Forty-one

 

Conner

 

I can’t sleep.

Which makes sense, really. I slept for seven straight hours last night. By all rights, I shouldn’t sleep again until sometime next week. It usually doesn’t bother me this much. Most nights I use the time to do me. I read. Work on my boards. Listen to music. Hack the Pentagon.

At the moment, I’m contemplating knocking myself out with a hammer because I can’t concentrate on any of those things. All I can think about is Henley. All my brain wants to do is rerun every word she ever said to me. Every time she touched me. Every time she hurt me.

In a desperate bid for sanity, I finish patching up the Windstar and shoot a text to its single mom owner, telling her it’s ready for an early pick-up. What I don’t tell her is that her hunk of junk isn’t on its last leg anymore. It’s a zombie at this point. Officially dead but still running. The next time it takes a shit on her will be the last time. She might get another week or two out of it if she’s lucky.

She waitresses the 12pm-5am shift at Benny’s so I get a quick reply.

Tina: Thanks! I don’t

know what I do without you.

Me: It’s all good.

Tina: Tess was here. Her

friend left me a HUGE tip.

Henley. I can imagine her pulling out a huge wad of cash from her designer bag. Flipping a stack of bills onto the table like they were nothing more than a wad of used tissues. I don’t know why it makes me so mad, but it does, thinking about her running around the neighborhood, throwing cash around like its nothing. Probably because to her, it is.

Me: She’s loaded. Take

the money and run.

Tina: She seemed really

nice. It was good to see Tess

with someone besides you. ;)

She meant it as a joke, but it still stings. I know that hanging out with me all the time isn’t good for her. Tess needs real friends. Other women she can talk to about things she can’t talk to me about.

Namely the fact that even after what he did to her, she’s still in love with my asshole brother. Cari fit the bill nicely until she up and took off on us. She’s been gone for going on six months now and is showing no signs of coming home.

Me: Your car is parked out front.

keys are under the seat.

I toss the phone onto my workbench without waiting for a reply.

Upstairs, I turn on some music and pour myself a drink before carrying it into my bedroom. It’s not really a bedroom because I don’t own a bed. It’s the room I keep my crazy in.

It’s also the place where Henley happens to be, standing outside the room’s only window.

I stare at her without moving because she can’t be real. She can’t be here. Not really. I’m imagining her. I’m seeing things. Sometimes I do. Sometimes, when it’s been too long between sleeps, I see shit. Things I want to see. Things I don’t. So, yeah—I’ve hallucinated Henley before. But I’m fully rested, and she’s still standing outside my second-story window, less than ten feet away from me.

I’m not sure how long I stand there staring at her through the window, trying to decide if she’s real or not but it’s long enough to prompt her to frown. “Conner, this fire escape is falling apart. I’m not sure how long it’s going to hold up.”

I cross the room and slide the window up on its track “It’s five o’clock in the morning.”

“I know.” She grins at me, hair loose. Cheeks flushed from the crisp, early morning air. “Can I come in?”

I don’t answer. I just back away from the window to give her room to crawl through it. “Why are you here?” I say as soon as she’s in and she straightens to look at me.

“I brought you something.” She thrusts her arm out between us, and I look down to see a brown paper bag hanging from her fingers.

“What is it?” I say even though I can see Benny’s logo stamped on the side.

“A bagful of snakes.” She smiles again, pushing it into my empty hand. “Or maybe it’s a breakfast burrito.”

A bagful of snakes. I said that to her once. Hearing her say it now, knowing she remembers that night, does something to me. Unlocks a door I slammed shut a long time ago. Reminds me of all the things I’ve been chasing around my head all night. The way she glared at me when I called her Hennie too many times for her liking. The freckles between her toes. The way her voice sounded when she read to me.

The way it felt when she ended it between us.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

“Thanks.” Taking the paper bag from her, and toss it in the general direction of the desk without looking away from her. “Now why are you really here?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she moved deeper into the room. Her gaze goes everywhere at once, taking it all in. About a dozen computers, all cobbled together from a crate of discarded parts. An entire wall converted into a chalkboard, covered in complex equations. Broken bits of chalk. Books. Discarded pencils. Scraps of paper tacked to the wall. I wait for her to say something about it. Ask me was the hell happened to me. When I finally cracked. It’s an easy answer. I know exactly when it happened.

It was the day I finally accepted that I lost her and I would never get her back.

Finally, she settles her gaze on me. “This used to be Tess’s room.” That’s it. That’s all she says.

“I know.” I down the rest of my drink and reach past her, setting the empty glass on my cluttered desk, next to the bag. It probably wouldn’t go over well if I threw it. “What are you doing here?” I ask it again, this time pushing it between clenched teeth.

“Nora said I broke your heart.” She lets her gaze drift across my shoulder and down my arm where it gets snagged on the tattoo inked into the inside of my arm. I fight the urge to hide it. “I’m pretty sure she wants to kill me.”

“Nora wants to kill everyone.” I laugh, even though just thinking about it makes me want to scream. “Is that why you’re here, Daisy?” I cock my head, leaning into her just enough to knock her off-kilter. “Were you hoping to find me crying into a gallon of cookie dough ice cream while watching the Notebook or some shit?”

She flushes, red splotches erupting across her chest and neck. “No—”

“Because I don’t own a television and I fucked you out of my system a long time ago.” I make myself say it. I make myself lie because my bricks are slipping faster than I can lay them down. She’s worming her way in, inch by fucking inch and if I have any hope of holding the line, I’m going to have to go full-tilt asshole. I’m going to have to hurt her. “You get that, right? I’m over you.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more—her or myself. I just know I want to mean it. I want it to be true. “Whatever weird, convoluted thing I had for you is long gone.”

Her shoulders stiffen against my words. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“Well, then…” I say, letting my gaze do a slow crawl up the length of her. As soon as it hits her breasts, her nipples tighten beneath the thin silk of her blouse and my cock jerks in response. Usually, I can control it, flip it on and off like it’s on a switch. Not anymore. Not when it comes to her. “What do you want?”

“I came to have your answer.” She blurts it out, forcing herself to look me in the eye. “About my proposal.”

“Your proposal?” I take a step toward her, the corner of my mouth ticking upward when she retreats—a half-step backward that bumps her into my desk chair. “Refresh my memory—to which proposal are you referring?”

That damnable tongue of hers slips out and licks at the freckle near the corner of her mouth.

My freckle.

Suddenly, I’m not sure how I’m still standing here. How I’m not dragging her to my bed and looking for rope. How I’m not pounding her so hard with my cock that she couldn’t walk away from me again, even if she tried.

“Oh, wait—” I can feel my grin slip into something less friendly. “You mean your how-about-you-fuck-me-for-money proposal?”

She gives me a fast, relieved nod like she’s glad I didn’t make her say it. “Yes.” Her hand comes up, fingers finding the diamond stud in her ear. “I understand you’re reluctance, but if you no longer harbor a thing for me, as you called it, then I don’t see why we can’t come to some sort of agreement.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.” She nods, her fingers still fidgeting with her earring. She must take my non-response as a positive sign because she keeps talking. “If you’re in agreement, I’d like to set the terms. Get everything situated so I can schedule—”

Did she just say schedule?