14. Wicked

14

Wicked

I'm Not Scared Of It At All

Can we talk?

My breath catches as I stare at the message from Dahlia. We haven't spoken in four days, not since she very clearly reminded me that she had zero interest in having me as part of her life. I've been giving her space ever since, while not-so-discreetly begging my brother for details on what the hell happened with her ex that spooked her so much.

Leo doesn't tell me shit, though.

"What are you staring at?" My dad's voice breaks my thoughts as I look up from my screen and realize he has been extending the socket wrench I asked for.

Of course. At Lou's next lesson on Sunday?

I shake my head, typing out my response quickly and slipping my phone back in my pocket. "Nothing." I take the tool from him and get back to work on the 1982 Chevy Corvette we're restoring. "Just had to return a text message."

"Your eyes lit up like a kid who just found out they're going to Disneyland for the first time," Dad mutters under his breath. "Someone we should know about?"

"Not yet," I answer honestly.

My dad's head lifts from where he works beneath the hood, surprise accenting his brown eyes. "Well, that's four more letters than I'm used to hearing."

I snort.

"I think that could be good for you, you know," he adds.

"What makes you say that?"

"You keep telling me to let this place go, and part of the reason I can't is because I've been here so long, I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not here." He sighs, going back to his work. "But," he continues, "another part of the reason is because you've got a reputation on you, kid." I catch his gaze as he looks at me again. "And some people don't want to work with you because of it."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not offended by people who're unwilling to patronize a business owned by a queer man, and I'm surprised you'd be concerned about those customers anyway."

"You know me better than that." His tone is rough. "Fuck those assholes. They can go elsewhere. I'm not talking about your sexual identity, Everett. I'm talking about your sexcapades all over town and the bruised hearts you leave in your wake."

I fight the twitch in my lips at that. "A bit dramatic, Daddio."

"I am not," he counters. "Debbie Michaelson has been coming here for thirty years damn near, and last week, I found out she drove her ass out to Carlsbad for a goddamn oil change because you ‘ghosted' her grandson after two dates, and she doesn't want to upset him by coming here." He steps back from the car and wipes his hands on a rag. "Whatever the hell ‘ghosted' means, I don't know, but it doesn't sound good."

I groan. "I told Clay I wasn't looking for something serious." I drop my wrench on the table next to me and stand up straight, stretching my back. "It's not my fault if people misconstrue my feelings when I make my intentions abundantly clear."

"I'm not saying you're a bad guy, kid. I'm not. All I'm saying is that it's a small community, and unfortunately, personal and professional can get mixed up a lot easier around here than in a big city. So, you've got to keep that in mind when fuckin' around town."

"Christ," I mutter.

I've always been one to chase a good time. I'm not afraid of commitment or relationships. I'm not afraid of falling in love. I had a good example of what a marriage should look like growing up, and I've always felt like it was something in the cards for me. But being exposed to such a prime example of what love is supposed to look like makes you realize all the times that it's simply just… not there. I've always wanted to wait until I found the person I could look at the way my dad looks at my mom.

He has always said that you've got to find that one who makes you feel like every love song was written just for them.

My dad has a habit of stopping when he hears a song that makes him think of my mom, making her dance with him right then and there. Doesn't matter where they are—crowded restaurant, the grocery store, or the kitchen; if he hears a love song, he takes her in his arms and spins her around until they're laughing and breathless.

I always knew I'd never been interested in settling down until I found someone who made me want to do that too.

But I always make my intentions clear. I'm not afraid of seeing someone more than once, and I'm not opposed to a one night stand, either. I like to spend time with people until I simply feel like our connection has run its course. Sometimes, we remain friends. Other times, we go our separate ways. No hard feelings and no regrets.

I make sure that's clear before I ever take a person to bed, but I can't help if feelings get hurt in the process every once in a while. Clay's a great guy, but he's not the person I want to dance in the middle of the grocery store with.

It's not often I get stuck on someone enough to consider seeing them for more than a few times, and as of late, the only thing stuck in my head are stormy blue eyes.

"I'll be more careful," I say. "I know I need to start making the businesses my top priority, and I'll make sure I put the integrity of them first from now on."

I mean the words as I say them, but mostly because I just don't have any desire to even attempt a casual hookup right now.

Dad smiles at me, clapping a hand on my back as we exit the garage and enter the office attached to it. "Don't stop having fun. Don't stop chasing your good time. Just…maybe find someone you have a good time chasing over and over again."

"Stop looking at my wife," Leo says two days later as we stand waist deep in the waves, waiting for Lou to meet us in the water for her lesson.

Darby and Leo decided to join today, and the girls are laying out while we take Lou into the water. Dahlia's wearing a good- for-fucking-nothing blue one-piece that matches the shade of her eyes and accents every dip and curve of her soft body.

It's driving me out of my goddamn mind.

"She's not your wife. And I'm not looking at Darby. I'm looking at Dahlia."

"She's basically my wife. And they look exactly alike."

I glance at my brother, whose eyes are completely stuck on his fiancée as she rubs sunscreen into her legs. It's perpetual bliss and adoration I see on his face as he watches her. It's the way he has stared at her since he was seventeen, like he always knew, even back then, that he belonged wholly to her.

"I don't see Darby when I look at her. I only see Dahlia."

That's enough to snap him from his trance, and his sharp blue eyes study my face with bemused consideration. "Christ, man," he murmurs as his gaze narrows on me, reading my expression. "You've got a crush on my sister-in-law, don't you?" He chuckles. "I don't think I've seen you have a crush since your obsession with Mr. Vardin in the eleventh grade."

"Dude. He was my bi-awakening. That's a sensitive topic."

"Whatever." He scoffs. "Just stay away from Dahlia. She's got enough on her plate without you drooling over her."

"You don't think she could use someone to help take some of that shit off her plate? Carry some of the weight for her?"

He seems to consider that for a moment. "I think she could, but I don't think that person is you. What's the most you can offer her? A few casual hook ups before you get bored and move onto your next conquest?"

His words land like a physical blow as I stumble back, ocean water lapping at my legs. I think back to what my father said the other day.

Is this really what they think of me?

"Dahlia needs someone who's in it for the long haul, who wants to be around for her, and for her daughter, for good. She's not going to trust someone until she knows they're going to stay." His eyes meet mine. "They were never made to feel like they were enough, and it takes a lot to prove them otherwise. Trust me, until she finds someone who's going to do that, she's not going to open up to anyone, and she does not need you messing with her head in the meantime. Not with everything she's got going on."

"Can someone please tell me what the fuck she has going on, then?"

My brother shakes his head. "That woman has trust issues as deep as the goddamn Grand Canyon, and it wouldn't be right of me to share her struggles without her knowledge. If she chooses to trust you with them, she'll tell you herself."

I don't respond as I ponder my brother's words, my own intentions. I haven't thought much past my attraction, my adoration of her. She's alluring and enticing, and I can't get her out of my goddamn head, but the truth is, I have no idea what the fuck that means.

What I do know, though, is that I think I understand her fears. I understand what it takes to open her up, gain her trust, and win her over. I think I understand just how precious those parts of her are, and what it would mean to hold them. The scariest thing about it is that I'm not scared of it at all. The challenge. The chase. The commitment.

I open my mouth to tell Leo just that when a flash of purple catches my eye. I turn my head in time to find the bundle of red-blonde hair barreling toward us with the orange surfboard in her hands. She laughs maniacally as she reaches the water, laying down the board, jumping atop it, and gliding straight toward us.

I pull her between Leo and myself, and Lou looks up at me with those big, bright eyes and the sunniest grin on her face.

"You ready, Luz?" I ask.

She nods excitedly, and I lift my head to find her mother watching the two of us with a cautious, yet hopeful smile.

It's then that I realize loving the two of them may come far too easily.