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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 years ago

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Backdoor Deal With The Devil--Part 3: Wreckening

Calum meets Eve in a bar. And it would be a normal story. However, Eve’s more than he bargained for, and so, the story’s never so simple.

Black!OC.

CW: Mentions of death--no graphic depictions. Overall series contains: Christian religious themes, mentions of death, and smut (18+ only).

Word Count: 24K+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 (Coming Soon)

Enjoy my masterlist

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Calum gets it. When Eve steps in through the door eyes still glowing purple and the small trail of smoke behind her, he’s reminded of all that he had. He’s reminded that he did turn out like the rest. Is this what all the other lovers thought? When they’re older, hips achy and joints stiff, did all the lovers before him wish that they’d chosen something else? Do they wish they’d chosen her? He's second guessing all his choices, bringing her back to a point that she’s used to only having to come to only once at the end, when death is calling. Call it selfish, Calum doesn’t care. It’s Eve and it’s almost all he needs. Calum sighs, eyes slipping closer when her knuckles caress his cheek.

“What’s your secret?” Eve teases. He hasn’t aged much at all in a quick glance. Sure there’s more wrinkles and a bit more gray, but it’s still Calum.

“Oh,” Calum laughs, “my ex-wife said it was coconut oil, sunscreen, and minding my own business. But I’m not sure how right she was about the last one.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.” Sounds like me, she wants to say, but keeps it buried in her gut. The words are tight. They feel like bricks on her chest. But Eve drops her hand and takes in the room. Two boys, one girl and they wear echoes of Calum’s face. Eve doesn’t usually meet the children. But Eve usually doesn’t come back until the very end. She’s mindful more now than she was before what she is here for. Calum told her his kids would be there. He told her that he wanted to introduce them.

Eve hadn’t understood the gravity of the request until now, until she was staring back at the echoes of Calum’s face and seeing their mother in their faces too. Their mother. Eve exhales on the thought. They were children, but they’d already had a mother. Even if they did want to get to know her better, even if they liked her, Eve would be the other woman. Maybe she’d be given the title step mother graciously--but in a sense of later. Maybe they’d like her enough to entertain the thought. But they would always have had a mother. It would never be Eve.

“Kiri, Cailean, and Māra,” Calum starts introducing each of his children. “My little rascals,” he teases, throwing his arm over Kiri’s shoulder. He’s the eldest and has just barely surpassed Calum in height while Cailean is nearly 6 inches taller. Māra holds Eve’s gaze steady. The two--Eve and Māra--are roughly the same height.

Where Calum expects Eve to speak first, Māra beats her to it. “Nakahi.” It falls in a whisper.

Calum steps up. Māra’s not one to mince her word, having two older brothers means she’s had to not be so coy in order to get a word in edgewise. But the last thing Calum wants is animosity between them. But even if Māra isn’t happy about this kind of introduction the last thing she should be doing is this. Eve holds up her arm to pause him, the tips of her fingers hitting him in his sternum.

“I am,” Eve answers. If the eyes didn’t give it away the tongue would. If not the tongue, all Eve would have to do to prove herself as the snake would just to get close. But she doesn’t shy away from it now.

Eve’s easy acceptance of the insult stuns Māra. Why would Eve so easily tolerate it? Why would she agree? Just as quickly as the shock lands, it dissipates. Whatever Eve’s reasons are, they would not break Māra's resolve. “I don’t know why he’s asked you here. But we don’t need a mother.”

“I could never be your mother,” Eve returns. “I will never be your mother. I don’t want to replace her. I’m not going to do that.”

“Bullshit,” she hisses. “Why else would you show up? Hm? You want something.”

Eve only bows her head, hand dropping back to her side. Eve did want something--she wanted peace. She wanted her slice of heaven back. She’d always come back when Calum called her. But just because she would want that didn’t mean others would have to like it. “I’m sorry, Māra.” She turns her attention to Calum’s sons and gives a small smile. “Nice meeting you two. Your father’s twins.”

Cailean grins. “Much more spry than him though.”

Calum levels an unamused look that sends Cailean into a fit of laughter. He knows his father. It’s more annoyance that Calum is trying to convey than severe discipline. Eve’s laughter is soft at the moment. There’s still clear tension beneath the moment of levity. Eve gives her condolences for their late mother, before turning for the door. It’s not that Eve thinks it was a mistake to come. She knew the second Calum told her that his wife had died a few months back and that he wanted to try again with her; they'd be fighting the same battle before their divorce.

“You’re the reason she couldn’t look at me.”

The room freezes but only for a terse and long moment. Calum turns to Māra’s voice. Her chest is heaving but her chin looks unsteady. “Your mother loved you, Mar,” Calum pleads.

Calum needs her to know that. Even if he did do this, even if he asked about the name, knowing the reason behind it all, he never once wanted Māra to feel responsible for any of this. It was selfish. Calum wanted something of Eve after they split. It was less of a mutual choice and more a matter of timing. Calum had crept into his forties faster than he’d realized. The band had slowed down. He adored his time with Eve, but the truth is that their relationship was turning heads. Eve hadn’t, quite literally, aged a day since the start. People were starting to notice, starting to ask questions. Time had ruined them, much like Eve had predicted it would. And then it happened. Wedding bands sat on the dining room table. Eve asked such a simple question but it tipped the scales, “How much longer do you think you can fight fate?”

Māra’s name was all Calum trying to cope with his choices. Māra ducks the outreach of Calum’s touch.

From the stuttered apologies of Calum’s mouth, a clear voice rings out--Eve. “Your mother loves you. Present tense.” Eve’s steps are silent as she closes the distance, but the steps are swift. Eve gets in close. She’s not close enough to invade personal boundaries. But Māra can feel a bit of the heat wafting off Eve’s robes. The purple gaze swirls and for a moment Māra swears she sees her mother’s face in the ocean of purple and brown. “She will never stop loving you. Hate me, a lot of people do. But your mother could never stop loving you. You are not the burden of your mother’s foolishness. You are not responsible for what she did and did not do. You are not responsible for your father’s recklessness--naming you after the other woman, how stupid. But you are still and will always be your mother’s daughter. She will always love you.”

Calum ducks his head at the reprimand. He didn’t think Kelsie would actually agree, and when she had, he was elated. But he hadn’t thought about the consequences. He hadn’t realized what it would actually mean to Māra or to Kelsie.

“You-what?” Māra balks. She takes a half step back, trying to read Eve’s face--the furrowed brow, the hard set scowl. Eve looks nothing like what Māra expected her to look like. Eve looks nothing like Māra wanted Eve to look like. Māra wanted a nasty woman who always looked like she was sneering. But Eve’s face is soft--approachable in a way that Māra has to fight not to give into and just beyond that is clearly a woman who cares, deeply by the flare of her voice, like she’s angry Māra could ever think a thing like that.

“Did you expect me to be flattered that I’ve doomed you, Māra? It’s a good thing I’m only the Devil and not more. You weren’t supposed to get caught in these crosshairs. I can’t undo it. You can, of course if you want. But I’m not bringing you into this. I refuse. You are not the actions of your parents. You are not cursed. Only one of us needs to be and the last time I checked, I’m still fulfilling the position. Leave it to me. All of it.” Eve’s quirked eyebrow says everything that she does not. I am not an enemy. Do not confuse my confession and acceptance of responsibility for weakness. Leave it all with me, I am begging you, but do not take it out on your mother or your father.

Eve is nothing like Māra expected or wanted Eve to be. It would make it so much easier. Māra assumed Eve would take the chance to come slithering back in, play pretend in a family she’d only doomed from the start. But Eve is doing just the opposite.

Māra casts her look to the floor under the heat of Eve’s gaze. “It hurts.”

“It’s going to. It’s only been seven months since you lost her. It’s going to still hurt. And you’re going to be angry. But be angry at me. The thing about having this existence is that we are flawed. We make mistakes. You are not other people’s mistakes. You will make plenty of your own, but do not carry the burden of someone else’s.”

It feels so easy to tell Māra that and it feels so ironic--how Eve had literally become Lucifer’s mistake. But as the years slipped by and continued on, Eve started to consider the idea that maybe Lucifer’s death was her fault. She’d prayed for it. Maybe all she had been doing the entire time was becoming who she was supposed to be. Her identity--even in all the years Eve has lived--would always plague her. It would always perplex her. She would always have to wrestle with it. Good thing there is beauty in becoming. Eve’s journey never stopped.

Eve continues on, “You can be more than what they imagined for you. You can be more with anyone’s imagination for you. Doesn’t that sound so much better than being a shadow?” Eve’s smile is sad. Māra wonders how much of this is actually for her and how much is for Eve. Māra can only stare; she can only try and watch again for another glimpse of her mother’s face in Eve’s eyes. It never comes.

Eve is there, a tender but warm touch on Māra’s wrist and then Eve is gone. Her steps take her to the door and then out of it and the door clicks shut. Calum sighs and follows behind Māra as she heads for the stairs up to her room no doubt. “Māra, please, will you talk to me?”

Māra keeps on. Her father’s pleas are ringing in her ears, but her wrist tingles. Eve’s touch felt electric and she can’t get Eve’s speech out of her head. Doesn’t that sound so much better than being a shadow? What else would Māra even be if not a shadow? Her mother hadn’t been confident enough to push back on her name. Her father's been too in love with someone else to give her something of her own. Māra would always be a shadow. But the thing, the person, the entity that was supposed to be blocking her was stepping aside. Eve was telling Māra to be so much more than her.

Calum stops short just fast enough to avoid his nose being smacked into a bloody pulp by the strength of Māra’s slam. The lock clicks and he drops his head into the hollow wood. “Māra, please, I’m sorry,” Calum croaks. The tears are clearer now as they flood his vision. He’s not sure when the tears started but they fall freely now.

Calum only gives himself a few moments at Māra’s door before pushing off it. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk,” he calls out softly.

No response.

When Calum returns downstairs, Kiri and Cailean are settled onto the living room couch. Calum looks over to the table with the spread of food he’d prepared. “Eat however much you want, it doesn't matter. Make sure Māra eats too please when she comes down.”

Kiri nods at the instruction. “You hungry, Pops?”

Calum inhales hard, trying to keep more tears at bay. “I’m good, son. Thanks. Leave whatever’s left when you three are done. I’ll-I’ll clean it up, alright?”

“So, where are you headed?” Cailean asks, noticing the shuffle of Calum’s body near the hallway. “I mean--Eve, uh, made quite the scene. I-I sort of like her.”

“You just think she’s hot,” Kiri retorts. “But she could’ve been our mom, so gross.”

“Good thing she’s not. And if you’re saying that I think she’s hot, it means you think she was too.”

Kiri shoves his younger brother’s shoulders before grabbing a throw pillow to follow the shove with a blow. “Shut up.”

Calum lets the rough housing bring the levity it always does. But he’s also aware of his role as their father. “Alright, alright,” he calls out and the tussle, mostly a battle of the couch throws, settles swiftly. “Eat, please. That way you’ll be too tired to cause trouble.”

The boys laugh for a moment before pushing up. Cailean heads up the steps and Calum’s sure it’s to coax Māra out of her room. This is not what he expected when he asked Eve to stop by. But if Calum’s learned anything about life is that it never cooperates. The stairs carry the echoes of two sets of feets. Māra pointedly doesn’t look at Calum. There’s no fighting it. There’s nothing he can say to her to make it better and until she’s ready, he’d just be wasting time.

“I swear to Christ Cai, I will murder you,” Māra huffs and Calum watches as the two wrestle for the spoon in the macaroni and cheese. Cailean gives up easily and lets her get her scoops served first.

“Gotta make you work for it,” he returns.

Calum can only watch as they settle at their respective spots at the table. Kiri nods for Calum to take his seat too and Calum sighs. He wants to talk to Eve, ask her what the hell happened and what he should do. But his kids matter more than anything else. They’ve lost a mother; they shouldn’t lose him too. Calum fixes his plate, and settles down to complete the unit. His kids won’t lose him. As much as it hurts, to put Eve on the back burner again, to know that in the grand scheme of things she’d always understand because she’d have to, Calum knows that the consequence of not putting his children first would be a worser fate.

He goes to the table. Though he doesn’t actually eat until much later in the night, after they’ve all gone up to their rooms, Calum sits with his children like a father should.

The guest bedroom sheets are just as Calum left them from the morning, tucked and a little rumpled. It doesn’t matter since his mother’s no longer filling the space anymore. She left two weeks ago, after staying two months to help him as he tried to find some sort of grounding in this new phase of his life. For a moment, as Calum settles under the cover, he wonders if he’s just using Eve to fill the void he’s not ready to confront. But is it a crime? He’s always had someone for the better half of his life. Being alone is terrifying.

The night should go like all the others. Calum doesn’t sleep--not for long anyway. Instead, he lays of the night staring up at the ceiling. His eyes will get heavy somewhere around 1 in the morning and then they’ll crack open around 5 am, if he’s lucky of course. He’ll then lay again, watching more of the ceiling not change and then finally push up to get breakfast going and ensure all the kids who need to be at school in the morning are at school.

His sleep isn’t fitfull anymore, thankfully. He doesn’t dream of the crash anymore, seven months later. So when Calum shuts his eyes and floats into nothingness, he thinks tonight will be like all the rest of his nights lately. But behind the nothingness is red, a hint of blue too, but mostly red and some yellow. A muted coloring that is until a siren cuts in. And amongst the road--glass, blood, and metal is Kelsie.

Calum’s just behind the yellow tape. He wants to break the barrier, but he can’t. It won’t budge. That damned tape. “Kelsie, hold on!” he shouts.

None of the firefighters and first responders really seem to care. They walk around Kelsie and her flipped car. But they don’t move towards it. “Help her! Please!” Calum hollers. “My wife needs help!”

The barrier pushes back. Calum claws desperately at it. He thinks he might be able to get a leg up and if he can, he can get over. But the barrier pushes and pushes him back. It scrapes against the asphalt, right into his gut and he can’t get over it.

In the light, as his hands stretch out but get no real purchase to bring himself closer to Kelsie, his gold band glints. The red and yellow lights bounce off the band and it feels like hot iron. The flesh around the band stings. It creeps up his palm, dancing a fire line to his elbow. Calum hisses out at the sting and when the sharpness suprasses his elbow, a full on yell escapes his throat.

Calum forces the sheets off himself, a gasp filling his lungs with air that he hadn’t realized he’d lost. The room is dark around him. There’s a faint hum above him and he knows it’s Kiri’s room. The boy ran a fan at all times, even in winter. The house is as silent as it usually is at night. As Calum sits up, palm pushing into the mattress, he catches how damn the sheets are. He checks the chest of the t-shirt and sure enough he’s sweat through the cotton of it.

Calum swings his feet to the floor. The hardwood is cool under his toes, but what rocks him more are the tears slipping from his eyes. Calum covers his face with his palms and lets himself cry. He probably needed it anyway. No one would help her. He knows that’s not actually the case. The cops told him that paramedics spent several minutes performing CPR on Kelsie at the crash site. They wanted to get her breathing again before moving her on, but time was of the essence too. They tried the whole damn ambulance ride to resuscitate, but she was declared dead on arrival at the hospital.

Everyone tried to help her.

And yet, Calum still can’t shake the grip of grief. He should’ve told her he’d go. He should’ve just taken the cross city trip. He should’ve embraced the fucking traffic.

And it’s not Calum’s fault. But having someone to blame made more sense of the accident. Someone would have to be at fault. It didn’t feel right to blame the previous accident that had caused the pile up. Calum’s not sure why he can’t blame it. It never felt right. His sob rings back to Calum and he tries hard to swallow back down the sound. Calum wants to be past this stuff. He wants to be past the nightmares. Calum spends most of his waking time feeling like he can get through. He can get through his days most of the time. Calum can get through.

Yet now, it feels like it’s all crumbling.

Calum throws his head back, inhaling hard. The tears haven’t slowed, but he’s not choking on sobs anymore. It’s an improvement. He inhales once, deeply through his nose. It falls from his lips shaky. But he inhales again. “You couldn’t have saved her,” Calum tells himself.

But I wish I could’ve. I wish I could’ve been the one dead and not her.

Calum knows what it means when those thoughts slip in. It’s the fatigue. He doesn’t want to actually die. He just wants to end his suffering. He reaches forward, hand slapping down into the bedside table. The tap of his fingers causes his phone to light up and he gets a solid grip on the device before pulling it closer to him.

He enters his code and finds his text messages.

Eve’s thread is right near the top. I can be there. It’s all she said when Calum asked her to come by, even when he mentioned the kids being there. She hadn’t said anything since she left. No text. No call. Calum had intended to apologize one more time about Māra’s outburst, but then he had to be the dad. He sat down with his kids for dinner and he had to do the things sole surviving parents do even when they want to give in because they can’t give in. Or least, Calum wouldn’t give in.

His fingers hover over her name. Maybe he could call her. Eve would always understand. But he can’t bring himself to call her. It’s not her duty for this. Not that Eve would call him weak, but he hates the feeling that he’d reach out to her in such a state. All choices with her he wanted to make when his head was clear. They had too much history. Eve was too understanding. She was too resigned to her own fate as the other woman that she’d let herself become a punching bag.

But Calum clings, even as he clicks away from her name and thread to Ashton’s, Calum clings to the smile she gave him when he opened the door. She smiled at him like the sun had just dawned after days of clouds. He could use that smile to get him through the night.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Ashton’s voice is thick, clearly he too had been asleep.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Calum returns, realizing now he hadn’t texted Ashton before calling.

“No, no, you can call whenever. How’d it go with Eve?”

“Didn’t,” Calum sighs.

“Did she not show? I thought--”

“Timing’s just not right,” Calum returns. It’s easier this way in the lie, but the truth follows soon after. “Mar sort of snapped. Eve left and I’ve got nightmares coming back out of the blue.”

“A triple threat of a day,” Ashton laughs.

“Something like that,” Calum exhales.

“Talk to me. Cry it out. Whatever you need, mate. I’m here.”

Calum does--his mouth opens again and the words fall like they’ve been backed up in a dam and Ashton just puts a crack in the wall.

**********

Kiri and Cailean announce their departure for the last of the summer party a month and some change after the failed attempt to meet Eve. Calum’d asked Eve to give them more time and she, thankfully, understood. Now, at the door of the house Calum’s with his own practiced speech, which used to be his and his wife’s. “Stick to an alcohol of one type, text you if we’re going to be staying the night, check that the condoms aren’t expired,” Cailean and Kiri echoes.

“Bless our mother for always cringing at the last part,” Cailean tacts on.

Calum pats each of them on the shoulder. “You carry the tradition well.”

“Let’s hope we don’t run into the devil ourselves,” Cailean teases. His fascination with Eve hasn’t exactly waned in the time, but Calum takes the jokes in stride.

Calum knows they’re harmless, but still he has to give Cailean a run for his words. “She’ll smite you,” Calum laughs, knocking gently at the snapback on Cailean’s head. He wears it backward at any and every turn. It is a miracle that any formal events in the last two years haven’t been a battle. Calum watches the two boys, three years apart, slip through the front door. Their laughter echoes behind the closed door.

The drawers from the kitchen rattle as they open and close. Calum pads over and peeks his head to see Māra fixing a bowl of ice cream. “Do you want some?” she asks, back turned to Calum.

“I’m okay, sweetpea. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course,” she returns.

It's an improvement. She’d gone nearly a week and a half where she only spoke to Calum when he initiated her. He’d tried to take it in stride and held together his peace and sanity thinking of what Kelsie had to remind him of all the time, She’s slow to crack. Just keep a steady presence. And boy had Kelsie been right about Māra more than ever before.

“Still good for back to school shopping tomorrow?” Calum asks.

“Sounds good. These boots I want just went on sale.”

“The white platform ones?”

She nods, turning now with the bowl to her chest. “With the pink hearts.”

“Are they in the cart already?” Calum leans into the wall, keeping a soft smile on his face.

“Maybe,” Māra sings out.

“Use my card when you check out.”

“It’s 109 with shipping,” Māra states, grinning wide for a moment. She’s waiting. The boots were originally 170 and she prayed that she could find a coupon to get them under 100 so that Calum would be more reasonable about the compromise. While the boots had a major slash in price, shipping still pushed her over the threshold.

“You better wear them. Every single day,” Calum laughs, nodding over his shoulder.

“Dad,” she reprimands

“At least once a week.”

“Fair.” With the first spoonful consumed, Māra leaves herself pressed into the counter. “I shouldn’t have said that stuff to Eve. It wasn’t fair.”

“Do you feel cursed?” Calum asks in return. He could tell her she’s right. He could tell her that she was out of line, but she already knows that. The more important thing right now is the why. Why did Māra feel the need to say that in the first place? Could Calum keep her from feeling that way again in the future?

Māra shrugs. In and of itself, the action is an answer. “I feel like Mom loved me. She didn’t treat me any different. But she knew, didn’t she? About Eve?”

Calum tries to not make his children responsible for his own emotions. They’re not free therapy but they were watchful kids. They noticed even if Calum didn’t want them too. “Your mom did know about Eve.” A neutral response. It answers Māra’s question but doesn’t shift blame or responsibility.

“Why? Why’d you do it?”

“Eve wasn’t wrong when she called me reckless. I thought I was clever with the reasons I told her mother. But your mother was more clever than I.”

Māra hums around a second spoonful of her ice cream. The silence hangs between them. Calum can feel it pressing against his shoulders. But he can’t press Māra. The words bashes against his teeth and then his lips are parting before he really realizes. “You’re not just what I thought I could hang onto of Eve. You’re my daughter. Who makes fashion choices that give me heart attacks and who can tussle with the boys and not be afraid of a scratch. You’re brilliant in maths and science. You’re going to find the cure for some rare disease, kid. I know you will. You are more than a name.”

“Cancer--I’m going to find the cure for cancer,” Māra corrects.

“You’re going to find the cure for cancer,” Calum reiterates.

Her spoon clinks against the side of the bowl, ringing in their ears long after the sounds disappeared from the air. “What-What happened to Eve? Like when she told me to let her be the only cursed one and that it sounded so much better to be more than a shadow--did something happen? To her?”

Calum exhales. He could answer that. But he shouldn’t. It’s not his story to tell. Calum pushes off the wall and puts the container of ice cream back into the freezer before leaning into the counter next to Māra. “If you want, you can ask her yourself. But I can’t answer that for her. It’s her story to tell.”

“Yeah, let’s just summon the devil right quick,” Māra snorts, holding her bowl out--a small gesture to see if Calum was sure about the lack of ice cream on his part.

Calum gently nudges her shoulder, “We can. I have her number.”

The text is easy to send--Māra wants a chat when you’re free. Let me know. The waiting is the hard part. Māra clings to his arm, peering at the phone every few seconds to see the reply come in. She’d huff about Calum for specifying it was her desire to speak with Eve, but she lets go of all the annoyance when Calum’s phone shakes.

I’ll be there in half an hour, baring Death has no more surprise plans.

“Who’s Death?” Māra asks.

“A long standing friend,” Calum laughs.

“Like the Grim Reaper?” Calum nods at the question. Māra continues on, “What the hell did you get yourself into, Dad? You’re just in the midst of all these darn supernatural beings. Were you in love with Death too?”

Playfully, Calum gets Māra into a headlock before kissing her forehead. “I had a wild youth.”

“Apparently.” She tugs herself free from Calum’s hold and huffs when her hair stands up straight from the friction of his t-shirt. Calum’s quick to smooth down the curls. Māra picks up her bowl again. The bottom portion of the bowl is a sugary milk that she can slurp up with just a quick tilt while the rest remains solid. The minutes feel like they’re crawling. Eventually Calum leads both of them to the kitchen table, settling in next to each other.

“She’ll be here. Or let us know if she’s going to be late,” Calum reassures when he notices Māra’s glance back to his phone. “Besides, it still gives you time to complete that purchase.”

“Shoes! You’re right!” Māra scurries up to her room to grab her laptop. Calum finds his wallet and they meet back at the dining room table. He’s wary of the platform shoes, but Māra begs and pleads that she’ll be okay, so he slides her the card to complete the purchase. She’s swift with typing in the numbers and his name. They’re not too high of a heel and they are thick so they should provide more stability--something Calum had learned from Kelsie in their shopping escapades.

Her laptop dings two minutes later. “Ordered. Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, Mar.”

A clink of the spoon hitting the bowl echoes throughout the room. “If you loved Eve so much, why did you marry Mom?”

“I love your mother.” It’s easy to say that. Because he does love Kelsie. He also loves Eve. Calum never attempted to qualify it or quantify the love he has for Kelsie. Inevitably, it would always be an unfair comparison when put up against the level he has for Eve. They were both types of love and they were both different. “It’s not a switch--love. And when you get older than you are now, it’ll make more sense. But sometimes we can’t be together forever with who we love. Things happen. People want different things.”

“Love sounds awful, ya know?”

“I used to think the same thing, kid.” Calum confesses. They stare out of the windows that make up the walls of the side of the house. It’s a cloudy night--thanks to some earlier storm so there’s a bit of a haze to the night. “Then I met Eve.”

It should be easy. However, Eve’s hands shake for just a moment before she knocks. The fog helps her for the moment though she wished the porch light didn’t feel so much like a spotlight. Calum would surely be angry with her. She’d call him reckless and his dead wife foolish. Certainly those remarks wouldn’t be overlooked. She doesn’t regret them--just wishes she’d handled it all a bit more delicately. She’d told Māra to hate her, let her be the cursed one like she already was. Enough damage, Eve was previously certain that she’d hear very little again.

The door opens and Calum smiles at her. “Hi, Eve.”

Her heart races just a little. The grays are sprinkled throughout the black and he still looks good--lived in due to his age, but still handsome as ever. “Hi, Calum,” she breathes in return.

“C’mon. Come in.” He opens the door wider and Eve steps up and into the house.

Māra’s gaze is locked in and Eve gives a small wave. She can only hope the jeans and peasant blouse don’t feel overly dramatic as she follows behind Calum. He’d given her no hint as to what the conversation would be about and Eve could not read minds even if she could manipulate dreams.

“Hi, Māra,” Eve states the closer she gets. “A little birdie told me you wanted to chat?”

Māra nods. “If such a bird is approximately 6’1 in height.”

Eve takes a once over of Calum’s stature. “I’d give him six feet even. He’s getting older; gravity kicks in.”

Calum scoffs at the jab but still offers a drink. Eve politely declines and settles opposite of Māra at the table. “I like your nails,” Māra offers, noticing the points at the end of Eve’s fingers painted a deep green.

“Thank you. I like your hair.”

“Thanks.” Then there is only silence. Calum hovers in the kitchen paused in his work to pour water though no one wanted it. Eve wants to press figure out what exactly has brought this meeting on but Māra is only a child. It takes time.

“Dad says you and him go way back? And that you know The Grim Reaper or something?”

Eve lets a small smile across her lips. “He and I do go way back. And I do know Death. We’re colleagues if you could ever imagine such a thing.”

“He stole you for a week once,” Calum retorts, setting two glasses down onto the table. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I apologized for that.”

“You did,” Calum concedes, returning back to the kitchen for his own glass.

“You’re such a softie,” Māra huffs. “Key, Cai, and I can never get away with just an apology.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Calum returns. “It’s in the parental handbook. You get to see a copy once you become a parent.”

Eve only watches, a soft exhale of laughter falling from her. This is what she wanted for Calum. It would never be with her. Maybe it’s her own selfishness. Maybe it truly is love. In all the centuries Eve has lived she has never once been able to settle on which one it actually is. But it’s a heartwarming scene and Calum settles to Māra’s right and teases her. Perhaps it only matters in retrospect that it has a label. Eve had plenty of time to ponder all the things of the past.

“Anyways, Dad won’t tell me what happened to you. Like what you meant about not being a shadow. I don’t know. I’m angry sometimes because I know about who I was named after and it feels like my fault? Maybe?”

Calum squeezes an arm around Māra’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, sweetpea. It’s mine. You can always change it.”

Māra only nods but she looks at Eve. Maybe the name wouldn’t be so bad if Māra knew more. But it would all be a sign from the universe. It is a big maybe. Though the possibility is never zero. There’s just Māra’s gut—the voice that says there is something more to know before passing any last judgements.

Eve nods, gaze falling down to her fingers. “I apologize for my comments last week. Reckless and foolish were harsh words to use about your mother and father.”

“I mean kind of right though,” Māra laughs, elbowing her father. Calum concedes with only a shrug.

Easier than anticipated but Eve still wanted to right her wrongs. The apology is still sincere and Eve can only hope it’s received as such. “Still, there were kinder words to use.”

“Tell me.” The words fall softly and though it sounds like it should be a demand the lilt in Māra’s voice makes it sound so much more like a question.

“What do you want to know?” Eve questions in return.

“Everything.”

“Do you know who I am?” The word what lingers just behind the word who but Eve doesn’t utter it. She is not a thing--a long time coming, the revelation. Eve is a being--mystical and supernatural, but still a being. She is not a thing.

“Yes.”

“You know what I do?”

Māra gives a shrug. “Vaguely. Keep the pits of Hell wide open. Flames. Bad people--like I said vaguely.”

“When I caused the death of my late husband, Lucifer, I was left to take over his mantle. I was not always the Devil. I was a Saint. I fell because I was married to Lucifer when he fell. I hated it. I hated Lucifer. I wanted nothing more than to go back into the Kingdom. But years passed. Hatred turned into anger. Praying for divorce or separation turned into praying for death. Prayers receive answers, I found out. Lucifer was killed because of my prayers. I became the Devil and as if immortality is not enough, every lover I have is mortal. They’ll pass on and I will see them through to the other side and they will get a story of completion. I get the same story over and over again. A new love, mourning death, a new love, and death yet again.”

“So my dad?” The question doesn’t quite get finished but Eve nods at it. “Oh. But he’s not dead? So…where does my mom fit into this?”

It’s a sad smile--through and through-- Eve’s smile is sad and wobbly as her chin shivers. “Perhaps I have gotten too comfortable with my fate. I can’t bear children. I expect all my lovers to want that--most have. Those who haven’t cared for children aren’t prepared to handle them growing and aging while I’m stuck here, like this.” Eve gives a dismissive wave over herself.

“Did you want to leave?” Māra turns to Calum for the question. From what she could gather, he’d known all about this. And he still left.

“Sweetpea,” Calum starts. It’s all he says but everything he needs to say is in the nickname: You don’t need to worry about that. That’s not your battle. It’s mine. That’s my choice.

“No. I know it’s really not my business why you made those choices and I know that you never want us to feel like we’re responsible for them. But please, this one time, just answer me straight. Did you want to leave Eve?”

“I love Eve and I love Kelsie and I have always loved them both--in similar and in different ways. I knew I wanted kids. I knew that with my job Eve’s immortality would cause problems. I knew I had to make a choice.” Calum knows he’s dodging the question. He tried not to think about his own desires for a long time. He tried not to think about all the other options he could’ve had. Stepping behind the music scenes, going into some sort of semi retirement, hiding too if necessary. He’d briefly considered going with Eve--if she could somehow bring him to Hell. But there was something in his gut that never vocalized the thought. Maybe it’s because Eve’s always seemed content with letting Calum always be human.

“Bullshit.”

Eve snorts at Māra’s retort and looks to Calum for his reaction. She is sure that there’s two ways he’ll respond.

“Māra,” Calum returns firmly. “You may not like what I’m saying but--”

“No,” Māra interrupts. “No, Dad. I’m calling you out. We all have choices to make. We always do. You chose to bring Eve back into your life right now. You chose to introduce us. You had a reason for it.”

As much as Calum was proud of how he’d reared his children, he wishes in this moment he hadn’t done such a stellar job as right now. He sighs. “Just know you asked. I never wanted to leave Eve. But if I didn’t, if we didn’t leave the relationship when we had, I wouldn’t have Kiri, or Cailean, or you. I wouldn’t have met Kelsie. I wouldn’t know what it means to love in such soul crushing ways for my children and my late wife. Kelsie and I loved unselfishly. Because we had to. We had Kiri so early on it wasn’t about us all the time though we had our time. Then it was Cailean. Then you. We loved each other the way I want all three of you to love with a partner.”

Eve can see the tears in Māra’s eyes--the way her eyes flicker over his face, like she doesn’t understand. Though she wants to save Calum, she’s worried about crossing a line. She is not replacing nor could she ever replace Kelsie. She’d told Māra that’s not what she would ever do. So Eve flicks her gaze around and spots a napkin tray on the table. She grabs a couple and gingerly puts them into Māra’s palm.

“I love Eve selfishly,” Calum returns. “In the ways like when you’re young and you see something you just have to have or you think you’re going to die and the world’s going to end. It’s not bad, not all the time. It’s a love that can mature, can grow and really shape into something beautiful. I want it all. And even in my old age, I forget I can’t. I couldn’t then--it’s why we divorced when we did. It’s why I made sure to give everything I could to Kelsie and you three. Because I knew, I knew I couldn’t have it all. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want it.”

“Might as well call desire a poison,” Eve states.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Calum corrects, looking up at Eve through his lashes. “Desire does not have to be fatal.”

“When you are me, it is.”

He scoffs. Eve would always be Eve--she’d always carry the curse like a badge. But he knows what’s inside of her. He knows how to make her cry with laughter. He knows how to make her feel as close to human as she can get. “The martyr act got old thirty odd years ago, Eve.”

It’s not quite a scold, but Eve knows the tone. It’s firm and comes from deeper in Calum’s chest than normal. She only nods at his steady gaze. Calum turns back to Māra. In the back of his mind he’s chanting a prayer--that she gets it, that she’ll let this go. “We all grieve in different ways,” Calum starts, staring down at his daughter. Her eyes are glassy. “I’m sorry to rush this, to act like you’re still not learning how to deal with the loss of your mother.”

“What-what if I want what you and Eve have? Had? I don’t know. But something that consumes.”

Calum sighs, eyes shutting at the sentence. “Sweetpea, no. This isn’t to prove anything to you.”

“No, you said you want me to have a love like you and Mom’s. But Mom’s--you love her. I know you did. Or do. Anyone with firing brain cells can see that. You were at PTA meetings with her. You corralled us when she was sick so she could get some sleep. You’d call ahead to restaurants to make sure her allergy wouldn’t be a problem. You love Mom. It’s clear. But what if I don’t want mundane love?”

“It comes with a price. What you want is not easy,” Calum answers. The response falls without hesitation off his tongue.

“Eve, you have to let me in,” Calum returns. He’s gripping the side of the kitchen counter, trying to keep his voice from rising. Yelling does not solve problems. Yelling only creates a shouting match--and boy, are they good at those.

“I am. I am letting you in.”

“Where’s Duke?”

“With the dog sitter--I had to go.”

“Go where?”

“You know where.”

Calum’s fingers curl around and he’s quick to fix his fist back to an open palm. “No, I don’t. I don’t know where you had to go. Because the dog sitter didn’t say that in their text.”

“I left a note,” Eve counters.

Calum snatches the note off the counter. “Cal--Had business to attend to. Texted the dog sitter and Duke’s with her. I may be gone for a while. Love you.”

Eve stands cooly at the entrance of the kitchen. She’d left a note. She’d gotten Duke to the sitter’s house like they agreed when she had to leave for business and wouldn’t be back quickly.

“That’s the note you left?” Calum questions tossing the single sheet of paper back onto the counter. “How am I supposed to know where you’ve gone?”

“You know where I’m going.”

“You’re always gone. Always,” Calum returns. He was used to him having to leave. He was supposed to leave. It was a part of his job.

“Calum, I have to leave to conduct my business.” Eve bites back the retort that he knows she has to leave. It’s not going to make the situation any better. She takes a step closer--not daring to touch Calum, but to let him know that she is here now.

“Why? Why do you have to leave? Stay here with me. Give up your title. Stay here with me, please.” Calum hates how quickly the facade crumbles. He wanted to be pissed. He wanted to have a screaming match with her to prove to both of them that as much as they were supposed to be destined for each other it was already just a thin veil of toxicity. Calum had seen and been a part of his fair share of toxic relationships. He was over them. Sometimes he wished either it was a bad dream he’d wake up from or Eve really was playing games with his heart. But he can’t do that. The truth of the matter is that he loves her too damn much to want to be consistently at odds with her.

“I’m sorry I leave all the time.”

Calum steps out to the side, out of Eve’s path. “Say you’re going to stay with me. I know you can give it up. Don’t you want to be with me?”

“I do want to be with you.” Eve’s heart thunders in her chest. He’s going to ask it--the one question no one else had dared ask because she never really let them ask. “What can I do to show to you that I want to be with you?”

“You can give it up--stop playing in His game.”

“Is-is there something else?” Eve questions. She nearly pleads that he demands her to do anything else.

A new fire lights behind Calum’s gaze and where sadness had rained on the initial flare of anger her question lights a new spark. He closes the distance and though he’s breathing is heavy, his hold on her face is gentle. His eyes flicker over her face, taking in the color of her eyes, the moles scattered about her face. A gorgeous sight, Calum knows all too well. But there’s something new to be unearthed. He watches her blinks and the lower lip wobbles. There--there it is. “You don’t know who you are without it, do you?”

Eve shakes her head in his grasp. The tears prickle behind her eye. Her stomach turns a bit with disgust. “No, I don’t. I’ve been like this for so long. I barely remember the before.”

“Let me show you. I don’t know who you were before, but I know you right now. Let me show who you can be if you just give it up.”

It’s all so simple to him. Eve knows it’s not. She can give it up. But the second she does, she’s on a ticking time bomb. She won’t have long. And even if she did beg and plead, her renouncement of her faith all those years ago would surely be used against her. But she wants to give it to Calum--everything he’s desired. But she can’t give it all to him.

“Please, Calum.”

It is a full sentence. And he only sighs and drops his hands from her cheeks. She’s not going to give it up. He wanted her to, but she didn’t. He nods. “Can-can we just take a time out?” Calum asks. He’s not done with this conversation yet. But he can feel his own throat closing up--too many emotions squeezing at his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eve nods, wiping her cheeks. He’ll go to the music room. She’ll go to the garden. It’s where they always go.

As Eve watches Calum shuffling towards the back of the house, her chest aches. He hadn’t gotten what she’d asked. She wanted him to show her who she is. Perhaps, it is for the better that he doesn't. But she wishes, as she settles onto the bench in the middle of her hostas, that Calum heard what she was asking for in between the lines, to please show her who she really is.

Perhaps, she’d never be good at letting him in in ways he’d recognize.

Calum wishes he could pour his memories into Māra’s brain. He can’t. All he has are his actions and his words. “You can have a much easier life,” he pleads. The rest of the sentence doesn’t fall, but it bashes against his teeth, if you just listened to me for once.

Māra gives a nod, knowing the look in her father’s eyes--the one where he looks like he’s worried and it bleeds into every ounce of his face. It makes her stomach hurt because she knows it’s from such a genuine place. The moment hangs between the three of them like a curtain billowing in a breeze. They can all see the fluttering but do nothing to stop it. So there it hangs and hangs, and hangs.

“What about you?” Māra asks. Eve just barely recognizes the question is for her before Māra continues on, “Did you want Dad to leave? Do you want him back?”

“Thorough, I see,” Eve grins before exhaling deeply. “I wanted the story I always knew; I wanted the comfort of what is inevitable. I filed the notion for divorce after bringing it up to your father. It was easier to let something go if I was cutting the rope. But as selfish as I was, I-I know the frustrations I caused. I want him to be happy. And I want to only hurt him twice. I’ve gotten my first strike. I hope this is my last time.”

“Eve?” Calum questions, reaching across the table. She slides her hands down into her lap. “No-you don’t. No.” Calum remarks. It’s the same thing she did when she asked about the divorce. “You don’t get to leave me and expect me to just be okay with it. Not again. You can’t keep making choices for me. You won’t. I told you you can’t keep playing the martyr.”

“Is it playing if no one is pretending?”

“I should’ve popped popcorn instead of having ice cream,” Māra whispers.

It’s the sound of her voice that brings Calum back to earth. “I’m not a child,” he adds softly to Eve. “Let’s talk about it--together-- anyone decides anything.”

It’s not supposed to go like this. It’s not. Eve’s not supposed to get a shot like this. It never happens. She has her lovers for a few fleeting years and then they want more. They leave her. She lets them. They call her on death beds. She comes--if any of them called, she came. Which is why she is here. Because Calum called her. He asked her to come here. But she’s not supposed to get another stretch with him. It would never work.

It’s on the tip of her tongue. It’s burning into the enamel of her teeth, You’re getting older. I am standing still. Eve only nods, hands still in her lap. “Okay.” There are very moments of peace. But Eve’s simple response--the one word--brings a stillness to the room yet again. She drifts her gaze to Māra, who quickly looks away. “You should definitely pop some popcorn,” Eve teases.

Māra snorts at the jab. “That was supposed to be an inside thought.”

“Whoops,” Eve laughs. “Is-is there anything else you want to know, Māra?”

So enveloped in the exchange of her father and Eve, Māra hadn’t thought to contemplate further. She is curious about what Eve does exactly and she’s curious if Eve really means all the things she said, but so far, Eve felt honest. Māra obviously only had her father to back up anything Eve had said. But her gut is settled--Eve is an honest woman, blunt sometimes but always honest.

Māra shakes her head. “Not right now. But thank you. For coming here and answering the questions I did have. If-if I have more, is it okay for me to get your number from Dad?”

Eve nods. “If you want me to answer anything else, please get my number from him. Or better yet,” Eve pauses and she spies a pen clearly left on the table from some other task and grabs a napkin from the holder. She scribbles down the ten digits. “I may be slow to answer sometimes. I’m not always…within service, you could say. But I will see it--the call or the text eventually. Texts are better for me, but do whatever you prefer.”

Māra takes the napkin with a nod. “Thank you. I’ll let you know it’s me when I text or call.” She goes to go exit, halfway turned to the table, but she thanks Eve one last time for coming by and with one over the shoulder glance to Calum--to which he gives a nod--Māra picks up her laptop and moves back to stairs. She takes them two at a time to the top and it’s quiet in the kitchen until her door closes.

“We spent how many years together? And you still want to act like I’m unable to fathom the consequences of my actions,” Calum states with a little bit of vile in his tone. He pushes up from the table and rinses the bowl Māra left behind so it doesn’t get sticky. As he pauses at the sink, Calum exhales. “And we’re doing it--again. Going around the same wheel.”

Eve’s slow as she pushes up from the table. Her steps are soft on the hardwood floor. Where she’d previously held back, Eve slips one hand onto Calum’s side. He’s a little softer than she remembers, of course. They were in the height of his youth. Of course as the years trail on, the weight’s settled more and more. But Eve likes it--she likes how his flesh molds around her hold. “You weren’t. I wasn’t expecting you to call when you did. I had you pegged like the others. You’d grieve your wife, the mother of your children, until the end and only then when you were scared that you’d be leaving this earth next you’d have one of your children call out for me.”

Calum nearly whimpers at Eve’s touch. Her touch had always been so sure and confident. She’d always touched him like she dared him to question it and Calum never did. He couldn’t bring himself to. “It’s lonely. After we agreed to end things, I had to learn how to be alone. I-call me stupid or reckless, I don’t want to be alone again. I only get one life and goddamn, I’m not about to spend it regretting something.”

Eve presses into his flesh. It’s an action to beckon Calum to face her. But he doesn’t. He clutches the edges of the counter. So Eve slides her second arm up and over his waist, her fingers thread on his stomach. “I’m sorry,” she whispers into his clothed back.

Her voice makes his spine shiver and Calum drops his head on his neck. Her kiss is warm on his spine and Calum’s throat is tight. He’s missed this--missed someone touching him so gently. He’s missed having someone.

He’s missed Eve.

“We can work something out,” Calum whispers. His eyes sting with the tears finally free to shed. “The kids--it’s going to take a minute I know. But I need you for me.” Calum pushes up and Eve gives him space to face her. She wipes at the tears on his cheeks. He holds her waist--and God, she’s still the same in his arms.

“Do you remember when--oh, it’s been years now-- but you asked me to give this all up?” Calum nods at Eve’s question. “And you figured out the truth--I don’t know who I am if I’m not the Devil. But you begged--you begged me to show me who I was beneath it all. That ring a bell?”

Calum remembers it clearly. “Sounds like us. And you essentially shot down the idea.”

Eve shakes her head. “No. I was telling you to show me who I am. But I didn’t have the right words. I didn’t know how to say it. I was agreeing with you--something I’m sure is a shock.”

Calum’s laughter rumbles through his chest. The lines on his face are a little deeper as he smiles with the action. “You were reluctant to admit that sometimes.”

“I still don’t know what I’m really meant to do outside of this mantle. But I know I don’t want to give it up. I like this, I’ve learned. It’s shitty work sometimes--dealing with some of the nastiest folks on this planet. But I walk Earth a lot more now than before. I can help them before it’s too late. I get to make a change and I’m everything He’s said to despise. I like knitting. Can you believe that? Me, knitting,” Eve laughs at the confession.

“Please tell me you’re knitting more than socks,” Calum teases.

“Maybe I am,” Eve retorts.

“What else are you doing then? Are you still raising hell for poor folks in bars with your feminine wiles?”

Eve chuckles, but shakes her head. “No, not right now.” In the future, she’d have to start over with someone new. She’d have to put herself in just the right spot to be spotted again. She’d spend months on the hunt, but she doesn’t have to do that right now. “See--that’s the problem.”

“What is?” Calum tucks some of her hair behind her ear. Only on the right side though. She liked leaving the left out. His fingers are soft as they trail down the skin of her jaw. “What’s the problem?”

It’s so easy to give in. When Calum’s holding her close and she can smell the scent of his fading cologne and detergent, Eve’s weak. He’s her achilles heel. Eve’s glad only the two of them know that. She’s glad for the moment she can melt away and drop her head to his chest. Calum cradles the back of her head, the black strands, slipping easily through his fingers. He rests his cheek on the top of her head. God, even her shampoo is the same, Calum realizes.

“The problem is that I-I don’t know how to do this, being me outside of the mantle all the time. Will you help me?”

The question makes the air in Calum’s throat catch--he had not expected Eve to give in so easily after she’d just stated that she was willing and wanted to leave. He cranks his head up and hers back to get a solid look at her. “Please tell me you mean that.”

It only takes three words for Calum’s chest to spasm in relief. “I mean it.”

*************************

They don’t meet outside of Calum’s house or property initially. At first, it’s in the dead of the night when Calum’s sure the kids are all asleep or they are all out when Eve comes over. It starts innocently at first--a conjuring of a list with all the things Eve thought she might like but hadn’t really given herself enough space to try--needle punching, skydiving, brewing beer. It’s a silly list. Calum laughs as he fixes them tea or something heavier for the night as Eve considers the youth she never had. She contemplates comics and boardgames.

But the touches linger longer. It gets easier to flirt like they used to. The goodbye kisses turn into greeting kisses. The greeting kisses turn into just because kisses. The act of falling in love a second time feels faster and slower than the first time. But they’re okay with it. It lands them all here, Eve standing at the coffee pot. She liked having a cup of something warm in her hands—a grounding sensation though it might seem counterintuitive. Calum holds her from behind, pressing gentle kisses over her neck. She giggles at the sensation of the beard he’s let grow in scratch the skin of her neck.

“I’m going to spill this creamer if you don’t quit it,” Eve returns through her laughter.

“I won’t tell Cailean.” The voice startles both Eve and Calum. Calum pulls away, reacting as if fire sparked suddenly around Eve and Eve’s grip slips on the small cup of creamer. It lands on the tile floor of the kitchen with a wet thud. “He’d be crushed,” Kiri smiles. He leans into the arch of the doorway.

“It’s not--” Calum starts.

Kiri shakes his head interrupting his father’s explanation. “It surely looks like it and I hate to intrude, but I’d like a cup if it’s not decaf.”

“Sure,” Eve nods. “Yeah.” She spins back to the pot and takes the mug she’d just poured for herself and offers it up. “Clearly, I haven’t added anything yet to it. It’s all over the floor. How many creamers?”

“None,” Kiri returns, stepping in to take the extended mug. “Sorry again.”

“No worries,” Eve states and starts to clean up the creamer she dropped. It’s a miracle that it was only the small travel cups Calum had and not a whole bottle. Kiri grins at his father as he exits. Calum huffs and gently swats at his arm. The two share a quick tuft of laughter and Calum starts to help Eve.

“I got it,” she returns. “Save your knees.”

“I know I’m sixty, but God, I’m not that old.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

The pair work in relative silence but Eve feels the shiver crawling up her back. Her head pops up just as a roll of thunder sounds overhead. It’s a sound Calum knows all too well. He gets the handful of the paper town he had in his hand into the trash, which were drying the wet spot Eve made to keep the floor from getting sticky, before standing. Eve’s up not too soon after him. Calum takes her forearm into his grip. His thumb strokes her skin. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will be.”

“Text me when you’re done, back on this side, please.”

Eve nods. “I will.” She wants to let Calum have this tender moment, but she’s aware that Cailean and Māra could also be awake. She also doesn’t want to wait too long and have another crack of thunder to startle them. She stretches up, capturing Calum’s lip in a gentle kiss, and then she’s rushing from the kitchen, out the front door. The door closes softly. Calum straightens out the rest of the kitchen and knows he has to retire soon lest he be in for a reckoning in the morning.

In the morning, a text is already waiting for Calum 2:31 AM--Safe, but this one is nasty. Will be gone for a few days.

I understand. Take care of yourself out there. Calum lets the text send and does his best not to wait for a response. Whether she left immediately or whether she wanted for a response can’t stop Calum from the things he has to do. He’s got breakfast to get sorted. Cailean and Māra both need rides to school. Kiri’s in his first year of community college and can get to and from the house and classes with the second car. Cailean’s working on his license, but the responsibility was still Calum’s to shoulder for now. Even if the nights are filled with Eve and his ghost of his youth, the days are still filled with fatherhood.

It shocks Calum that he’s not shocked when three days later his phone shakes again and it’s Eve. Calum had anticipated the days would worry him sick, but instead all he did was hope for her safety in the stillness. Perhaps his worry is overshadowed by the ever marching sadness of his own. Three days to come and he would’ve been celebrating yet another wedding anniversary. Kelsie would no doubt want to try some new cookie recipe. It would fail because Calum would be too distracted. Kelsie would laugh. They would be happy. Calum’s own goal is just to make it through each day. That’s all he needed to do.

He only wanted to know when she came back she’d bug him undoubtedly about something else to knit or do. It could offer distraction. It would remind Calum that there is still love for him. His flame with Eve was comfortable but the years and love with Kelsie are not easily let go either. Besides, Eve’s absence is not a sign of anything other than duty. Eve didn’t know the dates and she couldn’t neglect her job either. Eve’s absence is just as filling as her presence. Calum wants her close, but can let her go. Just as he wants when she is on his side, he wants when she is not, but there’s less selfish desire.

Back. Let me know when you’re free. Please.

Calum goes to start his reply that he’ll be free in the afternoon, but before his fingers can hit the first keys, Māra and Cailean start a shouting match. Calum slips his phone into his back pocket and slides out from the kitchen. “Whoa, do I need to referee here?” he offers, noticing between them the last bites of their breakfast. Both of them have a grip on the ends of the banana. He’s left out one banana, some cut up strawberries mixed in with blueberries and an orange. Cailean almost always goes for the banana whereas Māra tends to go orange.

“I had it first,” Māra barks over to Cailean.

Calum, noticing the glint on his boy’s face, steps in closer, one hand resting on Cailean’s shoulder. Though he’s always respectful, and will do what is necessary to help, he’s quick when he’s angry to make quips that he knows are hurtful. “Son, please don’t. There’s a whole bunch in the kitchen.”

Cailean lets go of the fruit but doesn’t tear his gaze away from Māra. “Stop meddling,” he hisses in return.

Calum raises a brow. What had Māra been meddling in? “Māra,” Calum offers sternly. It’s a silent command to explain herself and she knows it.

Māra sighs. “You like her, you idiot. I’m just trying to help.”

Cailean huffs, arms tossed up into the air. “You--Just stay out of it! Please.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Māra presses on.

“Just because you are doesn’t mean you should get involved. Yvette--she’s untouchable to me, alright? The last thing she needs is my little sister--a freshman to my juniority-- approaching her. We have a week and half left of this project and you’ve just made the whole thing awkward. And to add to that, she’s already talking to Leonard. They’ve been talking since the summer.”

Calum knows Leonard--a kid Cailean has been friends with since they met on the playground at the seesaws. He remembers the smile on Cailean’s face when he made a friend on the second day of class that wasn’t his brother. The two of them could do damage. Cailean joked around, but always had brakes. Leonard did not. Once Calum got a call from the skate shop in the shopping center just a mile up the road about Cailean and Leonard sitting in the back office. The thing is that Cailean wouldn’t snitch on Leonard in the moment but when they got off with a stern warning thanks to Cailean’s sincere apology for the package of socks, Cailean folded in the car. He told Calum that he’d been trying to talk Leonard out of lifting the skate socks. And their argument had gotten them caught in the first place. It caused a rift but the boys recovered fast. Leonard is all gas. Cailean has the brakes.

Even though Māra wouldn’t have that information, she would know how close Cailean and Leonard are. Talking to the girl your best friend likes that you like too would be a definite no. “Oh,” she states.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly that.”

“I thought--”

“I know what you thought, Mar. Sometimes you don’t know everything. They call it pining for a reason.”

Māra holds out the banana. “I’m sorry Cailean. I shouldn’t have gotten involved, not without talking to you first. Do you want me to talk to Leonard?”

Cailean’s eyes widen so much that they nearly take over his forehead. If it weren’t for the true terror in his face, it might be funny. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll do the damage control.”

Māra only nods. Her third apology is softer than the first two and Cailean waves for her to keep the fruit. He settles on the orange instead and as quickly as the explosion occurred, the debris settles and clears. Calum retreats, going back to the last of the dishes he had while he prepped breakfast then gets them off to school. Calum heads straight over to the studio after he sees off, intending to finalize the last few takes he’d left from the day before.

By the time he thinks to check his phone again, noon has crept into 1 PM and he realizes his response to Eve had never been drafted, let alone sent. Calum pushes away from the turkey sub on the table. He hadn’t even meant to leave her without a response for so long. The rest of the guys watch him as he goes. Ashton reaches over and wraps the sandwich backup in case he’s gone for longer than a moment.

Calum holds the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing and ringing. There’s some static but as he steps outside into the bright day the sound clears up. He prays he hasn’t missed her totally. Though Eve had gotten good at communicating about when she had to go even if it’s back to back, there were a few times when she hadn’t been able to shoot off that quick text. Right on the fifth ring, when Calum’s set to hang up the call and respond with a text, the line connects.

“Eve speaking.” Her voice cracks just a little on the phrase.

“Eve? It’s me, Calum. I say this with love you should like shit.”

“Hey. Yeah, it was a particularly rough one.”

The truth about rough ones is that they happen all the time. Eve’s used to rough ones. But this one feels different than the others. She’d gotten there with Death, right at the start. Normally, a lot of what she did was after the fact. Death had already carried them to her or to Heaven. They’d already made some peace with their fate. But Death had gotten the call right as they were supposed to be wrapping up. So Eve went too--it made sense. She would go with Death. They’d handle whomever they needed and Eve would carry on with her life, like she’s always done.

But cradling a child--attempting to soothe them as their parents teetered on the edge between clinging to life and falling into death was not something Eve had been prepared for. She’s seen vile humans, pissed that their actions had consequences. She’s had to take parents who thought their actions to their children wouldn’t warrant a visit and condemnation to her. She’d handled a lot of evil-pure and simple evil. But she hadn’t quite had to hold a child in years, not like this. Eve hadn’t had to soothe a baby--months old--fearful of its new fate, not understanding what had gone on.

And all Eve had were lies. All she could tell him was that he was okay. He wasn’t hurt anymore. He had nothing to cry about. His parents would love him forever. He was okay. All Eve could tell him were lies. She felt her only saving grace was that he’d never fully understand. He’d never understand that they were lies. He’d find a new normal. He’d have his parents when it was their time, but in the interim he’d have something free of pain. He’d adapt.

But how does a child comprehend that? A silver lining that will only ever take time and his time, a baby months old, has run out.

“I-” Eve’s voice breaks again.

“Where are you? I can get you,” Calum offers. His chest constricts. It is not good. Whatever it is is definitely not good.

“I’m actually at the back of your studio. When you called, I, uh, realized where you were.” Eve doesn’t dare say that she went looking. She searched for Calum in the hopes he’d answer her text soon and found him initially with his kids. So she waited. She watched him come to the studio. Her fingers ached from how tightly she held her phone, a silent prayer and begging that he just looked at his phone for longer than a second, that he went back to their text messages and saw she was asking for him. She didn’t want to push. Her heart ached for him though. She wanted nothing more than comfort and from Calum alone. But she wouldn't intrude.

Calum pushes off the wall. He slips the phone onto his shoulder and jogs back into the building. “Stay where you are. Are you in the alley?”

“Yes.” It crackles as Eve answers and Calum jogs past the kitchen. The shout of his name doesn’t stop him as he works down the hallway. He passes the elevators, side doors, and windows. Calum continues on, listening to the sniffle of Eve through the receiver. Eve’s never quite sounded like this. She managed to keep those things separate. She somehow managed to see horrors on a daily basis and never quite let it fully seep through. Until now.

Now something is cracking in Eve and she can’t stop it. Calum’s heart beats in his chest, he can feel it against his ribs. He’s not sure if he’s running to stop the dam from bursting or if he’s going to be cleaning up the waters seeping through. But he realizes as the gray doors fill out in front of him, it doesn’t matter which one he gets. He’s going to be there no matter what. Calum slams his palms into the silver handle, the harsh click echoes through the speakers and as the doors swing open, Eve fills out in front of him.

He manages just barely to get his phone down from his shoulder and into his back pocket. Her eyes are a twinge red. Her cheeks are mostly clear, but it’s clear fresh tears are on her lower lash line.

“Can I just have a hug?” Eve asks.

Calum pulls her into the building, arms wrapping around her. Her face presses into his chest and she inhales, so deeply it lifts Calum’s arms with the action. “Hey, I’m here. It’s alright. It’s okay.”

There it is again--the same lie she had to tell. The sob falls from her chest, muffled by the firmness of his chest and the t-shirt.

Everything Calum can think to do, a soothing hand along her spine, kisses to the crown of her head, a gentle hum and reassurances, don’t fully cut through the tears. Eve doesn’t shake. It’s not a crumble. It doesn’t seem like she’s trying to stop it. It’s like she only needs a reason to let it out, to let it go. So Eve stands, voice cracking as everything she’d been biting back breaks free, and she clings to Calum, but she never crumbles.

“C’mon, Eve, just breathe for me.” After a few minutes of the wails turning into hiccups, Calum knows he’s got to get Eve to regulate her breathing. If not, she’ll start dry heaving and though he’s dealt with his fair share of vomit, he does not want to have to deal with it. He inhales deeply through his nose and lets it all out through his mouth. He inhales once more to blow it all out and on the third breath, Eve joins in. He continues with the inhales and exhales until the grip Eve has on his shirt loosens.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Calum returns. He presses his cheek to the top of her head. The thump of his own heart still feels rapid—like he can’t quite come down from the edge he’d pulled Eve from. So he squeezes, letting her own deep inhales brush against his chest. Perhaps that too will remind him that they’re both okay now.

“I-Admittedly, I did sort of follow you. I kept hoping you’d see my text again.”

The confession is only a whisper but Calum hears it, a quick snort leaving his nose. “You should’ve just called, babe.”

“You seemed busy.”

It’s not the time to remark that this is the same behavior they went around in circles on last time. Instead, Calum gently urges her head back. Her cheeks are tear stained. Her eyes are swollen and red. “Being busy and taking a few minutes to answer a call are not mutually exclusive. When you tell me you need me, I can help. If you don’t, I won’t know for certain.”

“I’m doing it again. I know. I just—call it a self fulfilling prophecy. I’m used to being able to handle this kind of stuff.”

Calum strokes a thumb along the apple of her left cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“He-,” her chin wobbles in Calum’s palm. Eve inhales and it steadies her a bit. “He was just a baby. 4 maybe 5 months old. I held him. He cried. But of course he did. Car accident. He wanted his parents but they weren’t...” The silence says what Eve doesn’t. Calum nods that he understands. The baby’s parents weren’t dead yet. He couldn’t have them in the way that he might’ve wanted.

Eve continues on at the confirmation.“Not then anyway. And he wouldn’t come with me but I was the only one with hands free so I held him. Nothing I did soothed him. And I lied to him. I lied to a little baby because what do you tell them? When they are watching but can’t understand what do you tell them?”

Calum blinks. Part of him assumed that with time she’d gotten used to this. But the more he listens the more he thinks no one with one iota of feeling could ever get used to children being involved. Adults were one thing—fully formed beings with abilities hopefully to understand right from wrong. But children—babies especially—were different. They didn’t know. They couldn’t. They were still learning. “And you don’t normally interfere at that point do you?”

Eve shakes her head. “No. Either they come to me or if they’re being stubborn I’ll get them but in the midst when fates are hanging on by threads, no.”

Calum can only think of pulling her in. He seals another kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry you went through that. You did what you thought was best and I think that’s brave in and of itself.”

Eve inhales deeply. Her nostrils are filled with a scent distinctly Calum--his detergent which she’s pretty sure is the Gain he’s used for years, the faint catch of nicotine, and his cologne. The mixture invades her nose, clinging to the inches inside her nostrils. “Sorry,” Eve mutters again into his chest. “For not just texting you again.”

“Next time, you’ll get it next time,” Calum offers. It’s not dismissive. He means it like a promise, like there will be a next time. Like he wants there to be a next time. He cradles the back of her head, fingers threading ever so slightly between the strands. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“I-When do you have to get back to your kids?”

Calum laughs, mostly an exhale through his nose. His lips find the crown of her head above before he coaxes her gently out from his chest. Her face is still red and a little puffy. One hand finds her cheek and Calum strokes his thumb over the warm flesh. “You don’t have to be polite, Eve. What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“I--” The stern lift of Calum’s brow freezes Eve. “Nothing that I know of, of course.”

“The guys and I are mostly just writing. Though I think one piece might need another tracking. Would you want to stay with me? The kids all have things they’re doing. Māra’s got a sleepover and she’s getting a ride with them. Insisted on packing her bag last night to take to school today. Cailean’s got a standing date with some friends on Friday nights. He’ll be back later. Kiri’s almost always out. I think he only uses the house to eat, shit, and shower.”

“Can I stay just until you head home?” Eve whispers.

“You can stay with me for as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Are you hungry?”

Eve shakes her head as much as she can with Calum’s palms still pressed into her cheek. “No, no I’m not hungry.”

Calum nods. “Okay. C’mon. Let’s get some cold water on your cheeks; that okay?” He only gets a nod but when he grips Eve’s hand, she squeezes back. He leads them back to the bathrooms--a gender neutral option right next to the women’s. Calum doesn’t miss the swift movement from the corner of his vision. No doubt it’s the guys. He hadn’t really discussed with them how much he had been in contact with Even. They’d surely learn it today though.

Inside the bathroom, Calum turns the cold water on before grabbing a couple handful of paper towels. They’re thin and will undoubtedly soak all the way through, but they’ll have to do. Calum is quick, the water touches and not even a full two seconds later, he pulls the paper out. Eve stands, hovering a few inches behind him. Her irises are purple in her reflection when Calum gazes up, as they’ve always been. But it’s in the reflection that Calum realizes for once the tiredness in that glaze of her eyes.

“Come,” he offers quietly. He nods, into the mirror, like he wants Eve to meet him their in the reflection.

She knows differently and approaches slowly from behind. Calum turns to meet her and she slots up against the sink. The paper towel drips onto her shirt--thankfully it’s black. Calum’s gentle as he can as he dabs her cheeks. “You did the right thing,” Calum whispers. “It’s the same thing I would’ve done.”

“Doesn’t mean it feels right.”

Calum smiles, one side of his cheeks lifting first. “No, sometimes the right thing feels wrong. What else were you going to do? Tell the poor baby he’s dead. He’s never going to see his parents again.”

“I would’ve been telling the truth.”

Calum tsks. “Rule one of the parenting rule book: you get to tell white lies.”

“At least one of us knows the rules.”

“Telling the truth all the time isn't easy. They’re not built for the truth all the time. Being an adult, regardless of parenthood or not, means we have to try and make this cruel world make the most sense for them. We have to figure out how to break it down for them. How do you explain cruelty to a child? How do you tell a child that just because something bad happens doesn’t mean there isn’t something good in it? Perhaps, the one thing being a parent has taught me is that some life lessons are shitty and there’s no easy way to learn them. He’s a baby. He wasn’t ready for that life lesson yet. But he got dealt that hand and you did the best you could for him. That’s the thing I need you to see. You did the best you could by that sweet baby because you saw him in the middle of a life lesson much too cruel for him.”

Calum wants to say more. It burns the tip of his tongue that she would make a great mother. Even if she couldn’t physically bear children, she already had a natural instinct. But Eve isn’t ready for that. Calum’s never sure when she will be. But most definitely not right now. Calum tosses the soggy paper towels into the trash and then gingerly dabs fresh paper towels on her flesh to dry away the cool water.

Eve’s nails trail over his wrist as he takes hold of her chin and turns her head to the left. “You don’t…” she offers softly. Calum would regardless. He would do it anyway--that’s the beauty and tragedy of it all. They’d always do it for each other.

“I am,” Calum returns. It’s two words, but it carries with it the belly of their entire relationship.

It only takes one of them to call for the other and they’d answer. The call wouldn’t even have to be fully uttered either before feet would hit ground.

The walk back to the kitchen is short from the bathroom and Eve walks behind Calum the entire way. The boys rush to settle back into their seats, the feet of the seats scrape against the tile of the floor as they rush to settle. “You lot are not subtle,” Calum reprimands.

“We just--you ran out of here. Thought it might’ve been the kids or something,” Ashton returns.

Eve waves from behind Calum’s shoulder, one hand still in his grip. “Not quite his kids.” Eve’s not sure what she expected. Perhaps she was bracing for the side eyes. Maybe she was even anticipating them to shout at her for breaking Calum’s heart thirty years ago. But none of that happens. It’s uneasy--they look at her, then to Calum, and then amongst themselves attempting to decode what is truly happening in front of them. But no one is openly hostile. They stand, or sit, in a hanging inbetween.

“If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said you made a deal with the devil, Eve,” Ashton teases. His laughter is light. “No way it’s been some thirty years or something like it.”

“Could say the same for you,” she laughs. Leave it to Ashton--a comedian even when it might get him in trouble. But Eve’s grateful for the breaking of the ice. Michael offers up his seat for her to take so she’s next to Calum and she declines with a shake of her head. “Thank you though.”

The decline is clearly not enough because Calum guides her to his previous spot. His offering is silent, but firm. He pulls the chair out and his eyes say it all. Eve settles into the chair, turning a question over to the guys about what they’ve been up to since they last spoke.

“Same old same old,” Luke laughs. “You’d think we'd have something more exciting to say but I’m sure you’re the one that has more exciting stories.”

Eve shakes her head. She can feel the waiver of her own smile. “I fear sometimes it might be too exciting.” A bottle of water settles down in front of her, Calum’s tattooed hands sliding out of her vision by the time she catches the movement. “Thanks,” she returns softly to him.

“Of course,” Calum returns, hands sliding now to her shoulders. He squeezes and she settles back into the chair a little bit more. “Besides, Luke’s too ashamed to talk about the bike he bought. Wife is still pissed about that one, buddy.”

“You bought a motorcycle?” Eve questions before taking down a large sip of water.

“Call it a mid-life crisis,” Luke huffs.

“More like a three-fourths life crisis,” Michael jokes. “Half our lives were like ten odd years ago.”

“Ouch,” Luke laughs, hand rubbing at his chest right over his heart. “You’re a killer.”

Eve asks about their children: Micheal’s only, Luke’s twins, and Ashton’s five. All of the men wear pride on their faces as they talk--from robotics club to theater, all of them are figuring out their lives to which their fathers could never be more proud. The remainder of their lunch passes in a comfortable sway of silence and occasional quips. Eve tries to offer Calum back his seat so he can finish his food. He declines, taking the sandwich and standing up against the window behind the table.

The studio has a couch, computer chairs and other seating arrangements sprawled across the spacious entry. The booth is a bit tinier, but the room squeezes in a comfort that reminds Eve of the way Calum’s old house used to feel. The warm browns and oranges sooth the still buzzing electricity in Eve’s veins. She perches herself into the couch, right up against the right arm and Calum settles next to her. His arm drapes over her shoulder. A squeeze, his palm pressed into her bicep. Eve goes, following the directive without much thought as she leans into Calum’s side, head not quite resting into his shoulder. Calum’s laughing at something Michael said but he coaxes her, a hand sliding to her neck and jaw to finish the movement and have her relax fully into him. Eve settles her head onto his shoulder. Her nose brushes at his throat when she looks up. Like Calum can feel the gaze he glances down.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “It’s alright.” It’s alright to trust me again. It’s alright that I trust you again. It’s alright that you needed me. It’s alright when I need you. Calum doesn’t say any of this. He feels like he doesn’t need to when Eve turns just a little. Her knees draw up, arms wrapping around his torso. He needs Eve to need him and want him too. And she did--she had to in order to so desperately wish for him to check his phone.

She can lean into him. But she must also speak. Clearly and directly. No half finished sentences, no silent pleading. Eve had lifetimes to build the habit and Calum’s only hope is that she won’t need his whole lifetime to break it.

As evening gives its first warning of its descent, the guys disband for the day. The songs are in a place where they too can rest for a night. In all their years, they’ve learned the art of rest. Rest, too, is a powerful tool with creation. At the doors for the studio, Calum and Eve stand hand in hand a few feet shy of the piercing reality. She’d only asked for the day before he left. Would she want more?

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Calum asks.

Eve swallows at the question. She really doesn’t want to intrude, but she doesn’t want to let go either. “Yes, as long as you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”

“You won’t. You won’t be in the way,” Calum assures.

“Yes,” Eve returns, “I’d like to come over for dinner.”

The house is silent when they arrive. The lack of cars in the driveway should’ve given it away, but when Eve steps in over the threshold there is a buzzing quietness. She’s more prepared to deal with his kids, questions, and even stares. But there is nothing though Calum’s voice is enough to cut through the silence. “Today was going to be a simple pasta bake. Is that good? I could order us something. But I don’t want the onions and peppers to go to waste, if I’m honest.”

“Pasta is fine,” Eve answers. “Would-would you like help?”

Calum turns, spotting Eve leaning into the archway between the dining room and the kitchen. He grins. “Absolutely I would love help.”

They are relatively quiet as they work. Calum directs on what he needs assistance with and Eve speaks only to affirm the instruction, or to warn Calum when she’s behind him. They don’t need too many words in this setting and when she gets the onion chopped fully she slides them in the other veggies being sauteed. Though Eve doesn’t know everything in this kitchen, she still remembers their system. Eve starts washing the dishes. Calum slips each piece ready to be washed next to her. She double checks nothing is burning while he goes to grab something from the pantry.

The heat of the oven swells between them. Calum slips the glass dish into the oven and Eve’s working on the last of the spatulas and pans to wash. They can feel, beneath the hot waft, the heat of each other too. An underlying pulse that Calum wishes to quicken. He slips behind Eve, hands settling on her waist. “You okay?”

She nods. “I think so. Just drained now mostly. Thank you. I haven’t said that and I should. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Calum returns, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“But I do.”

“In case you forgot, we are literally destined for each other.”

“So it’s destiny now?” Eve asks, letting the water go from the sink. The last of the dishes are now cleaned. Well until they eat. But those are dishes for another time. They are for worrying later about.

“You’re the only one that still calls it a curse,” Calum answers. “Is it fucked up how it has to happen? Absolutely. But I don’t think loving someone is a bad thing. I don’t ever regret you, Eve.”

She spins now. Calum’s eyes aren’t sad. They’re dark brown like they’ve always been and Eve swears she could fall through the velvety gaze. “I most certainly don’t regret you.”

“It’s sort of impossible to regret me,” Calum teases. It earns him a scoff and a light slap on his chest. He holds her hand there, both palms wrapped around her single. “I mean it more seriously though. I was angry when you wanted to divorce, but I also knew it would come. You wanted me to have a full life and as ready as I was to give it all up, I’m glad you did push. I still think it should’ve been more of a discussion.”

“Ah, okay, yes, it should’ve been,” Eve concedes.

“Curses should have more dread in them, don’t you think?”

Eve watches the way Calum inches in, hands taking her waist more solidly in their grips. “Calum,” she offers softly. Not quite a warning, but something like a plea. Here? Now? she is asking.

He relents, kissing her forehead and dropping his hands from her waist. “It’s just a question. But I would like an answer. Whenever you’re ready.”

Though Calum moves to the dining room, Eve stays at the sink. His fingers curl around the box--cigarettes--and his lighter. Eve’s voice shakes just a little on the first, “I think curses have dread. And I think curses also have a little bit of pleasure in them too. I just need more time to rediscover that pleasure. Like perhaps after sleep.”

Calum grins around the butt of his cigarette at the last part of her statement. He hadn’t thought she’d lost her physical attraction to him, but it is still a nice boost to confidence to hear it verbally. “You don’t need sleep last time I checked.”

“But you do. I need a little bit more time to shake through the jitters.” Eve pushes from the counter now, closing the distance between them. She plucks the nicotine filled paper from between his lips. “And you always said you’d quit when you had kids.”

“I’m a social smoker,” Calum returns. “Never around the kids and never by myself.”

“What sadness is your smoking buddy now?”

Calum shakes his head, eyes falling to the floor. He catches the green on Eve’s toes--a shimmery polish that looks like it has some sort of metallic reflection. He shouldn’t. Eve had needed him, not that he couldn’t voice his own needs but he didn’t want to unload on her when she was already dealing with her own things. He could call one of the guys. They’d always be happy to listen to him. Which is what he’d intended to do before Eve spotted it--the true reason for his insistence.

“Kelsie, isn’t it?” Eve deduces.

“I see those horns are still sharp,” Calum returns. He’s not paying attention, trying to steady his own breath. But he can reach rustling. Something gently brushes against his lips and he brings his gaze back into focus. The butt of a cigarette dangles in front of him. He continues up. Eve stands next to him, a cigarette between her lips too.

“Can’t have you smoking alone.”

“What happened to: it’s bad for me? It’s going to kill me?”

“Everyone dies. Something takes us out of the world eventually.”

“Not you.”

Eve snorts, before pulling her own cigarette free from her lips. “I was created. I can be destroyed too. I have loved too and I have been devastated by love too.” She brings back the cigarette she’d offered to Calum. “Take the smoke.”

The pair carry on down the hallway towards the backdoor. Calum leads the way and Eve follows behind, taking in the sights of all the kids in their picture day best. She pauses at a family vacation photo. Calum and Kelsie stand in the back. Māra’s tucked into Calum’s grasp--possibly five or so in the photo. Kiri and Cailean stand in front, grinning hard. She’s never seen the house they’re in front of. But she likes, as she imagines, that it might be his mother’s place they’re visiting. Kelsie’s laughing in the photo, grinning up at Calum. Calum’s smiling down at her too in return. It’s clear the photo was captured when they weren’t ready for it. Their skin looks sun kissed, a setting sun giving the photo a pink and red twinged hue.

“My mom took that photo,” Calum offers. He’d held the door open for Eve, and was momentarily shocked when she wasn’t directly behind him. “We’d been at the beach all day. Kiri and Cailean were sunburned terrible, but they were more than happy with themselves for catching a few waves.”

“Did you teach them?”

“Luke actually. I taught all of them how to swim. Sort of a combined family and band retreat.”

“Did Māra join in?” Eve asks, turning her attention away from the picture to Calum.

He nods, a small smile lifting his cheeks. “She caught one within her third try. Boys took nearly half an hour because they kept rough housing.”

“Life father, like sons.”

“Oh, I’m not that bad,” Calum laughs. “Not anymore at least.”

The question burns Eve’s tongue and she glances back up to the photo. She and Kelsie are distinct opposites--Eve’s dark skin and dark hair are starkly different from Kelsie’s paler skin. And Eve is by no means trying to compare the two of them. They were two vastly different people. “Did Kelsie take convincing?”

“Only took all three kids begging. But she got out there.” Calum catches the faint sound of Kelsie’s laughter in his memory.

“No, no,” Kelsie laughs. “I am not built for surfing.” She likes being tucked up on the shore. Her and Joy have been laughing amongst themselves, keeping the food safe in the coolers. Kelsie’s rather enjoyed rating all her children’s attempts--always higher than a 7, even on the harshest fails because they’re just so proud of themselves. Swimming, paddling, perhaps even snorkeling could intrigue her, but she is not a surfer.

“Please, Mom,” Kiri begs. “Dad will protect you! He always does.”

Calum stands behind Kiri, hands on the shoulder of his wetsuit. “Only if you really want to, Kels. You know that. But I’ll be right there.” It’d been a few years since Calum had really gotten on a board, but surfing was a skill akin to riding a bike. The second you got back onto it, everything came rushing back. Sure there were some mistakes, but it was still a skill that could resurface in time.

“Mom, please!” Cailean insists, panting a bit after sucking down several large gulps of his water. “It’s so much fun!”

“Mommy, please,” Māra chimes in from Joy’s lap. She’d retired there after her half an hour on the board.

Calum only watches Kelsie. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. Her uncertainty is clear and when she looks up to Calum, he sees everything she’s asking. “I’ll be right there,” he assures. “I can’t promise you won’t fall, but I can promise I’ll help you up.”

“You better help me back up,” she laughs, but extends her hand out.

Calum helps her up, using the hand he has on her wrist to tug her flush against his body. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the kids did it. It can’t be that bad.”

“You don’t have to,” he whispers against her lips. “Not in the slightest.”

“At least one attempt,” Kelise whispers back before capturing his lips in a true kiss. “At least once.”

Calum blinks. The hallway opens back up to his vision. Eve stands, watching him. There’s no judgment in her gaze, just an openness for him to share what he wants, feel what he needs to feel. Calum turns, back resting into the wall of the hallway. “I don’t even sleep in our bedroom anymore. Can’t,” he confesses.

“How long?” Eve asks.

“Since she died, really. Māra used to sleep on her side. Even now, sometimes when I come in from the guest bedroom to get clothes or something, Māra’s sitting on Kelsie’s side. Just doesn’t feel the same.”

“It won’t,” Eve states. “It won’t feel the same.”

Calum knew that--when he decided he wouldn’t move even though he wanted to, and when he asked for Eve to come over all those months ago, he knew it wouldn’t be the same. Perhaps it is selfish. It is selfish to wish that Eve could fill the void Kelsie had left. It is selfish to think either woman held the same place in his heart. But just because he knew it was selfish, doesn’t mean that common sense would override desperation. That’s what it is in his bones and the bags of his eyes. Calum is fucking desperate. He wants something to make him feel normal. But there is nothing normal about his life now. Not a single damn thing.

“Yeah,” Calum agrees. His throat is tight and his voice is thick as he speaks. “Yeah, I’m realizing that now.”

Eve takes his hand. It’s not to push him, not to force him to make any particular movement. In fact, she leans against the wall next to Calum and squeezes his palm. “It’s not an easy lesson,” Eve whispers.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Perhaps, it’s happened once or twice in my lifetime. But only once or twice.”

They both know the truth. They both know that more than once Eve’s faced what she’s grown to learn as normal or familiar changes on its face. They don’t need to say it. There’s no need. They both know, so much so that when Eve does finally give Calum’s hand a squeeze and his arm a tug, he follows. Calum follows Eve out to the backyard. They settle on his porch, sharing the same flicker of the lighter for their cigarettes.

Eve gets one inhale pressed into her lungs before she speaks. “These things will kill you, you know.”

“Something gets us eventually,” Calum returns.

***************************

Calum’s not sure what he expects when he lifts his head. The sheet is cold under his arm. When he fell asleep, he’d wrapped around Eve’s torso, clung to her like children do to baby blankets. But now there’s nothing in the bed besides the sheets and the pillow he’d grabbed at some point in his slumber. Eve had every right to leave if she needed to. There were no promises made. She hadn’t vowed anything to Calum. But he realizes now, with the sun streaking in from the blinds, he wishes she had.

The door creaks open and Calum turns, arms holding him up as he gets onto his back. Eve. She fills out in front of him the hem of his white t-shirt barely covering her to the tops of her thighs. It doesn’t help her the shorts she’s acquired somewhere in the time between them retiring to the guestroom from the mindless TV watching after their smoke and Calum waking also don’t cover more than a few inches of her thighs either. Calum makes out, even behind his bleary vision, something long in her hands. Calum pushes up even further, back pressing into the pillows. Eve settles next to his knees, getting the tray table over his lap.

“Scrambled, medium hard, right?” she asks. Not that she’d forget. She could never forget, but the question makes it better. She’s giving Calum room to grow, for things to have changed since she was last with him.

He nods. “Yeah, yeah that’s right.” Pancakes, eggs, waffles, bacon, and hashbrowns are spread out in front of him. She always went a little overboard on food when she cooked it. It used to annoy Calum. It’s less annoying than it was a feeling that no matter how many times Calum said to Eve she didn’t have to make a feast, she wouldn’t listen.

But now, as he has the tray more clearly in his focus, he spots two forks and two knives. Eve scoots the waffles closer to her before pushing the pancakes, bacon, and eggs towards Calum. It’s easy, Calum realizes, to assume nothing has changed. Especially since he’s been so long without Eve. His memory has them frozen in place, thirty years ago. Nothing could change for him about her, until they became a present reality. This is the evidence. Both their lives had continued since their last meeting. They’d both evolved.

“I’d asked how you slept,” Calum jokes, picking up the mug of coffee for a sip. “But something tells me you didn’t get a wink.”

“How’d you sleep?” Eve asks.

If Calum’s honest, it’s the best sleep he’s gotten in a year. Not that he had a reason to not be honest with Eve. But the confession feels much too deep for where they are. “Good,” Calum returns. “Really good.”

Their silence is comfortable as they take bites of food. Stolen glances, for Calum, over the rim of his glasses and for Eve, from between her lashes, lead to soft giggles into coffee and orange juice. They don’t need to say more, and yet if they really wanted to, they could. When they finish, Calum being the one to lag behind Eve, Eve collects the tray without a word. Calum follows behind her back up to the kitchen.

“Let me wash the dishes,” Calum commands. He tries to reach out for the tray as he walks side by side Eve now out of the hallway.

“I’ve got it,” Eve returns, pausing them just outside of the dining room. “Relax.”

“Thanks for breakfast.” Calum’s not sure why he’s not expecting Cailean’s voice to hit his eardrums. Him and his friends only really ever hung out during the evening and he was home most nights by eleven. He’d text if he was staying over or running late. As far as Calum knows, his phone is free of any of those texts. But still, the sound of his son’s voice does make Calum panic a little. His first reaction is to shield Eve, but then as the seconds pass and Eve slips out from behind Calum’s body, his brain finally processes what Cailean said.

“You’re welcome, Cailean.”

“Oh, I cleaned up what was left of the dishes too, by the way,” he continues on, reaching for the tray in her hands.

“Oh, I can clean these,” Eve smiles. “Thanks so much for the other dishes.”

Cailean nods, hands ducking back to his sides. “I mean, it’s the least I could do. I thought about what you said too. On the face of it, honesty is best. But Leonard and I--it’s not something I’d want to risk.”

Eve nods. “Perfectly reasonable given how long you two have been friends from what you said. Has Yvette said anything about what Māra told her?”

“I think everyone’s in the whole pretend like nothing happened and wait for things to just pass over play.”

Calum’s unsure of what transpired while he was still asleep. But he has to assume that at some point between Eve slipping out of the room and now, she and Cailean have talked. Calum was going to ask about what had transpired the day before. But now he’s unsure if he needs to. Though, part of him is glad. His kids do seem to be getting along with Eve--at least for Cailean and Kiri. Māra is a work in progress. He didn’t have to worry, too much anymore, about the fear of Eve and them being at odds. Perhaps, it is easier. All of his kids are older. Perhaps, their initial introduction though it had gone south proved useful. Eve had made it clear that she could never replace Kelsie and her goal wasn’t to somehow fill a void. No one would be able to do that. She was just Eve.

“Sounds like you want to pretend it never happened too,” Eve returns now to Cailean.

Calum settles at the head of the dining table, nodding over to Kiri as he settles. “Wild Friday night?” Calum teases.

“Seems like your Friday night was wilder than anything I could’ve gotten into,” he snorts, still shoveling down a forkful of eggs. Calum lets the retort go without rebuttal. There’s nothing he can say that will prove otherwise to Kiri. Not that Calum needs to prove anything on the face of it.

“I don’t want to start something if it’s not really a big deal,” Cailean concludes. He’s started moving the dishes that are dry into the cabinets to give Eve more space on the drying rack for what’s left.

The shake of Eve’s head tells Calum she’s debating. There are things she probably wants to say but worries that if she does, they’ll come out wrong. “I think,” Eve starts, turning the water off after rinsing out the coffee mug, “that you know Leonard better than anyone else in here. If he’s not raising an issue, then maybe it’s not one. But it might still prove useful to clear the air with Yvette. You said you two were working on a project. She’s also important here.”

Cailean sighs, stacking the silverware back into the correct slots of the drawers. “Yeah, but that’s just awkward too, right?”

Eve shrugs. “The whole thing is awkward, Cailean. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, I would agree that Māra surely knows how to make a bad situation worse.”

“Oh, Māra’s young. She’s learning where the lines are. I’m sure Kiri’s got stories of you meddling in his business.”

“Yeah two weeks ago at the 18 plus bar,” Kiri cuts in. Cailean gets the last of the knives up and flips his brother off. “I told you those girls were there together.”

“You were the one that spotted them. If you had just kept quiet, I wouldn’t have had any need to approach.”

“The point being,” Eve interjects over Kiri’s not quite fully formed utterance and Cailean’s primed rebuttal. “You, Cailean, have done similar things to your siblings. Māra’s intentions were pure, even if her actions were misplaced.”

“Talk about misplaced,” Cailean mutters.

“Alright, Cai,” Calum interjects. He understands the annoyance, but the thing he doesn’t want is for Cailean to keep harping on the same point. Either he was actually going to accept Māra’s apology and move on to make it better for himself or he’s not. But Calum won’t stand for him being inconsistent. “She apologized. And even offered to fix the mistake.”

“You’re right, you’re right, Pops,” Cailean sighs. “Okay, I’ll talk to Yvette to let her know that she doesn’t have to worry or anything. Thanks, Eve.”

“Anytime,” she returns.

The scrap of Kiri’s chair causes Calum to turn his head to the sound. He collects his plate and utensils, carrying them back into the kitchen. “Thanks for breakfast, Eve.”

“You’re welcome, Kiri.” He hovers for a moment, sliding the plate onto the counter. “Your mind wouldn’t have changed even if I asked to wash my own dishes wouldn’t it?” The sigh Eve releases almost sounds like she might be really thinking about it. It would’ve been the third time one of them asked to take over the duty. But the answer comes when Eve slips his plate into the sudsy water. “Don’t think so. Maybe next time.”

“I tried,” Kiri laughs. “Pops, I’m going to be in the garage for a bit. I’m almost finished with the paint on the shelves.”

“Shelves?”

Kiri shakes his head at the question. “Have you not been in the garage the last few days? A friend wanted help building some shelves. You said we could use the garage.”

Calum works through his memory. He remembers when Kiri asked if they had power tools, which Calum does remember showing Kiri where they were. “I-,” Calum laughs. “It’s gone. But okay, thanks for the heads up.”

“Uh oh, Pops. Memory problems, don’t tell me you’re getting old,” Kiri laughs.

“You keep living long enough you’ll be in my spot sooner than you think. Do you need a hand with anything?”

“No, don’t think so. If I do, I’ll holler.”

“Sounds good.”

Cailean continues putting the clean dishes away as he dries them, though he doesn’t need to put them all away. He does so anyway, even extending a second offer to Eve if she needs help with anything else. Much like his first, Eve politely declines as she dries her hands from the dishes. The kitchen is silent. Not even Eve’s feet make a sound as she makes her way over to the kitchen table.

“Need me to stick around?” she asks quietly. Her nails drag just lightly through Calum’s hair, scratching ever so slightly at his scalp with the action. Last night and yesterday was a lot for both of them. She’s not sure if Calum’s in the mood for extended company or not. Eve would rather be clear on where his needs stand than assuming anything else.

Calum reaches out, one arm slipping around her waist. He urges her around to settle onto his thigh and she goes without a fight, perching on his lap. “I need to stop by the florist and cemetery if you’d be okay with joining.”

“You do realize you are asking me to visit your late wife with you, right? Wouldn’t that be scandalous?” Eve can’t bite back the tiny smile on her lips.

“Asking my current girlfriend, who also happens to be my ex-wife, to go with me to my dead wife's grave isn’t something I hadn’t fully thought would ever happen, so you know--scandalous or not, I’m asking. Will you join me? The boys will probably want to join too. They usually go with me. Just as a warning.”

“Is-is that why Māra’s out with friends?”

Calum nods, “We’ll see if she makes it through today. Sometimes, she can. Sometimes, she can’t.”

Māra always takes it the hardest and Calum never forces her to do anything that she’s not ready to do. Though it was only their wedding anniversary, it was a tradition that Calum and Kelsie tried to include the kids in the festivities to some extent. They always made time for themselves, but as their family expanded, asking a babysitter to care for three kids at the same time started to feel more and more like a chore and worry. It helps too that the boys were happy to watch the kids when needed. But it would be a venture for later.

“She’ll come around, find her way through,” Eve offers. It’s mostly in an effort to console Calum. He’d raised great kids, alongside Kelsie. Eve wants him to be proud, but it’s also not her place to downplay and belittle grief.

“She will. I still think she’s processing a lot,” Calum states. Without much thought, he drops his head into Eve’s chest, ear pressing right against her heart. The rhythm is almost normal. It beats slower than a human heart, he realizes. But he only seems to catch the slight difference because he keeps trying to time the thump he’s grown accustomed to, to Eve’s and her’s always seems to lag just slightly behind his time.

“How did she ever find out about me?” Eve means it harmlessly, a question more to ask what is Māra truly processing besides the death of her mother.

“I-I don’t know how she figured out what you are. She’d asked all the time why she was named after gardens. Kelsie would tell Mar, some variation that gardens being a place where pretty things grow and that Kelsie thought it would be beautiful to name her only daughter after a place where beauty grows from the inside. I don’t know. Mar’s always been curious. She loves getting to the root of something. I’d tell her that I wanted her to carry a piece of her culture with her. Perhaps it satisfied her. Maybe all it did was make her question why we both had different answers.”

“It’s reasonable to have different reasons for a name,” Eve interjects.

“Yeah, because we’re adults. We have reasoning. And it’s also rich, because it’s us. Of course, I can’t tell her because I wanted a piece of an old lover. I can’t tell my child the real reason because what if she thinks she’s somehow different. But it seems like maybe it didn’t matter in the long run.”

“It might,” Eve returns, pushing back some of Calum’s hair to plant a kiss to his hairline.

“I guess we never really know for sure. But, to get back to your question. About six months after Kelsie died, I finally got around to sorting through her things. The kids wanted some stuff; I kept some stuff. The whole house sort of got turned upside down and we’re digging out boxes that Kels and I haven’t touched in years, right? They want to help, so I let them and I think--I’m not certain though--I think she might’ve gotten into one of my old boxes. I packed up some old journals and photos. Some pictures of us were in the box and a journal. I kept the journal because of some of the stuff I wrote about. I didn’t want just anyone getting hands on it.”

“What kind of photos?” Eve asks.

“Our wedding day photos,” Calum admits softly. “So I had to come clean.”

“Calum,” Eve sighs. “Of all the things to keep.”

“Oh, sue me.”

“You’re lucky it’s not a sueable offense. It’s not a giant leap,” Eve notes. “Eve, the garden. Before she started piecing things together, were you ever going to tell her?”

That’s the question. It’s not Eve asking if Calum was going to tell his children, it’s Eve asking if Calum was ever to call back for Eve. Calum knew Eve would ask it eventually. It’s a reasonable question to ask. But Calum’s terrified of the answer. He exhales, pushing his head up. Eve’s gaze is pointed directly at him. His arms are settling around her hips, fingers threading to keep her close. Eve could break the grip if she wanted. Calum shakes his head before a soft, “No,” leaves his lips.

Eve’s not shocked at the answer, but she is a little taken aback by the firmness in Calum’s voice. “Why?”

“Because I wasn’t going to call you. If Kelsie hadn’t died when she did, I had come to terms with my decision. We were going to have those seven years. We were going to cherish them for what they were and I was going to remain loyal to Kelsie. She and I were going to have decades. And if she died when we got older, much older, I was going to see after my kids, but I wasn’t going to have anyone find you. They would’ve discovered you after I died maybe. Or when they put me up in a home, but I wasn’t going to drag you back through such pain.”

Calum exhales. His throat threatens to close and the sting spreads through his chest. The exhale allows him a moment to collect himself before continuing, “Then she died in that accident. I wasn’t prepared to lose Kelsie so early. I didn’t know what else to do. And the only thing that felt right was reaching out to you. I couldn’t make heads or tails of much of anything in my personal life. I had enough sense to be there for my kids, because that’s my job as their dad. But to think I would spend the next thirty years without anyone. God, I couldn’t imagine it. I didn’t want to imagine that kind of life.”

Eve takes her thumb to wipe the tears that have slipped down Calum’s cheek. She doesn’t think Calum notices the tears that have slipped. Or if he has, he’s not made any movement to clear the tears. “So you called me,” she deduces.

“So I called you,” Calum states.

“Because I’ll always answer.”

“It’s selfish, really. The thing I said I didn’t want to cause you I have roped you right into.”

“Sometimes you’re allowed to be selfish, Calum. But you see now why I still call it a curse. Do I love the good parts? Yes. Do I adore every second I get with you? Yes, of course. But it comes with pain. It is still a curse at the end of the day.”

Calum can only nod. The lump in his throat he’d been trying to swallow back down is too thick now. The inhale is shaky and when the words die in the space between his tongue and chest, Calum just nods. A resignation that he’d fulfilled the prophecy just as intended. Even if he wanted to let what he and Eve stay in the past, reality would never let him have that. He is a pawn in a game he could never win.

There’s nothing for Eve to say. Sure, in a wider stance, Calum’s fate was sealed long before he was born. But even in the macrocosm, individual choices have to be made. Calum could have named Māra something else. He could’ve gotten rid of the photos earlier. He could’ve done so many things differently. Yet, he hadn’t. All of his choices that he did make after learning the truth behind Eve were still his responsibility. Though, the truth didn’t make it easier to accept. He is here now. His head cradled into Eve’s hands, pressed to her sternum. Calum is here now. This is the bed he’d have to lie in now.

The late morning fades into the early afternoon and just as Calum thinks that maybe Māra will get through the rest of the day smoothly, his phone rings. Eve sees it first, from the couch, as the screen lights up before the ringtone sounds. When she reads Māra’s name on the screen, she picks it up and scurries down to the bathroom door. Her knock is gentle. But the rush of water from the sink cuts out and she knocks again.

Calum peels open the door, brows furrowed together when he spots Eve at the door. “There’s like five bathrooms--”

“It’s Māra,” Eve returns, answering the call before it goes to voicemail and holds it up to Calum’s ear.

“Dad?”

Calum takes the phone out of Eve’s hand, still keeping it up to his ear. “Yeah, sweetpea. It’s me. What’s up? Boy trouble?” He wishes it’s just boy trouble. Calum guesses it’s probably not. But he can still hold out hope.

Māra’s laughter is soft. “No, not boy trouble. Yet,” she adds after a pause.

“Gonna give your old man a heart attack, don’t say that.”

“Dad, it’s okay to still miss her, right? It’s okay to still ache, right?”

Calum inhales at the crack in Māra’s voice. His eyes blur for a moment with threatening tears, but they don’t fall. “Yeah, Mar, it’s okay to still miss your mother. It’s okay to still ache. Do you want me to come get you?”

“No, no, I just--Jasmine and her mom. Sometimes it just hurts. That’s all. You can’t fix it. I can’t fix it. It just hurts.”

“Sometimes it does,” Calum agrees. “And it’s okay that it does hurt.”

A shaky exhale crackles through the receiver. “She’d understand. That I still want to hang out with my friends. I still--I still have life.”

“She would. If between the two of us, only one would understand that it would be your mom. Kels always understood that. You sure you don’t want me to get you?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m sure. Could-Could I visit her tomorrow? I know you’re probably going today.”

“Of course, sweetpea. Tomorrow’s fine.”

Another sniffle cracks through the line. “Can you just stay on the line with me? Tell me what’s happening over there?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s sort of boring over here,” Calum starts, pushing away from the bathroom door. He debates for a moment if he should mention Eve and then decides against it. It’s not lying. But there’s no reason for Calum to mention her specifically. Instead Calum chats about how the house is shockingly quiet between Kiri’s work on the shelves and Cailean upstairs. Calum’s sure to take it slow as he talks, knowing that the longer he takes, the more time Māra has to calm herself down.

The call only goes for another few minutes before Māra feels calm enough to get off the phone. Calum lets her go when she says she’s ready, but he clutches the phone between his hands for a moment. The corner of the device presses into his forehead as he drops his gaze to the floor. The couch shifts next to him. It’s a soft touch, right on his knee. But Calum’s never been more relieved to have someone at his side than in this moment. None of this is easy. Raising kids, dealing with death--not a single one of those are easy. But Calum’s sorely reminded just how much having someone else helps. Even if Eve can’t fix everything, her presence is still a comfort.

Calum’s grateful for the presence even when Eve sits in the backseat of the car. Kiri sits up front, Cailean behind the passenger seat and Eve behind Calum. Calum’s grateful for Eve when she watches them pick up the bouquet--peace lilies, violets, white roses, white daisies, and blue irises. Calum’s grateful. It is as plain and simple as that. And he’s even more grateful when he takes the step back from Kelsie’s headstone and Eve’s right there in the corner of his eye. The boys are mostly quiet, soft ‘I love you’s falling from their lips.

Eve doesn’t dare encroach. She keeps her distance, hands behind her back. But she’s there--all the same. That’s all that matters. She’s here because Calum asked her to be here. She’d always be there if Calum asked.

“Were you there?” Kiri turns, spotting Eve behind them. She stands, arms behind her back at attention. “When Mom died, were you there?”

“No,” Eve returns. Her tone is even without being condescending. It’s a fact. Eve was not there when Kelsie died. She hardly ever is for anyone’s death—save for the escapades Death drags her on.

“Did you know about us? Before Dad mentioned us?”

“In a way, yes.” The confusion is clear and Eve continues on, “Your mother called for me. Most dead people don’t get many requests. There’s no one phone call rule in Heaven. You’ll be happy to know your mother was decidedly going to Heaven. I didn’t know she’d died until after it happened. She was on her way to the otherside when she asked for me. By name. And I answer the calls when they come. It’s my job. ”

“Mom asked for you?” Cailean questions, turning now to Eve.

“Your mother asked for me.”

“What-what did she say?” Kiri takes a step forward. “What did she want?”

In all the time Eve had spent with Kiri he’d always been level headed. He had a no-nonsense air to him. While Eve wouldn’t call it a blase attitude, she would say that Kiri was cautious. But his face opens now in desperation and Eve sees the child he probably was. Trusting and wide eyed--Kiri probably took everything in with open arms and palm, letting razors cut if they fell and being kissed with giddy rain. He knew the world could and would hurt him, but he let it do so anyway. Much like was happening now. Eve’s answers—if she gives them fully—will only serve to cut Kiri’s faith just a little bit more. And yet, he is asking for it.

“She wanted her children safe.” It’s easy enough to round down the sentiments because truth be told, it was more complicated than that. The promise Eve can keep is that she won’t make it harder for them.

“Did she ask you to take care of us?” Kiri probes.

Eve shakes her head. “No. I would do a poor job at that. You don’t make promises to dead people you can’t keep.”

“Then what! What did she say, Eve?” The emotion catches in Kiri’s throat, and where his voice has grown in volume, it dies off in a choke on his pleas. “Please, what did she say?”

“Tell me, Kiri. Do you think knowing this will change anything about the way your mother lived, or loved? Is this knowledge going to give you peace?”

“I-I want it to,” Kiri confesses. He stands a head taller than Eve, but he’s never looked smaller.

“Can I let you in on a secret?” Eve captures his hands, bringing him a step closer to her body. There’s still a foot or so between them. But Kiri’s body hunches in and his shoulders shake. He nods to Eve’s question nevertheless. “Her dying thoughts were of you, and Cailean, and Māra, and Calum. She only wanted you all taken care of. I would be a poor substitute and messenger to her legacy and wishes. She loves you, Kiri. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“You keep doing that. Using present tense. She’s dead.”

Eve’s smile is tiny. She squeezes at Kiri’s hands to get him to look at her. When she does, she tilts her head just a little. “What do you think she asked me to do?”

“Fuck,” Kiri laughs--wet and thick with tears, but it’s still a laugh. His mother would never want him for a second to think just because she was dead that it would stop her hopes and dreams. Just because his mother is dead does not mean that her love ceased too. “Of course. Of course she did.”

Eve knows that later Calum will ask her what really happened. He too will be curious. Eve’s grateful, though, that in the moment as they spend just a few more minutes at the grave that Calum keeps whatever questions he has swallowed down. The question burns. Eve can see it right behind Calum’s gaze when he looks back in the rearview mirror. With a brief locked gaze, Eve can only hope she’s conveyed to Calum to wait. They return to Calum’s house and the boys immediately head for the stairs. But Calum and Eve both linger not quite at the front door but they have not pushed deeper into the house.

When Calum is sure the doors upstairs have been closed, he spins. “You never mentioned Kelsie talking to you before,” he hisses. His volume is low but the anger is clear. He’s not sure if it’s fear or sadness that’s winning out more on the emotion. But something hurts in his chest. Why would Eve not mention that to Calum of all people?

“She knew about me,” Eve returns. “She asked for me by name and told me that she wants her children cared for. She wants you cared for because she knows if you have me you can be there for your children. But she knew about me though. You can be pissed at me. But tell me: how did she know?”

“I didn’t hide you,” Calum returns. “I never hid what we had.”

“Are you accusing me of hiding something?”

“Why didn’t you mention it before?” Calum knows better than to answer that outright. Eve had her reasons for keeping their conversation quiet. But it still hurts. All Calum had imagined for a year now was what Kelsie’s last thoughts were. Calum had wished for a moment there that it had been him instead of Kelsie. He had started to offer to the store instead of Kelsie, but her job was closer than his. He’d have to cross the entire city just to get there whereas Kelsie was only a few minutes out.

“I only wanted to come into your life when you were ready. Besides, you’re not a hard man to keep tabs on when necessary. There was no reason to come to your door before you were ready.”

“She was my wife! You think I didn’t imagine night after night what she was thinking. I would do anything to change places with her. Eve, I buried her. My kids, the kids I had with her, watched their mother lowered into fucking dirt. Why didn’t you tell me she asked for you? Why?”

“I-” Eve blinks, watching the furrow between Calum’s brow. This is not the reaction she anticipated. But truly on the face of things, it could have gone a number of ways. “I’m sorry, Calum.”

“Why was she thinking of me?” His voice cracks on the question and Eve watches the first tear bubble in his lash line. “Why would she be focused on me when our kids need her?”

“Because she loves you,” Eve returns. That is a fact. Eve knew that.

“He’s always loved you, you know,” Kelsie says. Her eyes hurt from the light in front of her. But Eve’s body blocks some of it and it hurts a little less to take in the other woman’s appearance. Dark clothes and hair, though the ends look recently dyed a warm ginger. She’s never been super insecure, but standing in front of Eve, Kelsie feels a little out of place. How had Calum loved both of them? Eve exudes a confidence that Kelsie feels like she could never reach.

“He’ll always love you,” Eve returns. She doesn’t say what she’s really thinking: that Calum’s bond to her is forged in youth, lust, and design. Not that it is any less real. It is real, and it would always be different.

“Just--can you promise me something?” Kelsie asks. She’s unsure if she should ask. It was more than enough that when Kelsie asked for Eve that she actually showed up. When Calum talked of Eve, what she was, and their time together, Kelsie thought the claims of her being the Devil incarnate were just something to say for the effect. Eve wasn’t actually the Devil, but to Calum she was.

However, Kelsie had asked, upon spotting God and Death at her side, if she were dead. When they confirmed she was, when they confirmed she was going to the other side, Kelsie asked if she’d run into Eve. They were adamant Kelsie wouldn’t. And then it happened: I want to talk to Eve. Now, Kelsie is here. She’d asked for it. Wouldn’t it be stupid not to ask after all this?

“What is it? I won’t promise if I don’t know what I’m getting into,” Eve answers. “It’s not anything to do with you,” Eve tacks on. “Hazards of the job, and all.”

“I love him, I love Calum so much. And I always knew even before he told me. But I always knew someone had come before me. His first true love and it never ends well. But I love him. Do you think--oh, I don’t think I should be asking anymore.”

“Ask me,” Eve commands. It’s gentle, her hands take in Kelsie’s.

How could the touch feel so real even though she’s dead? Kelsie wonders. When her gaze lifts to Eve’s, the purple swirling with a bit of gold and the pupil tin the shape of snake’s, Kelsie can’t help but feel sucked in. Kelsie has to answer. She must. “Take care of him. Calum’s got to be there for the kids. He’s all they have left now. But he’s going to lose it for a while there. He’ll need to grieve, of course. But please--go back to him. When the time is right or when you can. Just please go back to him. He still loves you.” The two women can only stare at each other. A silent exchange of recognition and Eve nods. “And please, don’t let my kids forget that I love them. Present tense. I always will.”

Another few seconds drop between them--silent again. Eve gives another nod before she speaks. “I promise.”

It’s Calum’s voice that brings Eve back to the present around her. It’s his trembling voice that makes Eve’s chest ache. “You-you’re just saying that,” Calum retorts. “You’re--you don’t mean it.”

“She told me.”

Three words, but they make Calum shake his head. He spins from her, walking over to the dining table. Calum had told Kelsie. He told her about Eve a year and a half into their relationship. It was eating him alive not to. But there’s no way Kelsie would ask for Eve. There was no way her last thoughts were of him. Eve stays near the door, watching Calum pace. He peers up at her every few seconds, to confirm she’s still there. Eve never moves though. She’s always in the same spot when Calum looks up.

“Show me,” Calum finally returns. Eve could take him in his sleep to the memory. It would prove to him that it was real.

“Tonight?” Eve questions.

Calum nods. “Tonight.”

“You’re sure you’ll be able to fall asleep?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll get you tonight then. Would you like me to leave in the meantime?”

Calum’s not sure what he wants. But he doesn’t like that Eve would just leave. Sure he’s angry--it’s the fear talking mostly, but that doesn’t mean he wants Eve to go. Unless she wants to go. “You’ll come back, though, right? Before we meet in the dream, you’ll come back here for the night?”

“I don’t have to go. I-should we call a timeout?”

Calum exhales. No one’s asked him for a time out in decades. Kelsie and he almost always managed not to ruffle too many feathers. Sure they had their disagreements. Sure a couple got ugly. But they never needed the phrase. They had a look. Kelsie would always look up with a heavy exhale, chin wobbling. It was always her tell that things were getting too heated. Calum nods, at Eve’s question. “There's, uh, there’s no garden though. Just the backyard.”

“I’m sure you still have a music office,” Eve grins.

He gives an exhaled tuft of laughter. “Yeah. There’s, well, there’s Kelsie’s craft room next door too. But you’ve-you’ve always enjoyed the outdoors.”

Eve nods towards the back of the house. “I’ll be outside, okay? When you’re ready.”

“Okay.” It’s all he needs to say before Eve moves from near the front door to the back. The door is soft as it shuts and Calum watches from the start of the hallways as Eve perches on one of the lounge chairs. She just sits for a second, right on the edge before pushing back into the incline.

It shouldn’t shock Calum. When he cracks open the back door, and Eve’s hardly moved from the spot she settled in, he shouldn’t be shocked. But part of him wondered if she’d run off. His answer stares back at him when she opens one eye.

“You hungry?” Calum asks. He holds out the plate, a soup bowl on it with salad and some breadsticks too. The plate is quite crowded, but Calum was more focused on finishing the dinner than with how it looked on the plate.

Eve takes it from his hands. “Thank you.”

“Care for company?”

“I’d like yours,” Eve smiles. “But I know you’re a stickler about having dinner with the kids.”

“I ate with them already. I hope you don’t mind.”

Eve shakes her head, lifting the bowl from the plate in her lap. “I don’t.”

Calum settles at the feet of her chair and Eve folds her legs up under herself. “I’m sorry for raising my voice earlier,” he starts. The spoon is a soft clink in the bow as Eve feeds herself one spoonful. He knows she doesn’t need the food, but he’s grateful that she takes the olive branch.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I wasn’t sure if I should, if I’m honest.”

Calum reaches out, hand falling to her knee. He brushes his thumb over the denim covered joint. “If I were in your shoes, I probably wouldn’t have been sure either.” A bit of a breeze creeps in through the bushes and Calum takes in only the thin t-shirt covering Eve’s body. “Are you col-” he pauses at the question. “Probably not.”

“Are you cold?”

Calum shakes his head. “I’ll be okay until you finish.”

“Should I still show you?”

He’d debated this as he stood over the simmering pot. He knew he shouldn’t. Eve wouldn’t have a reason to lie over something like this. But he couldn’t shake the thought that he could get to see Kelsie one more time. Perhaps if he could see her not dead, if he could see her not patched up from the cuts and scrapes, he could let her go. That’s the hard part. The last moments he has of Kelsie is her after the thing that took her life. He was always seeing her, behind his eyes, in the after accident state. Maybe he could let her go once he realized that it was just her physical body. Kelsie’s spirit would still be intact. She’d always be the woman he married, caring to a fault and tender.

“Please,” he sighs.

Eve nods, stretching to place her plate and bowl on the table next to her. She settles back into the incline, arms opening up. “C’mon, she’s waiting,” Eve states. She hopes this doesn’t set Calum back. But she’s not in the business of second guessing Calum anymore. If he said he wanted it then he’d have to accept the consequences alongside it.

Calum doesn’t waste another second before crawling up between her legs and presses his back into her chest. Eve holds him tight, both arms squeezing around him. Sleep will take a minute, maybe two. But when it does come, so will Kelsie.

I love him, I love Calum so much. And I always knew even before he told me. But I always knew someone had come before me. His first true love and it never ends well. But I love him.

Present tense.

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in-superbloom · 3 years ago

Text

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

#anna writes #perhaps she does write after all #alright i'm gonna go hide somewhere now bye #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin fic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin x oc #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #ashton irwin imagine #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #anna writes: rwylm

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calpalirwin · 2 years ago

Text

New Beginnings

Summary: Avery Ryan wanted three things from life— love, her career, and to feel like she wasn't ever sacrificing one for the sake of the other. But was that even possible?

Word Count: 4.7k

Part 3

Avery pushed open the door to the bus, her yoga mat tucked under her arm. She was expecting to hear the rustling in the kitchen area of Ashton making breakfast and the smell of coffee dripping into the pot, a routine she’d grown accustomed to during these first few months of touring. A quiet morning spent alone with the man who silenced the butterflies while the world slept on around them. So, when she heard a “So, Avery, who’s your celebrity crush?” she stilled in her tracks.

No… no, no, NO! She knew that interview like the back of her hand, and the thought of Ashton seeing it made her cheeks turn the same color as her hair, and her heart race in her chest. Was it too much to wish for the ground to open and swallow her whole rather than continue to walk towards her doom?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A wave of warmth washed over Avery’s cheeks, and she giggled despite herself. “Oh, that question’s gonna get me in trouble,” Avery giggled again at the interviewer. She didn’t need to look over at Ajani to know that while she was rolling her eyes, Ajani had the same trouble-making grin on her face as their interviewer.

“Oh, c’mon,” the interviewer continued to goat. “The whole world knows that Avery Ryan was off the market before she became a household name. But we’re all human, right? We all got our celebrity crushes, don’t we?”

“Oh, we do,” Avery assured them.

“So?” the interviewer pressed.

“Ashton Irwin.”

Ajani busted into a fit of laughter beside Avery. “Little quick to answer that one, huh, Ace?”

“Oh, shut up!” Avery laughed with Ajani, covering her face with her hands. “Like anyone who says he isn’t at least one of their celebrity crushes is a liar.”

“Facts.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Avery heard a laugh that wasn’t Ashton’s she breathed a sigh of relief. “Morning, Mike,” she greeted, plopping down on the couch next to him. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, wanted to catch Crystal before her day started. Catch her up on everything.”

“Mhm, a likely story,” Avery teased, tilting her chin at his phone.

He laughed again and clicked his phone shut. “Yeah, I was telling her about your and Ash’s relationship, and how you both seem at a stalemate. And she mentioned the video. Thought I’d give it a watch. You know this interview is four years old? Still true?”

Avery decided to go with honesty. She nodded.

Michael broke out in a grin. “So, do something about it. Make a move.”

Avery scoffed. “Why can’t he make a move?”

“Aren’t you a feminist?”

“Yeah…”

“So, why can’t you make the first move?”

“Because it’s…” her voice trailed off as she fought to find the right words. “It’s a long story,” she decided with a huff.

“Well better get to telling it before Ashton gets up.”

“So, the abridged version is that Drew— my ex— and I grew up together. He moved to LA first. We reconnected when I moved there. We started dating. Moved in together. Planned our lives together. Everything. But once things started taking off with the band, something changed. Like… I dunno, like he saw the band as something I was only going to do short-term. And he couldn’t figure out how the life we wanted with each other could fit with mine and Ajani’s dreams for Lucky Mess. He started picking fights about whether he could trust me out on the road. And then he cheated on me with his high school girlfriend while I was on the road. And there was no moving past that for either of us. I didn’t want to try to make it work after that. And even if I had, he chose her, so it didn’t matter.”

Avery saw Michael’s jaw tighten and she knew he had felt that similar pain in the past. As a musician, she assumed they all had at least one story like that. “Fuck…” he muttered. “And Ash? He knows?”

“He knows the basics. That Drew and I dated. That we broke up. And that Drew is now engaged to the girl he left me for.”

Michael whistled low. “That’s fucked.”

“Yeah. But Ash doesn’t know that we broke up because Drew cheated. And it’s not even that I’m still hung up on Drew. But the engagement happened literally the day we all started working together, so it’s like a new pain if that makes any sense.”

“No, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Yeah. And then he and his fiancée showed up at the beginning of the tour. And… I know in my head that Drew and Ash are not the same person. I know that I can trust Ash. But…” her voice trailed off.

“It’s a risk,” Michael said knowingly. “A risk that you got a fresh reminder of. But take it from someone who’s known Ash a long time. He’s going to put in the energy he wants returned. He won’t give ultimatums because he doesn’t want to get ultimatums. He won’t make his partner compromise on their dreams for his benefit because he doesn’t want to have to compromise on his dreams for theirs. Plus, he’s totally smitten with you.”

Avery smiled and rested her head affectionately on his shoulder for a minute.

“And how do you know all this stuff?”

“You think it was a typo you got to that pool party 2 hours ahead of everyone else?” His green eyes danced with mischief and trouble.

“That was you?!”

Michael laughed. “It was Cal, actually.”

“You’re much more observant than you let on, Mike. Should I be worried?”

“Nah. I only use my power for good. Pinky swear.”

They were still laughing when Ashton finally stumbled sleepily from the bunks. His shirt rode up as he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, his mouth dropping open in a yawn. Michael’s thumb swiped at the corner of Avery’s mouth. “Stop drooling,” he whispered low so Ashton couldn’t hear, winking as he did so.

She slapped his arm playfully, laughing loudly. “Can you blame a girl?”

“Oh, just make a move. Speaking of moves, wanna play chess? Playing against Luke gets old.”

“Love to,” she chirped.

Ashton watched as Michael pushed himself off the couch and started searching for something. “Videogames already Mike?”

“Nah, were playing chess,” Avery answered.

“Aw, I lost my morning buddy?” Ashton fake pouted.

“Seems like it,” Avery laughed.

“Sorry, mate,” Michael shrugged, his green eyes surprisingly apologetic.

“Nah, no worries. Might get breakfast made quicker without having to help the tiny one reach the plates and cups every two seconds,” Ashton teased, winking at the woman who rolled her eyes and scoffed. He laughed as he got breakfast going, and they set up their game.

“How’s it going?” he asked a little while later, sitting down beside Avery.

Her eyebrows were pulled together, her tongue poking out slightly in the corner of her mouth. “Good,” she said as Michael slowly moved a piece.

“Where’s mine?” Michael asked, looking at the two coffee cups and a large plate of food Ashton placed on the coffee table.

“Bread’s in the cupboard, eggs are in the pan,” Ashton told him while Avery took a bite from one of the pieces of toast, smiling at Ashton in thanks.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Your move,” he told Avery as he got up, muttering under his breath something vaguely that sounded like “And I don’t mean chess.”

If she heard Michael’s less than subtle second statement, she gave no indication. Instead, she wiped the crumbs from her mouth before reaching for her mug to take a sip, studying the board methodically. “Check,” she said, moving a piece and taking another bite of toast.

“Check?!” Michael asked bewildered, leaving his plate on the counter, and rushing back over to look at their game. He quickly moved his king out of harm’s way. “Uncheck!” he said, sticking his tongue out at her before going back to make his food.

“Actually, it’s checkmate,” she replied, moving to block his king in so he couldn’t move it. She leaned back against the couch, her side pressing into Ashton��s. He draped his arm over her shoulders and returned the smile she tossed his way. Ashton swallowed the urge to kiss the side of her temple, not wanting to ruin the soft moment they were creating.

This time Michael didn’t come running back. He just kept making his plate, shaking his head the whole while. “Rematch?”

“You’re on,” she grinned, quickly leaning forward to reset the board. Michael kept shaking his head, but this time Ashton didn’t think it had to do with him losing at chess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s a great crowd out there,” Avery grinned at Ashton as she came off stage.

“You say that every time,” he told her as they stepped off to the side. Her hand found his heart, and his found hers, feeling it pound wildly with adrenaline.

“That’s cuz it’s true every time. Best fans in the world.”

“Every artist says that, too.”

“Again, that’s because it’s true. It’s fuckin incredible to be able to create something that people can relate to, and that they love it enough to want to relate to it.”

“Well, you’re pretty easy to love.”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened.

“Your work,” Ashton rushed, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe he just blurted it out like that… “Your work is easy to love. The way your mind works is beautiful to witness.”

Her cheeks flushed more, and she ducked her head. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “You’re pretty great yourself.”

They lapsed into silence, her heartbeat slowing to match the pace of his, the thoughts they wanted to voice trapped in their throats, eyes searching for understanding in the other. Out of all the tour rituals Ashton had, his rituals with Avery had become his favorite. There was a palpable ache in him to know that tour would end far too quickly for his liking. That one morning very soon he was going to have his morning coffee and not have her giggling at him from across the table. That these moments of finding stillness in each other’s beating hearts, reminding them that they were very much alive were limited. At first Ashton thought that he didn’t want to give it up because it was a hard transition going from the chaotic sound of touring to the deafening silence of being home. But the more moments he shared with Avery, the more he realized it was her that he didn’t want to give up.

Avery didn’t want to give Ashton up either. Ever since the second show, her attention had continued to drift to be centered on Ashton. She could only hope that her trust wasn’t being misplaced; that she wasn’t someone misreading all the signs. But in the middle of the doubt, there was reassurance. Reassurance, and the much-needed comfort that came from the predictability of her routine with him. And she appreciated his patience as she grappled with her lingering hesitation more than she would ever be able to properly express aloud. But maybe everyone was right. Maybe it was time to make a move. A clear, no-room-for-misinterpretation move.

When the stagehand came up to give Ashton a minute warning, Avery and him reluctantly stepped apart, their hands dropping to their sides. “Don’t forget to put your contacts back in after your shower,” he reminded her.

“Thanks,” she smiled softly. “Hey, Ash?” she asked as he started to turn away, her fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning back around. The hand on his wrist tugged Ashton downwards, while her other hand snaked around his neck. She stretched up on her toes and Ashton didn’t hesitate to meet her halfway. With one arm wrapping instinctively around her back, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, before cupping her face gently as their lips met. Electricity surged through him as the kiss went from tender and timid to hungry and passionate. And damn it all to hell, as quickly as they started, they had to stop.

“Break a leg, rockstar,” she breathed.

Ashton’s cheeks were already sore by the time he got behind his drum kit, every part of his body tingling. Whatever buzz he got from playing was nothing compared to the high of kissing her and the way she managed to be both completely in control while surrendering herself to him in the same breath. It was the confidence of a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to give in to those wants. And fuck if feeling wanted wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

I’ve got the best friends in this place,

And I’m holding on!

“Thank you! We’re 5SOS!” Luke shouted into the microphone.

“And we’re Lucky Mess! Good night. Houston!” Ajani finished.

They all took a bow and as they walked off, Ashton wrapped an arm around Avery, pulling her into him and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “You killed it, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, rockstar,” she beamed up at him. And he knew she meant the song, but he also knew she meant more than that. And Ashton couldn’t help himself. He spun her into him, both of his hands cupping either side of her face and kissed her the way they would have kissed each other earlier if they had more time. They giggled against each other’s lips as their friends whistled and whooped their encouragement. One of her hands left Ashton’s hair to bat them out of their way as they made a beeline for the bunks, collapsing onto the covers and into each other. There was no way in hell they were giving each other up now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no need to voice what Ashton and Avery became to each other after that night. It felt good to just know where the other stood without having to say a single word. To know that they could just be two people finding a stillness in the other in the form of warm coffee mugs, stolen kisses, hearts beating in time, and nights spent tangled up in each other.

“Seems like things are going pretty well with you and Ash,” Calum spoke up as they all hung around the bus on one of their nights off, not looking up from his phone. Ajani was next to him doing Luke’s makeup while Michael and Avery played chess at the kitchen table.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Avery answered, not bothering to look over at the man.

“Good, cuz the whole world knows. Someone posted that little smooch he gave you last week at our Houston show,” Calum explained.

“Oh?” Avery asked while Ajani snatched Calum’s phone from him with a “Gimme that!”

“Rank?” Avery asked her.

“Off the charts. It’s really good.”

“And what are people saying?”

“Good things,” Ashton’s voice told her before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh, look at you all dressed up,” Avery told him grinning. His hair was damp from a quick shower, a short-sleeved pink button-up unbuttoned to a dangerously low level, and black dress pants. “Got a hot date?”

“Yes?” he asked in a hopeful tone, the green and gold dancing in his eyes.

Avery laughed. “Alright. Let me go grab my things.”

“What about our game?” Michael asked, crossing his arms.

“Hmm…” Avert looked at the chessboard, her tongue clicking in her cheek. “Checkmate,” she shrugged, moving one of her pieces and ending the game.

Michael’s green eyes blinked once before going wide. “How?! How do you always win?! Luke, stop getting pampered and come play with me!”

Avery laughed more as she got up from her seat and grabbed Ashton’s hand in hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is actually really nice,” Avery told Ashton as they walked around downtown. “To do something we’d be able to do if we were home.”

“Complete with slack-jawed strangers,” Ashton joked, jerking his chin at the people whispering and pointing as the two of them walked by.

Avery laughed, pushing his shoulder. “Oh, be nice. At least no one’s alerted the press yet. Did you ladies want a picture?” Avery asked, turning around to the group of about five or so young women. They’d been following the pair for about the last block or so, trailing about fifty feet behind, giggling as they tried to gather the courage to speak up.

“Oh, my God, could we?!” one of them asked, while the others dug around for their phones.

“Yeah, of course.” Avery waved them over.

“So, are you guys like dating?” another one of them asked nervously as they started taking pictures.

“Yeah,” both Ashton and Avery answered, smiling at each other.

They continued to make small talk as pictures were taken. Then the group of women thanked the couple for their time and wished them well with the rest of tour.

“So, dating, huh?” Avery teased as they started walking again.

“You said it too,” he reminded with a giggle.

“Well, it’s the truth, right?”

“Course it’s the truth.”

“And it’ll still be the truth when we get back home, and all this goes away?” Avery asked, biting into her lower lip. She was realizing now that she hadn’t wanted to have the conversation of labeling what they were not because she was secure in what they had, but because she wasn’t. She didn’t want to hear the truth if the truth was that this meant more to her than him.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, stopping and spinning their bodies so they faced each other.

Avery held her breath as he leaned down and she stretched up on her toes to help him close the distance. His lips found hers, then her cheek where he licked a long stripe up the side of her face. “Ashton!” Avery squealed. “The fuck did you lick me for, you fuckin weirdo?!”

“There!” he grinned in triumph. “I licked you, so you’re mine now.”

“I am my own person, thank you very much, sir,” she grumbled, wiping at her face.

He giggled, “But?”

Avery grabbed his hand and sloppily licked the top of it. “But, if we’re marking things as ours, you’re mine, too.”

They were still giggling when they started to walk back up to the venue, finding paparazzi milling around. “You good?” he checked, pulling Avery closer to him.

“Are you?” she countered playfully. “Ash, it’s just some people with cameras. I’m used to this, or did you forget that your girlfriend also happens to be a talented musician?”

“I could never forget that.”

“Ashton! Avery!” they called out as the drummers got closer, cameras flashing. “Where’s everybody else?”

“Probably having a quiet night in,” Avery shrugged.

“And where are you guys coming from?”

“Just getting back from our date,” Ashton told them.

“Date?! Are you guys dating now?!”

“Yep,” they both answered. “Enjoy your night, guys.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Between the kiss at the Houston show, and the run-in with both fans and the paparazzi a week later, the news of Ashton and Avery dating spread like wildfire. So, when Avery's phone rang a few weeks later with a number she recognized despite deleting, she was slightly taken aback but not completely shocked.

Avery knew she should decline the call, but she hit accept. “Hello?”

“Hey, Av. You got a minute to talk?”

“I answered the phone, didn’t I?”

Drew let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you set aside the anger long enough to listen to what I have to say?”

“What’s left to say?”

“A lot, actually. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since LA. Seeing you again… I just miss you. I miss watching you in your element. I miss… everything. Everything about what we were. What we had. And I know I’m the one who fucked everything up. I made my peace with that a long time ago. But I want to try and stop myself from making another mistake. So, I broke up with Madison. Because I realized I didn’t want to give her the life I wanted to have with you. And… I guess I’m saying that life is still yours if you want it.”

“You are… unbelievable. You had years to realize this. Years to have this conversation with me. So, the fact that you’re having it now that you see me finally moving on—"

“I know,” he cut her off. “If I’m the villain in your story… That’s on me.”

She sighed. “You’re not the villain in my story. We just weren’t meant to be, and I finally learned why.”

“I really am sorry for how our story played out. And I wish you nothing but the best. I hope you can at least believe that much.”

“Thank you. And for what it’s worth, you’re not giving Madison my life by being with her. So go rectify that mistake while there’s still time. Bye Drew.”

“Bye Av.”

The line went dead, and Avery wiped at her face in irritation, letting out a small scream as she did so.

“You good?” Michael asked. With everybody off doing their post sound-check/pre-show routines, Avery had almost forgotten Michael was seated a few feet away from her playing on his Switch.

“Life would be a lot easier if you could just hate some people, you know?”

Michael laughed and set the game aside. “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be you. So, he saw the pictures of you and Ash and finally realized he lost you for good, huh?”

“I swear do you guys just operate from the same script?” Avery asked as she moved to plop down beside him on the couch. She was grateful it was Michael instead of Ajani who had overheard the phone conversation with Drew. As much as Avery loved her best friend, she didn’t need a reminder that she was stupid for wasting any amount of energy mourning the man who had single-handedly blown up any future they might have shared.

“Yeah, we get this nifty little instruction booklet once we hit puberty. The ‘call her up and beg for a second chance once she’s moved on’ is right between ‘break her heart because you’re intimidated by her success’ and ‘what to do when she gives you a taste of your own medicine.’”

Avery laughed, then sighed. “Is it bad that I don’t hate him? I mean I hate what he did. But I don’t think that makes him a bad person. A bad ending doesn’t mean it was a bad story, you know?”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I think breakups get a bad rep. That they’re these pressure cookers of angst. That the only way to ever get over it is to learn to hate them. But I think that’s a bunch of crap. Like some relationships don’t work. Doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the good anyway.”

“Sometimes I still think it’d be better if I could hate him, though. So, I don’t feel like this…”

Michael furrowed an eyebrow. “Uh-oh… can I not be your friend anymore because you’re about to break Ash’s heart? Man, I really liked having another only child friend to hang out with, too.”

“What? No!” Avery laughed. “God, no. I love Ash.”

“You do?!”

Avery blushed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Have you told him?”

“I don’t know how. Plus, I’m scared. What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Michael snorted. “For one thing, I doubt that. Ash is completely head over heels for you, trust me. And for another, aren’t you a musician?”

“Yeah?”

“So, we got a whole stage full of instruments to help you tell him. Or I can distract you by being really bad at chess while you work up the nerve.”

Avery laughed again. “You’re actually a pretty decent chess player. You’ve just been playing against a really bad one for years, but don’t tell Luke I said that.”

Michael laughed with Avery. “Alright. Should I set up the board then?”

“Think I’m gonna give that talking through music thing a try first,” Avery told him, standing up and patting his leg. “But set it up anyway and we’ll try to squeeze in a game before we go on?”

“Deal. And hey, Avery?”

“Yeah?”

“I know putting your faith in someone new is hard. Especially after what you’ve been through. But don’t let that fear make you push Ash away. I don’t want to have to pretend to not like you.”

“You’re a good friend, Mike.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ashton’s heart was racing in his chest as he caught his breath at the top of the stadium stairs. Fuck, this shit was steep. He used his arm to wipe the sweat off his face and when he turned to jog back down, he saw Avery making her way across the top of the stage.

Ashton frowned. Normally at this time she was tucked away on the bus, reading her way through the thick completed collection of Sherlock Holmes.

Ashton could see her pick up a guitar and start playing, but he couldn’t make out what it was as he started to jog back down the stairs.

I think that I’m all-in.

You’re perfect.

God, I need you.

Just say you need me too.

Her voice rang out. Why did she sound like someone just broke her heart? Ashton jogged faster down the stairs, jumping the last three at the bottom, his sneakers slamming into the concrete floor.

And I want you every night, to wrap my arms around you.

Say it a thousand times.

Come closer, oh come closer.

Maybe it’s a little too much. Whoa.

The more she sang, the less he recognized. Curious, and a little worried at the sudden burst of inspiration, he stopped, waiting for her to finish and notice him.

I don’t wanna fuck this up. Whoa.

I don’t wanna say too much. Whoa.

But I think, I think, I think.

I think I’m in love.

“Hey,” he said, smiled up at her. “Is that true?”

“Hey.” She returned the smile soft and a little sad.

“Is that true?” he repeated, nodding at her guitar. “What you were just singing?”

Her lips quivered as she nodded, a tear sliding down her face. She sniffed, quickly wiping the tear away. “Yeah.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Ashton braced his hands against the stage floor, hoisting himself up. “Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?” He kept his voice soft as he moved to stand by her.

“Because… Drew…” Her voice shook, the doubt taking over.

“What about Drew?”

“He cheated. That’s how our relationship ended. And I’ve spent the past two and a half years trying to figure out how to get past that. And then with you… Everything has been effortless. So different from everything I’ve experienced before. In the best of ways. So, when it came to letting myself love you… I’m powerless to stop it. It’s like loving you was something I was always destined to do. And that terrifies me. It terrifies me how easy it is for me to love you. Because if you don’t feel the same… The only thing I ask of you is that when you break my heart, you do it nicely.”

“That’s not fair,” he chuckled softly.

“What’s not fair?”

“You don’t get the first kiss and the first I love you.”

“You love me?” Her voice came out small.

Ashton wrapped his arms around Avery, pulling her into him, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Of course, I love you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers, seeing the swirling shades of green in her eyes that have transformed his life every day for the last eight months. “And I’m scared, too. I don’t ever want to fuck up what I have with you. Because you… Avery, you are worth everything I’ve been through. All of it, the good and the bad. And I want to keep facing everything with you, even if it’s scary. Because you’re my new beginning.”

Avery giggled, nudging her nose affectionately against Ashton’s. “That might be the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Ashton kissed her sweetly. “It doesn’t make it any less true. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, rockstar.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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