Pop’s house was part of what was owed on. Hartley managed to save it, working hard so he didn’t lose it. He did what I couldn’t, keeping a part of our childhood I would have been devastated to lose. More than that, I almost lost my brother because of my behavior. I bailed when I should have helped him.
I’d stopped drinking and sold my place in California, wanting to be closer to not only Hartley but to my best friend, who was the third in the relationship with Hartley and Jordan. It was funny how things worked out. I didn’t think so when I heard about them. It wasn’t surprising I didn’t handle my brother and best friend getting together well. We were good now. I had them, a place to live, and a job that was slowly killing me.
Shutting the curtains, I turned on the floor lamp to give the space light. Tripping over furniture wouldn’t be good. My suitcase sat mocking me, silently saying there was no point in putting it away after removing my belongings because I had to leave for another trip soon.
Travel was in the job description when I agreed to it. At the time, I thought it made sense to leave Dremest and clear my head, focus on work. That was what I told myself. The reality was I ran from my feelings for Sheldon.
The women I’d dated in the past never worked out. Sure, they were fun, beautiful, and great in bed, but they didn’t last, even when I tried to have a relationship. That was part of the reason I was attracted to Sheldon. He was nothing like the people I’d dated, even if I removed him being a man.
Sheldon screamed danger with the way he moved, how unnervingly calm he was, and that damn motorcycle he rode. Why was it so hot when he wore that leather jacket? Watching him straddle his bike made me whimper inside. It was ridiculous how much he turned me on. The desire wasn’t all there was. Sheldon drew me in with his words, movements, and overall energy.
Shaking my head, I walked to the bedroom and closed the curtains there. It didn’t matter how many times or how many ways I thought about Sheldon, I couldn’t shake him from my system. His eyes haunted my dreams while his voice slid over my skin like silk when he was near.
Did I do anything about it? Hell no.
At first, I was fearful, unsure of what to do with my new feelings. Then I’d waited too long and fucked up any semblance of a friendship we had. When I thought about how he almost died from being stabbed, my stomach cramped, and I thought I’d be sick. Instead of visiting him in the hospital, I got on a plane and flew to the company’s headquarters, which happened to be in Colorado. It wasn’t a planned trip, but my boss said anytime I wanted to head out that way, they’d fill my schedule with in-person meetings. So, that was what I did for a week.
But then I was home again, and my thoughts drifted. Luckily, work kept me busy, flying me all over the country to their various sites. I didn’t even like it, but I asked for more. Quality control wasn’t the most exciting job, even when I traveled.
It didn’t matter. Not the job or the travel or whether I excelled at it. At the end of the day, lives mattered, especially the one of the man I couldn’t rid from my thoughts.
I should have gone to see him. I should have told him how torn up I was over him being hurt, that I didn’t sleep for days. I’d sat on the kitchen floor with a bottle of vodka in my hand. I didn’t open it. Not once. I couldn’t get past the disappointment my brother’s face would show if I told him I drank again.
Now I was alone in my apartment, feeling sorry for myself with no one to blame but me. I did this. I created the hell I lived in. How could I be with someone when I couldn’t even show up when they needed me?
Did he need me? Sheldon and I weren’t anything and yet… Would he have been happy to see me? Glad I came to visit? I’d never know.
Kicking my shoes off, I began stripping out of my clothes in the bedroom, then walked into the bathroom to turn the shower on, not bothering with the light.
Minutes passed as I moved on autopilot, washing myself and letting my mind wander. I ended up with my back pressed against the tile as water beat against my skin. The heat of the water on one side, the cold of the tiles on the other. That was me in a nutshell. Hot and cold. Ready to conquer the world and scared to death of doing it. I wanted to be the best brother, but I was worried I’d end up disappointing Hartley. Attracted to a man for the first time, I felt so uncertain that I couldn’t take a step toward anything.
I got out and dried off, slipping on a pair of boxer briefs. I grabbed a snack from the kitchen before crawling into bed in the darkened room with nothing but the TV to light it. More often than not, I fell asleep to the sounds of a sitcom or comedy movie, so there was something to distract me. I preferred lighthearted to moody and dark. I had that covered on my own. Making myself smile was a challenge.
Sheldon deserved better than me. Keeping my feelings hidden was smart. That way, I could only torture myself, not him. I’d be a horrible boyfriend. How did I date a man, let alone someone like Sheldon. Where would I even take him? To a firing range? I didn’t know shit about guns outside of what Pop taught me when I was younger, and that was basic.
From what I’d heard others say, Sheldon didn’t usually kill with a gun. He made his own poisons and injected them into his victims. In the world they lived in, guns were king. Poisons were under the radar. No one thought about them. At least, that was what Hartley had told me one night. He had talked to meabout Sheldon. Whether he was trying to convince me to speak to him or if he just wanted me to know more about him, I wasn’t certain. I soaked up all I could learn.
I reached for my phone and curled up on my side, opening a text message to Sheldon. Hartley had given me his number; however, I didn’t dare use it. I’d typed out message after message, not sending a single one. It was therapeutic in a way. If I typed out what I felt, it helped me relax, almost like I’d purged it from my soul without anyone reading it.
Why can’t I stop thinking about you? You haunt my thoughts, and yet I’m frozen in place. Why would you want me? I have nothing to offer you. You deserve better, Sheldon. Better than me, better than this world has given you. I wish I could be the one who stands by your side. I couldn’t even go to the hospital when you were hurt. Living separate lives is better, wiser. I’m sorry.
My finger hovered over the send button. I couldn’t make myself press it. I copied and pasted the words into a note, then took a screenshot and saved it in a folder on my phone. It was where the others were stored, never to see the light of day. I deleted the text draft and note, the words disappearing as if they had never been there. But they had. Each one was born from my soul. I might not have the courage to send them, but I tried. That had to count for something, right?
Dropping my phone onto the bed, I pulled the pillow under my head and closed my eyes. I wasn’t cut out for the mafia life. That was where Sheldon lived. It made no difference that my brother was one of Jordan’s partners. Mafia business wasn’t mine. I would stay in my apartment and live my stressful life until I decided I’d had enough of traveling and looked for another job.
3
SHELDON
Many people had happy places where they went on vacation or a spot that held a special memory. My happy place was with my best friend and his parents. Weird, maybe, but they were my people. Kind of. Oleander’s mom wasn’t for everyone.
“There you are.” Colleen walked toward us with her arms open. There was no dodging her hugs. She’d perfected the art of wrapping herself around her son and me at the same time. Her hand met my ribs as she hugged. It only lasted seconds before she leaned back, her brown eyes meeting mine. “You’re not eating enough.” Then she turned to her son while still holding us. “Why aren’t you making sure he eats?”
Oleander sighed. “What would you like me to do? Stand by his side every day and watch as he spoons food into his mouth?”
“I saw this coming, you know. Shel was going to have a rough patch.” Her gaze speared mine again. “I tell you both, and neither of you listens to me.” Turning, she went back into the kitchen. “I’m the crazy mom, the witch who everyone thinks is batshit. Let me tell you something, I know what’s best for my boys.” She tapped her temple. “I’ve seen it.”
The scent of a rich potato soup floated through the air. When Colleen cooked, she did so with love, stirring it into every meal.She taught me how to do the same when I was younger. When my mom couldn’t be who I needed, Colleen was there to take me into her embrace and teach me things I should have learned from my own family. She’d said it was never too early to learn to be self-sufficient. Cooking my meals would get me farther than playing video games. I didn’t enjoy cooking as much as she did.
