fever dream
12
Somewhere behind me, my laptop pings with a notification.
Ignoring it, I flip over onto my front, late-morning sun beating down on me as the sea whooshes high enough up the sand to touch my toes.
With a sigh, I acknowledge that it's probably time I headed back. I said I'd man the bar for Raoul tonight so he can take his girl for dinner before their newest sprog, number five, arrives in a few days. Squinting one eye, cheek pressed against my arm, I look down the beach and grin at the little ones tearing around in the sand. Five kids under eight; I think Raoul and Suze are crazy, but what do I know?
My chest aches, thoughts of my family back home thoroughly killing my beer buzz.
Definitely time to head in.
I check my laptop before I close and stuff it in my bag. The notification is from Facebook, letting me know I've been tagged in one of Rose's pictures. Weird, since I'm not there to be in any.
Curious, I click to open it, sinking to my knees in the sand when it fills the screen.
Fuck.
It's an oldie, but a goodie, as my dad would say. From...thirteen? Years ago, maybe. Bella is on my shoulders in Mom and Dad's pool, Mom on Jasper's. Riley and Emmett were out of town on some bachelor party with their buddies. This was before I realize how fucked I was.
Before Riley went down on one knee at a family bbq to ask Bella to marry him. Before I watched my brother give the girl I'd been in love with since forever our surname. Before I held my niece, the perfect blend of the two of them, and watched my brother get everything I dreamed of while I had to just...watch. From the sidelines, I've been there to see every milestone.
Blowing out a big breath, I bury a hand in my hair, the laptop propped on my knees. Bella's hair is blowing around her face, eyes squeezed shut because she's laughing so hard she's about to topple off my shoulders and lose us the game. I'm grinning, smug as a pig in shit, her thighs wrapped around my neck, no Riley to monopolize her attention.
As I swallow hard, I slam the laptop shut and stuff it into my bag.
This trip was supposed to help.
It was supposed to give me some distance, give Bella some time to work through everything with Riley. Their marriage...they need time without me around to patch up the cracks I've smashed in it.
I can still feel the gut punch that accompanied her admission that he knew.
Maybe not for the whole time, but...after he saw my tattoo.
My feet hit the dirt road as I glance down at the bird I had inked on my chest. It was too obvious, of course it was, but it was my one act of rebellion. My last one.
I think I always knew, deep down, that losing her was inevitable.
~ fd ~
The night goes quick, a blur of tequila and drums and skimpily dressed girls throwing themselves at the young new bartender.
The me of a couple months ago would have lapped up their attention and sent them on their way; why bother with the deli samples when you've got filet mignon for later, right?
My ego battered, idiot heart mangled beyond recognition, I flash my best smile at a leggy blonde who looks as different to Bella as can be, sinking shot after shot until everything's a little blurry and she's tugging at the buttons on my shirt while I try to lock up the bar.
"H-hang on," I grunt, struggling to get the shutter to lock into place. It's dark and the ground is moving. Or maybe I'm just swaying, who the hell knows. Either way, her giggles in my ear get annoying before I manage to defeat the damn shutter.
"Look, just get off for a second, okay?"
"God, what's the matter with you?" she huffs.
The heat sticks my shirt to my skin. It's too close, she's too close, and I suddenly realize what an utter moron I was to think I could do this.
"Where's your hotel?" I sigh, finally clicking the lock into place.
"Ugh, I can't believe...don't even bother."
She isn't interested in my help, but I persuade her to let me wait with her until she climbs into a cab before I follow the dirt road back to my temporary home. The hut Raoul has loaned me is right on the beach, open to the ocean on the side facing that way, covered in vines and hidden from the road by trees on the other. It's perfect for what it is.
A hiding place.
I walk right past the bed, dumping my shit on the fold-out camp chair, flip-flops clacking the bamboo deck when I step out onto the tiny porch. There's a light breeze out here, a bunch of citronella sticks lining the railing to keep away the bugs, and after sinking a few of the warm beers I forgot to put in the cooler before I went out earlier, I finally fall asleep looking through pictures of Bella on Facebook; all the smiles I've missed since I took off like an absolute coward just over a month ago.
~ fd ~
It takes another week for me to realize that I'm not going to find whatever it is I'm looking for hiding on a beach in Bali; getting drunk every night and trying to distract myself from the ache in my chest by running along the beach until I'm half-dead and sweating out my ass.
Spinning my phone around and around in my hand, I huff a sigh and bite the bullet.
My mobile banking app sends me a notification to let me know I've just spent a chunk of money on a plane ticket. I feel...good about it, I think.
I'm ready to go home.
Hovering a thumb over Bella's name, I debate calling her, then chicken out. She's going to kill me for taking off like I did. I'll deserve it.
I'll give her the courtesy of cussing me out in person, at least.
~ fd ~
The flights and layover take forever, so I'm dog-tired by the time I disembark with my carry-on slung over my shoulder and my phone in my hand. Everything aches from being cramped in plane and airport seats for over twenty-four hours; I can't wait to stretch out in Em's SUV and hopefully catch an hour of shut-eye before we get home. I texted him to say I'd landed before our plane got stuck waiting behind a malfunctioning 747, so I'm expecting to see him waiting down by baggage claim when I finally make it out into the terminal.
Except it's not him. That would be too easy.
With furrowed brows and one hand stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, Riley lifts the other in a two-finger salute.
Fuck.
"What, uh, what're you doing here?" I ask when I get within a few feet of him, suddenly more awake.
Why is he here?
"Nice to see you too, little brother," he drawls, nodding toward the carousel with fewer and fewer cases spinning around on it. "Come on, I've got better shit to do than stand around in an airport."
Neither of us talk all the way to his car. He chucks my case into the back with more force than strictly necessary and slams the trunk behind it.
Dropping my head back, I count to ten and suck in a big breath. We've got an hour in the car together now. Hopefully we'll both make it back in one piece.
~ fd ~
I guess Riley isn't in as much of a hurry to get home as I am.
It seems sensible not to question him when he pulls off the highway and parks up right outside a stereotypical biker bar, a row of gleaming bikes out front and a handful of leather-clad bikers chatting shit beside them.
"I need a drink," Riley mutters, not bothering to wait for me.
I watch him disappear into the bar, tugging my hair and wondering if I should follow him in or leave him to it.
After a few minutes, I decide he's brought me here for a reason. He could have dumped me at home and gone to any of the many bars in his neighborhood or mine, but he didn't.
Smoke and the smell of leather hits me as soon as I step inside. Riley's over at the bar, elbows propping him up, an overflowing beer already in front of him.
"Same as him," I tell the big, bearded dude behind the bar, pointing at Riley's beer.
Sliding onto a stool, I wait him out.
I'm not waiting long.
"You're a fucking idiot."
There it is.
"No arguments here."
Riley snorts, shaking his head. "You have no idea, do you?"
Someone turns on the jukebox at the far end of the bar, the music so loud I can barely hear myself think.
Jerking his head toward the doors opened to a patio at the side of the building, Riley grabs his beer and follows me out there. My glass has barely hit the table top when I'm blindsided by a fist hitting the side of my face.
Through gritted teeth, I warn, "That one's free, but swing again and I won't just stand here and take it."
Shaking out his fingers, Riley laughs, humorless. "You have no idea how fucking lucky you are, do you? No idea at all. You're getting off lightly, man. Trust me."
Rubbing my jaw, I watch him neck half his beer before slamming the glass down.
"We're getting divorced."
It takes too long for the words to register.
For me to understand what they mean.
"We've got a meeting with our lawyer tomorrow. He thinks it'll be final next week, Monday, maybe." The smile he shoots me...it's bitter. "Day before our wedding anniversary."
Fucking...hell.
"Riley…"
"I don't care, Edward," he breathes. "Nothing you're going to say...I don't want to hear it. Not any time soon."
I'm an asshole. The devil incarnate. Because it's only looking at my big brother right now that I notice the weight he's carrying on his shoulders, the exhaustion swamping him. The guilt…
It's cloying.
"If you don't let me say anything else," I murmur, voice thick, "at least let me say that I'm sorry. I am, Ry. None of what happened with us was to hurt you."
"I know. I know that." He stares out at the forest surrounding the parking lot. Then he says probably the last thing I'd expect. "Don't let all this be for nothing, Edward. Don't let all this stress and heartache and my kids…" Riley pauses, fist against his mouth as he clears his throat. "Don't waste this chance."
I don't know what to say.
"You've got an opportunity to have everything you've wanted since we were kids, Ed. Don't fucking throw it away."
check your inbox again in a few hours, I'll post 13 at some point today as a thank you for your patience with me. this week is kind of a biggie-we've got our IVF consult on Thursday and I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous as heck. we know the numbers they'll give us re paying for it are going to be big numbers, which is...yeah. terrifying. just hoping our doctor believes in us and the power of IVF as a means to finally help us have our rainbow