SEVEN
Belle
Kate and I spend the rest of the afternoon trolling the shops, not in search of anything in particular, but making up for lost time all the same while we scour the racks for bargains and steals. I see her off at the entrance doors with a promise to make our catch-ups a regular thing, and hotfoot it back to Sharon’s car as the crowd thins prior to closing. Sharon managed to arrange a ride to work with one of her colleagues, adamant I needed the independence a car would give me.
I really don’t think Dad could have found somebody further on the opposite end of the spectrum from Cerise if he had tried.
I asked last night where my mother had gone after he asked her to leave. To my disappointment, he said Cerise had chosen to stay local. Why, I wouldn’t know. Then again, it’s not as if she’d have much to go to elsewhere either. That’s the problem with burning your bridges wherever you go, I suppose.
Takeaway coffee in hand, I wrestle the car door shut and set my bag down on the passenger seat. The dash lights up as I click the key to accessory, and then turn the radio down a little. My feet ache from a long afternoon walking the mall, but I’m glad for the distraction. I would have gone stir-crazy with the knowledge Zeus has removed the block from my profile and nobody at home to keep me from falling down that rabbit hole.
My heart is a wild thing, caged and demanding to be set free as I bring my phone to my lap and open the damn app. Two letters in the search bar, and his name comes up at the top of the suggestions. Benefits of not many people having a name that starts with a Z.
His profile picture is dark, taken in shadow, and portrays him looking off to the side as though the image is a candid one. I pull a deep breath, allowing myself a moment to let the jealousy ease. Who took the picture? Does he have a girlfriend? A wife?
Do I want to know?
I can’t do this yet. I’m not ready. Not when my blood runs hot through my veins and my heart hammers in my chest. I need to open this can of worms when I’m in control, when I can look at his life as it is now objectively. Three years overseas, and the effect that man has on me didn’t lessen in the slightest. If anything, it’s grown worse.
I kill the app and then set my phone in the cradle, dialling Dad before I turn the car on. He answers as I pull out of the park.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was Kate?”
“Good. Are you busy?”
“No. Between jobs. You’ve got time to talk.”
“Awesome.” Dad climbed to a management role in the time I was overseas, which affords him a little more lenience with his day. “So, I talked to Kate about the fact I want to find my own place, and she had a suggestion.”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t I find shop space to lease that has accommodation attached?”
He hums disapprovingly. “I don’t think you’ll find that in the area you want to set up your studio.”
“I can’t afford rent and shop space, though. It’s one or the other.”
“So stay on at home longer.” I open my mouth to protest, but Dad carries on. “I know you want your own place, but it makes financial sense.”
It does. It just doesn’t make sense when it comes to Damien. “It wouldn’t be too crowded when there’s four of us?”
“There’s been four of us in that house in the past,” he points out. “There’s enough room… if Damien is happy with the idea.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll put it to him.” I pull up behind a motorcycle at the lights and admire its matte black paint job. “I just wanted to bounce the idea off you. Thanks, Dad.” The guy on it isn’t too hard on the eye, either: steel-toe boots tucked beneath heavy-duty work pants with the reflective tape around the calves, stripped back to a long-sleeved T-shirt on the top that showcases a hard-working body.
“I’ll see you at dinner, sweetheart.”
“Yep. See you then.” I punch the button to end the call, noting the rider eye me in his mirror as I flick through to Damien’s number. It should be a little after nine in Denver if my calculations are correct—not too late to call.
The line connects as the guy in front of me twists on his machine, his thick torso contorting so he can look over his shoulder. No way….
“Hey,” Damien greets flatly. “I was going to call you tomorrow.”
Silence fills the car as the traffic lights ahead turn green. I can’t…. It can’t be….
“Belle?” Damien asks over the line. “You there?”
The bike tears off with a roar, catching up to the traffic that’s pulled away ahead of us. “Yeah. I’m here.”
I should turn right, but instead I follow the bike through the intersection, disbelieving of what my eyes tell me.
“What date are you coming home?” I ask absently, tracking the bike as it sharply overtakes the car in front.
“I hadn’t booked tickets yet. Why?”
“How would you feel about staying at my dad’s for a while so I can raise enough to start the shop?”
“I thought we talked about this already.”
“We did.”
“And we decided that we need our own space if we want to make things work for us.”
I frown as the rider whips around another vehicle, placing two cars between us. He disappears from view as the road arcs around a bend. Shit.
“It’ll only be temporary,” I snap, my frustration at losing the bike mingled with my annoyance at Damien for whining like a damn child about minor details. “I can’t afford to pay the bond on a place and save to start up a studio, Damien.”
“So wait a while to start the business.”
Is he for real? My foot eases off the gas. The road ahead of me is empty save for one car; the biker’s gone. “If I wait, then you know what’ll happen. The goal will keep getting pushed out further and further. I came back with the intention to start the business and make my life what I’ve always wanted it to be.”
“And where do I fit in with those plans?”
A flash of black catches my eye as the roar of the bike’s engine cuts in behind me. What the fuck? The bike merges from a side street and tails me as I take the next right to head back to Dad’s. I spend more time watching the rear-view than the road ahead as the rider lifts his hand and pushes the visor on his helmet up. Fucking knew it. I wouldn’t forget those eyes, ever.
“Belle?” Damien snaps. “I asked you where I fit in with your plans. What about what I want?”
“What do you want?” I bite back as I indicate and ease the car to the side of the road.
“I’m not sure yet, but what if I don’t want to live in Longdale?”
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” I smack my finger down on the phone, frustrated that every conversation with Damien turns into an argument lately, and end the call as Zeus pulls over in front of me.
He doesn’t dismount, sitting instead with his engine idling and head down. His T-shirt pulls tight across his shoulders, the text printed on the back warped into an arc as the fabric is forced to accommodate him. He’s lost size since I saw him last, but put Zeus next to most other men and he’s still a big guy. I stare out the windshield as I drink him in, unable to move. What do I say? Why am I even doing this?
His head twists as he checks his mirror. I lock on to those beautiful blue eyes and sink a little lower in the seat. I have nothing. Nothing I can say that would make sense after three years of no communication, not even a fucking postcard to say thanks for the tickets.
How full of myself would I be if I waltzed back into his life and expected him to just kneel at my feet and worship me like nothing went wrong? Like no time has passed at all? I don’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve that.
Especially when I still have a boyfriend… who I hung up on. Get your priorities in order, Belle.
Zeus lifts his boot to the foot lever and stomps the bike into gear. I scoot higher in the seat and reach for the door, yet pause. He watches me in the mirror, giving me time to make the decision, and then shakes his head when I fail to get out.
He slams his visor down, and the reverberation of the bike’s engine shakes the car as he roars into the street. His outline quickly shrinks into the distance while I sit frozen with my hand to the door, wondering if this is all some strange dream. Am I delirious? Did I imagine that it was him? Have I just weirded out some stranger in my obsessive need for the rider to have been Zeus?
Those eyes. It couldn’t be anybody but Zeus.
My body vibrates with pent-up energy, the frustration leaking out in hot tears as I slide down in the driver seat and give in. Three years I fooled myself into thinking I was over him. Three years I spent living the lie that he was only ever a passing phase for a foolish teenage girl.
But one glimpse, one look at the guy I gave my heart to before I knew what love is, and I’m ruined.
For the first time, I fully understand how it felt for him to have me so close and then be forced to watch me leave. I understand what it’s like to let what you love slip away out of fear of hurting others.
I understand what it’s like to lose the one thing you want most in the world.
And it sucks.