying to keep our shit together and make things work for everyone we love around us.
Well, I’m trying. She’s just insufferable.
I think I can talk to Miller. He’s a cool guy. He and that little girl of his fit right in here in Merrymount. We’ve gotten to hang out a lot over the past year or so, and while I’m not usually in the habit of expanding my circle, they’re the kind of people I make exceptions for.
I look up and do a quick scan of the café, assuring no one important is eavesdropping.
Red and Penelope are yapping at each other while Red chaperones Penelope filling the pastry case with cinnamon buns.
Chris, the town weirdo, is working the cash register.
Not really sure how he scored a job here, to be honest. There’s a few Merrymounters scattered around tables and sitting in booths.
No one I think would give a shit, but I lower my voice anyway.
“Can I tell you something, godparent to godparent?”
“Is that…is that a thing?” Miller asks earnestly.
“I’m making it a thing. Look, we all know Daisy and I—”
“Have weird beef that you refuse to talk about but make everyone suffer through repeatedly? Yeah. Yep. Mm-hmm.” Miller leans back against his chair and throws his hands up behind his head.
“Alright, I don’t think it’s that bad.”
Miller raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, it’s pretty fucking bad. We’re working on it.”
This gets Miller’s eyes to widen. “We? As in you and Daisy…together?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “No. Not together. Just—Okay, listen, we made a bet. We can’t be outwardly nasty to each other. First person to crack loses.”
“Loses what?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I’m giving him enough information. He doesn’t need to know the stakes. No one needs to know our personal business or details.
“Ooookay. So, what? You’re just like, trying extra hard to not knock each other out?”
“Basically.” It sounds really fucking dumb when he says it out loud. We should have been able to do this without some ridiculous ultimatum. But our foggy logic and reason doesn’t help us too much when years of deep-seated loathing sits on the forefront of both of our minds.
“Can I ask how you guys got to this point?” Miller questions.
No. I instinctively want to snap, but I don’t. “I’m trash, she’s not. There really isn’t more to it. But anyway, she’s not holding up her end of the deal. It’s like every time we have to see each other, she does everything in her power to get a rise out of me. I’m struggling.”
“At the risk of you squashing me—”
Red slides her arm around Miller’s shoulders and plants herself right on his lap. “You’re just as much trouble as she is,” Red finishes Miller’s sentence.
“What the hell? When did you start listening in?”
“Eyes and ears everywhere, August. You should know that by now. Come on, you know just as well as the rest of us you started that little squabble last night.”
“I did not,” I argue. Although my memory is hazy, and I’m defending something I don’t have a lot to go off.
Red and Margot have insisted on these weekly dinners with everyone for the past couple months.
It’s usually all fine and good, I even look forward to it.
But last night, Beth suggested we all go out, and she’d hang back with Penelope.
Again, cool. Sounds like a blast in theory.
But Daisy, without a buffer like Mel or Beth, is a damn nightmare.
She’s just everywhere. Bumping into me while I’m waiting to get a drink, cutting in front of me in line for the bathroom, interrupting me when I’m talking to someone we both know. She’s a gnat that won’t go away no matter how much you swat it.
“You know I really don’t care to get involved in your bullshit,” Red starts and I nod. I do appreciate she’s one of the few who chooses to ignore the ongoing battle. “But you’re stressing Margot out, and I can’t let that happen.” I stop nodding. I’m about to get a Red Bozelli beatdown.
“You were an absolute animal last night, and not in a good way.” She adds the last part quickly with a stern face and a wag of her pointer finger.
“I watched the whole thing, and I was stone-cold sober so don’t even try to argue with my replay because you were sloshed.
Daisy wasn’t bothering you. She was minding her own business on the opposite side of the bar.
She was having fun when you smashed the glass you were holding. ”
“I…what?” I look down at my hands and see the new small scratches on my left palm quickly scabbing over calluses and other healing scars from work. It’s something I never would have noticed; I’ve never had soft, clean-cut hands.
“You yelled at her. For asking if you were okay. A new low, even for you.”
The black spots in my memory start to fade slightly, and I remember concerned blue eyes looking up at me, small fingers frantically plucking little shards of glass out of my palm, a high-pitched voice that’s never matched the dark and stormy features of her face asking me what happened.
And then I recall the booming of my slurred words telling her to back the hell up and go back to…
Go back to chatting it up with Ben Caponi.
One of Dean Fitzgerald’s cronies who I can’t fucking stand.
That’s what I saw that caused me to squeeze too tight on the glass that was holding my whiskey.
I don’t know why, but it pissed me the hell off that Daisy was giving him the time of day.
We don’t associate with that group of assholes. She knows that.
“The bright side is Margot and Sawyer had already left!” Miller tries to lighten the mood. Of course he’s Mr. Positivity now, seeing as how he landed Red.
I’m happy for him, for both of them. Sawyer and Margot, too. But damn, it kind of sucks to be one of the last ones standing. I thought there was more time before everyone around me was ready to settle down. Everything’s changing.
“Why was she talking to Ben anyway? C’mon, Red. You know he’s bad news.” I’m trying to change the course of the blame here, but with the way Red’s staring me down, I don’t feel like I have a prayer.
“What’re you talking about? It wasn’t Ben. It was his younger brother, Derek.”
“Derek’s—” I start.
“Home from his deployment. That’s what she was doing. Welcoming him home, you ass,” Red snarls. She’s feisty as hell today.
Miller looks between the two of us and chuckles. “Oh, shit. You thought wrong, bud.”
“Watch it, Caswell. I’m not in the fucking mood,” I threaten.
The truth is, I know I’m the asshole here, and I don’t want to admit it. If I really wanted to be honest, I’d say I was looking for any reason to get into it with Daisy last night. I wanted her to be just as bent about this whole ordeal as I am.
Daisy doesn’t seem flustered at all, and it’s annoying the hell out of me. She keeps pestering and poking, making me see red every time I turn and look at her. Her witch cackle haunts my nightmares.
I don’t want to be the one who cares.
“Gus, aren’t you over it? Can’t the war just…be done?” Red asks, and it hurts to hear how hard it sounds for her to say.
But then she doesn’t wait for my answer.
She keeps going, clearly set on airing out a few grievances now that she has my attention.
“We’re older now. No one’s asking you to settle down.
We all know you like your distance and your freedom.
” Red chuckles, but I don’t join her. She’s right, but that doesn’t make it sting less when I hear that no one expects me to do more with my life. Or want more, for that matter.
“We’re just asking you and Daisy to put aside the drama. It’s a waste when you’re both individually amazing people who we love so much. Because we do love you. Both of you.”
“Didn’t I just tell you I’m trying?” I huff.
“Not hard enough, Gus. Something tells me that even if the Ben/Derek mix-up didn’t happen last night, something else would have set you off. You were itching for a fight and for once, Daisy wasn’t looking to meet you in the middle.”
Red’s wrong. They all are. They just don’t know Daisy the way I unfortunately do. She’s always down to go a round or two with me. Hell, she’s the one firing first most of the time. I messed up last night, but that’s one time out of a thousand.
This was stupid. Looking for advice from a bunch of people who wouldn’t get it if it hit them on the head was a dumbass plan. I’m better alone. I’m more than fine with the silence.
And there’s not a thing in this world that would convince me to wave the white flag of surrender with Daisy fucking Stiles.