Chapter 15: Evan
EVAN
I used to enjoy being alone on a jobsite, hanging drywall or pouring in a driveway. Give me a list and eight hours, and I’d have that shit knocked out no problem. I always work faster by myself, especially when I don’t have to listen to some asshole’s radio or him telling me about his sick pet fish or whatever. Today is different. I’ve been at the West house all morning installing new kitchen cabinets, but it’s taking me twice as long as it should. These cabinet doors don’t want to level out. I keep dropping stuff. At one point, I damn near ran a drill over my finger.
It’s been days of unanswered texts since Gen ran off from our spot. My calls are going straight to voicemail. It’s maddening. She just drops all those truth bombs and accusations in my lap and then ghosts me? She barely gave me a chance to respond.
Then again, what the hell could I even say? Apparently, I hadn’t been that off-base when I blamed myself for running her out of town. Randall set the ball in motion, but I kicked the damn thing in the net. Goal! Gen’s gone!
I was a wake-up call for her. Christ. My hungover, passed-out self drove the girl I love more than anything else in this world right out of my life.
Damned if that doesn’t rip apart
my insides.
I fight the pain tightening my throat, my hand once again squeezing the drill a little too hard. Fuck. I’m going to get myself killed on this job if I don’t start focusing.
But no, I refuse to take
all
the blame. Since when did I become the root of all her problems? Seems like a convenient excuse to avoid dealing with her own baggage. I might have been a delinquent for most of my life, but at least I’m not trying to lay that blame on everyone else.
“Hey, man.” Gen’s youngest brother Craig strolls into the kitchen wearing a T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He gives me a nod as he grabs a soda from the fridge. “Thirsty?”
I’d love a beer, but I accept the soda anyway. “Thanks.” I might as well take a break, seeing as how I’ve entirely lost track of what I was doing anyway.
“How’s it going in here?” he asks after scanning the dust-covered disaster that is the half-demolished kitchen. He takes a seat at the kitchen table that now sits under a drop cloth and my toolboxes.
“Slow,” I reply honestly. “But I’ll get it done.”
Or Levi will have my ass.
“You ready to get the hell out of here?”
Craig shrugs, sipping his soda. “I guess. It’s weird thinking this won’t be our house the next time I come home from college.”
He falls quiet, examining the writing on the side of his can. He was always a quiet kid. Four years younger than Gen and a total mama’s boy, which, despite making her resentful, also made Gen especially protective of him.
I lean against the counter. “What are you up to this summer? Any big plans?”
He evades the question, staring down at the table for a beat. Then his attention wanders the room, his shoulders hunched like a kid in the back of the classroom who doesn’t want to get called on. “You’ll think it’s dumb,”
he finally answers.
“What is it?” I say. “Spit it out.”
Reluctant, he sighs. “Jay and I signed up to do the Big Brothers program. Mentoring kids and whatever. So, yeah.”
Why am I not surprised? Those two were always the Boy Scouts of the family. While Gen and her two oldest brothers were out raising hell and being a bad influence on Billy, Jay and Craig were doing their homework and cleaning their rooms. I guess when you have six kids, some of them are bound to turn out straight-edge.
“That’s cool,” I tell him. “You like it so far?”
He nods shyly. “It feels good, like, when my Little Brother looks forward to hanging out. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, so when we get to go do stuff, it’s a big deal for him.”
Craig’s the right type for that sort of thing. A little dorky and soft, but a nice kid. And, most importantly, smart and responsible. Leave me with a kid for ten minutes and they would probably catch fire somehow. Which gets me thinking again about Gen and our conversation on the beach about family and children. I guess she isn’t wrong that if I ever had a family, I’d have to at least learn how not to kill my kid. I don’t have a clue how my parents kept Cooper and me from drowning in the bathtub. Those two could barely stand up straight after ten a.m.
“She’s not coming back as long as you’re still here,” Craig says.
I frown. “Huh?”
“My sister. She left early this morning so she wouldn’t run into you, and she won’t come home until she knows you’re gone.” He pauses knowingly. “If you were thinking of waiting for her.”
Damn. Somehow, it’s even colder coming from this kid. “She told you that?”
He shrugs. “You guys fighting?”
“I’m not.” I wish I could make her understand she can have me however she wants. Whatever she needs
from me, I’ll do it.
“You know, I always kind of looked up to you when I was a kid.”
Craig’s words catch me off guard. “Oh yeah?”
“Not so much anymore.”
Ouch. The kid’s full of bullets today. “This unfiltered honesty thing gets a lot less cute when you’re old enough to get your ass kicked,” I remind him.
He has the decency to blush. “Sorry.”
“So what’s changed, huh?”
He considers the question for several seconds. Then, with a look of pity that would knock other men out cold, he says, “The bad boy thing gets old.”
Well, shit.
It’s not every day I get dressed down by a Boy Scout.
Later that night, I hit up one of the usual haunts for a few drinks with Tate, Wyatt, and the guys. After a couple rounds of beers, we drift over to the pool tables and indulge in our favorite pastime: hustling tourists. Eventually they catch on to us, so we start playing for fun. We split into teams, me and Tate versus Wyatt and Jordy. The cash we’d just squeezed out of the tourists sits in a neat pile at the corner of the table. Winners take all.
From the next table, a cute blonde in a pink sundress watches me, while her boyfriend, I presume, is completely oblivious as he stalks around the table sinking shots. I might have been able to work up some enthusiasm about the scenario if Genevieve West didn’t have my head in a vise. But since she came back to the Bay, I’ve had zero interest in hookups with other women. Just one.
“Coop coming?” Tate asks me, shoving the pool cue in my hand for my turn.
I line up my shot and
scuff the felt. “Doubt it.”
“The wifey doesn’t let him out anymore,” Wyatt cracks as he easily follows up my scratch by nailing a bank shot.
He’s not entirely wrong. Though it isn’t necessarily Mackenzie keeping Cooper from drinks with the boys these days, so much as the two of them mind-melding into a single entity that prefers its own company to that of others. They’re happy and stupid in their gooey love bubble. For a while, it was a relief when Mac managed to mellow Cooper out, but now their bubble is absorbing the whole house, and it’s not so fun anymore.
Or hell, maybe I’m just jealous. Maybe I’m resentful that Coop throws his perfect relationship in my face but does everything in his power to keep me miserable. There was no good reason he and Mac should have gotten together, much less stayed together. But they ignored all of us and made it work. Why can’t I have that?
“You’re up.” Tate smacks me with the cue again.
“Nah, I’m tapping out.” I glance toward our table. “Yo, Donovan, take my place.”
“Aww, come on.” Wyatt taunts me from across the table. “Let me embarrass your ass fair and square.”
I reach for my beer and find it empty. “I’m gonna hit the head and then grab the next round.”
“Well, you heard the man,” Wyatt says, slapping our buddy Donovan on the back. “It’s your turn to shoot.”
I pay a quick visit to the restroom, drying my hands with a paper towel that I drop in the trash can by the door. I step into the corridor at the same time someone exits the ladies’ room. None other than Lauren, Wyatt’s ex.
“Evan. Hey,” the brunette says.
“Ah, hey.” I dutifully lean in for the hug she offers. She and Wyatt might be broken up, but Ren’s been part of our crew for years. I can’t very well shun her, and I doubt Wyatt would want me to. “How’
ve you been, Ren?”
“Pretty good. Been spending a lot of time in Charleston with my sister.” She lifts a slender arm to drag her hand through her glossy hair, drawing my attention to the full sleeve of tats on her skin. Most of the art is courtesy of Wyatt, who did a lot of my own recent ink. “How about you?” she asks.
“Nothing new to report,” I say lightly.
“I heard Gen’s back in town. We’re supposed to grab lunch sometime next week.”
“Yeah. She sure is back.”
A dimple appears at the left side of Ren’s mouth. Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “I’m guessing she didn’t come running right back into your arms?”
I smile faintly. “Good guess.”
Pensive for a beat, Ren moistens her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “We should grab lunch one of these days too. Or better yet, a drink.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You asking me out, Ren? Because you know I can’t say yes to that.” I might be a total asshole, but Wyatt’s one of my best friends. I’d never date his ex.
“I don’t want to hook up with you,” she answers with a throaty laugh. “Just figured it could be a mutually beneficial arrangement if we went out a couple times.” Ren grins. “Our respective exes don’t handle jealousy too well.”
“No, they don’t,” I agree. “Still can’t do that to Wyatt, though, even if it ain’t real.”
“Fair enough.” She gives my arm a warm squeeze. “See you around, Ev. Say hi to the boys for me.”
I watch her saunter away, hips swaying. Women with asses like that are dangerous.
At the bar, I ask the bartender to pour me a shot of bourbon for myself, then line up another round of shots and beer for the guys. The place isn’t too crowded tonight.
Just the usual faces. Sports highlights flash on the TVs overhead while ’90s rock plays on the sound system. I knock back my bourbon just as I see Billy West grab a seat at the other end of the bar.
I hesitate. I’m not sure he’s any more amicable to my situation than Craig was, but I’ve exhausted all other reasonable means of fixing this thing with Gen. If anyone knows what is going on inside her head, it’ll be Billy.
Setting the empty shot glass on the bar, I walk over and grab the stool beside him. “We need to talk,” I tell him. “The hell’s up with your sister?”
Billy spares me a brief sideways glance. “What’d you do now?”
“Nothing. That’s the point.”
“So why are you asking me?”
I narrow my eyes. The little shit’s two years younger than me, and I still remember all the pranks Gen and I used to pull on him, so I don’t much appreciate the attitude he’s slinging my way.
“Because she won’t answer her damn phone.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Cocky little fucker. “Listen, I know she talks to you. So just tell me what I have to do to get her back, and I’ll leave you alone.”
Billy slams down his beer bottle and huffs out a sarcastic laugh as he turns to look me dead on. “Why would I want her to take you back? For the last year, I’ve watched you get drunk like it’s your job, hook up with a nonstop parade of college chicks, fight every rich prick you can get your hands on, and do nothing meaningful with your life.”
“Are you serious? I co-own a damn business now. Just like your old man. I work for a living. How’s that nothing?”
“Right, a business you didn’t build. It just got handed to you, same way my dad’s business got handed to us. But I don’t go around congratulating myself for it.”
“Man, fuck you. Not all of us had Mommy
and Daddy at home cooking pancakes every morning. Maybe don’t talk about shit you don’t understand.” I feel remorse the second I mention his mother, but it’s too late to take it back. Anyway, I stand by my point. If Gen’s brother wants to pass judgment on me, he can save it. I’m not interested in his judgment.
“Gen’s finally trying to get her life together,” he mutters, slapping some cash on the bar. “And you’re doing everything you can to keep her down in the mud with you. That’s not how you treat someone you care about.”
I have to remind myself that beating the hell out of Gen’s little brother is not the way to get in her good graces.
“I do care about her,” I say roughly.
“Then here’s my advice,” he retorts, standing over me. “You want my sister to let you back into her life? Worry about getting your own life together first.”