Do you notice the way I can’t leave the driveway after she leaves?
What about the way my body feels like it’s a thousand degrees?
Do you feel the heat from where you are?
Do you think I’m happy about how that went?
If you said no, you’re right. If you said yes, what the fuck? Did you not just witness that bullshit?
I rub my hands down my face, but it doesn’t clear my head. Tightening my jaw, I glare at the car descending down the driveway. Goddamn it. What kind of shit is this? It’s fucking bullshit is what it is.
I think about Amberly long after she’s gone, purple and sea-green hot in my veins and compulsive in my chest.
Scarlet’s in my face the moment I close the door behind me and enter the house. “Who was that?”
I don’t answer. Why should I? Does it matter who it was?
Standing there, acting clueless, I stare at her.
Upset I’m ignoring her, she shoves my shoulder. “Tiller! I’m asking you a question. Who the hell was that woman and the little girl?”
I personally don’t see why she cares. Scarlet thinks everything that goes on in this house is her business. If you ask me, she’s taking this personal assistant shit too far.
Her gaze clings to my face, waiting on my answer. The sounds of splashing water from the waterfall in the foyer ping the air around us, filling the silence. I glare back, because I’m a fuck and don’t care. “Amberly,” I quip, brushing my thumb along my lower lip. She’s officially lost my attention, if she ever had it in the first place. “The girl don’t matter.”
Scarlet’s eyes flash with entertainment. She knows who Amberly is because of Shade and his big fucking mouth. When she doesn’t leave me alone, that’s when I really begin to lose my patience. “Did you get a look at her?” she asks, eyes widening. “She looks exactly like a Sawyer. Please tell me that’s not Shade’s kid.” As soon as she gets the words out, a blush creeps up her neck, settling in her cheeks. “It’s not, right?”
Walking into the kitchen, I want to laugh, or maybe play along because I’m also a fuck like that and the idea of getting Scarlet worried, excites me. But I don’t lie. Usually.
I offer a slow shake of my head, keeping my glare on hers. “It’s not.”
Her guarded expression liquefies into a smile, instantly satisfied. “She’s your kid, isn’t she?”
I know she sees the anger clouding my face. “Sometimes I think you insert yourself into my business because you’re bored with him.” She knows I’m referring to Shade, and it’s far from the truth. I cock my head sideways, arching a brow toward the other side of the house where he’s probably working out. “Mind your own goddamn business.”
Scarlet shoves me again. “You’re a jerk.”
I push past her to the fridge, reaching for a beer. Taking my beer and a bag of chips into the living room, I take a seat on the couch.
“Who was that?” Camden asks, curiously watching my reaction when I sit next to him on the couch. I steal the game controller from his hands.
Not him too. This house has no privacy. Pushing my hand through my hair, I drop my head back against the leather cushion and crack open the beer. I want a joint, a cigarette, something to make this all go away. My anxious heart pounds. “Nobody. What are you doing here? Isn’t it like a Monday? Shouldn’t you be in school or at daycare?”
Camden frowns. “For one, Tiller, it’s summer. And two, it’s Tuesday.”
“I knew that.” I didn’t.
He laughs, taking the controller back. “Sure you did. Now who was the kid? Is she yours?”
What the fuck is with everyone today? They usually never care what I do during the day.
“What do you think?”
Do you notice the grin? He knows.
Are you surprised I have a kid? I mean, you saw that one coming, didn’t you? Or maybe you didn’t.
I didn’t do it purposely. Ava was just one of the girls in the room that night. I wouldn’t say I was consumed by drugs, but I wasn’t sober, that’s for sure.
That night, after the event at Mammoth, I did cocaine and spent a lot of time hanging out with Amberly who brought her sister Ava. The only one I could stand. I hate her sister Alexandra. But then, and I’m not entirely sure how this happened, I was alone with Ava.
I asked her, “Do you know what you’re doing?” when she reached inside my riding pants to palm my dick. She was on my lap, grinding against me, a half-empty bottle of Fireball in her hand.
She leaned in, whispering, “I know you’re never going to admit it, but you’re in love with my sister, so. . . how about the next best thing?”
I ignored her, for a moment, knowing she was offering herself up as a replacement for the one girl I would never have. I know I pointed out, “You’re married,” because regardless of what most think of me, I do value the bond made between and man and woman.
“I want this. I do.”
I let it go, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did, and we had sex. I didn’t use anything. I remember that much. Do I regret it?
That’s a hard question to answer. I don’t regret doing it, but I’ll admit I wished it would have been Amberly.
Three years later, about four months back, I saw Ava for the first time at a restaurant, in Malibu of all places. She’d been having lunch with some friends and the kid. We exchanged hellos. I noticed she was still wearing a wedding ring and then I took a closer look at the kid.
By the apprehension on Ava’s face, something struck me as odd, and I did the math in my head and knew by looking at her eyes that kid was mine.
We didn’t acknowledge it.
Ava saw the way I watched her, then smiled, brushing the girl’s hair behind her ears. “I’ll see you around.”
I nodded, unable to do anything else. “Okay.”
I left and tried to leave my thoughts of the girl there too. I can’t say I never think about her, because she’s better off not knowing me, but I couldn’t help the sense of possessiveness that tugged on my chest when the kid looked at me. Did I want to be a part of the kid’s life?
I. . . didn’t have an answer then, and I still don’t. I knew I didn’t want the girl to be like me. The less exposure she had to me, the better. I gave it thought. It wasn’t like I thought—no way—I don’t want this. And while I didn’t, instinctively, I was looking out for her.
I contemplate every single thing I do in my life because that’s me. I overanalyze and weigh the options until my mind explodes and I eventually make impulsive decisions. It’s countless hours of no sleep and even less escape. That’s my anxiety. I shouldn’t have to defend that decision to anyone but myself. Or should I?
“Hey, dickhead.” Scarlet nails me in the back of the head with her bag. “We have a meeting with Honda this afternoon and then you, Shade, and Roan have a photoshoot to model the new line of jerseys.”
Shade, Roan, and I started a clothing company nearly two years ago. Wasn’t my idea. It was Ricky’s to expand our brand, but fuck if they didn’t pull me into it. Though I didn’t mind the idea of us having a business to fall back on. You can’t do what we do forever. Nursing injury after injury, we’d be lucky if we weren’t paralyzed with arthritis from all the broken bones by the time we’re thirty.
Rubbing the side of my head, I roll my eyes at Scarlet who pulls on my hair to make me look at her. My neck cranes back against the couch cushion. “I’m not going.”
“Too bad.”
Camden pops up, twisting around to hang over the back of the couch. “Can I come?”
Scarlet ruffles his hair. “Sure.”
His eyes light up. “Can we get In-N-Out?”
I jump up, dropping my bag of chips to the ground. “If we’re getting food, I’ll go.”
Maybe food would make me feel better. Probably not, but it’s worth a try, right?