The only things I wanted to do when I got home from the airport were shower and sleep. Shayne and I had grabbed McDonald's on the way home and shit-talked Asher's train-wreck of a girlfriend the whole way home. Mostly Shayne shit-talked. I just kind of listened.
I understood why she was upset, one hundred percent. Brock had cheated on me Lord knew how many times, but the difference between her and I? I never went for the other girls. I was pretty confident in the fact that they had no idea I existed, because Brock was very good at manipulating situations to his benefit. I'm sure I was the crazy ex, or the girl who just couldn't take a hint, or I was stalking him, or yadda yadda. It didn't matter. You can't blame someone who got fooled just as badly as you did.
However: Bridget had every right to blame me. I knew she existed. I knew they were together, and I still went forward. I couldn't blame her for wanting to rip my head off, though good luck to her if she tried. Asher never implicitly said they weren't together. He said that he wasn't sure, and, in the moment, that was good enough for me. But now, standing under the scalding hot water in my shower, I felt guilty about it all, and guilt wasn't an emotion I handled well.
After toweling off, I slipped into my favorite pajamas: a gothic red velvet set, and instantly climbed into bed, bottle of Merlot tucked in beside me. I was clicking through TV channels, but nothing was resonating, so I turned on an old season of Drag Race and let myself get lost in their drama, telling myself someday, I would get Shayne to audition for that show. I dug out my laptop and answered a few messages, collected some tips for photos I'd posted on my Hawaii excursion, and shortly fell asleep, computer still in my lap, drag queens still dancing on my television.
It felt like mere minutes before I was awoken by the shrill ring of my phone. It was Shayne, and he was already on one. I was supposed to meet him so that we could head to Buffalo Grove, the suburb in which our father lived. He'd been watching my baby since we left for Hawaii, and I missed him, both my dad and my baby. I forced myself out of bed and into a pair of jeans and a hoodie. I started some coffee, threw on the bare minimum of make-up, and headed out the door, Shayne yelling at me on speakerphone the entire time.
"How are you always late?" Shayne asked from the other end of the phone. "I swear to God, you will be late for your own fucking funeral."
"Shut the hell up," I laughed. "We're going to Dad's. It's not like there's a set time."
"I have to work tonight. I would like a little time to hang out, alright?"
"Well, I'll drive my fuckin' self if you're so worried about it. Jesus." I laughed at my big brother's dramatics. Buffalo Grove was literally a suburb of Chicago. It was a forty-minute drive, at most and in the late morning of a Monday, it would probably be less, and he was acting like we had to cross state lines.
I locked my front door and headed to my Audi, where I immediately stopped in my tracks. "You've gotta be shitting me."
"What?"
"I have a fucking flat!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, girl. Come on!"
"What?! Like I did it on purpose?!" I cried. "I haven't been in this car for almost two weeks. I so totally got a flat on purpose."
"I'll come get you."
"Okay..." My voice trailed off as I circled my car. "Oh shit."
"What now?"
"Shayne... I think somebody did this..."
"What do you mean? How would you know that?"
"Because ALL of my tires are flat," I answered. I could hear the fear in my own voice, and it only worsened when I arrived on the passenger side, the word SLUT carved into the car's previously unmarked black paint. "Oh my God..."
"I'm calling the police," Shayne stated. I could tell by his breathing that he was already making his way to me. "Do you have pepper spray or something?"
"I doubt they're still here."
"You fucking know damn well who it is, Dylan."
I jumped as I heard his car door slam in the background. "You think Brock did this?"
"You don't?"
"I don't know. He's never gone this far before..."
"Dylan, come on," Shayne interrupted. "You just paraded another man in his face for the last ten days and you made it no secret that you were at least anticipating boning at some point."
"We didn't actually have sex."
"Yeah, I'm sure the fact that you only swallowed Ash's cock made Brock's rage much calmer, you moron. Call Dad, tell him to come to us. I'm calling the cops."
"What are they gonna do?"
"Dylan! Stop!" Shayne shouted. "I am so sick of this shit! We are talking to the police so they can document this shit so hopefully we can put a stop to this nonsense before I find you dead on your kitchen floor, okay?"
I gulped and hung my head. "I think you're being a bit dramatic."
"Dylan, that man is off is fucking rocker. He follows you everywhere. He follows you home, to work, to the bar. Hell, he followed you to Hawaii..."
"He was invited."
"HE SHOWED UP BEFORE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO! WAKE UP!" Shayne cursed under his breath. "You need to stop just brushing his bullshit off, Dylan. This is serious and if you don't do something about it, it's only going to get worse."
"Okay. Okay. You call Dad, I'll call the police. Maybe they'll send out the lady I talked to about the restraining order, alright?"
"We're getting you a taser or a fucking gun."
"We are NOT getting me a gun. A taser might be fun though..."
"It's not for the bedroom, you kinky bitch."
I laughed, but tears were welling in my eyes. For the first time in all of the little stunts Brock had pulled, I was actually a bit scared. "Just... get here, okay?" I asked, my voice sounding choked.
"I'm like six minutes away, sweetheart. I'll be right there."
"Okay."
"Dylan, breathe. We're going to handle this."
"Okay."
"I love you. I'm sorry I yelled."
"It's okay. I've been trying to avoid all of this by ignoring it. You're right."
"Dad already texted me back. He and Noodle are on the way."
"Will you just stay on the phone with me? And we can call the police when you get here?"
"Of course, babe. Like... three minutes, unless I get pulled over. But if I do, I'll just keep going and bring em with me."
I giggled a bit at my brother. I knew he was just trying to distract me, and I appreciated it, but I would've been lying if I said that I wasn't beginning to panic.
A few hours later, I sat in my living room, my year old white and tan English bulldog in my lap. I'd talked to the police, they collected whatever they thought was evidence, which wasn't much. A tow truck had come and taken my car away, and now my dad, Stefan, and Shayne were in the kitchen fixing lunch. I played around on my phone, answering messages from my subscribers. Quite a few of them had sent tips, which eased my car stressed a bit. It's not like I was hurting for money, but four new tires and a paint job wasn't going to be cheap, so at this point, anything helped.
After I signed off Only Patrons, I noticed a voicemail that had somehow escaped my attention, and when I clicked into my call log, I shrieked.
"WHAT?!" Shayne cried, running into the living room, spatula in hand.
"He called me."
"That mother fucker slashed your tires and then called you?!"
"Not Brock! Asher!"
"Okay, and?" Shayne retorted, looking at me like I was insane, which, in that moment, I kind of felt.
"He called me last night. Like... after everything at the airport."
"Girl, if you don't get to the goddamn point."
"He left a message!"
"What did he say?"
"I don't know. I haven't listened to it."
Shayne rolled his eyes into his head which tipped back to the ceiling, and he let out a low rumble of a groan. "I feel like you're trying to make me snap. Just fuckin' listen to it!"
"I don't want to."
"Why?"
"What if he's with her? What if he was calling to let me off, ya know? What if he was calling to say goodbye?"
"How can you simultaneously be the smartest and dumbest person I know? Give me your fucking phone."
"What? No! Why?"
"Because I'm going to listen to the fucking message before I beat you to death with this fucking spatula!"
"No, I'll...." Shayne interrupted me, walking over and literally yanking my phone from my hand. "Give me that!"
"No!" He tapped the screen a few times and Asher's voice swept through my living room.
"Hey. Um, I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now and I completely understand I just... I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. I ended it. It's over. It should've been long ago, but I guess... I guess I needed to meet you to realize that and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I drug you into this mess, but I want to make it better, Dylan. I want to fix this. Please. I just need...
"What'd you do to that boy?" my dad asked, leisurely wandering into the room behind Shayne. "Sounds like you stole his balls."
"DAD!" I shouted.
"What? He's gonna go write one of those emo songs or whatever you used to listen to."
"I still listen to it, and I don't think Asher does emo, but thanks," I stated with a laugh. I looked up at Shayne. "What should I do?"
"Do I have to do everything around here?" he retorted.
"Yes," both my father and I answered.
Shayne rolled his eyes again. "Jesus Christ, you two. Do you want the man, Dylan?"
"I don't know," I mumbled.
"You don't know or you're scared?"
"Both."
"Well, I can help with that." Shayne tapped my phone screen a few times and then tossed it back at me. "It's ringing. Better boss up real quick."
"What?!" I shrieked and grabbed the phone, putting it to my ear, hoping to hear nothing, but instead, hearing Asher's voice.
"Dylan? Hello?"
"Um... hey..."
"Are you alright? You sound... off."
I glared at Shayne as I rose from the sofa and headed out the front door of my duplex. "It's um... it's been kind of a weird day. I'm... I'm sorry I didn't call you back sooner, I just..."
"No, it's okay," Asher interrupted, the timbre of his voice as soothing as ever. "I honestly didn't expect you to call me back at all, so this is a win in my book."
I chuckled a bit and sank onto the cement front step. It was cold, but considering the heart attack I'd nearly had, it was fine for now. "So... how was your night?"
Asher released an intoxicating laugh. "Ya know, it kind of sucked, but it needed to happen. I'm glad it's over. She definitely lost it a bit, sounded like there was a damn pterodactyl in my apartment, but I probably deserved it all things considered."
"Really? She seemed so calm and collected at the airport."
We both laughed a bit and then there was a pause before Asher inhaled loudly, like he was building himself up. When his voice came back to my ears, it was soft, almost shy. "I want to see you."
"Ash..."
"No, listen, I know that I fucked this up. I know that I've already made a litany of mistakes when it comes to you but letting you walk away after the wedding was the worst of all. I should've told you then that I was in, but I got scared. I'm... I'm a fucking pussy sometimes, I'll willingly admit that. But I knew, I KNEW, the second that I saw her in the airport that I couldn't do it anymore. Fuck, I knew the second you walked off that night, Dylan. All I saw when I looked at her yesterday was that she wasn't you."
That melted me a bit. "Asher."
"I know it's stupid. I know we've only known each other a few weeks, but I just..." He paused a moment. "I haven't felt like this about someone in a long time, maybe... maybe ever and I don't want to lose it. I don't want this to be over, Dylan, I can't let it be. I'm tired of not fighting for what I want, and... you're the first thing on that list."
My response was barely a whisper: "I don't want it to be over either."
He let out a melodic burst of laughter. "Good! Okay, that's... that's all I need to hear right now. We can talk about everything in person, as long as that's something you're okay with."
"Well, my dad's here right now. I'm not exactly sure how long he's staying, and I don't have a car at the moment so..."
"What happened to your car?"
"It's... a long story. I'll explain later. Honestly, I'm kind of exhausted after this morning," I stated, not wanting to get into it.
"Well, how about I grab some take out and come to you? You could just text me when he leaves, or we could wait if you'd rather. I mean, I don't want to sound pushy or anything, but..."
He was rambling and it was honestly the most adorable thing I had ever heard. He was usually so stoic, so almost business-like on all fronts. Him shy and unsure was new and I'd never felt more confident that this man wanted me than I did hearing the child-like joy in his voice. "We can do takeout tonight. I'm sure he'll head home by seven, so as long as you don't mind waiting..."
"Of course, I don't mind," Asher interrupted. "You could tell me to come over at midnight and I'd do it."
"Sounds a bit like a booty call."
"I'm at your disposal."
For the first time in that entire day, I felt every ounce of stress melt out of my body as I laughed at him. "You're really thinking optimistically there, buddy."
"What can I say? Hard to be anything but positive with you around."
I laughed again, but felt my eyes roll around in their sockets. "Alright, you. Enough with the cheese. I'll text you when my dad heads out."
"Can't wait. Decide what you want for dinner. Anything your heart desires."
I just beamed and shook my head. "I'll think about it."
"And I'll just be here daydreaming about you."
"You are ridiculous," I laughed. "Bye."
"Bye, baby."
As I hung up, I released a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding. My shitty homecoming was the last thing on my mind now. Every thought, every smile, every wish was only about one thing. Or one person. I hadn't felt this hopeful about someone in years.
And I was trying to ignore the fact that that alone, scared the living daylights out of me.