How to Handle a Heartbreaker (22 page)

Jeremy frowned. “And I should have taken your feelings into account more. I’m not here to make your life even more miserable than I made it back then. I want to atone, not cause more hurt.”

“Step nine?” He’d read about it, drawn to the potential recuperative powers of AA. Back when he’d had a shred of hope his father and brother might be saved.

“Yeah.” Jeremy gave him a withered smile. “I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t bother anyone, not your friends or family. I just wanted to explain something, to help you understand.”

Brody’s rage surged to the surface. Help him understand? “What? How my own flesh and blood could scare the piss out of me every time I was forced to come home to visit? How you could use me to steal to help your dirty habit? I was in elementary school, for Christ’s sake. Or how about how you could almost kill me and not care?”

“Shit. I cared, okay?” Jeremy’s voice rose. “Not a day goes by I don’t think of how I hurt you. But you had the McCauleys to help you. Brody, if it hadn’t been for them, you might have been me.”

Brody blinked. On his worst day he wouldn’t have been Jeremy. “I don’t think so.”

“Really? Because you thought Dad was bad, but Mom was worse. Yeah, she was awful, so unhappy with life, with him, even before you were born. Always bitching about everything. She was sober too, which made it worse, because she knew what she said and did was wrong. She didn’t even have the drugs as an excuse for being an absolute bitch. She only started those after she had you. You know she used to tell me she wished she’d aborted me? That I was a curse on her and Dad?

“To this day I still don’t know what turned her and Dad so bitter and hateful toward each other, toward us… I don’t know. But man, growing up with Mom always on my ass, Dad constantly trying to be my drinking buddy. I’d had my first drink when I was seven. Drunk and stoned by the time I was ten.”

Brody frowned, not wanting to feel for his sibling, but unable to resist the lick of compassion stealing into him. “No one you could talk to?”

“No. No McCauleys for me. Man, you have no idea how I used to envy you. You were the cute kid everyone liked and wanted. A family took you in. Gave you food and a place to sleep. They acted like they loved you, like you were one of them.”

“I am,” he said softly, never taking that gift for granted. Even though that secret, shameful part of him questioned his belonging.

Jeremy’s smile shocked him. “Good. I’m glad you got what you deserved, what you never got from us. I’m sorry I ever made you think I’d hurt them if you didn’t do what I said. I was hateful and jealous, and let’s face it, high more often than not.

“I came here to tell you not to let hate rule your life, but I didn’t need to. You have a family and friends who love you. And your girlfriend about glared a hole through my head before.” He chuckled. “Lucky bastard.”

To Brody’s shock, he didn’t sense any malice or bitterness in Jeremy’s tone. “What do you really want, Jeremy?”

Jeremy sighed. “Nothing, Brody. Just to say I’m sorry. I won’t bug you again.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a card. “I don’t want a thing from you. But if you ever want to talk, or, you know, whatever, you can reach me here.”

Brody took the card, not sure why, and saw the name of a halfway house across town, a number scrawled underneath it.

Jeremy shoved his hand back in his pockets. “So, well. I know we’ll never be close, but we don’t have to be enemies.”

Brody shrugged. “I guess.” He wanted to feel more, which surprised him. But any affection he might have felt for Jeremy had died a long time ago.

Jeremy nodded and walked away.

Brody stood there, watching him, until he disappeared from sight. Not sure how to feel, because the anger and numbness he normally experienced when dealing with Jeremy started to hurt, he tucked the discomfort away and walked back to the truck to grab Seth’s cookies. Then he fetched Abby and Mutt and walked next door.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He handed her the plate. “I guess.”

“If it makes you feel better, it was killing me not to come outside or eavesdrop at the window.”

He grinned. “Actually, that does make me feel better.” He knocked on the door.

They waited, but Seth didn’t answer. He knocked again.

“Seth?” Abby called.

Mutt, however, had a strange posture, one he’d never used before. He sniffed a few times, cocked his head, and scratched at the door.

Brody had a bad feeling. He pulled out the spare key Seth had given him and unlocked the door. “Seth? We brought cookies.”

Mutt darted past him.

“Mutt, come back here,” Abby yelled.

Brody followed him, worried about what the dog might find. In the kitchen, Seth sat at his cramped kitchen table, slumped in his seat. In front of him lay the daily paper. But Seth’s eyes were closed, his body unmoving. Mutt nudged the man’s elbow and whined, and Seth didn’t respond.

“Shit. Seth?” Brody hurried to his side and felt for a pulse while Abby put down the cookies and grabbed her cell phone from her pocket. He heard her dial 9-1-1. The thready race of blood through Seth’s veins was so faint Brody could barely feel it. But it was there, thank God.

“Brody?” the old man mumbled, still not moving.

“Seth.” He gripped Seth’s hands. “You hang in there. We’ve got help coming.”

“Waited for you,” Seth whispered. “Don’t…” He blinked his eyes open and saw Abby. With a smile, he closed his eyes, “Be good, boy. I’ll miss you.” Then he blew out a final breath. Brody couldn’t describe it, but he felt Seth slip away.

“
No.
” He pulled Seth to the floor and attempted CPR while Abby continued to talk on the phone, but after minutes of compressions and breaths, nothing seemed to work.

“Brody, he’s gone.” Abby sidled next to Brody as he rose from his knees. She hugged him and let out a sad sigh. “Oh, Seth.”

Tension, grief, anger. A crux of emotions pulled him taut and made it hard for him to breathe. He pulled away from her to pace, in what small space there was in the cramped kitchen. “If I hadn’t been dicking around with Jeremy, I might have been able to help him.”

“This had nothing to do with Jeremy—”

“He fucked me over, once again.” Knowing she’d pushed him to do it had him glaring at her.

She blinked. “Are you upset with
me
?”

He wanted to punch Jeremy for delaying him, Seth for dying, the wall for fucking being in his way. Never Abby, but he couldn’t help his sorrow and frustration. Seth had always treated him like a man, a worthy friend and neighbor.

“Brody?”

“Not now, Abby.” He shook his head. “Can you wait for the medical people outside with Mutt? I don’t want him near Seth when he’s… I just don’t want anything to touch him right now,” he ended in a cracked voice.

“Sure,” she said softly. “We’ll be right out there when you need us.”

He paid no attention, lost in another irreparable loss, and a change that turned everything upside-down. He didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone. The walls that had protected him throughout his life came back up to shut out the pain, allowing him to breathe and not cry like a baby.

Abby didn’t know what to think. She’d tried but hadn’t talked to Brody in five days. Not since Seth had died. She’d seen him at the service, at least, but he’d done little more than thank her and her roommates for coming before leaving her to talk to Flynn. Apparently Seth hadn’t had any family, though he’d pretended not to be so alone. He’d only had Brody, and he’d left behind wishes that Brody take everything, assuming control of his estate.

She only knew that much from Maddie, who’d heard it from Flynn. Once again, Brody had pulled away. She had no idea what she’d done wrong, but he’d ignored her multiple calls. And the two times she’d tried to talk to him at his house, Brody had refused to see her.
Refused
to
see
her.

She sat at her kitchen table that night, staring at her coffee cup, when Flynn walked in to join Maddie, also sitting with her.

“Hey, guys.” He leaned over to kiss Maddie. “How you holding up, Abby?”

“Not well.” She frowned, lost in thought. Why was Brody punishing her? “What’s going on with your best friend? Because I can’t keep up. Hot and cold. He’s mad, he’s sad. We’re dating, I don’t exist. Tell me, Flynn. How do you put up with his moods?”

Flynn shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I know it’s hard, but that’s just what he does—”

“So you tolerate him treating you like crap when he’s upset? That’s crazy.”

“No. We hash things out. We fight, trust me. But when he gets hurt, like, emotionally weird, he just needs space. It’s a guy thing.”

“It’s stupid,” Maddie said bluntly. “Brody can’t just walk away when things get hard, then come back when he feels like it. That’s no way to have a relationship.”

“Maybe you see why he’s been single ’til now,” Flynn pointed out. “Abby, the guy is gaga for you. I mean it. Don’t give up on him. Just give him time.”

“Why? To reinforce that what he’s doing is okay? That every time he has a hissy he can go off to his man cave and sulk?” She loved the wounded jerk, but that love didn’t temper her anger. “I can’t live like that. And neither can he. You all might enable him to be that way. I’m not going to.”

“Good for you.” Maddie nodded. To Flynn she said, “I told her she should stop his nonsense days ago. But she’s tried to be fair.”

“Yeah, because Seth dying isn’t exactly a hissy,” Flynn growled. “My boy’s hurting. Leave him be.”

“No, you leave
them
be,” Maddie corrected. She kissed Flynn’s cheek. “She’s good for him. They’re good for each other. And you told me yourself you hate when he pulls this crap.”

He flushed. “Maddie. That was private.”

“You love him. You want what’s best for him. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s Abby. Let her try to straighten things out with the silent one.”

Abby didn’t hear any more. She had the key Maddie had stolen for her off Flynn’s key ring earlier in the day. She’d been trying to be patient, more than sympathetic to Brody’s pain. But if he thought running away whenever life got messy would work for
them
, he had to know he was wrong.

She drove over to his place, sad for him and angry on her own behalf. For days she’d done nothing but try to understand Brody and put herself in his place. Seeing Jeremy would have put Brody into a bad tailspin, and then to have Seth pass…

She pulled in front of Brody’s home and hurried to the front door. She knocked and rang the doorbell. “Brody?” Inside, Mutt barked. Then she heard footsteps, but the door remained closed.

A minute passed. Then two.

Scowling, she used Flynn’s key and entered. She found Brody lying on the couch dressed in grungy clothes. According to Flynn, Brody had refused to take any time off until Flynn had insisted. Tonight, Brody listlessly lounged in ratty jeans and a sweatshirt that had seen better days.

“Surprise.” She pocketed the key.

“What are you doing in here?” He frowned up at her.

Mutt hurried to her for some petting.
At
least
someone
likes
me.
“Brody, what’s going on? Why won’t you talk to me? You’re avoiding me. Again.”

“Seth is dead, Abby. This isn’t like before. We could reschedule bowling. We can’t reschedule Seth,” he muttered. She heard so much anger in his voice.

“I know that,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry. He was a funny man with a big heart, but it was his time.”

“I could have been there, could have seen he was having trouble if I hadn’t talked to Jeremy.” He put his arm over his face, hiding his expression.

He was blaming Jeremy for Seth’s passing? Would he try to blame her too, because she’d nudged him to deal with his brother?

Trying to balance her need to help him with his odd mood, she calmly said, “Jeremy isn’t the issue, Brody. You had a much-needed conversation with your brother, which had nothing to do with Seth.”

“The dick.” Brody rolled to his feet and swore again. Between them, Mutt slunk down to lie on his belly and hung his head. “Should have kicked his ass out. Never talking to him again.”

“Regardless,” she continued. “Seth died because
it
was
his
time
. That’s no one’s fault. It just is.” She did her best to remember he was grieving, that he needed support, not family counseling right now. “Look, I’m not here to argue. I’m here to help.”

“So leave. I need to be alone. That helps.”

She shook her head. “How? So you can mull in your misery for days, weeks? Everyone tiptoes around you because they’re afraid of hurting you more. You have people who love you,”
I
love
you
, “who care that you’re okay.”

“God, Abby. Don’t get all clingy now.”

“You asshole.” She glared at him, wanting to smack the numbness trying to steal the anger from his gaze. “I care about you. I want to help you.”

“How? By fucking my brains out again?” He snorted and looked her over from head to toe. How he could see seduction in her yoga pants and sweatshirt, she had no idea. “Fine. But I’m probably only good for one round tonight. It’s late, and I’m tired.”

She stepped close and slapped him.

They both froze.

Horrified by her loss of control, she stepped back. “I’m sorry. For the slap. But I’m not a whore to spread my legs on command. I love you.” She laid it right on the line, tired of fighting herself. And him. “Partners—lovers
in
love
—work together on problems. Everyone needs their own private time and space, but not like this. Not when I can see the wounds you refuse to let anyone help you heal.”

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever. Brody, I want to know you’re okay, to be able to talk to you. I spilled my guts and shared my hurt, but you can’t come to me for a hug?”

“I told you about my family,” he said angrily. “And you used it to guilt me into listening to that shit-for-brains when I should have been next door with Seth.”

“You’re not making any sense. But then, you don’t want to. You just want me and everyone else in your life to butt out. Yeah, Brody. You had a shitty childhood. I feel sorry for that little boy.”

His eyes flashed with fury.

Not
so
numb
now, are you?
“But I don’t feel anything but pity for you—the man—who can’t share his life with anyone. You only give the bits and pieces you’re comfortable with. Why can’t you share all of yourself? Why can’t you trust me?” She paused. “Talk to me, Brody.”

He just stared at her, and she thought she’d finally gotten through to him.

Then he snorted and said, “So we fuck, and you all of a sudden think you have the right to dictate how I grieve and how I act? Seth
died
. Jeremy—”

“Had nothing to do with this,” she interrupted, feeling his pain as if it were her own.

“What do you know about any of it?” he yelled, and for a second she felt a frisson of fear. Brody was a big man, and he was starting to lose that handle on his control. But he needed to, because no one else in his life had seen past the scared little boy. They’d let him push everyone out when he needed them most.

In a soft voice, she answered him. “I know I love you.”

He seemed to almost curl in on himself. “No, you don’t.”
You
can’t
hung unspoken between them.

“I know that you’re angry and hurt. You don’t want to forgive Jeremy, but you know you have to in order to get on with your life. You don’t want to love me, or for me to love you, because you don’t want to be hurt again.”

“Thanks for the lecture.” He sneered, regrouping. “I admit the sex was amazing. But the psychobabble is wearing thin. The next time you force yourself into my place, don’t be wearing anything. You’ll get a much better response than
get
out
and
leave
me
the
hell
alone
, which is what I’m telling you right now.” The anger was there, a bite in his tone as well as his words. But so was the panic. That she might leave? That she might stay?

She realized nothing she could say would get through to him. Not now. And maybe not ever.
“I love you.” “No, you don’t.”
How could she possibly convince him she loved him when he didn’t consider himself worthy of that love? She could cuddle him and convince him until she was blue in the face, but the person he needed to have his own “come-to-Jesus meeting” with was himself.

“Brody, don’t be like this.”
Don’t keep shutting me out.

“Be like what? This is who I am.”

So sad, because he seemed to believe he had nothing of value. Brody could be fun and sweet, and he had the potential for so much more. But he had to help himself before she or anyone else could help him.

She stepped closer, braving his wrath, and put her hand to his cheek, aware of his flinch. “If this is really what you want, I’ll go. But you’re making a mistake thinking you don’t deserve happiness. Seth would want you to have that.” She pulled her hand away and stepped back.

He snarled at her, “You don’t know what Seth would want. He—” His voice broke. He turned around, breathing heavily. Then he cleared this throat. “Abby, just go. None of this makes any sense. You least of all.”

She nodded, her heart breaking for him, because this cycle of denial was one he refused to break. He’d always be alone because of it, no matter how many people surrounded him.

“Bye, Brody.” She turned and left him, walking out the door. After she closed it behind her, she heard something shatter against it. Mutt started barking, but the tears made it difficult to pay him much attention.

Abby wanted to give Brody space and time, but she had a bad feeling none of that would matter in the end. She couldn’t live with an emotionally unavailable man. Not again. Because there was more to life than the carefree fun moments. She needed a give and take. If Brody didn’t think he deserved love, how could he ever love her? A chubby, unattractive little woman who wrote the fiction she wanted to live, always looking for love but unable to find it?

She wiped her tears in the car and looked at herself in the rearview mirror. “No.” She refused to go down this path again. “I am not unattractive.” Men seemed to like her, at least, according to her roommates. Hadn’t that bartender and Rick tried to flirt? “I’m strong. I’m loveable. I am not going to repeat old bad habits. I’m a success. I write sexy books, and anyone who doesn’t like that can fuck off.”

Saying it out loud made her feel powerful. Like a goddess.

She smiled through watery tears, wishing Brody the best, hoping they could have their happily ever after but refusing to spiral into his negativity. Abby had friends and family who loved her. She’d learned to love herself. Wholly. Truly. Finally.

***

Brody stared at the shards of an old glass ashtray he’d been meaning to toss for weeks. Then he launched a tacky vase and a bobble-head wooden sailor against the door, adding to the mess on the floor. Across the room, away from his tantrum, Mutt sat trying to look smaller. He kept glancing from Brody to the door, as if to say, “What’s the deal, man? You losing your mind?”

Not liking the dog’s fear, Brody blinked away tears of shame and fury. Not only had Mutt seen him looking like a loser. So had Abby.
“I love you,”
she’d said. Well, not anymore. Fucking Abby. Had to come see him when he was at his most vulnerable. An embarrassing pussy who cried at his friend’s funeral and couldn’t handle being lonely.

Strange as it was, with Seth next door, Brody hadn’t felt so alone. He’d looked up to the old man, as crotchety as Pop used to be, and apart from the world as Brody often felt.

Bitsy and Pop had showered him with love for years. So had Flynn, Mike, and Cam. Colin loved him unconditionally, like Mutt still looking at him with concern in his big brown eyes. But deep down Brody knew he didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t, you know,” he whispered to Mutt and sat on the floor. He held his head in his hands. “I’m a piece of shit. A no-good fuckhead who doesn’t deserve you either.”

Mutt walked over to him and put his head in Brody’s lap. So trusting. The dog had nowhere to go, no one to love him but Brody. Kind of like Brody had nowhere to go but the McCauleys. A filthy little kid with sticky fingers who’d only managed by the grace of God not to be shoved into a series of foster homes, thanks to the kindness of Bitsy and Pop.

Always making sure he had enough to eat. Throwing him in the van with the rest of the brood on family vacations. Putting his pictures on the fridge to show off his God-awful stick figures and artwork that Cam incessantly made fun of and Flynn defended.

He gave Mutt a half-smile. “Cam was such a pisser. Mike too. Noogies and teasing. Stealing my army men only to put them back after painting them pink.” He wiped his cheeks, remembering how Bitsy would rock him to sleep after a nightmare, or how Pop had taught him to throw a baseball, a football, shoot a basket.

And the women through the years, they’d all demanded so much, growing too clingy and obnoxious until he wanted nothing more than to race from their lives.