It turned out, I’d woken him up, and he wasn’t processing at a level of alertness I was used to seeing in my high-strung, hyperactive brother.
“Wait. What? You fucked my son?”
“Yes.” I cringed. “Twice.”
“My son Edison?”
“Do you have another son?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Is this Denver?”
“You know it is.”
“Huh.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
There was shuffling on the other end. It could have been bedcovers. Something crashed. Harley cursed, which was disrupted by a yawn. “Did you at least think of me?”
I opened my mouth to respond then snapped it closed again.
Harley chuckled. “What the fuck do you want me to do with that? Is he there?”
“Yeah. Showed up on my doorstep an hour ago.”
“Not a cuddler anymore, huh?”
I frowned. “What?”
“He showed up an hour ago, you fucked him twice, and the first thing you did was call me to confess your sins? Cuddling is important. Some of us like it.”
I snorted and relaxed back in my seat, roughing a hand over my scruffy chin. This was no-fucks-to-give Harley. “No. I mean… It happened last time you kicked him out. In August.”
“Why are you telling me this, Den?” Harley rarely took a serious tone with anything, but that simple question was rich with undertones.
Time for another truth. “He reminds me of you.”
Silence.
“He even fucking looks like you when you were his age.”
The only sound was Harley breathing on the other end of the line.
“Say something, Harley. Yell at me or warn me off or something.”
Still, he didn’t respond.
“Harley?”
“Do you know why we don’t get along? Edison and me?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “We’re too alike.”
“I know.”
“He’s a fucking little shit stirrer like I was at that age.”
“I know.”
“You kept me grounded once upon a time, Den.”
“No, I didn’t. You made me into a wild and reckless fool.”
Harley chuckled. “Nah. I pushed you, and you just never knew how to tell me no.”
“Still don’t.” More silence. “I miss you sometimes, you know.”
Harley sighed, and it was that frustrating, irritating noise I knew all too well. “Yeah, well, don’t. They were your rules, Denver. Not mine. Shianne’s been out of the picture for years. I waited for you to change your mind, but you never did. As for the kid, I don’t know what to say. Part of me is jealous, not gonna lie. Part of me wants to fucking lay into you and tell you to keep your fucking hands off him, but…”
When he didn’t finish his thought, I urged. “But what?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Except it did. Twenty years hadn’t dulled the ache in my chest. Maybe he was right. Maybe Edison was nothing more than a fleeting reminder of the past. A way for me to relive something I’d destroyed for the greater good.
“He needs his dad, not an uncle who can’t tell him no.”
“I’ve never been very good at the father thing, and you know it. What Eddy needs is someone who can ground him so he doesn’t end up like me. He’s too wild and out of control. He argues and picks fights. He drinks and probably does any number of drugs. He’s going to end up in jail or worse. Maybe he’ll end up dead.” Harley chuckled, but it lacked humor. “Fuck, maybe he’ll get some girl pregnant and end up like me. I don’t know what to do with him. All we do is fight. I don’t know what he wants, but it sure as hell ain’t a father.”
I heard the shower run down the hall and glanced at the time. It was nearing ten in the morning. I had work to do, but it had been a long time since I’d had a conversation about the past with my brother. He was right. I was the one who’d erected walls. I was the one who’d stopped everything.
When Shianne and Harley had divorced five years ago, I’d considered revisiting the past, but I knew it was best to let it go. For Harley’s sake. For Edison’s.
But the past wouldn’t stay buried.
And it was Edison yielding the shovel this time.
Chapter One
Harley
Twenty Years Earlier
I didn’t know what was worse the god-awful droning voice of my economics teacher who’d been lecturing us for the past hour and a half without a break; the chick I’d fucked at random two weeks ago who wouldn’t stop annoying me in every way possible, wondering when we could meet up again; or the fact that it was only ten o’clock on a Wednesday morning.
I’d chosen a seat at the back of the lecture hall on purpose. My eyes rarely stayed open at this hour without a truckload of coffee, but sadly, the only drinks I’d had in my dorm room were a few warm beers left over from a party the past weekend, and a quarter bottle of Smirnoff. Since I’d managed to wake up fifteen minutes before class, I hadn’t had time to hit a coffee house, and I was suffering.
I sank lower in my seat, scanning the room once before I pulled another piece of evidence from my backpack and slammed it on the small sidearm table. Corey, my companion in misery on this fine Wednesday morning and dorm room neighbor, chuckled and snagged the small, folded piece of notebook paper, unfolding it.
“That’s six. Six annoying messages. Mwah-ha-ha-ha.” He’d started mimicking the Count from Sesame Street two notes ago. “How many more you got in there? This is nuts.”
“Fuck my life, right? Dude, read it.”
Corey cleared his throat and lowered his voice to a whisper, checking to ensure he wasn’t drawing attention from the professor down front before he affected a higher-pitched tone and read the last handwritten note I’d handed him in his best possible girl voice. “Marissa wants us to double date this weekend. Dinner and movies. Say you’ll come.” Then he made kissy noises in place of the long string of x’s that followed.
“Why does this always happen to me?”
“I told you not to pick her, man. I told you she was trouble. You could have fucked anyone at that party. Any-fucking-one. Shianne is one of those kinds of girls. You fuck her, and she automatically thinks you’re dating. She can’t divide the two.”
“I’ve told her twice since that night that we aren’t dating. Twice. Both times, she attacked me in the food court.”
“And?”
“And she’s planning our fucking wedding. Jesus. I’m too tired for this shit, and this class is hurting my brain. Economics sucks.”
Corey left the last note beside the others on the little table and slumped down in his chair beside me. “Every class sucks, man.”
“It needs to be Friday.”
“Agreed.” Corey shot upright in his seat without warning and smacked me on the arm. “Oh, that reminds me.” A few students shuffled and glared at him before turning back to the lecture. “I forgot to tell you. Do you have anything going on this weekend?”
“No. Why?”