Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (35 page)

He let out a laugh. “You made it?”

“Why? Are you afraid?”

His eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”

“I made everything, except for the pie. My sister made that. She’s the baker in the family.”

“Ah, forget it then.” He pushed the door closed in my face, and I burst out laughing.

He swung open the door and grabbed the bag from my hands. “Get in here,” came the gruff voice edged with laughter.

I followed him into his apartment.

I gestured at the guitar leaning back against the small navy blue sofa. “I thought I heard music in the hallway.”

“It was me.”

“It was good.”

“It helps.”

“I’m glad. Was that Johnny Cash?”

“Very good, Scarlett.”

“My dad’s favorite. Haven’t heard any Johnny in a long time.”

My eyes darted around the small living space as I followed him into his very small kitchen where he placed the tote bag on the counter. There were no signs of beer cans or liquor bottles, only an ashtray piled high with cigarette butts on the coffee table by the sofa. And only tobacco smoke lingered in the air. Not weed.

His head slanted, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not drinking or using. Is that what you thought?”

My face heated. “It’s completely understandable. There’s a lot going on for you right now. I thought a drink though, not—”

He tugged a hand through his blond hair. “If I have even one drink, Tania, it’ll lead me down that road again. Coke and booze go hand in hand for me. The more coke I used to do, the more booze I could consume, and the more booze I drank, the more I wanted coke. Whenever I’ve had a drink this past year, I’ve really, really missed the coke. And instead of just a couple of drinks, sometimes, I’d want three or four to take the edge off. At some point, your brain suddenly says,
Oh, yeah, I remember this feeling, and I remember something that feels even better
. Going back would be too easy, but I can’t go back there again. I can’t.”

“Good for you. You’re such a strong person. I’m proud of you, if I may say so.”

“You may.” He rested his hands on the old Formica counter. “I’m not used to being this sane and sober though. Somehow, it doesn’t seem natural. Isn’t that crazy?”

“You think you’re sane now? That is crazy.”

He let out a laugh. “My brain function has dwindled some, but yeah.”

“Well, your brain needs you to eat.” I gestured at the bag.

His lips tipped up, his eyes creased. “Are you a good cook?” He took the two large covered glass containers out of the bag and opened them. “Wow.”

“I’m my mother’s daughter. I’m a very good cook.” I tugged on two drawers in the kitchen. One was filled with screwdrivers and rubber bands, cables and batteries. The other had a handful of basic kitchen utensils and cutlery. I handed him a fork and a knife.

“Sit.” I grabbed the lone dish sitting in the drying rack and layered the thick slices of beef with big hunks of potato, spooning just enough gravy over them. I placed the plate of food on the small table and gestured at the chair. “Sit. Eat.”

He pulled out the chair and sat down, staring at the food before him. His fingers rubbing the fork. “This looks really good.”

“Trust me, it is.”

He rolled his lips together, his fingers twirling the fork.

“What is it, Blondie? Did you become a vegetarian? Have I offended your moral sensibilities?”

His free hand fell to his stomach. “I’m not a vegetarian, no. I, um…I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.”

My hands reached out and squeezed the rigid muscles between his neck and shoulders. I planted a quick kiss on the side of his face. That forest fresh scent of his shampoo filled my senses, and I pulled away quickly.

“Enjoy it.” I sat down in the other chair at the table.

He ate as I nattered on about Becca and my mom, how Boner had become my mom’s new favorite son-in-law. How attentive he was—fixing light switches around the house and the garage door opener that kept sticking, to programming her television remote, and bringing her contraband sweet treats from Meager Grand. Boner would take Rae, Jill and Becca out for an early-bird dinner every so often. Butler and I discussed our favorite music. He told me why he admired Johnny Cash, and I waxed lyrical about Carly Simon. I filled Butler in on the doings at the Rusted Heart.

“Jill is helping me with promotion. Flyers, ads, tweets, posts. Social media is an amazing tool.” I got up and poured him a glass of cold water, putting it on the table at his side.

He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “That was really good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The rest of the roast beef is in the fridge. It makes a good sandwich.” I took his dish and washed it. I released the plate into the drying rack, wiped my hands, and turned.

My eyes widened. He stood next to me, and the weight of his heavy stare made me swallow.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re very welcome.”

“You should go home, Tania. What would Finger say if he knew you were here right now?”

I folded the damp kitchen towel into a long rectangle and putting it on the counter, pressed my hands over it. “I’m not with Finger.”

“You’re not?”

“No. It’s…complicated.”

His eyebrows lifted, and he wiped a thumb across his brow.

“And what would Nina think?” I countered.

“I don’t give a shit what Nina thinks.”

“Oh, but—”

“It’s not my baby,” he spit out.

My brain stuttered.

“It’s your brother’s kid, Tania. It’s Catch’s baby, not mine.”

“Okay.” I let out a long breath. “That’s good. I guess. I mean,
is
that good?” My pulse suspended waiting for his reply. “Unless you—”

“Hell yes, it’s good.”

“Then why are you telling me to go home? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not—”

“Is this about Grace?”

“What?”

“You and her last year, and she and I being good friends. We all live here now, see each other. It’s all too weird for you. Uncomfortable. Am I right?”

“Slow down, Tania.” He let out a huff of air. “No, I don’t have a hang-up about that, moral or otherwise. Do you?”

“No.”

“Look, last year with Grace, I was trying to connect to a spark of something, the me I used to be, the good times we all used to have. I was trying to gain some clarity, too, something finally good to grab ahold of in the sea of shit I’d been paddling in for so long.” He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip. “You want real honesty?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I think it was also about the way she used to be with Dig and the way I used to be with Caitlyn. But you can’t grab at the past or at sentimental ideas and force them to work in the now. I was kidding myself and being an ass. I was high most of that time. When I felt her pulling away, shutting down on me—oh, I knew it was happening. I ain’t stupid—I lashed out at her. Physically even one time. I lost control. Fuck, I had no control.”

“Butler—”

“Grace and me would’ve been easy. At least that’s what I thought, what I was hoping for. I’ve always had a thing for easy, and I latched on to her, like some sort of quick fix and another sweet form of denial. But even if all that club shit wasn’t the foundation or the framework for what she and I had and we’d tried for real, I’m sure we both would’ve been fucking miserable in the end.”

His eyes were glassy. He rubbed a hand down his face and looked away.

“I’m not Grace,” I said.

His head shot up. “I know that.”

“And I’m not in love with someone else, like she was, both times with you. I’m not in love with Kyle. I haven’t been for years.”

“Tania—”

“I’m afraid of things, too.”

He held my gaze. “What are you afraid of?”

“Not of you or what you do. Or what you’ve done.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“I’m only afraid of not having lived enough. You hit forty, and things become much clearer, better defined. It’s a great feeling, being sure of what you like and don’t like, not putting up with shit, but at the same time, you realize that you’ve now entered the limited time zone. Infinity is no longer stretching out before you. Suddenly, getting out of my marriage because it wasn’t good for me, because it wasn’t enough, became an urgent necessity, not just a fleeting thought.”

“You did that. That’s great.”

“Yes. And, now, I only want to bite off more than I can chew out of life. I want to chomp it, choke on it, swallow up every last piece. I want to hold it up to the light and admire its sparkle. I want to be in that sparkle. I want to be breathless. Not sigh, not say,
Oh well, maybe another time
. No. There are no more
other times
, don’t you think?”

His jaw clenched, his lips pressed together.

“You must be feeling that too,” I said. “Does being with Nina make you happy? Really deep down inside satisfied? Does it turn you on?”

His hand went to the back of his neck. “No.”

“What does?”

His eyes lifted to mine, fierce and raw. “My bike. That guitar. You.”

My breath caught.

“I feel something for you I haven’t felt for any woman in a long time, Tania. And I don’t know what to do with it.”

“You knew what to do with it when you were with Caitlyn, didn’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk about Caitlyn!”

“Why not? Maybe you should. You can tell me anything. I told you plenty, and you listened without judging.”

His mouth pulled together, his jaw firm. “Caitlyn and I were a lot alike. She was as self-indulgent as I was. We both had tempers and fought a lot. Made up a lot.” His shoulders lifted and dropped. “Now, I seem to remember only stupid details.”

“Like what?”

“She got pissed that I didn’t want to pierce my dick.”

“Ouch!”

“She didn’t see it that way.” He let out a laugh. “I’d gotten my tongue pierced, my eyebrow, one of my ears, but not my dick, no fucking way. She was into that shit, but no way was I getting a hole ripped through my Brando.”

“Your
Brando
?”

“Yeah, my Brando.” He adjusted his jeans at the waist. “Anyway, she threatened to find a guy who had one.”

I laughed. “Did she?”

“Fuck no.” He lifted himself up to sit on the small kitchen counter. “She also had this thing that she always had to be wearing makeup. She thought she looked ordinary, plain, without it, even in front of me. She’d be up in the mornings, putting her face on, before I’d even gotten out of bed. Never understood that. Used to make me crazy, but she thought that made her more attractive to me, I guess. But that wasn’t true. That didn’t matter to me, even on the shit days. And there were plenty of shit days in the club back then.”

He swallowed hard. “Suddenly, she was gone. It was like I hit a concrete wall, and I was back to square one. Worse actually because her death and the horrible way she died could’ve been avoided. If only I’d fixed my bike the right way before I took her on it for a joyride, but I had blown it off. I had been in a rush. I hadn’t felt like it. Irresponsible. My fault.”

“It was partly your fault.”

His head whipped up, and he stared at me, his eyes piercing mine.

Had no one ever said that to him before?

“But it doesn’t matter how you punish yourself and everyone around you,” I said. “She isn’t coming back.”

“That’s right. In rehab, I finally realized that I’d never find her again, no matter how hard I tried. Dead is dead.”

“It certainly is,” I said.

“Last year, after the thing with Grace and leaving the club again, I finally stopped looking for Caitlyn, finally let her go. Holding on to her was killing me.”

Now, that was a confession.

“So, when I tell you that I don’t know what to do with these feelings now,” he said, “I mean, I don’t know.”

“You
feel
them, that’s what you do, and we explore it together.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t feel them.”

“But they’re there.”

“They’re there,” he rasped.

“You can’t destroy how you feel or will it away.”

“Tania, listen to me. I got my wife killed. I was fucking careless, reckless, and she paid the ultimate price. And now, Nina…” He wiped a hand across his forehead. “That girl almost got killed because of me. I used her to solidify a business deal and look what happened to her. Don’t you see? The only two old ladies I’ve ever had—both of them innocents—were put in danger because of me. But I’m still here, aren’t I? What the hell for? If you think all this hasn’t fucked with my head, you’re wrong. It has.”

“Nina is alive and so is her baby. And by the way, my brother is crazy about her. Do you think you’re not worth anyone’s effort?”

“I’m not worth the risk. The risk it would be to you.”

“I care about you, Butler. I—”

“That means a lot to me. It does.” His voice was a tortured whisper. “More than you realize, more than you’ll ever know.”

“I want to know,” I breathed. “Give us a chance to know. Please.”

He clenched his jaw, the muscle along the sides of his face ticking. “You see something in me you think is worth cleaning, polishing, making shiny. Worth preserving, like one of your antiques. I am an antique all right. Broken casing, rusty insides, faulty wiring.”

“Butler, you’ve faced your failures and your disappointments, picked yourself up and moved forward this past year. That’s not easy on a good day, even for us normal folk. But, for you, in your world, I’m sure you’ve got to keep your shit close to the chest, not let on about any signs of weakness or vulnerability. And you did it. That’s a huge accomplishment. You’re back here now, to a place that once rejected you. You’re back, you’re strong, and what’s more, you’re needed.”

He held my gaze, his brow rigid.

“All that for the betterment of your club, for your brothers, right?” I said.

He hopped down from the counter. “You deserve better than me, Tania, better than what I’ve got. Hell, I don’t even have much of anything.”

“I’m not asking you to give me anything. Only
you
.”

“That’s just it, don’t you see?”

My eyes bored into his. “I’m starting over from scratch here, too. And I’m far from perfect.”