“I’m sorry. That’s not what I planned on saying. I was going to apologize for what I did back then. It was immature, and it was selfish and messed up, and I knew it was stupid and wrong at the time, when I was doing it, but…I was…I had my reasons, okay? And they weren’t good reasons, but I was young, and I know that’s no excuse. But still. I’m sorry. That’s what I meant to say.”
She pauses for air, and then she waits, fingers plucking nervously at the hem of her sweatshirt.
I don’t know what to say. My brain’s on overload, glitching with the desire to grab her, shake her or throw her into the truck, tear those white panties to the side and fuck her raw, or curse her until she cries. My mind’s a wreck, like I’m eighteen again, and I know nothing.
I can’t act, can’t find words to say, so all I do is stare.
God, I’ve missed the shape of her. The way her tits slope to a peak. She’s clearly not wearing a bra under the crop top. I manage to drag my gaze away, and then my eyes are instantly drawn to the swell of her hips and the crease where her thighs press together. Those twenty pounds found the right places. She’s all sex. All bounce, all curves.
And she’ll pass it around to anyone and lie about it to your face.
“Aren’t you gonna say something?” Her voice is small. Meek. She’s not meek.
“How many?” I shouldn’t care. I should turn around, get back in my truck, and let the past be the past.
“What?”
“How many other guys did you fuck when we were together?”
“I told you. None. I never did. I was…I don’t know how to say it. I was trying to make you jealous. I had this idea in my head that you could come back if you really wanted to. I mean, I knew better. I’m not stupid. But…” Her brow furrows, and she presses her fingers to her temple. “It was magical thinking, I guess.”
“No, you weren’t stupid, Nevaeh. You understood the deal. You leave basic, you’re A.W.O.L. Everyone knows that.”
“I never wanted you to go.”
“It was for us.”
She shakes her head, in denial or disapproval, I don’t know. The stale rage rises in me again. Same old argument. Meaningless now.
“What was I gonna do here?” I ask. “Pump gas? Drywall?”
“You would have been there for me. And yeah, pump gas. You too good to pump gas?” Her face is flushing red. I remember the look. She’s holding on to her temper by a thread. “I’m not saying what I did made sense. I was young, and I was confused by a lot of shit.”
“Confused? Is that what you call it? That’s all you got to say in your defense?”
She balls her fists. “I’m not gonna stand here on the porch and spill my guts to you.”
“No. You were gonna spill your guts at my clubhouse, in front of all my people. You always did have to put on a show, didn’t you?”
Her brown eyes spark. “It always took a show to get through to you, didn’t it?”
“You could have talked to me.” I’m shouting. Fuck. I don’t shout.
“You left. And then you rang me up one Sunday, called me trash, and told me we’re done. And then you blocked me. How was I gonna talk to you?” Her voice cracks; her eyes darken. She’s remembering. I was in a rage. It lasted months. Years. I can’t really recall exactly what I said.
There’s no reason for the pit in my stomach, though. No matter what words I used, I meant them. She tried to come on to my brother. What did she expect?
“You flashed Heavy your tits and asked him to fuck you.”
“Yeah. Not one of my finer moments.” She sniffs. Is she really crying? “I should’ve given up way before then. Packed my stuff and blown town with a little dignity left, you know? But I was such a stupid little kid. I guess I thought you’d get so pissed, you’d demand that I tell you what’s going on.” She snorts.
“What was going on?” I can hardly follow her; she’s making no sense.
She blinks and glances over her shoulder like she hears a noise behind her. Must be Lou.
“It doesn’t matter now. We were kids. I’m sorry for how I acted. That’s all I wanted to say. If it makes you feel better, I lost all my friends, and it wasn’t easy, starting over in a new city.”
I feel unsteady, as if my feet aren’t on firm ground. “Why now? Why come around now?”
“Better late than never?”
I scrub the back of my neck in frustration. “Can you just be straight with me? For once?”
She draws in a shaky breath. “I guess I’m trying to put some things right.”
“Why?”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
And there it is. The reason this isn’t gonna end with peace between us. She can’t be straight. People like her never change. Answer a question with a question. It’s all a game. And maybe her crazy was hot as shit when I was a teenager, but I’m a grown man now, and this kind of bullshit is just sad.
I don’t care if she’s working the ninth step, or she’s on some kind of journey to find herself. It doesn’t matter that my dick’s harder than it’s been in years, and I haven’t thought about the pain in my arm once the entire time we’ve been talking. I don’t need this in my life.
“I tell you what, Nevaeh. It doesn’t matter. You’ve said your piece. Now stay away from the clubhouse. Stay away from me and my brothers. We’re done now. For good.”
She takes a half step back. I guess she thought this conversation was going a different direction. Maybe for a second, before I remembered the complete havoc she wrought on my life, it was.
But fool me twice, shame on me, right?
She opens her mouth, as if she’s gonna argue. But then she sighs instead. She lifts a shoulder and flashes a weak smile. “Okay, Forty. It was good to see you.”
And then turns on her heels and disappears into the house, the screen door swinging shut behind her. My gut drops and for a second, my body mindlessly lurches forward, demanding that I take her back.
She’s gone too quick.
I’m left standing on the front walk, my brain spinning.
This is what I wanted, right? I don’t need to relive my worst choices. I was given a second chance when they pulled me from the wreckage of that chopper, and I’m not using that gift to take a walk down some misguided memory lane. I’m gonna go home, call Amelia, tell her I had a good time. Ask her out again. Move on.
I force my feet to move toward my truck, drag my body into the driver’s seat.
I did what I came to do. Nevaeh’s not going to cause a problem again.
I’m satisfied.
And it feels like shit.
3
NEVAEH
“Swing and a miss?” Lou’s lounging on the sofa with a longneck, watching some show where celebrities dress in mascot costumes and sing karaoke songs.
“Were you listening the whole time?”
“Just during commercials.”
“You mean my love life is less interesting than a dude dressed up like a papaya singing ‘Sweet Caroline?’”