He, Ryder, and I just clicked from the moment we met. I’d be forever indebted to him for protecting Callie and saving me from killing an asshole. Three guys with shit childhoods, a myriad of baggage, and more pain and anger than one should carry. We were all perfect examples of money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure as hell bought fast cars on our highway to hell.
Even though our lives were so different on the daily, after that first meeting, we’d always made time to see each other every few months and to call as often as time allowed. Although, with Ryder’s and my schedule, that meant Hayes came to us more than we went to him. And we would live up the nights with booze and debauchery.
“Hello to you too, asshole, So, how does she look after all these years?” I chuckle as I sit on the pier with my back against the corner beam.
“Breathtaking and contemptuous. Same as always. So, tell me, what the hell you've been up to? I was beginning to think the Internet lied, and you really did die.”
“No. I’m invincible. Didn’t you know only the good die young? The rest of us motherfuckers have to live in this shithole.”
“Aww, Maddox, there you go waxing poetic. You know how much that turns me on. I'm getting in the car right now to come and see you. Seriously, though, how the fuck are you? Media is telling a story that's half bullshit and half concerning because I know you.”
I focus my eyes where the sun is beginning to sink into the water. Like that’s the very edge of the world if you could just follow it. “Been better, but I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about anything but me.”
“And you called because you know my favorite topic is me, right?”
“Something like that,” I chuckle. “So, tell me, how have you been?”
“I wake up and remember I'm Hayes motherfucking Davenport,” he laughs. “Nah, you know how it goes... Nothing in life ever really changes, does it?”
“I take it that means you still haven’t gotten the girl?”
“Which girl are you referring to? The sassy toddler I catch glimpses of or her spiteful creator? I don't know, man. She's always been and will always be mine. Ya know? She just refuses to cooperate.”
"Does she know that you know?" I ask, keeping it vague because—well I don't know why I'm being secretive. No one around me would have a clue whatI was talking about.
"Man, I don't know. I think she suspects but doesn't want to say anything in case I don't. You know, southern women are fiercely protective of their children and intuitive as fuck. If they perceive a threat, they’ll shut it down, and I assume until she no longer sees me as one to her or Elliot, she'll remain silent. That's life, right?”
“Seems to be,” I mutter.
We talk for several more minutes, and he does exactly what I need. He takes my mind off of my shit for a while.The sun has fully set when we end the call, and I know I need to go.
I toss the empty bottle of Johnny into the trash as I head back for Bastian’s bike. I climb on, speeding out, leaving only dust and sand behind.
All my life I've waited
Five weeks ago
I walk back into Bastian’s loft shortly before midnight. I toss his keys back into the bowl and head to the fridge for something to eat when I hear movement. I turn on the cabinet lighting and turn to find a little canary asleep on the sofa.
Deciding food can wait, I walk over to check on her. I’ve avoided her since that night at Bastian’s dad’s. She doesn’t need my bullshit. If she were smart, after hearing everything she did, she should be running as fast and as far away from me as possible. Though that’s difficult when we’re both staying with Bastian temporarily. Which gets me thinking it may be time to move on.
I grab a throw off the back of the sofa, spreading it over her. I know I need to stay away from her, but I can’t resist brushing the fallen hair away from her face. Her lashes begin to flutter right along with my damn heart. I start to pull my hand away when she grabs it, placing a kiss against my palm.
The gesture is so intimate it throws me off. I know how I feel about her, but she can’t feel the same. It has to be just an act of kindness.
She hasn’t been very forward with me, always encouraging the casual, sex-only part of whatever this is while remaining shy and timid. She’s not even divorced yet. I’m just a rebound for her. She’s never hinted at anything else.
Or has she?
No. No, she hasn’t. I would’ve noticed. Wouldn’t I?
Because the way she’s looking at me right now makes me question everything I’ve thought. “What are you doing,cher?” I ask her the loaded question.
She sits up, those wild curls flying around her face like a yellow bird’s nest, then stands in front of me. She lifts a tiny hand to cup my cheek, sadness filling her eyes. “Verity told me about your dad. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m always okay,cher.” I lie easily as I lean away from her touch. But those fucking eyes of hers. Swear to all that is holy, they see right through me.
“You’ve been drinking,” she whispers.
