Page 18 of Guitars and Cages

“Yeah, but Kimber, I—”

“I never told Chase about the passes you used to make at me, or about all the inappropriate things you said, or even about the night you trapped me against the wall and kissed me. Maybe I should have; maybe if he’d known how you were acting then he wouldn’t have blamed me when you ran away. He did blame me, you know; even after you’d been gone for years he still blamed me because you hardly ever came around and when you did you never stayed long. He loved you. You know how much he loved you, how badly he wanted to see you graduate from high school and make something of yourself, but you couldn’t do that, could you? You couldn’t do a damn thing except be a selfish bastard!”

“I made a ton of mistakes, Kimber; I know that. I’m....”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.”

I sighed, tired of the same old arguments. Even if I wanted to change, no one was ever going to let me forget my past. Or forgive me for it. “I know I let him down, Kimber.”

“You did more than that, Asher. You broke his heart, and you scared the hell out of him on top of it. Do you know how many nights he lay in bed worrying about where you were, how you were getting food, if you had a roof over your head, if you were alive or if you were dead in some fucking alley somewhere? Holidays he stayed close to the phone, hoping you’d call—or even better, show up with the rest of your brothers. And did you? No, you popped in here and there when it suited you, stirred up more trouble, and then hit the road again. That’s all you ever manage to do, and I doubt that will ever change!”

“I never knew I was keeping him up nights,” I said.

“Would it have mattered to you if you’d known?”

“I... Yeah... Of course it would have mattered, Kimber; he was my brother. I loved him, dammit.”

“Then you shouldn’t have tried to steal his wife and you shouldn’t have run away when you failed!” she yelled. “Do you know he actually accused me of doing something to make you leave? He thought I was jealous of the time he was spending with you and ran you off. I don’t know if he ever stopped thinking that. I loved how protective he was of you, the way he let you work on that Mustang with him and took you to football games and concerts and all that stuff you guys loved to do. Camping, hiking, fishing—I never minded staying home so you two could go and have fun together; if anything it let me see how great a father he’d be when our kids came along. I was so thrilled when you showed up at the hospital when I was having Rory. I thought you’d see how much he’d missed you and needed you to stay and that you’d stick around and make up for lost time and be a real uncle to our son. God, was I wrong. I still can’t believe you had the nerve to....”

“I get it. Okay, Kimber. I know what I did; I know what I said, but I’ve only ever been honest with you about how I feel about you and if only you’d think about giving me a chance then you’d see that maybe I’m not so bad after all,” I said, but hell, the words even felt hollow to my ears, and I was the one saying them.

“I’m sure you were only ever honest with Eve, too, and look at where it got her. Tell me something, Asher; have you ever even wondered what your own son looks like? Have you ever taken a moment to care about where he is or what he might be doing?”

I didn’t have an answer to that one. If I said yes, it would be a lie and she’d likely know it, and if I said no, well, that would make me look like seven different kinds of an asshole, wouldn’t it? The truth was that when I was dwelling on the past the only thing I ever told myself was that he was better off without me. Everyone was.

“I didn’t think so,” she snapped, fury evident in her tone. “Get this through that thick skull of yours, Asher. I have never had the same feelings for you that you claim to have for me, and I never will. I will never be interested in you in that way. I wouldn’t consider living with you if the only other option was a three-walled cabin in the middle of an Alaskan winter. Nothing would have made me happier than to never have had to lay eyes on you again. Once I get things situated for Rory up here you had better believe that you will never see or hear from us for the rest of your miserable excuse for a life. I hate you, Asher Logan. Do you understand that? Is that clear enough for you? I. Hate. You! I wish to God it had been you that died in that crash!”

And with those words she hung up the phone, leaving me with only the echo of her voice ringing in my ears. I lay there staring at the ceiling, a lump in my throat I didn’t think I’d be able to swallow. I’d never meant to cause trouble between her and Chase. I’d just wanted someone safe to love. I’d never meant to make him blame her for me taking off and all that. I’d run because I hadn’t known any other way to deal with everything that had happened.

I guess deep down I should have known there was no chance in hell right from the start. I mean, damn, I was thirteen when I went to live with her and my brother, and she was my first real crush. Most kids move on from that first crush, but I never wanted to look anywhere but at Kimber. Maybe because the few times I tried my eyes and mind went places I didn’t want them to go. It was safer to focus on her, safer to tell myself that she was the only one for me, safer to believe that if I couldn’t have her then I shouldn’t have anyone. For the three years after Dad ran out on my younger brother and me, I lived with her and Chase, following her like a puppy, taking every chance I could to try and get her to notice me while fucking anyone and everyone who would let me lay a hand on them.

I craved touch the way a drowning man craved the safety of land, but none that I found was ever enough. The memory of long dark hair swept through my mind again, a sharp reminder that “none” was a bit of a lie. There had been one, once, but it had been short-lived and I’d run as soon as I’d realized that I was feeling something more than lust and pleasure. I’d doubled, and then tripled my efforts to make Kimber see me after that, desperate to make her my salvation.

Okay, by the time I was sixteen I was past the point of being subtle about it, and the night I’d pressed her against the wall and kissed her had not been one of my finest moments. That wasn’t why I’d left, though; well, not all of it anyway. I mean, yeah, it had sucked to be rejected and called a kid over and over again, but the worst of it was the way I’d started to feel toward the brother I’d always loved. The jealousy and rage that he had something I couldn’t. I’d had little choice left but to run; if I hadn’t, I might have wrecked the relationship we’d had since I was a little kid toddling around behind him.

I’d never meant to hurt him, though; never meant to hurt anyone or make them worry. I didn’t know what the hell it was that made me do the things I did, or maybe I did know and I just refused to own up to them. Deep down I knew the truth and it ate me up inside. I was a coward; always had been, always would be—and she was right, it should have been me that died in the car that night. If I could go back and do it all again I’d make damn sure it was me.

Though hearing her say she hated me, well, hell, that wasn’t what I’d wanted at all. The real scary thing, though, was that the thought of not seeing Rory again after they moved was making me a bit sick to my stomach. I was kinda coming to like the damned kid. It would suck to be cut out of his life and told I couldn’t ever see him again. How could she hate me? Had it really been that bad for her after I’d left? Why the hell would Chase have thought she could have said or done something to drive me away? I chose to leave—to run, to hop the old freight train that slowed down near mile marker fifty and ride it clear out of the state, drifting from one place to the next and back again, a vagabond leaving a string of sidewalk performances and one-night stands in my wake.

I should have figured she’d be pissed about Eve and my kid, but hell, Eve had been a summer diversion the year Rory was born. A way to try not to be a nuisance to Kimber while I was hanging around, and yeah, okay, so I did lie a bit to Eve to make her think it was actually her I was interested in, but no one forced her to put out and I’d sort of figured a chick her age would have already been on the pill or something.

I’d been nineteen years old, for fuck’s sake; there was no way in hell I was gonna stick around to be a father, let alone stick around long enough for her to tell her daddy I’d knocked her up so he could come chasing after me with that shotgun of his. Hell, the only goddamned reason I’d been with her was so everyone around us could see us together, to throw them off who I’d really been doing that year. I’d already decided by then I was never gonna get married, so getting dragged to the altar as an alternative to getting my nuts shot off wasn’t gonna work for me, no sir, not gonna work for me at all. So yeah, I’d run again, but at least I’d sorta called and kept in touch when I could. I was hell on phones, but Chase had known I wasn’t running from him. Hadn’t he?

I sighed and rolled from the bed to check on Rory, but the kid had cried himself to sleep on the couch so I covered him with a blanket and headed back to my room. I doubted I was gonna sleep much, but I was gonna try since I’d promised Rory I’d take him to the zoo. I hadn’t been to one in years, not since the last one Chase had taken me to. I knew when I ran I was leaving more behind than I could ever hope to find; I just never expected a time to come when there’d no longer be a home left to run back to. I fell asleep remembering lemonade and torn-apart transmissions, my brother’s laughter and the Mustang we built in the spare moments we got to spend together…the Mustang he’d been driving the night of the wreck that killed him.

Chapter Eight

Iwoke to knocking and sat up, the naked bulb still bright above me where I’d forgotten to turn it off. I hurried to the door before the knocking could wake Rory up, trying to shove my tangled hair out of my sleep-bleary eyes so I could see who the hell was on the other side. I yanked the door open, swearing, only to have the annoyance die a bit when I looked into the blue-green eyes of the dude who’d just moved in down the hall.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but do you have a screwdriver I can borrow? I know I’ve got one somewhere in all that crap, but I sure as hell haven’t found it yet.”

I scratched my head, letting the question sink in for a moment. I don’t usually sleep well, so can I always tell when I was truly, deeply asleep by how difficult it is to focus after I’ve woken up. Finally, after standing there looking like a complete idiot for far longer than I wanted, I was able to make myself speak. “Flat head or Phillips?”

“Phillips, though I’m sure I’ll need a flat before I can dig one up, so I’ll take both if you’ve got ’em.”

“Yeah, sure; hang on.”

I turned away from the door and headed to the closet in the hall, digging out my toolbox and finding the screwdrivers on top where I always kept them. I might not be the neatest person in the world when it comes to certain things, but I keep my goddamned tools in order. I brought them back to the door and handed them to him.

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