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“Hmmm. And that’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Vaden teases Priest from the same spot on the table. “What happened between the two of you all those years ago? You never talk about it.”
I catch Priest’s reflection in the window, but it’s obvious he’s going to ignore my question.
His body lowers down onto the same chair. “Halen?”
One of these days, that scale is going to tip inside of him. “Let me handle it.”
The front door swings open before my feet have touched the marble steps. In a haze of beige and black, Halen rushes out in a designer hoodie and yoga pants.
“Where are you going?” The suspicion in my tone travels down the tight curves of her body, and before I can say another word, she moves to the side.
Her shoulder brushes mine, and instinct has my hand flying out to stop her. “You gonna tell me where you’re going?”
Every time her eyes meet mine, she strips away the shadows of who I am. The parts of myself that I have hidden, because she’s not ready to see the carnality of the creature that’s been craving her since it felt the weight of her body in its lap.
“No. I’m not.” She yanks her arm out of my grip. It’s not until she’s at the door of her GTR that her head curves over her shoulder. “Maybe I’m going to see a boy.”
Jealousy coils in my gut but I bite it down with a snarl. “Yeah? What’s his name? I just wanna talk…”
She clucks her tongue tauntingly before disappearing through the driver's side door, the loud RB engine purring into the darkness like a cat in heat. Circle backlights fade as she drives farther away, and my hand digs into my pocket to fish out my phone.
The photo staring back at me weaves memories like a connoisseur. Aspen. Would have been our junior year of high school and the first time back there since we were young. Boys in the back, girls sitting in the snow at the front, all holding our boards.
I tap on the locator app and the little green dot dances its way through the map of Riverside. The torching embers of the sunrise couldn’t hide my grin as my tongue dampens my bottom lip and I lower down onto one of the steps.
“You going to bed soon?” The familiar tone of Bishop Vincent Hayes slides over my shoulder as I lean back on an elbow and stretch my leg out.
His body fills the wide space when he settles on the step beside me. Not too close, but enough to be able to clip my jaw if I say some smart shit.
“May as well stay up now, since the day is almost here,” I rasp through tense muscles. Fatigue weighs down my eyelids, but like fuck sleep is an option until she gets home.
Bishop chuckles, running his hand over his beard. I swear the motherfucker got better looking with age. “The weight of love can be trained to strengthen you, or it will be the anchor that drowns you.”
“I’d prefer it be the hammer that kills it.” Plucking the rolled joint from behind my ear, I bite on it and spark the tip. “Love is like cocaine. Easy to snort, hits fast, but then you realize it isn’t worth it.”
Bishop pauses, his narrowed gaze on the joint. “Jesus, you fuckers can at least pretend that we’re your parents.”
The smoke curls around my laughter. Neither of us want to touch on what the fuck he just said. “You and I both know you all lost that privilege the second we heard all the crazy shit you used to do.”
“Fair.” He stares off into the distance as I hand him the spliff.
His eyes narrow between it and me, before he finally takes it. Embers crackle when he inhales and the blister at the end burns. “Did you just compare my daughter to cocaine?”
And there it is. “Who said anything about your daughter?”
Smoke streams out of his nostrils when he turns to me. “You did. The second you were born. That aside, because clearly neither of you are ready for that conversation, you’ve been there for her more than her brother ever has. Not that it’s Priest’s fault, but what she needed from her brother as a young girl, she got from you. Don’t get me wrong, he protected her when needed and where it counted, but that’s not what we’re talking about here.” He passes it back and I blow on the dwindling end.
Dried herb crunches beneath the base of my thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know. It got complicated.”
Sorbet orange sweetens the bitter dusting of purple over the sky when he pauses a moment.
“It’s not complicated, you’re overcomplicating it. Just like your old man.”
His words leave a trail of footprints in my mind, but instead of seeing where they lead, I stomp the fuckers out and ignore them.
The lull of hot exhaust fumes mixed with the spice of burning rubber on asphalt is more intoxicating than any liquor I’ve ever tasted.
Except her.
