Falling Under (18 page)

But I can’t keep her from him. He’s given me no reason to distrust him, and I of all people know better than to judge him on the fact that he has tattoos and a piercing and rides a motorcycle, or that he comes from a rough background, that he’s clearly seen violence, that his fists have drawn blood. I recognize my own kind in him, and that scares the shit out of me. But I’m here, a father, a successful musician and now producer, a husband for the last nineteen years.
 

I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I don’t have to like it.

And I don’t.

I’m in the driveway, indulging in a rare cigarette. I gave them up years ago, but every once in a while I have one. When I’m super stressed, or after especially intense sex with Nell. She knows I smoke every once in a while, and she’s fine with it, as long as I don’t make it a habit. I glance across the street at Jason and Becca’s house, and I see the glow of a cell phone on the front porch, lighting up Ben’s face.
 

As I notice him, he shoots to his feet, stalks with angry, stomping steps down the driveway, running his hand through his close-cropped hair. He’s agitated, pissed off. I cross the street, tossing the butt into a drain.
 

“Hey, Ben. What’s up?” I stop a few feet from him, and I can see he’s beyond pissed, frantic, raging.

“You know where Kylie is?” He grates the question through gritted teeth.

I hesitate. “Um. She’s…not home.” I’m pretty sure I know what’s eating him, and I’m not sure I should get in the middle of it.

“Yeah, I know. But do you know
where
she is?”
 

I clear my throat, blink, hunt for a good answer.
 

“She’s with
him
, isn’t she?”

I can’t lie to him. “Yeah. She is.”

“
Fuck
. I knew it.” He rubs his face with both hands, tilts his head back, spins in place, and groans. “I don’t get it. What the fuck does she see in that tool?”

“Ben, I’m not sure this is a conversation I can have with you.” I wish I knew what to say, how to bring him down from this angry place. But I don’t.

“She won’t answer my texts. Won’t answer my calls. She didn’t even so much as say hello to me at the show tonight. She hasn’t spent one fucking second with me since that…that cocksucker showed up.” He’s raging. “Eighteen years we’ve been best friends. Then just like that,
poof
, I’m fucking chopped liver—”

“Ben, listen—” I start, but he’s not paying attention, he’s venting, pacing and nearly shouting.

“She should be
mine
. I’ve been…waiting until she graduated. I’ve been saving and planning. It was always supposed to be me and her. She was never interested in anyone else, because she’s
mine
.
My
best friend.
My
girl. Not his. And now…now she’s as good as gone. She’s with
him
. She’s probably
fucking
him right now—”

“BEN!” I shout, shaking his shoulder. He finally seems to realize who he’s talking to. “That’s my daughter, kid.”

“Shit…” His eyes widen, and he backs away. “Sorry, sir. I just—shit.” He turns away, fists clenched behind his head.

“Ben.” I bark his name, a little harsher than I intended to.
 

He halts in place and turns around. “Colt, Mr. Calloway, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Have you told
her
any of this?” I really like this kid. He has all the best qualities of both Jason and Becca. He’s athletic, smart, caring, and—usually—fairly even-keeled. I’ve never, ever seen him this agitated about anything. I feel like I have to help him somehow. “If she doesn’t know what you’re thinking, what you’ve—how you feel—how is she supposed to do anything about it? I’m not saying it’d change anything, ’cause it might not. But it can’t hurt to at least talk to her.”

“You’re right. God…dammit, you’re right.” He scrubs his hand through his hair again, his posture and mannerisms so much like Jason’s it’s scary. “Look, Colt, I’m sorry I blew up like that. I had no right to say any of that, especially to you, sir. So—I’m—I’m sorry.”

I slap him on the back. “It’s all right, kid. Women can fuck with our heads, man. I get it.” I squeeze the back of his neck, a little harder than strictly necessary. “Just—don’t talk about my daughter like that ever again, huh?”

He winces, ducks away from me. “Yes, sir. I won’t. I swear.”

I let him go, and I watch him go inside. This is shaping up to get messy, and I don’t envy Ben his position. I’ve seen the way Kylie looks at Oz, and I don’t think any amount of talking is going to change her mind. Unless, of course, Oz does something stupid. I honestly don’t know what to think.

It’s not until Ben’s in his house and I’m trudging up the stairs to my room that the realization hits me like a sledgehammer. I’ve only seen the two boys in the same place once, but now that my brain’s going, I’m realizing that there’s something similar about them. Not their personalities, but physically. Something…something I can’t put my finger on, but there’s a nagging sense of the familiar about Oz, and somehow that includes Ben. The thought doesn’t make any sense, but it strikes me as true nonetheless.
 

Nell is sitting up in bed, the blankets pulled up around her chest, reading an old paperback novel, a well-worn book she’s read at least a dozen times. “I heard shouting. Was that Ben?” She glances at me, setting the book face down on her lap, then looks at the clock on her bedside table. “And it’s past midnight. Where’s our daughter?”

“I’m not sure where she is. With Oz, I’m guessing.” I shed all my clothes except my boxers and climb onto the bed beside her. “And yeah, that was Ben. He’s all sorts of worked up.”

“About what?”

“Kylie. And Oz. Or, more specifically, the two of them being together.”

“He feels left out?” Nell slips a bookmark into her page and sets the book on the nightstand, turning toward me.
 

I shake my head. “No, more that he feels like Oz stole her from him. He just put it…more colorfully.”

“Oh.” Nell’s eyes widen. “Oh, boy. He likes her?”

“I think it’s more than that. It sounded to me like he’s had feelings for her for a long time, he just never told her. And now it’s looking like she’s with Oz, for all intents and purposes, and he feels like he’s lost out.” I grimace. “God, Nelly. What’s our girl gonna do? I told him to talk to her, and I’m not sure I should’ve.”

Nell nods. “Yeah. She’s goo-goo eyes for Oz.” She sighs. “This isn’t going to go well for anyone.”

“No. That’s my thinking.” I reach for her, and she shifts toward me. “What do we do?”

She shrugs the blanket away, and I realize she’s been waiting for me, naked beneath the sheets. “What can we do? She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s graduating in a couple of months, Colt. Going to college. I think we have to let her deal with this on her own.”

“Someone’s gonna get hurt.”
 

“Yeah. We can’t protect her from everything.”
 

“I know.”

“It sucks, though.” I roll to my back, and Nell moves above me, reaches between us, guides me to her entrance. I hiss through my teeth as she impales herself on me. “God, Nell.” I caress her ribs, her breasts, her hips, her thighs, kiss every inch of skin I can reach.

She plants her palms on my chest and kisses me, moving slowly. The kiss ends, but our lips only barely part, and we exchange breath and whispers and sighs as we move together, and then she’s groaning, moaning, our foreheads touching.

“Colt…” She starts to lose her rhythm and moves with increasing desperation. “Oh, god…oh, god…oh, my
god
, Colt…”

“
Fuck
…Nell…”

We come apart at the same moment, collapse together. Nearly twenty years, and she makes me come as hard as the first time we slept together in that New York City apartment. Harder, if anything. I’ve learned every nuance of her body, learned every one of her secret desires, learned how to bring her to the cusp within moments, learned every curve and how to elicit every sigh and grunt and curse, and it never gets any less intense. The longer we’re together, the better it gets. I think it can’t get any better and then, every single time, it does.

She falls asleep on top of me, her head cradled on my chest, our bodies slick and sticky and messy, and I don’t even care. Eventually, I roll with her, and she twists so I can spoon her and we sleep.
 

*
 
*
 
*

It’s past one in the morning, and I’ve been sleeping with one eye open. So when I hear the garage door, I slip quickly out of bed, tug on some shorts and a tank top. Before I can get downstairs to meet her, I hear her voice, and Ben’s.

“Dammit, Ben, I’m tired. I want to go inside. I’m probably in major trouble, and I don’t have the energy for this conversation right now.” She’s on the other side of the door leading from the house to the garage.
 

My hand is on the knob, just like hers probably is. I debate giving her privacy for about six seconds, but then I remember that my job as her father is to be there for her, no matter what, and do the best for her. I have a feeling she’ll need me on this side of the door in just a few minutes. So I lean against the doorjamb and listen.

“Just answer me, Kylie,” Ben demands.

“What, Ben? What do you want to know?” She sounds tired, and wary.

“Were you with
him
?”

“Yes, Ben. I was. I was with Oz.” The doorknob twists. “Is that it?”

“No. That’s not
it
.” He’s angry, and I know from experience that’s the quickest way to get Kylie to clam up. “What were you doing with him?”

“That’s none of your business, Ben.”

“The fuck it isn’t!” He sounds a little closer. “You’re—you’re my best friend, and he’s—who is he? Some fuck-up new guy. I know for a fact he does drugs. He smokes cigarettes. I smell smoke on you, Ky. What were you doing?”

“I don’t owe you any fucking explanations,
Ben
!” She lets go of the knob and her voice sounds farther away, as if she’s moving toward him.

“YES! YOU DO!” Ben is loud, and so, so angry.
This wasn’t what I had in mind, Ben
, I want to say to him.
 

“Why?” She asks this quietly, far too calmly. She’s got that deadly quiet kind of anger, just like me. “Why do I owe you explanations of what I do, and with whom? Tell me, Ben. You’re my friend. Not my father. Not my mother. Not my boyfriend.”

“You should be. It should be me.” He sounds deflated, defeated.

“I—what?” She’s confused now.

“It should have been me. With you. It was always supposed to be me. But it’s him, and I don’t fucking get it.”

“Where is this coming from, Ben? We’ve never been anything but friends. You’ve…you’ve never given me the slightest hint that you were interested in me as more than a friend. If it was always supposed to be you, then why didn’t you ever say anything?” Her voice is small, wounded, and fraught with tragic despair.

“I—because I thought—you—
fuck
. Because I thought I had time. I wanted to wait until you graduated, till you were eighteen. You’ve never been even remotely interested in anyone else. Not in our whole lives. And we’re…we’ve always been together. Sure, we didn’t kiss or whatever, but you’re—you’ve always been
mine
. I thought when you graduated we’d spend the summer together. Go on a road trip. I had—I had it all planned out. We’d head west, and see where the road took us. We’d be friends, at first, like always, and I’d—and in time you’d see how perfect we are for each other.” Ben lets out a long, groaning sigh. “And then
he
came along and…fucked it all up.”

“Oh…hell. Benji—why didn’t you ever say anything? Why? A year ago? Even six months ago? I’m not saying I would’ve—that anything would’ve happened for sure, but if you’d said something
then
…there may have been a chance.” She groans, and then her voice raises to a shout. “And
why
is everyone so fucking concerned about me being eighteen? Is there some magic in being eighteen versus seventeen? I’m not going to suddenly change in the next two weeks. FUCK!”
 

“Don’t call me Benji. I’m not your Benji.” His voice hardens. “Have you had sex with him?”

“
That
—” she hisses the word, venomous, “is none of your business.”

“You have.” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation.

“I’m done talking about this.” I hear her footsteps nearing the door, and the knob twists.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen, Ky. I’ve been waiting for the right time for
six years
.”

The knob snaps back into place. “God
damm
it, Ben.” She sighs. “You waited too long.”

“He’ll wreck your life. You’re choosing him over me, and I promise you, a loser pothead like him will only break your heart.”

“That’s my choice, Ben.” She sniffs, and I hear the hurt in her voice.
 

“Yeah, well, excuse me for thinking it’s the wrong one.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to say? If you’re gonna call me a whore, now’s the time.”

“You’re not. You’re just…misguided. And you know what? I’ll always love you.” I can almost hear him gearing up for one last attempt. “I’ll wait. You’ll get tired of his bullshit, and you’ll come back to me. And I’ll be there.”
 

“I’m not sure if that’s sweet or crazy. I’m not coming
back to you. I was never yours. You had your chance and you waited too long. You were—my best and oldest and truest friend, Ben. And I—I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m going to. There were times when I wished you would just stop being my friend and kiss me. I thought you were going to, a couple times, but you never did, so I figured I’d been imagining it. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought there was no way you’d ever be in love with me. You never showed it. And you’ve dated all those girls…Lindsay, Alissa, Grace. What was her name, the redhead? Breanna. Oh, yeah, and Hattie. Who has that name, anyway? Hattie? I don’t know what you saw in her. She’s a lunatic. If you were so in love with me, what was all that about?”