After All (2 page)

Two

Brandt

Two torturous weeks into my children’s summer vacation - June

I was running late, again, and neither Trevor nor Marie seemed at all bothered. Both moved at the normal snail’s pace they used for their mornings, just adding to the frustration at how I wished our lives were different.

With Ree’s boyfriend showing up at the house more often than I’d like—meaning, at
all
, they were going to spend a few days a week at my brother’s house while I worked. The end of the school year presented a whole new set of problems, even though they should be old enough to handle being alone during the workday.

Without the too-slick boyfriend, they were.

“Dad, you forgot to shave,” Marie said as I locked the front door behind us.

“I’m aware.” I rubbed my hand over my face knowing I not only needed a shave but a cut as well. No one warned me when I was their age that life would someday be so full that it would be difficult to find time for a
haircut
.

Marie grinned, looking more like my mom and sister every day with her dark skin and white smile—not to mention how grown-up she’d become. Sixteen years old in a few weeks, and not one part of me was ready for that. It had all gone so fast.

“You coming to the game tonight?” Trevor asked.

My gut dropped. Another thing I’d forgotten. I started reorganizing my afternoon in my head. “I’ll do my best.”

He smiled, like he always did. Blond hair flopping over his eyes, and his mother’s freckles scattered across his skin. “No problem.”

I knew Trevor thought a lot more deeply than he let on, but it was so much easier for me to know that he’d be okay if I couldn’t make it. Still, I’d do my best, even if I came late.

When movement caught the corner of my eye, I stopped and immediately caught deep brown eyes of the dark-haired woman who’d just moved in next door. Her snug skirt showed off slim hips and gorgeous legs. She was more than that, though. Blunt cut bangs, and most days she was in ratted cut-offs and old rock n’roll T-shirts of all my favorite bands. The same locket I'd always seen her in hung over her blouse, and an odd assortment of bracelets peeked from under her sleeves. They should have looked out of place with her suit and heels but didn't. Everything about her exuded smart and cool and way out of my league.

“Ashley!” Ree waved frantically, helping me to snap out of my stupor before making an ass out of myself by staring. Though, it was probably too late. I kept so focused on life and work that it wasn’t often I even noticed women—a trait my brother gave me no end of grief over.

“Hey.” The woman gave Marie a small wave and then her eyes rested on Trevor, his basketball under his arm. “You must play.”

Now I was caught a little off. Had my kids talked to the new neighbors? And if so, how hadn’t I heard about it? My heart stepped up as I realized I knew nothing about the three of them aside from the very little Carson had told me—he’d willed Amy the house to get her out of the situation she lived in. Maybe I’d see if someone at work could do a background check for me—make sure I wasn’t living next to drug-dealers or psychopaths.

“Yeah.” Trevor grinned a full kind of grin—the kind that went from ear to ear and pinked his cheeks a little. I remembered that age. Fourteen. So many pretty girls, and no idea how to talk to any of them.

“I played a little.” She shrugged, her eyes still not on me, and at this point, I wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to introduce myself. I was crap at awkward situations, which this definitely was.

“You run,” Trevor said.

She did?
I had this horrible vision of seeing her while running because I never knew what to say when that happened. I ran extra early to make sure that it
never
happened—not that I’d taken the time to get to know many of the neighbors. I’d been distracted since we moved…close to four years ago.

“I do run.” She grabbed the handle of her car door, just as I grabbed mine.

“Probably about the same time as Dad.” Trevor wagged his brows as he looked over his shoulder at me, which was the absolute
last
thing I needed when facing a gorgeous woman who had to be at least ten years my junior. And if I’d met her in college, and hadn’t been married with two kids at the time, I’d have definitely asked her out. I’d expect to be turned down, but I’d have given it a try.

“Yeah. Maybe,” I answered wishing there was a way to end the awkwardness and get to work on time.

Marie stepped forward. “Have you thought about my invite? You three should totally come over for dinner!”

Wait. What? I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had anyone but my brother, Carson, or our neighborhood cat lady, Mrs. Hetts, over for dinner.

“Yeah!” Trevor chimed in. “Fajita night. Dad’s into all this healthy stuff, but he does killer fajitas. You’re neighbors. We were friends with the old guy who used to live there and he used to come for dinner, so now
you
have to come for dinner.”

“Yeah… Maybe…” Ashley’s deep eyes hit mine again, and I knew I had to say something.

“We’d love to have the three of you anytime.” There. I sounded somewhat normal. And it would probably be a good thing to help out Carson’s niece and her friends. College kids maybe.
Too young. Too young. Too young. Totally out of my league.

“Okay, we’ll see ya!” Marie waved again as she slid in the passenger’s seat.

I glanced down Ashley’s lean body again when I realized she was doing the same thing to me and half leapt in the car, my heart hammering. I was officially looking at a girl I had zero business looking at.

“So,” Marie started as we pulled out of the driveway. “She’s a law student. All three of them are. I think they’re all unattached, and Ashley’s working at the DA’s office, so you might see her at work sometimes.”

“Maybe,” I mused. And at least there, I was fairly sure I wouldn’t be a staring mute. “We’re not in court that often, Marie.”

I worked for the Arizona State Life Skills Center, which was a nice way of saying –
mandatory alcohol, substance abuse, and anger management classes happen here.
Trying to help people get back on their feet, and putting criminals on some kind of a track that I always hoped would lead to better things, but often didn’t. I loved it, though. And after my many failings, it was a job I knew I’d do until I was no longer working.

* * *

Gabby Hutchings drove with me to the courthouse where we’d been asked to testify at a parole hearing. So much for rarely being in court. She smoothed down her shoulder-length blonde hair for the tenth time since we climbed into my car three minutes ago, and I held in a sigh, well aware of what her actions meant.

“You didn’t have to come,” I said again.

“Oh. It’s fine. I thought you could use the company while you were out of the office.” Her smile was a little too wide and her body was positioned a little too crookedly in the seat for me to think that this was anything but what it was—an attempt on her part for us to spend time together.

It’s not that I didn’t like Gabby because I did, I just didn’t like her
that
way. I cringed again as I thought about how I’d agreed to be her date to the ballet next…well…sometime soon. Already I was worried about what to do with Marie and the boyfriend. It’s not like I could hire a sitter for a fourteen and fifteen-year-old, but the thought of him being there when I was not…at night… I shuddered again. The little punk had no problems shoving his tongue in her mouth when I was in the same room. I couldn’t imagine what happened when I wasn’t—

“You okay?”  Gabby rested an over-tanned hand on my shoulder, and it took everything in me not to shrug it off, though, at the same time, I was frozen.

My dating experience was Jessica, at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen until we were married. At seventeen. One
brief
affair when I was a mess after my divorce hardly counted, and I had no idea how to tell Gabby to stop touching me without it being offensive. Especially since we worked in the same office.

I jumped out of the car at the courthouse, grabbing the few files I needed, Gabby following closely behind. There was really no way to make this less awkward. Today was apparently the day of awkward situations.

I dialed my brother, Cooper, just to give me some space from Gabby while we walked through the overcrowded parking lot.

“What up bro?” he answered.

“I may be your brother, but I really don’t need to be called ‘bro’,” I replied wondering if calling him was my smartest move.

“Are you seriously being a nervous nelly and calling already? My wife is fine. Your kids are fine. They’re lounging by the pool and eating potato chips.”

I groaned. The downside of my kids at my brother’s house is that his house was stocked full of food that barely qualified as food. “Not too many, please. They’ll be sick all night. And no one is ridiculous enough to use ‘nervous nelly’ in regular speech.”

Cooper cackled his high-pitch laugh. He made a few real estate deals over ten years ago, and still barely worked because of it. It was just like Cooper to accidentally stumble onto a goldmine. “Go back to work Brandt. They’re not four.”

“No. They’re old enough to get pregnant.” I sighed.  Gabby glanced toward me, but I kept my eyes ahead, not wanting to have this conversation with her. Maybe calling Cooper wasn’t the best idea.

“So. I was at one of my mandatory board meetings, and Trippson’s daughter has taken over his seat… She’s nearly thirty with the body of an eighteen year old, and—”

“No,” I cut him off. Cooper was always trying to set me up, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t looking and didn’t need the added stress. Not to mention I had two teens who needed my time. “But thanks.”

He sighed, but I knew he’d drop it because we’d had the run around too many times before. “I’ll bring them by tonight with pizza—”

“No!” But he’d already hung up. Pizza it would be. And probably from somewhere grotesque where everything came to the restaurant frozen, in bags, covered in pesticides, and filled with hormones.

“Problems?”  Gabby asked.

“Not at all.” I shook my head, knowing that she’d know there definitely was, but that I wasn’t going to talk to her about it. Though, if I’d learned anything, it was that subtle didn’t seem to work with someone like Gabby.

* * *

We sat in the back row in the courtroom, waiting for my testimony to be needed. I’d given up scooting away from Gabby because if I continued, we’d start to look like a
Saturday Night Live
skit.

Donetta, from the DA’s office, was front and center, as almost always for the domestic violence cases. I hated coming when I had nothing good to report, and walked slowly to the stand knowing I’d have to tell the judge that the defendant had showed up for a total of one of his mandatory twenty classes.

Just as I sat down, I glanced toward Donetta and froze when I saw Ashley sitting next to her. Choppy dark hair, and slim shoulders covered by a pale grey suit jacket… My stomach lodged itself somewhere in my throat as I watched Ashley’s brow furrow as she glanced over the file, running the eraser of her pencil down the page. Thin fingers, lean arms, pale face… Seriously. I just saw her this morning. I should not be staring.

“Mr. Steeple?” Donetta asked, making me think she’d probably called my name more than once.

Ashley’s head snapped up and I jerked my gaze to Donetta. “I’m sorry. I’m here.”
Sort of.
“I know your co-counsel.”

This time Ashley gave me a full on smile. “I’m Mr. Steeple’s new neighbor, and not co-counsel. Intern.”

Right. Because she was so young that she was still a student.
Focus, Brandt.

I had no recollection of what I said through that hearing, but I know that Ashley looked through three more files as I testified, and chewed on her pencil enough that there was sure to be bite marks in the wood. She adjusted the tie on her orange blouse that would have been hideous on most other people, but just made her look cooler and even further out of the realm of possibility.

I was ridiculous, needed to get back to my house and maybe find a way to look forward to taking Gabby to the ballet because my brain shorting-out over my new too-young-for-me neighbor would get me nowhere.

Three

Ashley

Men didn’t do this to me. Ever. And he was a
dad
. And probably in some kind of serious relationship with the goddess woman I pictured by his side as I gawked at him this morning. And then again as he testified in that mellow, deep voice of his. He had that perfect manly frowny smile that took a moment to turn into a real one—a moment where you’d hold your breath and then released it when the full force of him hit you… Wow. I was headed toward an obsession problem and that was not my style.

Still. All the way home from my internship I tapped my foot, needing to get home faster and share the news of our ridiculously good-looking neighbor with Amy because she'd answered zero of my texts. How had we not seen him yet? I mean, brief glimpses of the back of his head hardly counted. All that told me was that he wasn’t afraid to wear his hair a little longer. As I got closer to home, I realized that I'd forgotten to check the file to get his name. I’d been so pathetically distracted in court, chewing the crap out of a pencil, that I completely missed it. This was definitely a first for me.

And of course he pulled into his driveway as I got out of my car.

Instead of being a good neighbor and waving, I sprinted for the front door like an eight-year-old running from the boy with cooties.

I pushed into the house so fast that Amy froze with a drink halfway to her mouth. Her strawberry blonde hair hung around her face in tiny ringlets, and her bright eyes were wide on me.

“The neighbor?” I gasped. “A total Clive Owen. Go. Now.”

She didn’t even ask, just jogged out the front door and sat on the porch suddenly looking very disinterested, which meant he had to still be out there.

I held my breath waiting for her verdict when Kenneth stepped upstairs from the basement, neat and tidy as always. His yellow and blue tie perfectly done over a pale blue shirt. And his glasses matched his belt and shoes. Even after a day at work. Only Kenneth.

“What are we up to?” He cocked a brow as he headed for the fridge.

Amy closed the door behind her and put a hand on her chest. “Definitely a Clive Owen. Wow.”

“I know, right?”

“The guy next door? The
dad
,” he emphasized. “He may be good-looking, but he’s got to be like twenty years older than you.”

“The
hot
dad,” Amy countered with a smirk. Her doll-like exterior of ringlets and round cheeks didn’t match her tough-as-nails demeanor. She was perfect for corporate litigation because her looks were incredibly deceptive. “And he can’t be that old.”

“And is he
really
a Clive Owen?” Kenneth asked skeptically.

“I think so.” I step back to the window and peek out just as his little VW pulled up the street.

“Well, ask him out.” Kenneth shrugged. “And what’s his name?”

I opened my mouth to answer but… “Ummm. I have no idea.”
I ran away like an idiot instead of introducing myself.
I wasn't about to tell Kenneth I'd also missed it at work today.

“Maybe we could figure it out, and call him by his name?” Kenneth suggested as he pulled out his cottage cheese and fruit.

Disgusting. I’d hit McDonald’s after I changed. I didn’t know how Kenneth ate that fruit and curdled cheese crap for
dinner
.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Instead of heading to my room to get comfortable clothes, I leaned against the wall letting my heart slow.

“Do you remember that poor guy you dubbed Michael Cera?” Kenneth snorted. “How long did that last?"

"Just the right amount of time," I quipped. I always felt a bit defensive with Kenneth. But maybe that had more to do with him rarely withholding judgment.

"Which means until you got bored." Kenneth's brow quirked up.

Amy came to my defense, as always. “His name was Justin, and he was really nice. It’s not like she ever told him she wanted more.”

“I'm just looking anyway." And maybe fantasizing a bit...

"You've never had
anything
I'd qualify as a relationship outside of Josh, and that barely counts." Kenneth insisted.

My gut dropped and the room went silent. The ache of missing Josh should have been less than it was, but I didn’t know how to let him go.

“You know you just went too far, right?” Amy nudged him.

Kenneth stared at the floor. Josh’s death hit all of us hard, and the frown on Kenneth’s face said he was sorry enough that I needed to lighten the mood.

"You can't honestly be giving me a hard time for not wanting anything serious." I widened my eyes. “We’re all still in school. I’m not afraid of attachments. I just don’t need added stress.”

“Sorry,” Kenneth mumbled before taking his weird dinner to the back porch.

Amy let out a long sigh. “He is sorry.”

I waved off Amy’s apology and tried not to think about Josh. “I know. It’s fine.” It was only sort of fine.

The problem was that Kenneth was exactly right. I’d never been close to a guy
outside
of Josh, and he and I were never
that
way. What I was doing was smarter anyway. I was one of very few girls I knew who hadn’t had their heart broken by a boyfriend at some point or another because I refused to get close enough to allow it to happen. I got enough heartbreak from Josh’s life to add troubles of my own.

“Ready, Aim?” Kenneth asked as stepped back inside still sliding his spoon around his bowl. “You wanted to hit the library?”

“Ready.”

He dropped his dishes in the sink, and I watched as they left together. Kenneth held the front door and opened the car door for her because he was polite nearly to a fault. I wondered if he ever gave a crap about law or if he just followed us through our determination to do something big after growing up in a trashed North Las Vegas condo. Or maybe it’s just that law appealed to his meticulous nature, and he used the both of us as a safety net. We all used each other to get out of Vegas—Josh too, before he died. I hated that only his ashes made it.

While I was at the window watching Amy pull away, I glanced next door just in time to see the dad walk down the steps of the back porch. Tall, enough scruff to be hot, and slightly unkempt. If he was preened, he’d look like a model. Same deep skin as his daughter, just enough curl in his hair to make me want to put my hands through it…lean, strong… And when I should have been planning for my next day, or maybe tackling the mountain of dishes in front of me, I stared into the neighbor’s backyard wishing for distraction.

I wonder if Clive Owen dates?

* * *

Two days at the DA’s office, and my feet were dragging, even going down the stairs to my room. I wasn’t ready to second-guess my decision to go into Criminal Law, but the hours were long and the cases emotionally exhausting. I stumbled into the basement and shuffled toward my bed.

Josh’s small urn was the first thing I saw, sitting on the tiny windowsill that rested about shoulder height—hazard of basement bedrooms.

“Hey, Josh,” I said. “Long day today. You would have hated it.”

I ignored the pin-pricks of guilt that his ashes were still in my care. He’d given them to me with the words –
My parents would keep me in one of those stupid things that looks like a martini mixer, and I know you’ll find a place to set me free. Love you, Ashley.

And he was in a silver vase looking thing, which did resemble something from a James Bond movie. And he was, over two years later, still in there.  I shook my body a few times to try and get rid of the tension building with the billowing guilt in my chest.

“Sorry I haven’t found a home for you yet, Josh. It’s coming.” I shed my work clothes for an old pair of cutoffs and my favorite striped top. I needed lemonade and some hot Arizona sun. “And anyway, I think you’d miss my ramblings if I did.”

I picked his urn off my windowsill and carried it to the kitchen where I grabbed a lemonade from the fridge and wandered to the backyard.

“You wanna be here?” I asked as I set him down in the grass that was in desperate need of a mow.

It was surprisingly green for Mesa, and daisies grew where I normally saw dandelions. Not bad, but not right either. Just grass and daisies to the fence line. Amy’s uncle had been old, and probably not up to the up-keep. Probably good. The only domestic one in the house was Kenneth, and he didn’t love getting his hands dirty. Yard work was out.

I scrolled through my phone. “Nope. Not here, Josh. Not in the backyard. Not good enough.”

He agreed, I was sure.

I stopped at Leon’s number. He was Josh’s older brother, but left home at sixteen. We hadn’t seen him for almost three years when Josh shot himself in the head. He was the only one aside from Amy who approved of me getting Josh’s ashes. Of course Josh’s parents hated it, but they deserved no part of the son they never accepted. Leon didn’t feel like he deserved the ashes after abandoning his brother, but both Josh and I understood why he left.

I nearly called Leon. Or sent him a text, but stopped. He’d ask me in his quiet voice if I’d let Josh go yet. What he didn’t realize is that it wasn’t a matter of letting Josh go, it was a matter of finding the perfect spot for him. Josh and I had been closer than anyone… Than Amy and me even. He came to my house and slept in my bed almost every night he needed away. He was closer than I could imagine a brother could be. Until he died.

Anger and hurt and loss sucked at my chest as I took another long swallow. His death still felt too horrible to be real. And just like that, all the abuse cases I’d looked at over the past couple of days, and all the exhaustion I’d felt was worth it. There were so many thousands of Josh’s out there, and I knew I couldn’t save them all, but maybe I could save some.

* * *

“Why are we doing this again?” I asked as Amy dragged me toward the neighbor’s porch.

“Several reasons, really,” she responded. “First off, I found you sleeping the other night on the back lawn next to Josh’s ashes again. Second, that Marie is a crack up and a persistent little thing. She's chatted me up nearly every day after work. And third, I really think it’s time to give Clive Owen a closer look.”

“His name is Brandt Steeple,” Kenneth interjected from behind us.

Brandt. Brandt. Nice. Strong, but interesting… And something I was bound to give too much thought to.

I stopped, stunned, four feet inside the Steeple’s door. The warmth and smell of spices hit me immediately. But the feeling of home was more than that. Worn rugs covered a wood floor that was probably original to the house. The walls were a soft brown aside from a deep red behind over-stuffed leather couches. I could hear Mom in my head –
This is a home. This is the kind of house that’s for different people. Don’t you forget to be different people than us when you grow up.

And then I realized the bookshelves that lined a whole wall, didn’t house books, but
vinyl
. Josh would freak. I stepped closer, just now seeing the record player on one of the lower shelves, and the few records stacked next to it.
John Mayer, Jack Johnson, Ed Sheeran, Lights.
Perfection.

“I
know
.” Marie’s words were filled with exasperation. “My dad is
such
a granola. There’s never good snack foods here either.”

I was still taking in the room, only half noticing that Amy, Kenneth and Brandt were already talking. My eyes landed on two guitars hanging on the wall. “Who plays?” My words came out in a whisper, even though I didn’t mean for them to.

“Dad. But just old rock n’roll stuff. Nothing good.” Ree shrugged.

I breathed in again and stared. “That’s the best kind.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Brandt interrupted with a smile that made my chest flutter like a high school kid.

“Hi.” I stuck my arm out between us, more in nerves than a get-to-know-you gesture. “Sorry. I got distracted. I was admiring your house.”

“Oh.” His brows went up in surprise. “Well, it’s definitely lived in.”

“Maybe that’s what I love.” My hand still stuck between us and he half jumped before taking it in his.

“Nice to
officially
meet you. Ashley Paige, correct?”

“That’s me.” Our hands were still together, and my heart hammered as I finally loosened my grip. My body should not be reacting this way to someone I’d just met.

“You moved here from Vegas, and I understand that Carson was Amy’s uncle?” His smile was perfect. Like Aquafresh perfect.

“That’s right.”

“Well, lucky us. Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready. We’re totally informal here, and I can’t remember the last time we had new people over.” He rubbed his hands together a few times, and I knew Kenneth had to be wrong. No
way
was he twenty years older. Ten? Fifteen? But not
twenty
.

I followed him into what had to be the dining room, but there were so many plants hanging from the ceiling and in front of the window that it felt like…