Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
TREVOR
“My God, you are truly a giant fucking idiot.”
My car is parked haphazardly at the front of The Shop—or now it’s Billy’s Auto or something …
whatever. I wandered to the office to see if Billy was in because we need to have some words.
Unfortunately, his sorry excuse for a brother was talking to some chick in there, so I swerved away from that mess and headed out the back door instead.
I took a right, jogged up the steps, and knocked on Billy’s bachelor pad’s door.
He tends to stay here when his ex has the kids, so it is no surprise when he opens the door almost immediately.
His affectionate greeting while I stand wearing my wife’s vomit is also not a surprise.
But it still pisses me off.
“Hello to you, too, asshole.” I’m super glad I came to him while I feel like the world has turned its back on me, since my world literally just did.
Billy responds with a grunt before backing away from the door, holding his arm out in mock welcome.
Frustrated and out of sorts, I slam into his shoulder as I walk past. Miscalculation.
The guy is a mammoth, so I end up losing my balance and looking stupid instead of delivering a solid shoulder check.
It takes two stumbling steps through the door to gain my balance, and I end up in the center of the apartment.
I haven’t been here in ages, so I twist around to briefly take in the space.
I spy a couple of folding chairs he has set up in a makeshift dining room, so I head over there and settle into one of the seats.
Once I sit back, I continue my perusal and marvel at the dark, clean, and claustrophobic space.
Everything is edged with seventies-style wood paneling, likely original from when his parents or grandparents owned The Shop.
Only one window exists in the small galley kitchen, but it’s flanked by dark eighties or nineties curtains that block what little light there is.
To be fair, it’s also already nearly dark outside.
I didn’t follow Paige to the house, but I did drive by a few times to make sure the lights were on. Her car wasn’t there, which was strange as hell—another reason I stopped by Billy’s place. He knows something I don’t.
I rest my forearms on my thighs and freeze. The smell hits me first, but then the memories of this evening flatten me like a fucking Mack truck.
Why didn’t I tell her immediately? Why did I wait? What was I waiting for?
The scrape of a chair being dragged across the floor pulls my attention to where Billy grunts and sits. He dwarfs the space.
“Tell me.” He says it simply. Straightforward.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, Trevor. You fucked up, but there’s gotta be a reason that woman was in my truck and not in your car this evening, or you’re not the man I thought you were for the lifetime I’ve known you.”
The reminder sets my mind racing again. My fists clench as I conjure the image of one of my best friends cradling the face of my wife. My whole being vibrates with unspent adrenaline from the last thirty-six hours, and his superior bullshit is not helping anything.
“Don’t you dare.” He growls from his seat, but I ignore the warning.
“Why don’t you tell me the answer to that, you asshole?” Andre the Giant rolls his eyes at me, but then he answers my question with a question.
“Why did you show up with that cheap version of your wife tonight?” He takes a deep breath to continue, then makes a face.
He leans over to take in my appearance and fucking smirks before getting up and disappearing into his room without finishing his thought.
A pair of pants flies at my face when he appears again.
“Change before you make me vomit. Leave the dirty clothes on the porch.”
Grateful, but still annoyed, I stand with the pants in hand and squeeze past him into the small bathroom.
The old light flickers with a dull glow, revealing more vintage detailing.
I take up most of the space standing here, bumping into things as I take off my smelly clothes.
Trying to change is a chore in itself. It reminds me of the first apartment Paige and I got—the thought stops me cold.
“I cannot fathom spending another moment in your space, so for my sake and for the sake of the baby growing in my belly, get the fuck out of my face.”
My breath gets caught in my throat, and I’m choking on the air in my chest. For a moment, I’m suspended in time. Her voice echoes in my mind, and it’s crushing me. My body feels disconnected from reality, and my vision blurs along the edges.
A piercing whistle breaks my trance, and I gasp on an inhale. I’m hunched over, my hands bracing me along either side of the small pedestal sink, wearing nothing but my boxers. My shoulders heave with the gulps of oxygen I somehow forgot how to inhale.
Billy moves around the other room—the thud of a cabinet and clinking of glass barely muffled by the closed door. I take another minute before raising my head to consider the man in the reflection.
Still looks the same.
I drop my gaze immediately when my attention catches on my ring. It has remained on my finger without fail since the moment I put it on nearly a decade ago.
And it will remain there until I’m dead and buried.
A knock on the door jolts me into action. I pull on my borrowed pants when Billy calls out, “Do I need to break down this door, or are you alright in there? Do you need something smaller? I—”
“No. No, it’s fine. I’ll be right there.” I tug the strings snug and twist them into a bow. My clothes in hand, I walk out the door and into the tight space of the hallway. A plastic bag hangs on the doorknob, so I take the hint and drop my dirty clothes into it.
You know what? Honestly, it’s fine. We are fine. She doesn’t actually know what happened. Once I tell her, everything will be fine. “I can fix this.”
“What’s that?” Billy calls from the other room, and I head in there.
Something spicy tickles my nose when I turn the corner and step into the main area of the apartment.
The image I walk into, in any other circumstance, would have made me laugh.
He carefully stirs something in a dainty, flowery cup.
The soft tapping of the spoon hitting the sides barely registers in the absolute absurdity of the moment.
I must make a sound because Billy meets my eyes with a bland look in his own.
“It’s called Sweet and Spicy. You need it.” He places the spoon near the side of the saucer and moves back to where he was sitting.
Unsure, I blink a few times, trying to reconcile the conflicting imagery of the moment. “Uh, sorry. I can’t. I gotta go.” I’m halfway through the door when he stops me with a sucker punch of a question.
“Why are you here in the first place, and not with your wife?”
Over my shoulder, Billy is leaning back with his hands loose on his thighs. He looks me over, and something about it makes me wonder. He knows she’s pregnant.
“Why were you driving my wife?”
“Why aren’t you home, asking her that question?” That hits.
“Well, that’s where I’m going.” I don’t sound convincing because I’m not convinced. Her voice is clear in my mind. The request, or demand, she made of me.
“Sit, Trevor. Tell me why you’re here.”
She told me to stay away. She told me not to contact her. I don’t know where else to go.
I hover at the doorway, shifting in place from heels to toes, the bag of puke clothes dangling from my fingers. “I’ll—go set this down.” My shoulders pinch in a wince at my indecisiveness, but I place the bag on the porch and come back inside.
I sit in the seat across from him, lace my fingers together, and lean on the table, then unlace them and lean back in my seat. I cross my legs, then uncross them. I lean forward—
“That alternator in the ’97 Honda is overcharging.” He stares at his tea before taking another drink. “Shockingly, Carter is struggling with figuring out what steps to take because our tester is showing it as being good.” He pauses and waits for my input.
I consider his words, realigning my brain to fix a vehicle mode. “Has he considered the voltage regulator working intermittently?”
“Nah, I don’t figure he’s considered that. I’ll ask him.” His arms cross over his barrel chest, and his eyes move over me in a way I’m all too familiar with—like I’m being judged and found lacking.
“Hell, while I’m here, I can take a look.” I stand, but Billy shakes his head and grunts.
“It’s fine.” He taps his fingers on the side of the cup, then gestures to mine in a what are you waiting for type of gesture. I sit down and pick up my own delicate cup. It’s tiny in my hand as I lift it for a taste. An explosion of warm cinnamon flavor hits my tongue.
“Whoa.”
“Did you know that Carter wants to buy out my brother?”
It’s my turn to grunt because, yes, I know that.
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think he didn’t come up with the idea on his own, and he didn’t get the loan.”
Billy shakes his head and sighs before leaning toward me. “What are you doing, Trevor?”
“I don’t know—”
“Dammit, Trevor, I know that you don’t know. Just tell me what you do know. What you’ve already done.” He takes another small sip and sets it gently on the table. His eyes jump to mine, and he holds my gaze as my cup returns to the table with a sharp clatter.
“I get it,” I snap at him, and instantly regret my tone. “Look, Billy—shit.” My fingers scrape through my hair, pulling the strands and fisting them in my agitation.
“Drink some tea, Trev.” His voice is calm but commanding. My shoulders drop from where they were sitting near my ears, and I listen. “Start from the beginning.” He sips his tea quietly and waits with the patience of a father of two.
I’m a father of two.