“Fuck, no.”
“Okay. I can relax now. Continue on.”
“We had fake IDs. Not that this particular establishment really gave two shits but we decided if we couldn’t get sucked or fucked, we’d get hammered. So the two-buck beer pitchers started coming. It was our first time to pull a drunk.”
Oliver fills a new glass halfway at a different tap and slides it in front of me again. “Apricot ale.”
He returns to his stool and picks up where he left off. “Good times were being had. And then Jimmy-mother-fucking-McCollum walked in. I hadn’t seen him in eleven years.”
“But you knew him.” Because you don’t forget those people who hurt you. It festers. Grows like a cancer.
“Knew him immediately. And every bit of shit he did to me came flooding back like I was sitting in a theater watching it happen on the big screen.” And his wound opens.
“Every bit of therapy I had went out the fucking window that night.”
Oliver Thorn is a beautiful man. But right now, the scowl that mars his gorgeous mouth, the anger in his normally mischievous eyes, shows me that it may have been twelve years ago but the pain is still there. I can also hear it in his voice.
“My buddies were drunk and passed out cold while I sat in my parked truck waiting for Jimmy to come out.” What was going through that seventeen-year-old kid’s head while he sat there?
“The fucker didn’t know me. I had to tell my own biological father who I was as I was about to stomp his ass. He laughed and told me I could try. That pissed me off even more so I yelled, ‘Let’s dance, motherfucker.’ I liked fighting him. I liked kicking the shit out of him while he was down. I liked seeing his blood on my busted knuckles. I lost all control. I wasn’t myself at all. Not even when I got into my truck and drove away like it didn’t happen. Like I didn’t leave him bleeding and unconscious on the ground.”
Oliver’s eyes meet mine and I easily recognize the darkness hiding behind the pale blue. I’ve seen it before . . . when I look in the mirror.
“I did those things, Adelyn. Liked every moment. Didn’t regret a single blow. Still don’t.” Oliver leans closer and whispers, “And to this day the pleasure I took in hurting him makes me wonder if I’m more like Jimmy than I care to admit.”
How could this thoughtful, protective, sexy man think he is anything like the evil scum of his father? I have witnessed his care of his ex-girlfriend. His care of me when he told me to get on his bike, effectively putting an end to my baking bug. Effectively removing me from my pain. Surely he knows he was mistreated and that it wasn’t okay? “You were wronged in a terrible way. Never question what kind of person you are because you chose to take a stand.”
“I’ve never told anyone what I did to him.”
Surprise catches in the back of my throat and flutters like a butterfly. “Why me?”
“You confided in me with your darkest secret. I wanted to do the same so you’d know we aren’t so different.” His hand slides closer to mine and our fingertips make a game of advance and retreat. I think he intends his touch to be a show of support. Encouragement. But it’s the single most sexual/non-sexual act I’ve ever shared with a man.
“Thank you for confiding in me.”
I feel all kinds of growing sexual tension between Oliver and me. It’s nearly suffocating. But something else is there too.
A seed of trust has been planted. Now we wait to see if it takes root. Will we nurture the fruit or allow it to be choked by weeds?
Oliver Thorn
“Fuck.” Tap yanks his ball cap off his head by the bill and slams it against the arm of his recliner. “Come on, Braves. How many batters are you gonna let him walk before you swap pitchers?”
Lawry leans over the arm of the chair so her mouth is positioned above Tap’s ear. “Language, Brou. You know Tripp repeats every cuss word he hears.”
He sure does. That little shit is only two and I’ve personally heard him correctly use the word fuck on more than one occasion. That kid is hell on wheels.
“Tripp isn’t in here. Besides that¸ he learns that shit from his mama and daddy. Not me.”
“Fuck you.” Warren throws a bottle cap at Tap, hitting him on the forehead.
“You see that shit?”
“Maybe so, but you know he’s crazy about his Uncle Bou. If he hears you cuss, he’s going to repeat it so he can be like you.”
“You’re right.”
Lawry kisses the side of her husband’s face. “Thank you. And I know Bridgette will appreciate your effort as well.”
Tap drags Lawry onto his lap and nibbles the side of her neck as he continues watching the baseball game over her shoulder. “My beautiful, lovely, sweet wife. Will you please go get a beer for me?”
Lawry pulls Tap’s ball cap down over his eyes. “You are worthless. Absolutely. Worthless.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
“Good grief.” Lawry punches Tap in the chest and climbs off his lap. “Don’t say stuff like that. People will think we’re having sex or something.”
“Or trying to make a baby.” Porter and Warren’s heads simultaneously spin toward Tap.
Lawry stops and turns around. “Brou . . . I thought we decided to keep that on the down-low.”
“I’m sorry. It slipped out before I knew it.”
“Congratulations. Best wishes.” Porter shrugs. “Break a leg? I don’t know what you say to someone who’s doing that.”
“I hope like hell I don’t break a leg. Let’s go with ‘good luck’ instead.”
They can forget my input on the correct way to wish one well on conceiving a baby. “I’ll make the beer run.”
Warren inspects his beer. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”
Tap turns up his drink and gulps the last of it before holding out his empty bottle. “I’ll take one, bud.”
Porter holds up his. “I’m ready for another.”
The empty bottles clank when I toss them into the trash.
“Your turn, huh?” Bridgette says.
“Something like that.”
God, Warren’s wife has a toddler on her lap and she looks like she’s going to pop out another one any minute.
“How’s the new house?”
“It’s great. Getting out of that condo and into my own place has been a good move.”
Lawry comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “You’re welcome.”
My sister has enjoyed taking the credit for my decision, but she’s right. I have her to thank for the push in the right direction.
“I had a meeting with your lovely neighbor yesterday.” Lovely badass neighbor. “We finalized everything for the grand opening.”
“When is that, again?” Bridgette asks.
“Saturday.”
“No offense, but I hope I’m not there because I’m in the hospital holding a baby instead.”
“That would suit me fine. I don’t think your poor belly will last beyond the weekend.”
“Or my bladder.” Bridgette lifts her sleepy son from her lap. “Tripp, go see Auntie Wren for a while.”
Lawry takes him from his mother. “Come to me, sweet boy.”
“Ava, do you need to go potty?” Ava shakes her head and returns to playing with her plastic ponies.
Bridgette struggles to get up from her seat and waddles in the direction of the bathroom as she holds her lower stomach.
“Poor thing is miserable.”
“You’ll be waddling around like that before you know it.”
“Gotta get pregnant first.” Lawry kisses Tripp’s head. “But it’s okay. I’m not discouraged because we weren’t successful the first time we tried. They told us it would probably take a while.”
“Don’t worry, sis. It’s going to happen.”
“I know.”
“Adelyn told me you met at El Barrio’s for dinner.” She sounded as though she really enjoyed her time with Lawry. “She likes you. I think
she’d like to be friends.”
“It was a very enlightening get together.”
I bet my get-togethers with Adelyn have been far more enlightening. “How so?”
“She had much to share about all the time you’ve been spending together. You can imagine my surprise since you’ve not mentioned a word about it, you little s-h-i-t.” Lawry covers Tripp’s ears as she spells out the profanity.
“I don’t think you have to cover his ears if you’re going to spell the cuss words.”
“Shut up.”
I guess I need to throw Lawry a bone. “We’ve been getting together a little.”
“She left me with the impression you were getting together quite a bit.” Funny how easy and comfortable it’s been. Started as a day here and there but has gradually increased to nearly every day.
“I guess.” I don’t want Lawry to read too much into this. It’s not like anything romantic is happening.
“You could have invited her over tonight.”
Asking Adelyn to come to my sister and brother-in-law’s house on a Saturday night with our other friends would be like . . . a date. “That would have been weird.”
“How often do you see her?”
“I physically see her every day. It’s sort of impossible not to when she lives fifty yards away.”
“I don’t think it’s impossible. How often do you spend time together?”
“I don’t know. Not like I’m keeping an appointment book.”
“Stop avoiding the question. A couple times a week?”
She isn’t going to let this go. “Probably more.”
“Did you see her Monday?”
“Yeah.”
“Tuesday?”