Cyrus
Chapter twenty-four
Beer me, bitch
By the time I make it to Jonah’s place, the sun has dipped behind the trees, leaving the world washed in a dusk hue.
His large A-frame cabin sits high on the bluffs above the lake, a wraparound balcony framing the mountains that melt into the night sky.
I’m not a sentimental man, but this place and these views.
It’s easy to understand why the state slogan is ‘Almost Heaven’.
He and Amos are already around the fire pit, flames licking low and steady, shadows dancing across the dirt. A thick slab of meat hisses on the roaster, fat spitting into the coals, sending sparks popping into the night air.
My fingers brush along the rough, cast-iron edge of the pit, gritty and hot on my skin. The fire crackles, sending a sharp scent of burning wood into my lungs.
It reminds me of our childhood when the three of us would backpack into the woods, surviving the weekend alone.
Amos is parked in an extended version of a lawn chair, his big arms crossed, expression unreadable as always.
The man is so stoic that he makes a coma patient look lively.
The overly large chair he’s in looks comical.
My lips twitch with the effort to not openly mock the bastard.
Friends since diapers, and the big guy is still near mute around us.
Beer cans fly through the air, as Jonah tosses them corn-hole style, missing the cooler. The second-hand embarrassment is real.
“Jonah, place them in the cooler, man. They won’t be any good after taking a beating.”
His mouth twitches. “Look who survived the baby-mama battlefield,”
“Don’t call her that,” I warn. It’s time I started correcting people who lack expectations about how she’s to be treated. Not that she needs the help, she’s fucking tough, a complete fucking turn-on.
“Fine, fine,” he says, handing me a drink. “Ex-love-of-your-life-you-totally-screwed-over works better?”
“Jonah, work on your bedside manner. It sucks.” His response is to toss another beer can, missing.
Amos snorts. “He’s not denying it.”
“Which part?”
I crack the can and take a long sip. Not wanting to expend energy that I don’t fucking have with Jonah.
I choose to ignore it. He means well. But with Jonah, it’s always been this way.
He uses jokes to get him through the serious shit.
Sometimes he takes something too far. He reminds me of Caleb.
I definitely have a type when it comes to the people I surround myself with.
“Both, you’re a deadbeat and Jonah has no aim. How did it go today?”
I tamp down a response. I can’t argue with the truth. “The kids hit it off. Billy’s a natural with Liam. She showed him how to find crawdads.”
“Cute,” Jonah says. “Real Country Princess.”
“She’s smart,” I add. “Kind and adorable, she has a real talent for making others feel special.”
Jonah raises a brow. “You talking about Fallon or your daughter?”
I ignore the bait. “It went better than expected.”
Amos speaks up, frowning. “Why wouldn’t it?”
I shrug. “Fallon’s…guarded. I didn’t know how she’d take it. Didn’t know if she’d even let it happen. Or if she would be guarded toward Liam.”
Amos’s brows furrow, his piercing dark eyes scrutinizing me. The guy should be on the force instead of staying cooped up on the mountain of his. “I don’t think that’s it, man. Try again,” he says to me from his spot across the fire.
Jonah plops down beside me and clinks his beer to mine. “Let me translate what Cyrus’s really saying: ‘I ghosted the girl of my dreams like a coward right before college over rumors without getting the facts, and now she doesn’t trust me around the kid she raised alone.’ That about right?”
My eye twitches—slugging him in his smug face is very tempting, but I can’t… he’s right.
“Remember this, Jonah, you’re still alive because murder is a felony,” I growl.
“You’re too pretty for prison. You wouldn’t make it.”
Amos leans forward, elbows on his knees, his mouth twists with amusement; he’s enjoying this interrogation entirely too fucking much. “You still love her.”
The fire crackles. A moth dances dangerously close to the flame. I know that moth represents myself with Fallon. If I get too close, she’ll burn me. I’d deserve it too.
“Yeah,” I say. Quietly. “I do.”
Jonah’s low whistle pierces the space between us. “Didn’t even fight it. That’s progress.”
Amos doesn’t let up. “So, what’s the move, then?”
“I’m trying to understand it myself,” I admit. “Be there for Billy and Liam. For her, if she lets me. I screwed it up once. I’m afraid of making a mistake that will push her away for good. Hell, she won’t even look at me for more than a minute before she’s off, ignoring me again. She’s changed.”
Jonah laughs. “Push her away? Changed? I love you, but you’re the reason she changed.
She had to be strong. Bro, it’s gotta be epic to get her attention.
She needs you to actually do something. You think standing on the sidelines, looking like a kicked puppy, wins her over?
You need drama—real drama. Kick in her door, tie her to a chair, and say, ‘Fallon, I love you. I’m an asshole.
I listened to the wrong people. That was wrong.
I was wrong. We’re choosing each other now. ’”
“I want her to give me a chance, without the felony charges.” Shrugging, I speak. “I never questioned it. I never called. She raised our daughter completely alone because of me. I did this—”
Amos cuts in. “I think she’s been waiting for you to come home.”
His words are a punch to my gut. Regret hangs in the air, wrapping around me—squeezing off the air in my lungs—it’s consuming, remorseful. “What?”
“She stayed here. Took night courses at the cosmetology school in Stanton while helping during the day at the salon she now owns. She never really dated; she’s dedicated to her kid. Don’t fuck this up.” Amos tips his beer and takes a swig, his truth brutal
“And you know this how?” I question.
Amos shrugs nonchalantly. “She hired me to do the remodel at the salon. While we don’t spend hours on the phone giggling over date nights and bad nail polish.
I consider Fallon a friend and would hate for her or Billy hurt.
” He takes another swig of beer, and I appreciate the subtle hint of warning laced in his statement.
Jonah’s grin fades. “All that talking makes you thirsty, big guy. That’s the most I’ve ever heard the giant speak at one time.”
We laugh, but mine sounds forced. I have to fix what I broke. I stare into the fire, wishing it would burn away the guilt crawling under my skin.
“I thought she’d moved on,” I say. “I thought she’d be better off with…” Jonah’s smirking at me, waiting for me to admit to Amos that I thought they were fucking. I stop speaking, refusing to admit that I’m a fucking moron.
“If you thought she had moved on, then why haven’t you?”
Silence stretches between us. Eventually, Jonah claps his hands. “Well, this got heavy.”
“Welcome to my life,” I mutter.