Her All Along

“You got any plans for the holidays?” Darius wondered.

“No. I’m trying to avoid them.” Both Pipsqueak and their mother had invited me over to their place.

“So am I. You wanna head up to our cabin in Whistler?” he asked. “A week in the middle of nowhere—no one around for miles. Pizza and whiskey, no caroling, no gifts, no Christmas decorations.”

“You had me at no one around for miles.”

I could hear myself laughing, I could feel the effects of the alcohol, and I was in great company. It was a new year, Ryan was home, we were at our regular bar, the music was good… And yet, the happiness was skin-deep and veiled the reality, which was that I was a ticking fucking time bomb.

“Hey!” Ethan tried to yell over the Friday night crowd. We laughed our asses off as he climbed up to stand on the table. Then he let out a sharp whistle and shouted again. “Hey!”

The music didn’t stop, but all eyes turned to our corner of the old bar.

Ethan dragged Ryan up to stand on his chair.

“My big brother just got home from Iraq—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ryan groaned through his chuckles.

“A real hero, this one.” Ethan grinned blearily and poked his finger at Ryan’s chest. “Ladies, if you wanna buy a Marine a drink, now’s your chance. Fucker’s single too!”

I exchanged a drunken smirk with Darius and loosened my tie.

There wasn’t a chance in hell Ryan was going home alone.

The women at the bar threatened to raise the roof with their catcalls, the sheer volume so loud that it hurt my ears and made my grin falter. It was dizzying, all of it. Too much commotion, too loud, not enough air.

Darius nudged me and jerked his chin toward the exit.

I nodded.

We managed to squeeze by the people crowding our table, and I gulped in some cold air as soon as we joined the group of smokers.

Darius smoked, and I was drunk enough to ask for one.

The cold air felt so fucking good.

“Thanks.” I accepted the cigarette and lighter and turned my back on the wind to light it up.

“You all right?”

I nodded and took a slow drag, and I handed back the lighter. “Yeah. Good to have Ry home. Now we just need Jake, and then your family of crazy Irish hellions is complete again.”

He chuckled and took a pull from his own smoke.

We walked away from the other smokers, and I peered out over the marina that lay quiet and dark this time of year. But the boardwalk right next to it exploded with life on the weekends, regardless of the season, and I spotted several couples and groups of friends heading for the pier.

I took another drag and eyed one of the couples. They were too far away, but I could see them kissing and holding each other.

When was the last time I hugged someone? It had to be Angie, and that was before she stabbed me in the back. So…going on three years. Three years without human touch that wasn’t ephemeral—like the one-armed hugs and pats on the backs I exchanged with buddies—or laced with anything but affection, such as meaningless hookups.

I blew out a breath and felt the nicotine kicking in, providing an extra buzz.

“Sometimes I wish I were gay,” I muttered.

“Yeah?” Darius bent down and retied one of his boots.

“You’ve figured out I struggle with women—” I huffed when he snorted. Fine, so I’d been obvious. Whatever. “Well, it gets fucking lonely sometimes, but it’s difficult letting someone close when you kinda hate them based on their gender.”

Darius grunted and rubbed his shoulder as he straightened, and then he took the cigarette from between his lips and flicked away some ashes. “You’ll realize one day that both men and women fucking suck.”

“That’s comforting.”

He slanted a lazy smirk. “You want me to hug you, buddy?”

I flipped him off.

He chuckled. “Kidding aside, we gotta do something about your woman-hatin’ ways.”

Did he think I wasn’t aware?

I blew out some smoke through my nose and looked over at the boats.

“You’ve met some good women in my family,” he pointed out.

“Every rule needs an exception.”

“Firstly, that’s a lotta exceptions,” he said. “Secondly, who’s to say that wretched hag of a mother of yours wasn’t an exception?” He pushed forward, despite my flinch. “Or your ex-wife, for that matter. But the jury’s still out on her, if I’m gonna be honest.”

I cocked a brow at him. What the fuck?

“Hear me out,” he defended, to which I suppressed a sigh. This was pointless. Once the hear-me-outs began, I knew Darius was shit-faced. “What she did… Trust, I would’ve flipped my shit too. I get your anger—and the level of betrayal. I get it. But one action doesn’t make a person. If that’s the case, I’m thoroughly screwed, and you should be hating my guts too.”