“Hate Me”—Blue October
SERA’S VEHEMENT REQUEST HAD been circling in my head all afternoon. It had me curious and worried at the same time. Something was very wrong, and before I left here, I was going to find out what the hell it was. Which was why, after a nearly ten-year silence between us, I was preparing to knock on Miguel’s door to try to talk to my childhood friend, because Christian’s black truck was parked out front.
Waiting with my hands in the pocket of my jeans, I glanced up the street, taking in the old neighborhood. Once upon a time it had been a lively, nice area. Now it was a little shadier and run-down, but many of the same older people still lived here. The kids, like me, had long moved away. None of the people talking in their yards or the kids playing in front of the houses were familiar to me.
The sound of the lock clicking preceded the knob turning and the door swinging open. The same battered wooden screen door was all that divided me from the face of my old friend. It was so much the same, but so very different than the boy I grew up with. In his eyes was a cold hardness that had never been there before. His expression was shuttered, and he just stood there silently, expectant.
“Can I come in? Or do you want to come out?” Even though I had changed out of the stifling suit from the funeral into a worn pair of jeans and plain white T-shirt, it was sweltering in the late afternoon sun, so I hoped he would allow me to enter. Indecision colored his face before he rolled his eyes, shoved open the screen door, and stepped to the side for me to pass.
“Dad is napping. We can sit in the living room or the kitchen, whichever you prefer.” Without waiting for me, he headed down the narrow hall of the entryway.
“Kitchen is fine.” He abruptly made a detour to the right into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he leaned over and reached in. Pulling out a couple of Coronas, he held them up.
“Beer?” His offer was flat and short.
“Yeah, thanks.” Secretly, I wished for something stronger like tequila or whiskey, even though I didn’t really drink, but beer would do. Following his example, I popped the lid off on the bottle opener mounted on the side of the cupboards, then sat across from him at the table.
Talking a long pull of the icy brew, I watched his movements almost mirror mine as the cold, golden liquid washed down my throat. Setting the nearly half-empty bottle on the table, I rolled the cap in my hands, pressing the uneven ridges into the skin of my fingers.
“I’m sorry.” We both spoke the words at the same time. Letting go of a self-deprecating laugh, I shook my head. “Sorry, you go ahead.”
His eyes closed, and his head tipped down so far, his chin rested on the top of his chest. When he raised it again, his eyes held sadness and remorse. “I’m sorry about Abuela. But I’m also sorry about… well, the past. We’re almost thirty years old, and we’ve wasted so many years. Fuck, man, we used to be inseparable. The three musketeers, right?” At the reminder of the brother we lost, his eyes clouded again.
“I miss him too, man, but you’re right. We have wasted a lot of years. I know I let you and Tyler down, and it’s torn me apart for years. But I just needed to get out of here. I….” My words trailed off because I didn’t know how much to say.
“You know I knew, right? Yeah, I was pissed at you because we were supposed to be a team, but I knew how hard it was for you to see them. My anger was directed at the fact that you didn’t talk to me before you went off and became a soldier.”
“Marine.” The correction slipped out without thought, and we both laughed.
“Yeah, one of the guys at work was a Marine. I always do that to him too.” A small smile creeping out, he lifted his beer to his lips again.
“Not was. Once a Marine, always a Marine.”
At that, he laughed outright.
“Yeah, I get that from him too. As a matter of fact, he said he knew you. Went through boot camp with you, I guess.” My confused look must have been humorous because he chuckled again. “Yeah. Taylor Zimmerman. He was from up by Austin.”
“Holy shit. Small fucking world. Yeah, I remember him. Never saw him again after we left boot camp, but always wondered how he ended up. Tell him I said hello.”
“Six degrees of separation and that shit, right? Anyway, if there is anything I can do to help Gus, please have one of your uncles get in touch with me. Okay?”
His words sobered me.
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate that. He’s so damn lost right now. I’m really worried about him. I can’t believe my mother couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Then again, I don’t really know if my uncles were able to get in touch with her. She’s always got a different number. Fucking vagabonds in this day and age. Jesus. Sometimes I can’t believe I came from them.” Actually, I was mad as fuck at my mom. I couldn’t give a shit about my dad, but goddamn it, that was her mom. It didn’t surprise me though. Only about half of my birthdays did I even get so much as a card. It was like once they dropped me off with my grandparents, I ceased to exist for them. I’d never understand it. If I ever had a kid, I’d never abandon him or her. Never.
“Look, the other thing I came to talk to you about is Sera.”
“I figured.”
My eyes met his in surprise. Yeah, he said he knew how I had felt, but it surprised me he would think I might still be hung up on her. I fucking was, but I wouldn’t admit that to anyone.
“She wants me to meet her tonight. But she’s engaged. I’m not sure, but I think something’s going on.” At that, his eyebrows damn near shot to his hairline.
“What? That’s the first I’m hearing of that! I mean, I haven’t been the best brother, in all honesty. She’s another one I owe an apology to. After Tyler… man, I was fucked up. I pretty much pushed everyone away. Seeing her was a reminder that I hadn’t been there to save him. He was my fucking partner. I was out sick, and so he was on his own that day. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.” He looked so broken. My heart went out to him. Partly because I completely understood.
“¡Chingados! Man, I get it. It has eaten me alive knowing I was supposed to be with y’all. Regret is a bitch of a pill to swallow.” Finishing my beer in two more swigs, I set the bottle on the table and continued to twirl the cap in my fingers.
“That’s the thing. I saw a therapist a while afterward, at the insistence of the force because I wasn’t dealing well, and I’m finally starting to figure out that we can’t control things that happen around us. Maybe when it’s our time, it’s our time, and it doesn’t matter how good we’ve lived our life or how many people love us. It’s just our time. It still sucks, but I’m trying my damnedest to come to terms with all this shit, you know?” His brown eyes met mine and held.
“So what do you know about this guy?” I asked, hopeful that he had something to shed some light on why she seemed so secretive and desperate about me meeting her. I fucking hated the thought of her with someone else, but what had I expected? That she would stay alone the rest of her life? Pining for me, maybe?
“He’s a detective. He’s quite a bit older than her, but he has a great record and seems to be pretty well liked. Like I said, I don’t see them much, and that’s my bad. Let me know what’s up. You want me to go with you tonight?”
Shaking my head, I told him no, I would be okay. “Look, I have to run. My buddy came down with me, and I promised him I would take him out for supper tonight.” We both stood, and he stepped around the table to walk me to the door. When I turned to tell him goodbye, we looked at each other, paused, and hugged each other like the long-lost friends we were. “I’ve missed you, Christian.” My muttered words had him slapping my back and pulling away. He didn’t meet my eyes, but he nodded in affirmation.
As I stepped out the door and slid my shades on, I saw Hacker on the phone in the front yard. A sense of pride hit me as I observed the patch on his cut as he paced and talked. The same one I had recently earned. He was wearing his cut because we were using my uncle Gunnar’s and Javier’s rides to travel around with while we were in town. Mine was locked in the saddlebag of Javier’s Street Glide.
Javier was a member of our club’s chapter in San Antonio. It meant a lot that they trusted us with their bikes, but besides being blood family, we were all brothers through the club. If you couldn’t trust your brothers, who could you trust?
“You know him?” Christian’s tense question had me turning to meet his eyes as I answered. The expression on his face was one of judgment, and I found it raising my hackles. The cop was coming out in him, and he was profiling like a motherfucker. I could tell right away. God, that shit pissed me off.
“Yeah. He’s my former battle buddy and my brother in the club. Why?” Tension rippled down my spine as I awaited his answer.
“You’re a fucking gang member? Are you fucking shitting me, Kayde? Your uncle and now you too?” My nostrils flared, and my hands clenched into fists at his censorious tone.
“No. It’s Joker, and I belong to a motorcycle club. We’re not a fucking gang. ¡Jesús!” At his snort of derision, I turned my back on him. “See you around, man. Thanks for the offer to help the fam. Give my best to your pops.”
“Yeah. Will do, and no problem.”
Never bothering to look back at him, I walked to the bike, unlocked the saddlebag, and pulled out my cut.
Shrugging into my cut, purposefully ensuring Christian got a good long look, I nodded to Hacker, and he ended the call. “Everything okay, bro?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. You remember Kassi? From the Shamrock?” Duh. Of course, I did. This dumb fucker had been hooking up with her for a hot minute and just kept stringing her along. Hollywood, Reaper, and I could all see he was head over heels for her, but thanks to his bitch of a girlfriend in college and then the shit that we went through during a few of our deployments, he didn’t think he deserved her. It pissed me off because she was a sweet girl and hot as hell. Not that she compared to Sera, but shit, I was a man. I could appreciate a beautiful woman.
“Uh, noooo.” My sarcastic answer had him shooting me a dirty-ass look. “Of course I do, you dumb fuck.” His look screamed I’m gonna fuck you up, which just made me laugh at him as I set my shades on the seat long enough to pull the helmet on.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t tell her I was leaving, but I think I need to cool things with her. So I called Bo. I just wanted to check on her to make sure no one was messing with her at the Shamrock. He said she’s good.”
Rolling my eyes, I straddled the bike, straightened it, lifted the kickstand and started her up. Revving the engine, I shook my head at his ignorance. He flipped me off before we pulled out together. In my mirror, I caught Christian standing on the steps, arms crossed and lip curled.
Fuck his judgmental attitude. I’d lived ten years without him, I could live another ten.
After supper, I dropped Hacker at the hotel and drove the short way over to the cathedral. The sun was starting to drop lower in the sky, but it was still hot as fuck. Thankfully it was easier to find somewhere to park a bike than a cage, so I was able to get a spot pretty close to the cathedral. Hanging the helmet on the handlebar, I ran my hands through my hair to straighten it as best I could. Leaning down to look in one of the mirrors, I saw it was pretty hopeless. Oh well.
The cathedral was dark after the bright sun from outside but thankfully cooler. Adoration would be starting in a bit, so I looked around the dim pews for her honey-colored head. I almost missed her because she had her head bowed to the side. She looked like maybe she was sleeping.
For half a minute, I had to just drink in her presence as my stomach churned at the thought of her marrying someone else, again. Then again, who the fuck did I think I was trying to be pissed off at? Her? Him? Or myself, because I fucking ran that night instead of dealing with my shit and talking to her about everything? It could have been you, the voice in my head whispered.
Taking a fortifying breath, I stepped closer to her, every nerve in my body tingling the closer I got. Never in a million years would I have expected what would greet me when I stepped up to the end of the pew she was sitting in.
Like old times, my hand cradled her head and slid through the silky length of her hair, causing her to lift her head. When she did, I realized she hadn’t been sleeping at all, but talking quietly to a little boy. His head lifted at my presence and his light blue eyes, dark unruly hair, and dimple when he smiled up at me were a sock to the gut. Rapidly doing the math, my heart stuttered and then picked up pace at maybe about a hundred miles an hour. It brought back that night in all its splendid glory—the night we hooked up and didn’t use protection. Oh shit.
Swallowing the baseball that had suddenly lodged in my throat, I looked in her caramel-apple eyes and croaked, “Jesus, Sera, is he… is he mine?”