Fury (3 page)

              “You should probably leave,” I told her.

              She looked at me like I was crazy. “I’ll do whatever I want,” she said, sitting taller, pitching me that confident Finley attitude I remembered from high school.

              “Whatever,” I said, then called out to Vi for another round, which she served up quickly.

Finley tore apart a few tenders then handed me half of one.

              “Uh, no,” I said, downing my glass.

              “Uh, yes,” she mocked, shoving the piece in my face.

              “Stop,” I said, swiping it away.

              “Eat, damn it,” she said.

I looked at her and the expression on her face told me she wouldn’t quit, so I roughly took it from her and took a large bite. She bit into her own piece, a smug look on her face. She practically hand fed me every piece in the damn basket, but I didn’t care. I knew what she was doing, but it wouldn’t work because the liquor resting in my belly was too substantial to be worked against.

“What have you done with your summer?” she asked me.

“This,” I said, gesturing to my glass.

“What the hell, Ethan?”

“What, are you my mother?” I asked, immediately regretting those choice of words. I closed my eyes.

Mom
. My heart dropped into my throat.
Must remedy that
.

“Vi,” I said loudly to her at the other end of the bar. “One more.”

Vi walked the length of the bar and filled my glass again, much to Finley’s obvious horror.

“Vi, can I get some mozzarella sticks?” she asked.             

“Of course, darlin’.”

Finley smiled at me.

“I’m not eating those,” I told her.

“Oh, you’ll eat them.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

“I sure as hell will not, Finley Dyer.”

She leaned closer and my head began to swim. Her signature scent of apples and wild daisies swarmed around me, making my heart race. It’d never bothered me before.
It’s the liquor
, I told myself.

“You will or I’m taking your ass home right now.”

“You can just kiss that ass, Fin.”

“That’s the Jack talking.”

“No, that’s me. I don’t want to play anymore. I want to be left alone now.”

“You see,” she said, settling her elbows on the bar top, “I think— No, I
know
you’re lying. Like I said before, you’re a terrible liar. I think you’ve lied so often about wanting to be left alone, though, that you’ve convinced your head it’s the truth, but you can’t convince the heart, Ethan. You know why? Because the heart can’t ever be lied to, and yours beats the loneliest I’ve ever heard.”

I didn’t answer her.
Couldn’t
answer her.

“What have you done this summer?” I asked, ignoring her spot-on observation.

She played along. “I’ve had a temp job here in Kalispell answering phones for Smith Travel, trying to earn cash for my trip.”

My brows furrowed. “What trip?”

“I’m heading over to Vietnam for a year.”

This shocked me. “What in the world would you go to Vietnam for?”

“Charity work,” she answered, making me laugh.

“Why?” I asked.

“Don’t be an asshole,” she replied.

“No, really, why?”

“I’ve wanted to do this for close to five years now.”

“How come I don’t ever remember you talking about this at school?”

“Ethan,” she said softly, “let’s not pretend we ever really talked in high school deeper than filler conversation.”

This wounded me a little, though I’m not sure why. “What the hell, Finley? You and I were friends.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “We were most definitely not friends. I may know everything about you and you may know everything about me because we grew up together, but we were not
friends
. You had a constant bodyguard in Cricket.”

I sat up at the mention of her name. “Don’t ever say her name again,” I gritted.

She raised her hands in concession. “Fine.”

There was a pregnant pause as she let me calm myself down.

“I talked to you a lot in the classes we had,” I offered.

“We talked a lot about the upcoming football games or class assignments. Once or twice, we took the seventy-year-old route and discussed the weather.”

I fought my grin. “Okay, so it was always surface observation, but we were kids.”

“No, Ethan, that’s not what it was.”

“Well, you were in love with me,” I bravely spit. “I couldn’t take it further than just below the shoal.”
Thank you, Mr. Daniels
.

“Full of yourself, are we?” she asked. “Listen,” she continued, “I had a crush on you in high school. So what? Lots of girls did. But I was,
am
, a human being. You didn’t have to treat me like some leper. Trust me, Ethan, we all know who you belonged to,” she said.

She stood to leave, but I grabbed her arm. The heated warmth of her skin shot straight to my heart. We looked at one another, wide eyed, our chests panting. I shook my head to recompose myself. “I’m sorry,” I told her, encouraging her to sit back down. “I’m— I know you deserved better.”

She hesitated but sat back in her seat. I stared at her, a little too intently thanks to the Jack. She nodded once and we sat in a comfortable silence as I had five more shots.

The whiskey made my body heavy as hell, the weight of its honeyed venom deadened the ache inside me.

I sighed and smiled to myself.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

I looked up at her though it felt unusually burdensome and leaned toward her. “I’m going to get them back,” I admitted to her.

She narrowed her eyes. “
Who
, Ethan?”

“
Them
,” I said, bringing a tired finger to my lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

I fell back into my chair. I brought my fingers to my empty glass and tilted it, balancing it on one finger. She was quiet for a moment.

“Ethan,” she began, whispering, “that’s not like you.”

I smiled. “I’m not who I used to be, Finley.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, “because you used to be wonderful.”

              I narrowed my eyes at her. “Do you
know
what they did to me?”

              “She left you for him,” she said matter-of-factly.

I let the glass tip over onto its side at her bluntness. “Exactly. After all I did for her. After all I was to her.
She
left
me
for
him
.”

“She wasn’t meant for you, Ethan.”

My skin burned with hatred at that statement. “No one is meant for anyone, Finley. You choose someone and then you make a commitment.”

She shook her head at me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.“

“She chose me, convinced me that she was all in, and I was willing to die for her because of it. She convinced me she actually loved me. I thought she
loved me
.”

“She did love you. I believe she, you both really, would have been somewhat happy if Spencer had never shown up.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re not hearing me. You both would have been
somewhat
happy. Neither of you would have been utterly happy.”

This infuriated me. “I could have made her happy!” I yelled, earning a few glances from around the bar.

“Yes, you could have made her happy, but not as happy as Spencer does.”

My blood simmered in my veins. “You are cruel,” I bit.

She leaned forward. “I’m being honest with you. Someone has to since you’re not being honest with yourself. I saw them together, Ethan, and she never looked at you like that.”

“Stop,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Stop.”

“Ethan,” she said, resting her hand on mine. I yanked it from her. “Don’t you want the same thing for yourself? Don’t you want forever with someone who burns for you the way you burn for her? You deserve that just as much as she does.”

“Shut up,” I said, bringing my hands to my hair and fisting it at my ears. I didn’t want to hear it.

“Fine,” she said, sitting up. She looked around her and asked Vi for two cups of coffee.

I couldn’t breathe. Finley voiced everything I’d worked so hard to drown out, I’d attempted to numb. I hated her for ruining the struggle to suppress it. I just wanted to pretend. I wanted my hate, wanted it to live close to me. It was the only thing I felt could keep me alive. I couldn’t let her go. I didn’t want her to be loved by anyone but me. I didn’t want to be reminded that someone else really did love her better than I did, that someone else made her happier. Because I had watched them too. I saw what Finley saw, and my God did I hate Spencer Blackwell for it.

I wanted bitter. I wanted sadness. I wanted my revenge.

When Vi brought the coffee, she set the cups down, one in front of me and one in front of Finley. My hands shook as I reached across the bar and lifted the bottle of Jack. Vi saw me and nodded. Slowly, I unscrewed the lid and poured some into the cup.

Finley pursed her lips and shook her head. I replaced the cap and set it back but I was so drunk, I slipped and spilled the coffee, emptying its entire boiling contents down my shirt and jeans. The heat scalded. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, taking the pain, wanting the pain.

Finley and Vi moved as if in slow motion around me, pulling me up from my seat and asking me if I was okay. I swayed on my feet as I let them do whatever they wanted, not paying any attention to them. I was on the verge of screaming, wanting to yell at the world. I wanted them to suffer as I was. I wanted them done. I wanted them to
suffer
. I wanted atonement.

My eyes burned and I gnashed my teeth. I heard rather than anticipated the groaning air that left my chest. My hands shook as I tried to steady myself on the edge of the bar, but I misjudged the distance and fell forward. I felt them try to hold me up, but I was too heavy for them. My face met the lip. A sharp ache filled my head and face and I nearly vomited from the pain. My stomach didn’t have room for the liquor
and
all the hurt.

The hurt. Everything seemed uneasy, seemed to suffer. I laid on the floor, in and out of consciousness but holding steady to the discomfort, to the disquiet, to the agony.

Much to my dismay, a pair of cool hands found my face. Suddenly, the tortured pressure left my body in one swift sigh.

“Finally,” I exhaled as I drifted toward the black.

CHAPTER FOUR

              I woke to the soft sound of breathing that wasn’t mine. The room was dark but there was enough light from the crack in the door, creating a soft glow over the walls, enough to make out my surroundings. I felt a warm body next to mine and my heart started to race. I studied my environment, not able to recognize the room I was in. I started to panic.

             
Get it together, Ethan
, I told myself and glanced to my left. It was a thin girl, covered in a comforter. I turned my head a bit to get a better look, trying to see her hair, but I wasn’t able to see anything. I wondered if I would be able to leave her bed without her noticing but ruled that out since it was wedged right up against the wall and I would have had to go over her to get out.

              I warily sat up, my head swimming from all the liquor. I nearly groaned from the pain as I brought a hand to my face. I winced, pulling my hand back quickly. I’d forgotten about my fall at the bar. I laid back down, my stomach threatening to bring everything back up, and when I did this, wild daisies and apples assailed my senses.

              I breathed a sigh of relief.
It’s only Finley
. I breathed a little deeper and closed my eyes. I felt the bed move and cracked one lid open. She’d shifted around, facing me, the blanket covering her, exposing her face, and her hair spilled around her pillow. She looked angelic.

              Her hand came up and scratched the tip of her nose, but she stayed asleep. Then her hand fell on top of mine and for some reason, my heart rate slowed down and my eyes became sleepy once more. Before I knew it, I was asleep again.

              I woke a second time in Finley’s room, but this time the room was flooded with light. My face rested against the wall, so I stretched and turned over face to face with Finley about a foot apart. She was still asleep but her makeup was gone, revealing how porcelain her skin really was. Her tawny strands fell across her cheek, ran down her neck, and gathered on the bed, like a coppery river. Her lips were parted. She was undeniably beautiful, even I could admit it. It was the strangest feeling admitting that to myself.

              I’d always thought her beautiful, but I was faithful to Cricket and wouldn’t let my thoughts trail any further. I reached out and pulled at a strand that had fallen over her eye and tucked it with the rest of her rivulets of hair. She had a wild look about her.

I compared her to Cricket.

Cricket was always polished, her hair perfectly in place and her clothes stylish and refined. She was very well put together and she
never
deviated from it, not even when in the fields.

If I were being honest, it was disconcerting since I was the exact opposite. I’ve never cared about my appearance. In fact, I’d consider myself the disheveled sort. I didn’t even own an iron, let alone a tie. All my jeans had shredded knees. All my undershirts were waffle-knit. All my overshirts were plaid and button-up. None of them were anything but faded. My boots were dusty and my hair was long. I was Cricket’s opposite.

My eyes narrowed on Finley.

Finley was more like myself, much more down to earth, much more provincial. This wasn’t to say she wasn’t intelligent because, from what I could remember, Finley was often the sharpest in my classes.

She had long, wavy hair always pinned half up or full down in charmingly hot disarray, with wisps of hair constantly around her face. Her bright blue eyes were occasionally covered with Holly-esque frames. Her clothes were vintage, probably thanks to a limited budget, and I remembered her frequenting thrift stores a great deal. I thought she still did. She layered unusual pieces together a lot too, wore a lot of odd jewelry. She pulled it together pretty well. You could probably pluck her up out of Kalispell and drop her in New York City or London and she’d fit right in. The only thing that wouldn’t have jibed were her bare feet. She was obsessed with bare feet. On more than one occasion, even in high school, I remember her getting sent home from school for not wearing shoes.

I looked back on my memories of her and couldn’t remember a time I felt more relaxed. That’s what Finley did for me. She relaxed me. She claimed we weren’t really friends, but I knew differently. Yeah, I was careful around Finley, but I did pay attention to her. I just never told her I did. I watched her probably more than I should have, probably more than I could have admitted to myself.

When I was with Cricket, I was constantly on edge, nervous about her medical condition. Toward the end, it was all we could talk about. Growing up, Finley was a mini-break from that tension because we talked about the obvious. So Finley may have thought we weren’t friends, but our conversations about nothing helped keep me sane, and they meant more to me than she could have ever known.

“Finley,” I began, but my hoarse voice broke. I cleared my throat. “Finley,” I said deeply from sleep and rough use.

She opened one eye. The surprised look on her face priceless, and I almost laughed for the first time in many months. Except it wouldn’t have been the first time, would it? She’d made me laugh at the bar. That shocking feeling sobered me, and I was never more determined to get out of there.

“Good morning,” she said, remembering I was there. “Did you sleep all right?”

“I, um, I did,” I answered self-consciously.

“Good,” she said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Come on,” she ordered, throwing off the covers, standing, and stretching.

She wore a huge T-shirt and baggy flannel pajama pants and she looked ridiculous.

She must have seen the expression on my face because she looked down at herself then back up at me.

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, excuse me, Ethan Moonsong!” she ranted. “I’m not a silk pajama kinda gal, okay?” She stood straighter and smoothed the front of her shirt. “Besides, though this shirt may have been made for a robust two-hundred-pound man, it’s still M83 and they rock socks, so can it!”

I raised my palms. “Fine.”

“Good,” she said, relaxing a bit. “Now,” she continued, “breakfast. Come with me.”

“Uh,” I began, “that’s cool. I need to get going.”

She swirled around, her hair fanning around her. “Nope. Sorry, but I drove you here. Meaning, your truck is still at the bar and I’m not going anywhere without breakfast first.”

I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and stood to my full six-foot three. Finley was tall at five-foot eight, but I still towered over her. I tried to intimidate her into taking me to my truck but it didn’t work. She only gritted her jaw and set her hands on her hips. We stood there quietly, long enough for
me
to start getting uncomfortable, defeating my purpose.

“Whatever,” I told her.

“Good,” she said, smiling. “Besides, it’s bacon, eggs, and French toast day! You won’t want to miss this.”

She turned on her heel quickly and bounded down the hall, no doubt expecting me to follow her. “Can it be bacon, eggs, and aspirin day?” I asked, holding my head and following her.

I had to duck my head under her door to get into the hall and her ceilings weren’t that much higher. A few more inches and I’d have had to crouch everywhere we walked.

              “How do you live here? I’d get claustrophobic.”

              “I don’t have to drop it like it’s hot or anything to walk around here, Lurch.”

“
Okay
.”

“Sit,” she ordered, gesturing to a light blue Formica dinette with chrome chairs.

“Is there anything in here
not
fifty years old?” I asked, examining my surroundings.

Apparently she shopped for furniture at the same place she shopped for clothing.

“You gotta problem with my independence, Moonsong?” she said, placing a cast-iron skillet on her enamel stove.

“No.”

“I’m an independent woman.”

“True,” I said, secretly proud of the girl she’d become. Finley had always been poor from what I could remember, but she knew how to work with it.

“Question!” she began, shifting her rear from side to side, which looked ludicrous in her pajamas. “
Tell me what you think about me. I buy my own diamonds and I buy my own rings. Only ring your celly when I’m feelin’ lonely
.”

“What?” I asked her, confused.

She turned toward me and rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

“So, uh,” I began, “did you say something about leaving Kalispell last night?”

She turned from her task and got a thing of butter from her fridge before returning to the pan. “Yeah, I’m leaving in a few weeks.”

“Where are you going?”

“Vietnam.”

I was taken aback. “
What?
”

She looked at me with a large smile plastered across her face. “Vietnam. It’s an Asian country, full of sweet people, south of China, east of Laos and Cambodia? We went to war there? Ringing any bells?”

“I know Vietnam, Finley. I want to know
why
Vietnam?”

“I’ll be doing some charity there. I told you.” She went back to flipping the bread on her skillet and the smell of vanilla and nutmeg filled the kitchen. “Get the OJ out, will you?” she asked, gesturing to her fridge.

I stood and did I was told, setting it on the table. I started opening her top cabinets, looking for her juice glasses. “Why?” I asked.

“Because it’s delicious and made from oranges and I have to have it in the morning even though it gives me acid reflux like a mother.”

“No, why leave to do charity work?”

Her face paled a little. “It’s just a place I feel drawn to.”

I studied her but her face gave nothing else away. “Cool. That’s really cool of you,” I told her.

She looked at me and gave me a small smile, letting her armor down a little. “Thanks.”

She placed the last piece of bread on her pile and set the plate in the oven before moving on to the bacon and eggs. The smell started to make me feel ill so I grabbed my glass, filled it with cold tap water, and downed it. The fact that I even felt the slightest bit nauseated was a testament to how much I’d had to drink the night before. I knew if I wanted to function at all that day I’d need to eat.

I sat down when Finley pointed to the chair I’d previously sat in. “So,” she said, placing a plate of food in front of me.

“Thank you,” I told her.

“You’re welcome,” she responded. She took a deep breath. “So talk to me, Ethan.”

I furrowed my brows and swallowed a bite of bacon, staring at my plate. “Nothing to tell.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “You’re lying.”

I sighed. “I don’t want to talk, Finley.”

“Fine. Then I will. Yesterday, I woke up, oh, I don’t know, around seven-ish? I ate breakfast, showered, and all that jazz. My hair was doing this wonky thing so I wrapped it in a blue scarf. It looks fabulous today though, right?” She paused for my response, but I didn’t give one. “Anyway, I think it does. Where was I? Oh yes, I got dressed and headed over to Smith’s to answer the phones. No one called, by the way. And do you want to know why?”

“Why?” I asked, delving into the French toast, which tasted unbelievable.

“Because no one in Kalispell has enough money to travel, dude, that’s why.”

“How do they stay in business then?”

“It’s a mystery, man. A flipping mystery.” She took another bite, chewed and swallowed. “Then I collected my check, deposited it, and ran some errands, went grocery shopping, picked up my mail.”

“This is all very fascinating, Finley.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked sarcastically and continued. “I ran into Helen Green on the way to pick up my dry cleaning. Have you spoken to her lately?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“She told me that her dog had to be put down a few days ago for cancer. Poor thing. She was so heartbroken. I couldn’t leave her there in front of the Sip-n-Stop all alone. So I sat next to her as she told me about all the good her dear little Jakie did for her over the years. How he’d fetch her paper and all sorts of things from her room for her. She’d just call out what she wanted and Jake would get it for her. Can you believe that?”