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"Nightmare," I confess, since she knows I have them anyway.
"Want to talk about it?"
"It's bad enough I live with the fucked up memories, babe. Not going to share them with others." My body still feels tense, and the final gunshot rings in my ears.
Ember sighs. "Sometimes talking about it helps."
I stare at the sky, watching the horizon line change from dark blue into a crimson glow. Calm washes over me. I breathe in deeply again. Brushstrokes of purple, orange, and yellow begin painting the sky. I glance at Ember, taking in her profile as she watches the start of a new day. The wind blows, and she closes her eyes, feeling the breeze caress her skin. In the warmth of the sunrise, golden hues kiss her face. She takes my breath away. First thing in the morning, with her hair all a mess and not a stitch of makeup on, is when I find Ember the most beautiful. As she turns my way, I look at the sky.
"If you don't want to share bad memories, how about good ones?"
Right away, my grandparents come to mind. Those few months living with them were some of my life's happiest, carefree moments. "My grandparents lived on a small farm outside of San Bernardino, had a huge vegetable garden and a couple of cows." I take a sip of my coffee. "Rural life was different, in a good way." I lean back and sink into the good memories that get buried by the bad. "It's probably why I like Montana so much." I think about being in the kitchen with my mom and grandma as they made homemade butter from heavy cream. "Every Sunday, my grandma would be in the kitchen cookin' a spread of food: grilled vegetables, zucchini fritters, risotto, and Roulade. I listened to her and my grandfather talk about growing up on small farms in Italy. They were childhood sweethearts who dreamed of living in America. A year after they married, they fulfilled that dream." The wind blows, and I can almost smell the memory.
"They never questioned why we just showed up at their doorstep with no phone call or warning. They wrapped their arms around us and told my mom, Viviana, 'I'm so happy you are home.'" I fall silent for a beat, trying to keep rooted in the present, but I feel myself slipping into the bitter anger from having all the good stolen from me all those years ago. For a moment in my life, though brief, I got to experience being a normal kid without carrying the world's weight on my shoulders. More importantly, my mom was happy and free and I hadn't seen her that way in a very long time. I close my eyes and remember how beautiful my mom was. "If I could go back and rewrite history, I would. They didn't deserve to die."
"What about your mom? What was she like?"
I smile thinking about her and warmth spreads through my chest. "Despite loving my father, she was a good woman and a great mom. For all the love I never received from my father, she made up for it tenfold. She loved flowers, roses being her favorite. And she was a hard worker. She worked a waitress job at a small diner a few blocks from where we lived. I used to hang out there all the time when I wasn't in school." I chuckle a little, thinking about Mrs. Maggie, the owner. "When my mom wasn't looking, the sweet old lady, Mrs. Maggie, would slip me money, usually five rolled-together one-dollar bills that she kept in her apron pocket. Then she’d tell me to go across the street and get myself some soda and some candy. If my mom knew, she never let on to the fact."
I grow silent and Ember reaches out, resting her hand atop mine, lacing our fingers together. Her touch becomes my lifeline, keeping me afloat. She says nothing. We sit in the stillness of the beginning of a new day. I can't help wanting more between us, wishing I had something to offer her other than the broken pieces that make me who I am.
It's the end of the day, and we're all out here at the bar, enjoying greasy bar food, good music, and great company while celebrating Charley's birthday.
After winning another game of pool against Grey, I nurse a beer and cut my eyes across the bar to Ember. She's been perched at the bar, chatting it up with some fucker I haven't seen before. My core temperature rises, watching the prick lean in close and whisper something in her ear that causes Ember to throw her head back laughing. I don't like it. My grip on the bottle tightens.
Grey stands beside me, a beer in his hand. "Who pissed in your Cheerios?" He follows my line of sight. "Just tell her how you feel, brother."
"Nothing to tell," I lie. Grey gives me a side-eye. "Lie to someone else fucker. I'm your best friend, and I know shit." I glare at him, and he throws his hands up. "I know the drill, but she won't wait forever, brother." Grey walks off, leaving me to sulk.
I pull out an empty chair at a nearby table and sit, keeping my eyes on Ember. I don't like being jealous of a stranger, but right now, I am. I look down at the beer in my hand and use the excuse that I could use another one to stand and make my way toward the bar. I slide in behind Ember, deliberately brushing my shoulder against hers while making eye contact with the guy talking to her.
"There a problem?" The guy stares me down, clearly irritated at my presence. Bold motherfucker; I'll give him that. I ignore him and lift my empty beer bottle, signaling to Kinsley behind the counter that I'm ready for another.
Pencil Dick leans into Ember and rests his hand on her bare thigh. "What do you say we get out of here?"
Heat spreads through my body at the thought of Ember leaving with this shithead. I clench my fists against the bar top, dangling on the breath that I'm holding, waiting to hear Ember's reply.
"I'll have to pass." Ember turns him down, and I relax my hands.
"Come on, sweet thing. Let me show you a good time."
"She said no," I growl.
The prick sneers. "Mind your business, bro."
I push back from the bar.
"Blake." Ember slides from her barstool and looks at me, but I stare past her, my attention elsewhere. "Don't."
I move Ember gently but firmly out of the way, grab the bastard by the back of the head, and slam his face into the bar top. "She is my fuckin' business. She's mine. And I'm not your bro." I back off, hoping he'll come at me for more.
"I don't see any ring on the bitch's finger." He spits blood at my feet and then wipes his busted lip with the back of his hand. He throws a punch, and I stand still, letting him have the first blow. His knuckles clip my chin.
I swing, landing a fist on the side of his head, and he stumbles. Giving him no time to recover, I land another blow to his head, and he falls to his knees. I keep going, kicking him in the ribs.
Large arms wrap around me, pulling me back. "Enough!" Gabriel snaps, holding me as the cocksucker gets to his feet.
"No piece of ass is worth this much trouble." He spits at my feet again and walks out of the bar.
