Compulsion: Magnetic Desires (9 page)

"She needs me, Birdie. I need to be here for her."

"Fine," she snarled and hung up on me. I couldn’t blame her for being angry about Clo. Too many years now she’d watched me fall into line at the crook of Clo’s little finger. But the truth was, it was where I was meant to be.

I jumped out of the truck and met Clo at her front door. Key in her hand, she hesitated, unable to force herself to unlock the door. "I’m not ready for this."

"It’s okay. I don’t think you’re meant to be." I took the key from her. "Let’s have a drink and go from there."

As I pushed open the door, she reached for my hand.

Stepping inside, I let out a low whistle. The place was immaculate. There was no sign of the destruction wreaked across her life in any of the rooms we passed. In the kitchen, I found glasses and poured generous shots. She sunk on to a stool at the counter and watched me. I had expected something, anything that spoke of the anger she’d shown when she came to see me. Instead, it was as if Zack could walk in any minute, hug his wife, and life would continue as normal. Even one of those damn giant cupcakes sat on a white platter in the middle of the counter.

I passed her the glass, and she drained it before I could pick mine up. That was to be expected; we weren’t celebrating. This was hard drinking, feeling and mind numbing drinking. I poured another and opened a beer for her with the bottle opener on my key ring.

"This is so... shit." She tossed the next shot down. "It wasn’t a one time thing either."

"What do you mean?" I asked, checking her freezer for ice cream. Why hadn’t I had the foresight to buy some?

"Her name is Lilly. I heard him... while they were"— she covered her face— "I’d seen her name on his caller ID before. It wasn’t just once. How fucking stupid am I?"

I poured her another shot. It didn’t matter if she would be worshiping the porcelain gods in short order. If I could get food into her it would soften the blow. "You’re not the stupid one."

"Of course I am. He cheated on me. He was having an affair, and I didn’t know. I had no fucking idea." The glass shattered against the bench on impact, and she cut her palm open trying to scoop up the mess.

"Leave it." I moved around the counter to inspect the wound. "It’s not too deep."

Dragging her over to the sink, I held her hand under the tap. The blood mingled with water diluted to a muted pink. It kept bleeding, and I pressed a tea towel into her hand. "Hold this on it. I’ll get a bandage."

It took me a minute to locate the first aid kit and return to her. Shoulders shaking as she gulped air, she worked a cloth around the puddle of tequila. Fresh tears mixed into the liquid pooled on the counter which ran in a rivulet over the edge and onto the floor. I pulled her away and carefully took her hand.

"It’s going to be okay." I stared at her hand, making sure no glass was embedded in the cut. Head bowed, she refused to look at me as I ripped open the packaging on the dressing and secured it with adhesive strips.

"I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t... want to feel anything at all." Her bottom lip trembled.

"Go sit. I’ll clean up and get you another drink." I nudged her toward the living room.

Alone in the kitchen, I cleaned up the mess. It wasn’t so bad. The broken glass and pool of tequila nothing compared to what I saw in her face. It would take her a long time to get over today. Getting another glass from the cupboard, I took the entire bottle with me into the living room.

Shoes kicked off, she’d curled into a ball on the couch, her hand wrapped around the remote. She stared at the TV, but her bloodshot eyes didn’t focus, and tears brimmed on her lower lashes. My chest ached to see her hurting.

"Are you hungry? I think you should try and eat something." I didn’t know if that was true. If I’d been in her position, food would be the last thing on my mind, and considering how much I loved food that was saying something. Still, there had to be something I could do to keep from feeling useless. "I’m going to order some pizza. Even if you don’t want to eat, you can still have it tomorrow."

She nodded, but I could tell she was far, far away. She reached for the bottle of tequila, and I went outside for some fresh air. Standing on the veranda, I wished I knew where Zack was, so I could make him hurt as much as she did. I hadn’t thrown a punch since that night I’d caught him with his dick in some girl, but I didn’t think it would take much to flatten the douche bag. Still, there was no way I was going to leave her now. Thumbing through my phone, I found the pizza place I kept on speed dial.

Hearing footsteps on the driveway, I looked up. Apparently, wishes came true. Who knew?
Go on. Give me another reason to deck you.

"Orion, what are you doing here?" Zack looked like shit, which cheered me up to no end. He was the scum under my shoe, and the least he could do was look like it.

"She told me what happened." I shrugged, "Of course I’d be here."

"I guess. I thought you’d finally buggered off and found your own life to live. If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to my wife." He tried to push his way past.

I stood my ground. "I don’t think that’s going to happen."

Zack and I stood there sizing each other up.

"She’s still my wife," he said. "I fucked up, but I don’t want to lose her over this."

"And I still owe you a thrashing, but I’ll let it go if you walk away." I fisted the front of Zack’s shirt.

"I can’t. I love her. We can work through this. I can change."

I had the intense urge to cackle at the idea of him changing. "The last time you changed, Zack, was in 2004 and it wasn’t for the better."

"I have to see her. I can’t let it end this way," he pleaded, which wasn’t something I’d seen him do since the last time he’d gotten caught doing exactly the same thing.

"I don’t think it’s a good idea," I said, resigned to the fact he wouldn’t leave quietly.

"Clodagh Farley, I love you," Zack yelled loud enough the neighbors would hear him. "Please talk to me. I’m not leaving until you talk to me."

Great, just great! If she wasn’t so drunk she couldn’t get off the couch, she was just drunk enough she might let him talk her into giving him another chance. It couldn’t get much worse.

Clo appeared inside the screen door. She wobbled unsteadily on bare feet, clutching the bottle of tequila in one hand and a stiletto in the other. "Get the hell off my veranda."

"Clo, baby, please." Zack’s hands were up in entreaty. Releasing his shirt, I crossed my arms and fought to keep a straight face. She was mad drunk, and it looked good on her.

She tripped over the rise as she opened the door, spilling the tequila, but managed to catch herself with the door. Zack moved to help her, and she clobbered him with the heel of her shoe.

"Fuck," he screamed, holding his face.

She was screaming too. "Exactly. You did, and I’m never going to forgive you. Get the hell out of my yard, and get the hell out of my life."

"Clo, you don’t mean it." Zack was crying. I couldn’t be sure if the tears were from being belted with the six inches of heel or because she was being clear about wanting him gone.

"I do. I hate you, Zack Farley. I hate you."

Dogs were barking three houses down, and the neighbors on both sides had come out their front doors to see what the meltdown was about. It was time for me to interject. "Zack, you have to go."

"But..." He seemed to come to the realization I was right. Turning on his heel, he made his way across the yard to his car, his head bowed as if struggling with the weight on his shoulders.

She took another sip from the bottle and hiccuped as I squatted in front of her. Perhaps I’d been wrong to get her drunk. "You okay there? Want a hand up?"

"I want more tequila." The tiny bit of liquid in the bottle swished as she shook it.

"I don’t think that’s such a good idea."

She groaned. "You’re probably—"

I didn’t have time to catch her before her head hit the floor. At least she wouldn’t feel it in the morning with the hangover she was guaranteed to have. Scooping her up, I carried her inside, heading for her bedroom. She stirred long enough to clutch my shirt. "Stay with me."

I halted in the hallway, unsure what to do with her, when she passed out again. Taking her to her bedroom wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t want her to wake up with the reminder of his cheating all around her, the lingering smell of him on the sheets I would be more than happy to burn for her.

Eyeing the couch, where I’d planned to sleep, I decided it was the only option. I laid her down and pulled a blanket over her before settling in the armchair and flicking through channels. A long night lay ahead of me.

O
rion stares absently at the camera. "Clo was devastated by his betrayal. For three weeks, I slept on her couch. On the first night, we did tequila shots. On the second, we burned all the sheets. And on the third, we dumped his clothes out on the front lawn. He’d come to the house, and I would find myself in a staring show down. He would leave without getting a chance to beg, while she hid behind the curtains gazing with longing at her past. Finally he quit coming around, and I helped her file the divorce papers. I served them on him myself."

November 2010

Zack was sitting on the hood of his car when I pulled up in the car park outside Reverence High. I’d driven past the building many times, but I’d never stopped. I hadn’t wanted to see the changes time had wrought or remember the past. Only one of the three years I’d spent there had been worth remembering, and it was too tainted by the death of my father for me to want to reminisce.

I parked the truck next to Zack’s car and climbed out, taking the envelope from the dash. He looked the same as he always had. It was like we were back in 2005, and he was waiting for me before school.

"Hey." Zack stood up. "I’m glad you came to meet me."

He held out his hand, but I wasn’t about to take it. Instead, I glared at my former friend, one I no longer had to put in effort to keep.

"I need to talk to Clo. You’re her best friend. She listens to you. I need you to get her to talk to me."

I raised my brows. "Yeah. That won't be happening."

He scowled, and I handed the envelope to him. Opening it, he pulled out the divorce papers and gaped. "Divorce papers?"

You’re history douche bag
. Crossing my arms, I smirked as he scanned the document.

"You’re kidding me, right? She wants to divorce me over one stupid mistake?"

My fists curled, but I held my arms pinned at my sides. I would not hit the rat-bastard no matter how much I wanted to. "It was more than one mistake."

He gawked at me. "I thought you’d gotten over that."

"You hurt her then, and you’ve hurt her now. You’re never going to get another chance long as I’m around." The divorce papers delivered, I turned to get in the truck.

"Yes. Well, you’ve always been in love with her haven’t you?" Zack sniggered behind me, causing me to stop. My knuckles went white as I gripped the truck door.

He continued, oblivious to the anger now coursing through my veins. "You were always jealous she loved me when you wanted her for yourself. Is she sleeping with you? I bet she’s not. I bet she’ll never love you the way she loved me."

My pulse thumping in my ears, I leapt over the hood of his car and punched him fair in the face. A gush of blood accompanied the crack of his nose breaking, taking the edge off the bristling anger. I shook out my hand, the impact having bruised my knuckles.

"Stay away from her," I growled, leaving him hunched over and holding his nose. Determined to be the better man and not take another swing, I got back in the truck and sped out of the parking lot.

She might never love me the way I wanted her to, but I’d make damn sure he never found a way back into her life. He'd been a liar and a cheater at seventeen, and he would never change. No, she had always deserved better, and I was going to make sure she got it.

Damn, it had felt great to hit the bastard, though he’d deserved more. Grinning, I ran my thumb over my knuckles and turned the radio up. My shit-eating grin grew wider. Neither of us would have to deal with the scumbag again.

"Z
ack had damaged her trust in men. She often told me I was the only man she could trust. That our friendship was the only good thing she could have with a man. I had to respect that and give her time to heal, but I couldn’t give up on the hope that one day she would realize she needed more." Orion gets off the stool and paces in front of the camera. "Then overnight my life changed..."

April 2011

Birdie had left the group to come over to Clo and me where we reclined on the grass. The sun sank and the heat of the day turned into crisp evening. People started leaving and Mike and Mellie joined us as well, their fingers entwined. Mike’s hands began to wander.

"You taking him home, Mellie?" I asked.

Mellie moved his hand to the safe zone. "Yes, he’s too... happy. I think everyone’s leaving anyway."

She glanced from me to Clo before resting her gaze on me. She couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d nudged me and winked or come out and said what she was thinking. Clo was drunk enough I could have gotten away with anything, but I was too used to my defined role as friend to be willing to take a chance with her. She would have to say something first before I would do anything to blur the lines of our friendship.

"We’ll see you tomorrow, I guess," Mellie said, and Mike grinned, finally copping a palmful of boob.

I laughed. "You two have fun."

Birdie played with her keys, tangling them around her fingers. "Do you guys want to go out to Blazer for a bit? I’m... meeting some friends there."

Her request was unusual, and with the workout her keys were getting, she seemed nervous. It would probably be a good idea if I tagged along. I turned to Clo. "What do you think?"

"Why not?" she said.

I stood up in one fluid movement and captured her hand, hauling her up with me. She lost her balance with the quickness and fell against me, almost taking us to the ground again.