Yield

10. Max

Sex bandages everything.

So do life highs.

I’m happy for Cole. The win was phenomenal.

And then came another blow. His truck broke down.

On top of that, I’ve been exhausted. I took on more clients than I should have this month, leading me to late nights and less sleep. Functioning like this is a challenge and I know I’ve snapped at him when he doesn’t deserve it.

We went through the emotions. A week feeling like strangers under the same roof resenting each other for little things and misplacing our anger and frustration. He doesn’t want to get serious help, a counselor or a therapist, that online thing, anything...at least it doesn’t seem like he ever does. It’s always something else. Practice, work, or...something, someone else; there is never time according to him. He hasn’t made any effort and I’m starting to check out.

“Fucking truck won’t start again.” Cole slams the back door, walking into the kitchen.

I put the carton of orange juice back in the refrigerator, standing with the doors open. “I thought you fixed it.”

“No, I just wasted my time on it,” he gripes, tossing the key on the counter.

I grab the container of butter and shut the doors. “You should’ve taken it to the garage.” I continue with my morning routine. Making Riley toast and using the heart-shaped cutter to make it extra special, like she insists scrambled eggs, and she gets milk while I get orange juice. It’s been a good two weeks that we have been on this kick, but tomorrow she could wake up and tell me they are the most disgusting thing ever and she doesn’t like hearts anymore, most likely after I make the food.

“I can work on my own truck, Max.”

“Whatever. Take my truck.” I point to the key by the door.

“You act like it’s a choice. Of course, I’m taking yours. I need to get to the track. If I don’t perform well, we miss out on paychecks. I’m not riding for five hundred bucks anymore.”

His last win came with a substantial amount of cash. Unfortunately, the costs of everything else add up and if he isn’t physically and mentally locked in, it all disappears. He cut his time at work down to twelve to fifteen hours a week to focus on riding now that he has more sponsors watching him, but God...“You’re so miserable.”

“I don’t feel like arguing with you today, Max.”

“Who’s arguing?” I snap.

“Where’s Riley? I gotta go.” He stands in the doorway in his black t-shirt, riding pants, and boots waiting for the girl of his dreams to come running for a hug. That’s petty. His attitude is rubbing off on me. She’s our child. I just...I wish he wasn’t such a grumpy ass.

“Ri,” I call. “Come say bye to Daddy.”

She runs into the kitchen at full speed into Cole’s legs. I wish I had half the energy she has and a quarter of her motivation. “Bye. Ride safe,” she tells him.

“Thanks, sweet pea. I love you.”

“Cole.” I stop him before he walks out without saying anything. “Ride safe.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, staring at the ring of keys in his hand. His eyes meet mine and he speaks low. “Okay.” The monotone reply sucks.

I should tell him I love him or hope he says it to me, but neither of us does because we both want to have the upper hand and by saying I love you, we are the ones giving in. We are the ones apologizing and neither of us wants to admit that we fucked up.

How many times have I told Cole that I’m proud of him? More than I can count. How many times have I told him I’m sorry? Much less. I think about the mistakes I make and the days I shit on him because I’m having a rough time, but I still never admit it.

He walks out the door. I wait till I hear the engine of my truck turn over before I collect my thoughts.

“What are your plans today, Miss Riley Cate?”

She holds her invisible handlebars in her hands. “Brraaaap!” Then, she takes off through the kitchen into the living room on her transparent dirt bike. She is her father’s daughter.

“If Riley’s napping then go do it,” Melody insists.

The four-way video call was her idea. Once a week we would make time to all get on a call together. Life is busy for all of us and getting all four of our schedules to mesh up is a pain in the ass. “When I get in an argument with Ezra, I send him a nude and he gets over it.” I pop my phone onto the bathroom mirror and dab my face with my foundation sponge. Melody is spinning in her office chair, trying to make us all nauseous. All I see is a blur of cleavage spilling from her lacey tank top and a wild mane of untamed dark hair swirling around her.

“And that’s why your relationships never last. You have to communicate,” Amber schools her in between petting the shaggy dog pawed up to her chest while she kicks back on the sofa. I think she’s wearing one of the heather gray rider tees she ordered with Andy’s number on. The digits are bold and outlined in red usually. Her wavy hair is in a top knot, a little more elegant than mine.

“Well…”

“Lauren, no!” Amber gasps. “You solve your problems with puss too?” I nearly snort, trying not to overdraw my brows. I never fill them much, but today I might have to if I laugh again with the pencil pressed to my face.

“All I’m saying is, sometimes it’s… I’m talking little disagreements, it’s easier to flash some T and A to get what you want.” She walks through her house in pink scrubs with her black locks in a high ponytail.

“See it’s a win, win! Two out of three votes. Max should send Cole a risky pic.”

“She needs a divorce or at the least a therapist. Not sex.”

“I need sex,” Lauren mutters.

I look at the camera, holding my powder brush up. “What’s Timmy’s problem? ED?” Both Melody and Amber snicker, while Lauren ignores my hassling.

“It’s a time problem. I’m going when he’s coming.”

“He’s coming. I guarantee he’s coming.” I side-eye the camera before curling my lashes.

Amber cringes. “You have the dirtiest mind, Max. Laur, when are you back on days?”

“Next week. It’s a mess right now with training,” she yawns.

“What are you doing talking to us? Go play with something. You do that and Max will go take some selfies. I know you want to, that’s why you’re doing your makeup this late in the day. Send him that real naughty shit right before he gets home.” I’m pretty open-minded, but Melody has to be a freak. I bet she’s into real freaky stuff like… blood play, I don’t know.

“He won’t be a grouch, at least,” Lauren proceeds to be team Melody.

“I have to agree with that part,” Amber grumbles.

“What? You agree?” I ask, holding my hand over my chest as I dip closer to the camera.

“It won’t fix your problem, but if he’s still in a bad mood then it proves I’m right and you shouldn’t be with him. If you couldn’t see that when he let Blake bring his girls over, I don’t think you’ll ever see how shitty he is.”

I detach my phone, making my way to my bed. “Blake hasn’t been near Cole in weeks, but that might be my fault. I’m sure I put him in hot water with his ladies after I spit in that one’s face.”

“Ladies!“ Lauren nears the camera, arching her brows.

“Hey now, they’re out there trying to make a living, but yeah they suck anyway,” Melody agrees. “That was the best move in that situation. I would have gone full-on banshee and lit her hair on fire.”

“Again, this is why you are single!” Amber points out.

“I’m with Ezra… sometimes.”

“Bitch, you’re single.”

“Yeah, well… I’m gonna go,” I announce.

“Get it, girl,” Lauren cheers, and Melody hoots in the background. Amber shakes her head but smiles. I know she’s into it.

I turn the volume down on my phone and click on my sensual playlist. I’m being cautious, trying not to wake Ri, but I lock the door in case she happens to get up early. The dresser drawer is mostly filled with socks and daily undies and bras, but I have a few sets of lingerie. I hold up a red lacey bodice with a garter belt. No… it’s too much. The next piece is a maroon crotchless teddy. No. Take three, a blush floral scalloped set. The bottoms are a cheeky style—my favorite—and the top dips deep with a long bodice that cuts off above the belly button.

I step out of my jeans and tug off my top, slipping the sheer material on. Pulling the clip from my hair, I shake it out. It never keeps a curl anyway.

I pose in front of the full-length mirror, taking a few pictures.

Ugh, I don’t like any of these. I look awkward.

Belly flopping onto the bed, I toss to my side and look at my phone again.

Okay… I kinda like this angle.

My boobs look good.

Should I smile?

No. A sultry stare.

Shit. Now I have a resting bitch face.

A soft smile?

That’s the one. It just needs to be cropped a little bit… right there.

Should I say anything?

No. Send the picture, Max. It’s just a picture.

Okay.

Five minutes go by with butterflies in my stomach as I stare at the ceiling, waiting for the ping to go off. It doesn’t. Maybe he’s riding and didn’t get a chance to look at it.

I hop up and pull the next drawer of my dresser open, digging for my oversized One Love shirt. Pulling it on, I See Red by Everybody Loves An Outlaw starts playing on my phone. I spin around and wiggle my hips, catching my reflection in the mirror. I should send this outfit to the girls and say it’s my sexy picture for Cole.

I turn around with my legs in a V and look over my shoulder making an obnoxious winking expression, taking the picture twice.

Ha ha, oh my god, yes. I’m sending that to them.

The emojis come rolling in and they are very much rolling. The rolling laughing face, the chili pepper, and the… haaa, the fucking eyeglass one! I love them.

Still nothing from Cole.

It’s soon time to get Riley up.

I should send Ryke the goofy one. He’ll get a kick out of it. Wait… I’m not wearing pants… but it looks like a dress. You can’t see anything. It’s not sexual at all. It’s funny. No, never mind. Go wake up Ri.

It’s funny.Just send it to him. He’ll get a kick out of it.

I send it, put my phone on my dresser, and grab my clothes from the floor.

“How was the track?” Cole takes his boot off inside the kitchen door and walks to the sink to wash his hands.

“Decent.”

That’s all I get. Decent.

“Yeah? Did you get my text?” He dries his hands next to me while I lean against the counter, crossing my ankles. He never replied to my photo. I’m certain he saw it. There was a READ notice under the message.

“Yeah. Why were you wearing that?”

A pit forms in my stomach. A black hole swallowing my entire being from the inside.

“I felt like it.” Or something called foreplay…desire, attention, because fuck me for wanting to send my husband a sexy pic.

“Thought maybe you were sharing it with someone else?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

He shrugs.

When I send Cole a sexy photo, I get accused of sharing it with other people. When I send Ryke a silly picture, I get a laugh and a compliment — dorky cute. It’s about feeling seen and appreciated. I wouldn’t ever send those to Ryke, but I would send them to Amber and she’d dish out all the praise that would make me feel like a million bucks. Hell, the girls sent me so many emojis over a goofy picture. Why can’t I be into women? Why can’t Cole give me what I need?

“I thought you would like it.”

“I do. I want to bend you over right now.” His knuckles take the counter. He closes the distance between us, hovering over me with a black deadness in his eyes.

“Then why don’t you tell me things like…I don’t know, that I’m beautiful.”

“I do that.” He turns to walk away and I grab his hand, stopping him.

“Not enough.”

“Is anything ever enough for you?” He pulls his hand away. His blue eyes narrow with the same monotone darkness that resides in his voice. “I gotta throw more money into this truck after I take it apart again after I spent all day at the track, and you’re telling me how I don’t do anything right.”

“I didn’t say that. You’re such a dick.” Now I walk away.

“I’m not a dick, Max.”

“Can you be pleasant for a few hours today?”

I hear his voice around me, carrying on, while I fall apart. I don’t know what he’s saying. It blurs and tangles, but it’s still there. He reels me in time and time again, and then destroys my heart, over and over… and the worst part is I let him because I think I need the pain to feel the pleasure. That has to be it. I need the pain to remind me over and over again, that pleasure comes next. It’s a certainty and will be bound in ecstasy and freedom.

I’m a ceramic bowl that’s been glued back together after being dropped repeatedly. It’s easy to see the beauty, but not the cracks because I purposely caked on the paint. Why would I let anyone into those places? The truth is often too hard for people to handle. They want to doctor it up with bandages… like they’ll heal the wounds. They just cover them. I paint the cracks, but they’re still there. You just have to look hard enough. Only the people closest to me see what’s happening and I’ll never listen to them… till I’m ready.

Hiding on the bathroom floor. It’s my favorite place to cry these days, but I miss that oak tree. My phone pings and it’s another email I’m not in a place to answer. Smacking it to the floor, I pick it back up in fear I’ve cracked the screen. A sigh of relief cases me when I see that it’s fine. As I go to sit it down again, another ping jolts me. I swear if it’s another email…

Ryke.

I sigh, more in frustration than relief.

An incoming call rattles the device.

Why is Ryke calling me?

“Hello?” I stammer.

“Talk to me, peach.”

I missed his voice.

“I bite off more than I can chew and Cole…” I close my eyes, hesitant if I should tell him anything that he doesn’t already know. “Cole and I have a very deep past. My parents…it happened when I was thirteen and Cole’s parents opened their home to me. They offered to be my family long before I married into the Warrens.”

“Are you crying?”

“I’ll be fine. Look…My life is messy and it’s complicated and I can’t walk away from it…and I want to. I want to walk out the door and I don’t even know what I would do then or where I would go.” He’s quiet. This is too much for the type of relationship we have. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have answered and unloaded all of this on you for the, uh, third time?”

“Don’t apologize.” How many times have I said I was sorry to Ryke for stupidness, yet couldn’t apologize to Cole when it really mattered?

“I’m asking for a lot from life.”

“You’re not asking for too much. You’re asking the wrong man. You deserve to be told how amazing you are every day.”

“Momma! Momma,” Riley calls, banging on the door.

“Hold on,” I answer, knowing it will only hold her for about sixty seconds before she yells again. “My daughter needs me.”

“You can text me whenever you need to talk.”

“Okay. Bye.” I hang up the phone, pushing myself up to my feet, and wiping away the sadness.

“Hey, sweet pea.” Opening the door, Riley is in her blue pajamas with cookies on them and her lavender fuzzy monster slippers. “Did you get changed all by yourself?”

“I did the, I did the, the, I did the, uhhhh, I did the slippies. Daddy helped me with this one.” She points to her top. “And this one.” Then, points to her pants.

“That’s great. You both did a really good job. Are you ready to brush your teeth?”

“Ribbit!” She hops to her hands. “I’m a frog.”

“Do frogs brush their teeth?”

“Ribbit!”

Amber was right. I’m avoiding the inevitable. I don’t want Riley to think this is normal and it’s the definition of love. Loving someone is knowing when to let go because it’s in both of your best interests, even if it’s a nightmare at first.

Colleen may have taken me in, but she’ll taint my reputation to save Cole’s. Besides her making life difficult, I know he’s going to act out. I’m going to need a lawyer and Cole’s income is substantially greater than mine.

I’ve never been on my own. I’ve never done a lot of things. Cole has always been my crutch. I hate to admit it. I don’t want to utter the words aloud. Have I lived up to my father’s expectations? Am I the strong woman my mother tried to raise? Is this who I want to be? Where I want to be for the rest of my life? Fighting with Cole. Making up with Cole. Acting like I’m going to leave Colson and always running back.

Physically living in a home, under a roof, with nobody else to be there to catch my fall… Am I capable of this? I didn’t think I depended on anyone—I let anyone see all of my pieces—but I did. It was Cole. He was always there. Now that’s gone and I wish I would have learned this lesson—living independently—years ago. I wish I discovered this flaw before I had Riley… before I wrote off every therapist I saw when I was a teenager. One of them has to be able to help me. Lead me in the right direction.

I’m terrified. I’m…hell, I’m shaking again. I don’t know if it’s because by leaving, I’d lose his friendship too or if it’s because everything is going to change. All I wanted was the life they promised to you as a little girl with the princesses. Every stupid story said you had to lose a parent. I lost both of mine and where is my prince? Where?

It’s going to get much, much worse than this. Ryke’s job offer might be what I need to get by…but that’s a long drive to do every Friday and back every Sunday. I don’t know.

“Hey, Stella,“ I wake up my phone. “Look up divorce lawyers in Virginia.”

“Here are the results for divorce lawyers in Virginia.”