Chapter 27
dirks
“Hey, Mom,” I whispered, nudging the front door open with my foot as I guided Luna inside, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Her laughter had died down on the walk from the car, replaced by a quiet hum as she leaned into me, her head resting against my shoulder.
She was warm and tipsy and smelled like a bottle of wine and that jasmine oil she always dabbed on her wrists.
“I can’t believe she came back.”
“I know,” I said. “It still doesn’t feel real.” I swallowed, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Sorry I missed Christmas dinner.”
“Stop it. You’re grown. You’re allowed to be where your heart is. You coming home next month? You’ve got a bye week, right?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then come by. Bring Luna.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “Might have to bring one more.”
“A friend? That’s lovely.”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
I wasn’t about to correct the woman who thought a salad could include Cool Whip, Jell-O, or half a tub of mayo.
Let her think Jer was just a friend. No need to unpack the whole “I used to date her, she used to date another guy, then the three of us were a thing before one of us went to rehab and the other moved to London” saga.
I tucked my phone into my back pocket and padded back into the living room. Luna was passed out sideways on the couch, one arm draped dramatically over her eyes like she was starring in a soap opera.
I crouched down, brushing some hair off her cheek. “Come on, Luna girl,” I whispered, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back.
She stirred just slightly, murmuring something incoherent as I lifted her.
I started toward the stairs, but paused halfway.
Fuck.
I stared down at her peaceful, sleepy face, and for a moment, I just stood there.
Jeremy.
It wasn’t my place. Except . . . it kinda was.
It was Christmas, and no matter how much I tried to pretend I didn’t care, I did. I knew she missed him. I knew she wanted him in her life, and even though she said it was only as a friend, there was so much more to that.
I drew in a breath and forced myself to keep climbing, moving the rest of the way up the stairs. When I reached the bedroom, I laid her down gently on the bed, pulled the covers up, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
I headed downstairs, pulled out my phone, and scrolled until I landed on his name.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
“Fuck it,” I muttered and hit dial.
“Dirks?” he grunted.
“Merry Christmas, asshole.”
“Uh-huh. You drunk?”
“Completely sober. Just stupid, apparently.”
He snorted. “That tracks. What do you want?”
I let out a breath and sat on the couch downstairs. “Luna told me what happened after you left.”
There was silence on the other end. That kind of silence that usually meant he was clenching his jaw or rolling his eyes or both.
“She tell you she’s a damn hurricane?”
“She doesn’t have to.” I chuckled. “I’m not calling to gloat, Jer. I’m calling because—” I swallowed. “Because I think she needs you. Not instead of me. Not more than me. But . . . with me.”
“Are you calling to offer me a time-share?”
“I’m calling because she’s complicated. It takes more than one person to hold her up. We both know she needs someone who can call her on her bullshit. Someone who’s not afraid to get a little messy with her.”
“And that’s . . . me?”
“I mean, I’m the one walking around with a collar half the time,” I said jokingly and then laughed quietly to myself. “Which, ironically, isn’t even really a joke.”
He actually chuckled. “Jesus Christ.”
“Seriously, you know her history. You know the secrets she’s still not ready to tell me.
Heck, you’re part of them. I’m not asking you to pick up where you left off, Jer.
I’m just saying . . .” Sobering, I added, “She’s doing this big yoga event on the beach this weekend. You should come. Surprise her.”
“You trying to set me up to get punched in the face?”
“She’d probably make you do a plank for ten minutes instead.”
He huffed and then said flatly, “Together?”
“If that’s what you want,” I said. “Look, I’ve had her to myself for a while. It’s not fair—not to you, not to her. I’m not trying to be noble or some evolved emotionally intelligent fucker, but . . . she deserves both of us.”
Jeremy sighed.
“I’m not saying this to pressure you,” I murmured. “If you want me there, I’ll come. But if you’re serious about this whole friend thing—”
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t gotta walk me through it like I’m some toddler learning to share. I’ll be there.”
I blinked. “You will?”
A grumble came through the speaker. “Yeah. But only if you’re there, too.”
I blinked at the phone in my hand like I hadn’t heard him right. Jer didn’t say shit like that.
He’d always been gruff, difficult, emotionally constipated to the point of pain.
Back when we were all in it together, he was the guy who’d crack a joke or disappear the second Luna got sad.
I used to get so fucking mad at him because she deserved someone who could hold her through the heavy shit.
Yet, she needed him, too. She needed someone to push back, to challenge her.
She needed both of us for different reasons—him to spark the fire, me to quiet the storm.
Luna was pacing in front of her apartment, trying to unlock the front door with shaking hands.
“This damn thing never works—”
“I told you, you have to jiggle it left and then twist hard,” Jeremy snapped.
“I am jiggling it left, Jer! Maybe the lock is just broken.”
It was a ticking bomb of a moment, and they were both about to blow. I could tell by the way Jer’s jaw clenched and Luna’s shoulders hunched.
“Hey,” I called out as I jogged up the stairs. “Everybody breathe.”
Jeremy turned with visible relief. “Thank fuck.” He pointed at her like she was an unstable grenade. “She’s locked in DEFCON 1. I tried helping—”
“You yelled at me for jiggling wrong!”
“Because you were jiggling wrong!”
I walked right up and took the keys from her gently. “Can I try?”
She exhaled shakily and stepped back.
Two seconds later, I jiggled left, twisted, and the lock gave way with a satisfying click.
She dropped her head to my chest with a groan. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
Inside, she collapsed onto the couch, curling up in a tight ball without another word. I found a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Jeremy leaned against the wall in the kitchen, arms still crossed, chewing his cheek like it was the only thing keeping his mouth shut.
“She wouldn’t talk to me,” he muttered.
“She doesn’t always need words,” I said. “She needs someone to catch her when she falls.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“I do.”
“I know how to light the fucking fire under her when she needs it,” he added, bitterly. “I’d burn the goddamn world down for her, Dirks, but I can’t fucking hold her when it all goes to shit.”
“And I can’t always bring her back to life when she disappears into herself.”
We weren’t opposites. We were opposite halves of her.
“She needs both,” he said finally.
“She always did.”
We were silent for a minute, both watching her close her eyes.
“She needs us. You push her. I protect her. You challenge her. I soften her. You burn everything down, and I clean up the ashes.”
Jeremy let out a quiet scoff. “We’re like two divorced dads trying to co-parent a chaotic goddess.”
I laughed because he was right. She needed to be worshipped, tamed, held, fucked, forgiven. She needed to be dominated and to dominate—to hand over the leash and yank it right back.
“You and I—we don’t love her because she’s easy. We love her because we choose to. Especially when it’s hard.”
“I’ll be there, Jer. See you this weekend.”