Chapter 4—Two Steps Back

* Riley *

My phone rang that evening. It was Aunt Avery. I adored all three of Izzy’s sisters, but Avery was my personal favorite, probably because of the kindness she’d shown to Tiff after the shooting.

She rarely called me, and I tried like hell not to read too much into this call.

“Hey,” I said, forcing the anxiousness to remain in my gut and not in my voice.

“Hey yourself.”

“How’re things? How’s Ice?” Isaac “Ice” Wolfe was Avery’s husband and one badass talent on the ice. He played first-line defense for the Sockeyes and would’ve made an awesome linebacker.

“We’re good. Actually, Isaac insists on talking with you.”

“Me?” A stab of fear swept through me. Had something happened to my uncle? “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that,” she rushed to reassure me. “He’s being protective. Of you.”

“Okaaaay.” I frowned at the phone. “You realize you’re not making sense?”

“I know. Here’s Ice.” She sounded as if she couldn’t wait to get rid of the phone. I had a niggling suspicion this call had something to do with Tiff.

“Hey, buddy,” Ice said quickly in his deep voice usually laced with impatience. Not this time, though. He sounded concerned.

“What’s up?”

“Tiff wants to see you.” Isaac got right to the point. I loved that about him.

“She does?” Hope thrummed through my veins and weakened my knees. I sank down onto the tattered couch in our living room, ignoring the beer stains and black dog hair. Otto sensed something had shifted in my life and lumbered off the recliner, crossing the room in a few long strides, and leaned against my thigh, putting his head in my lap. I absently petted him with a shaking hand.

“Don’t go getting all excited and reading too much into this. She’s a slippery one with more baggage than the hold on a 737,” Isaac warned me.

“Do you know why she wants to see me?”

“Avery has no idea. Just that she asked her to arrange a meeting with you for tomorrow evening about six thirty at the barn.”

“Why are you telling me this instead of Avery?”

“Because we’re guys, and I want to give it to you straight. I think of you as family. Tiff is one fucked-up little girl, Ry-man. I’m advising you to keep your distance. Hear her out, thank her, and run like hell.”

I bit back a snort of laughter. “She’s not going to go postal and attack me.”

His long silence spoke volumes. “Not physically.”

“But you don’t want me sucked back into her mess.”

“Bull’s-eye. She’s struggling, and you’re doing okay. Don’t get dragged back into her problems. You can’t fix ’em all. In fact, most of the time, it’s fucking tough to fix our own lives.”

Isaac would know. He and his two brothers had grown up in the dysfunctional of all dysfunctional families with an abusive father who wrote the book on innovative abusiveness. I’d thought I’d had it bad until I heard their story.

“Avery fixed you,” I pointed out, because deep down, I honestly believed given half the chance I could fix Tiff. Love fixed anything, didn’t it? And I’d loved her for years. Surely she could love me. If she just gave us a chance, love would heal us both.

“She fixed me because I wanted to be fixed, and we loved each other, but even then, our early days were a struggle. There’s nothing worse than a one-sided relationship.”

“I’ll be careful,” I lied. What I really wanted to do was throw myself at Tiff’s feet, declare my undying love, and beg her to give me—us—a chance.

Isaac hesitated, as if he wanted to say more. “Okay, kid, take care of yourself. If you ever want to talk, you know how to reach me.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

Isaac had already disconnected the call. He’d never been much for long conversations, and I appreciated his stinginess with words. I didn’t talk much, either, unless I had something to say.

My roommates were out, and they definitely weren’t studying, so I danced a little jig, or what I thought was one, across the worn hardwood floors, while singing “Hey Jude,” one of Tiff’s faves. Otto danced with me, running circles around me and barking.

I didn’t hear the door open, but caught a vibration as it slammed shut. I froze and turned slowly to find my three roommates staring at me as if I’d lost every last brain cell still residing in my screwed-up head. My face heated to Arizona sun temps, and I fought to come up with a plausible explanation.

Gage frowned and glanced at our two teammates.

I could’ve lived in this place alone. Uncle Coop owned it and was footing the bill. Instead, I’d opted to invite some of my buddies to join me. Gage was a no-brainer, but the others were a little more difficult to choose. In the end I picked guys who were short on money and long on work ethic, Mason and Logan.

“What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?” Gage yelled over Otto’s barking, and squinted at me as if to figure out who this guy was and what had happened to his roommate. He made a slashing gesture in Otto’s direction, and Otto sat down on his haunches and watched us, wearing his best innocent-dog face and thumping his bushy tail. At least he’d shut up.

“Uh, uh. I was—uh, never mind.” I shrugged and held my hands out to the sides, palms up. “I got nothin’.”

Again the three guys looked at one another, using the same silent communication we’d developed over three-plus years of playing football together.

Mason plopped down on the couch and put his big feet on the scratched coffee table. He narrowed his eyes and assessed me with the same savvy intuition he used for finding holes in our opponents’ defenses.

“You heard from her.” Mason’s words came out accusatory, and I deserved them. I’d spent the better part of last Sunday lecturing Mace on getting over his ex and moving on. I’d stupidly used myself as an example, good and bad.

Gage’s and Logan’s heads turned toward me. “You did?” they said in unison.

I squirmed a little, hating being outed and deserving it at the same time. “Not exactly. She told my aunt she wanted to meet with me tomorrow night at six thirty.”

“And you’re going why?” Disturbed by the anger in Gage’s voice, Otto leaned on my leg and hugged me with his big head.

“I want closure.”

“Oh, that’s fucking bullshit.” Mace snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re a sucker for her, and she knows it. First time you hear from her in over three years, and you come running.”

“I want to know why she left without saying good-bye.” I cringed at the pain rasping in my voice. I sounded like such a girl.

“You’re a dumbshit,” Gage declared. In typical Gage fashion, he moved on to the next subject, the hot pledges at the sorority house our frat partnered with.

Glad to have the heat off me, I half listened to what he was saying. I wasn’t much of a Greek type. I’d only joined because my buddies had, and I’d been a shoo-in because of who my uncle was. I could care less about freshmen pledges. I wanted Tiff and only Tiff. Apparently, my obsession for her had just lain dormant for these past couple years.

She’d only been back two weeks, and I was already tied up in knots. No wonder the people in my life kept lecturing me. Some guys just have to learn the hard way. I was one of those guys. I got that from my mother. She never listened to anyone’s advice.

Yeah, and look where that’d gotten her, not that I had a clue where she was or what she was doing. It was better not to know. She’d been a stripper, a prostitute, an alcoholic, and a drug addict, and usually at the same time. In my younger years, we’d been homeless or living with abusive guys who looked at me with all sorts of scary shit in those deviant eyes of theirs. Despite her perpetual state of drunkenness or whatever, she’d never allowed anyone to touch me or hurt me. She saved that privilege for herself. Not that she’d ever physically laid a hand on me, but emotional scars ran deeper, and mine were marrow-deep.

I told everyone my mother was dead, and she was—to me. I never spoke about her. No one but Uncle Coop and Aunt Izzy knew what my childhood had been like, not even Tiff. I almost told her several times, because Tiff was a good listener. She was also sensitive, and I didn’t want to add to her grief or be the subject of her pity.

I missed my talks with Tiff on Uncle Coop’s deck looking out over Puget Sound on warm summer nights. We’d been two lost souls, holding on to each other in a raging storm. She’d let me hold her hand, but nothing more, except for senior prom, one of the best nights of my life, despite the innocence of it all.

I’d had girlfriends during my high school years. I was a teenage guy, and my hormones ruled my dick, which ruled my head. Tiff hadn’t wanted to be more than friends and had never displayed even the slightest indication she might be jealous. I’d wished she did, because it would’ve meant she cared.

Instead, I had to be content with Tiff as her friend, helping her through the tough times and taking the bones she chose to throw my way. My family didn’t like it, but they kept their mouths shut for the most part.

Until graduation night, when we hooked up after too much alcohol, fueled by a sense of desperation and teenage hormones. What we’d done that night went beyond mere fucking, though. We’d shared something spiritual, truly deep like nothing I’d ever known. As corny and stupid as that sounds, that’s how it was.

Within twenty-four hours she’d taken off for school in California without as much as a good-bye. I’d spent the last few years getting over her, but seeing her at the party catapulted me back to high school as if the three-plus years in between had never happened.