Chapter Twenty-Seven
Erik folded his hands around a steaming mug of too-sweet coffee. Warmth pressed into his palms through black, fingerless gloves. Hushed chatter filled the coffee shop, accompanied by an acoustic cover playlist. Fingertips clacked keyboards. Friends sat close together and muffled their laughter.
It was the beginning of spring, but Seattle couldn’t shake winter. Cold spells bit into the city, reminding Erik that starting something new didn’t always bring an ending to what was left behind. He couldn’t stop thinking about River, but he hadn’t stopped thinking about River for days and weeks and months. This time, he couldn’t stop replaying the look in River’s eye, the silent understanding and abrupt disappointment. Erik should stop. He needed to stop. There was no good reason to use, yet he constantly found himself circling back to a powder or a pill, a door he could walk through and lock behind him.
River’s attentiveness spoke of untold stories. His hesitation, his carefulness. The quiet Erik had fallen in love with had turned River into someone with secrets. He couldn’t fault River for keeping them, not when Erik was the one with ghosts. A breath gathered in his chest, but he held it, letting it fester until it ached.
Last night, Erik had texted Beverly for the first time in four years.
Erik sent her a pin with the address when he got to the coffee shop that morning. He’d ordered something sweet with a ridiculous amount of espresso and wished he had whiskey to mix with it. Nerves lit beneath his skin, crackling and popping. He needed to do this. He had to.
His phone buzzed.
He picked at his cuticles. His hands shook and his head spun. Erik remembered River’s soft voice, his index finger resting against Erik’s mouth. Don’t. He remembered the last smile Lee wore on the night he died, eyes narrowed and mouth pinched. We should slow down, man. Erik grinning when he shook his head. Live fast. And Lee’s response, built on the steps of his laughter.
“Die young,” Erik whispered to himself. His eyes burned. He finished his coffee, set it in the bus bin and almost knocked into someone as he rushed out the door.
He didn’t text Beverly. His heart pounded, threatening to run right out of his chest. He paced down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. There was nowhere for him to go. River was at work—Erik didn’t want River to see him like this, anyway. He didn’t trust himself to be alone, and he didn’t trust himself with Jadis.
His phone fit against his ear.
“Des,” Erik said, her name coming out choked.
“Where are you?” Desiree said.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said. “I don’t know what to do—where to go, I’m just… I can’t do this anymore, and—”
“Honey, where are you?”
He swung his arms and sighed, glancing around. “Next to the record store, across from Starbucks.”
“This is Seattle. Specifics.”
Despite the burn in his throat, Erik laughed.
Desiree said, “Just meet me at the troll, yeah?”
Erik licked his lips. “Yeah, okay.”
“Do not call Jadis.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Ten minutes.”
…
The Fremont Troll was, in fact, a gigantic troll.
Long stone knuckles attached to a massive one-eyed troll dug into the dirt under the Aurora Bridge. The sculpture was a Seattle landmark, and even though it drew crowds of tourists, locals still flocked to the wise, strange beast. Erik paced in front of the stone hand curled over a sculpted VW Bug. Desiree leaned against the troll’s giant knuckles.
“Okay, spill,” Desiree said.
“I’m completely in love with him,” Erik said. His fear wore anger like armor. “Like, no looking back, totally, completely, stupidly in love with him. And I don’t know if he loves me, but I think he might.”
“No offense, sweetheart, but you’re no bundle of sunshine. If he’s still here, he’s gotta love you.”
He flipped her off and continued pacing. “Beverly is in town, and I ditched her this morning, and now she’s texted me”—he glanced at his phone—“eight times, and I’m…”
Desiree sighed.
“This is the part where I’d normally be breaking my lease and packing my shit.” He stopped in his tracks. “I’d be buying the next bus ticket to Austin, and I’d be gone.”
“Austin, huh? You’re still thinking about taking Pete’s offer?” Desiree’s smile was patient and soft. She crossed one foot over the other, legs wrapped in leather boots and black pants.
“Yeah…” He shook his head and glanced from her to the troll. “Figured it’d be a good place to crash for a while. The money’s good, and….”
“You’re running, aren’t you?”
Erik’s lips thinned. He didn’t answer.
“Because you’ve been found?”
“Yeah, I guess. I just wasn’t prepared for River to find me first.” He leaned against the other stone hand and breathed deeply through his nose. “And now…”
“Now you’re stuck not knowin’.”
“Yes.” Erik closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped, and he sagged against the troll’s knuckles. “I can’t… I can’t do this forever, Desiree. The fighting… The…”
“Drugs?”
Erik startled.
“C’mon, Erik, you’re not that subtle.”
Erik peeked at her from under his lashes. “It’s not a big deal. It was a couple times, that’s it.”
Her hands were covered in fuzzy white gloves. She held them up and shrugged. “No judgments here. You don’t need to tell me what happened between you and Beverly. I get it. We’ve all got shit. We’ve all done shit. But skeletons aren’t for carrying. We keep them in closets for a reason.”
He opened his mouth, but Desiree held up her hand, signaling for him to be quiet.
“You don’t need to tell me what you’re running from, all right? But you do have to tell River if you’re staying in Seattle or not. And after you tell him, you gotta let that shit go. You understand?”
“I don’t know how to,” he confessed. That was the truth of it. He didn’t know how to be the person he was becoming, because it wasn’t who he imagined he’d be. It wasn’t someone he thought he could be. “I’m… The fights are…”
“Killing you,” Desiree said. “Why do you think I only fight once a month, huh? I could never do what you do, week after week, barely any breaks.” She shook her head. “And if you’re letting them kill you, then you need to ask yourself why.”
“I know why,” he bit.
“Then you need to be brave enough to stop.”
The words punctured Erik, every organ and every vein. He closed his eyes, teeth set hard, and slid his fingernails across his palms. Bravery was in his blood, sure, but the kind she asked for lived in the places he kept out of reach. This was bravery he’d buried.
“You say it like it’s easy,” Erik whispered. “If I let myself have this… If I just…”
“Pain and penance will only last for so long,” Desiree said. “You wanna keep getting in the cage? Keep getting hurt? Be my guest. But what you’re running from won’t change because of it, and River doesn’t seem like to type to stick around and watch you do it to yourself.”
“He isn’t,” Erik mumbled. “Or, I don’t know. Maybe he is.” That would be worse, somehow.
“You hold the cards.” Desiree stepped toward him. She touched his cheek, dragged her thumb along his scarred brow. “I need to go prep the bar. You gonna be okay?”
He nodded. “Thanks for listening to me freak out.”
Desiree’s fist-bumped his shoulder. “Anytime.”
Erik watched her go, the long tail of her beige sweater waving around her ankles. The truth nagged at him—a truth he couldn’t shake or peel away.
Erik O’Malley didn’t want to fight anymore. Not like he had, at least. He didn’t want to run, or hide, or pretend. He wanted to take a chance.
Erik read the texts again and again.
He typed I miss you and deleted it.
He typed Where did you go? and deleted it.
The texts glared at him, short, to the point, and devastatingly unfamiliar. Erik thumbed over the message bubble, debated asking what was wrong, and then closed it. He already knew.
…
River canceled on him a few hours later, citing exhaustion from extra hours at Styx. Three days came and went before he called Erik and asked if he wanted to go to lunch.
“What’re you in the mood for?” Erik pulled his jacket on then straightened River’s collar.
“Not-Thai and Not-Pizza,” River said around a smile.
“Is that right?” Erik’s lips quirked. He watched River’s nimble fingers work the key into the lock, and took his hand once they hit the sidewalk. The sun had made itself busy since dawn, burning off a lingering haze. Blue skies remained, and Erik noticed the way River turned his face toward them, welcoming light on his cheeks and nose and mouth.
River was beautiful, and Erik was breathless because of it.
“What?” River glanced at him as they walked.
“You were smiling,” he said, but there was more to say than that. It was a new smile, a reminder that they hadn’t been at this long enough to know what hid behind every curled lip or furrowed brow. Some things, like that smile, were still mysteries.
“The sky’s blue.”
Erik’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he wondered what it would be like to tell him the truth. Spring meant blue skies and warm wind and a choice. Seattle and River, or a bus ticket to Austin. Committing to River, or running. The inevitable sat on his chest like an anvil. He kissed the corner of River’s mouth, squeezed his palm, and tried not to think about it.
“Does it have to be takeout? I’ve been craving a salmon sandwich. How do you feel about Matt’s in the Market? I haven’t been in ages,” River said. He tugged Erik close, breathed against his mouth, and kissed him softly, a kiss as rare and new as his smile—as if the three days of silence hadn’t happened.
“I’d love it.”
They walked to the market hand in hand and were seated on the second floor at a square table between the bar and a tall glass window, tilted open to let the ocean breeze drift through. Chatter filled the air. Silverware clanked against dishes, and laugher chimed from patrons seated at the bar. A neon red sign stood high above the market beside a glowing clock, each tick of the hand another minute closer to Erik’s decision to spill the truth.
River pointed at the menu. “Deviled eggs,” he said, and flicked his eyes to Erik. “Should we start with those or salad?”
“I like deviled eggs.” Erik followed the ridge of River’s knuckles with his index finger. “But either works.”
River watched him, lips pursed and brows knit with worry. There was no denying the unspoken. Questions buzzed in the minuscule space between them. What’s happening to us? Where do we go from here? What do you want to tell me? He saw it clearly on River’s face—those same questions, that same caution. Erik opened and closed his mouth.
I’m leaving. No, that wasn’t right. I have to go. But he didn’t, and he knew it. Pete wants me to fight in Austin, says I’ll bring in the big crowds. That was the beginning of the truth. I don’t want to go. There. That was it. Still, his breath caught, his jaw slackened, and he stayed silent.
“Are we okay?” River’s voice was as unsteady as Erik’s heartbeat. He turned his hand over and tickled Erik’s palm. “Are you okay?”
“It’s just…” Erik swallowed hard and met River’s eyes. “I need to tell you—”
“Erik O’Malley.”
Everything stopped. Erik’s heart. His breathing. His thoughts.
He knew that voice, a little raspy, a little low. He knew her soft chuckle, recognized the floral notes of her perfume and the chipped black polish that tipped her fingers. Erik’s throat cinched. There, standing at the edge of the table, was Beverly.
“Surprise,” Beverly said. She set her hand on his shoulder, as if she could sense his disbelief, and squeezed. “Small world, huh?”
When Erik’s voice refused to surface, River said, “You must be Beverly.”
Her bright eyes shifted to the other side of the table. “Someone talks about me,” she teased. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just—”
“No, please, sit.” River stood and slid a chair from the empty table beside them, gesturing to it with a nod and a smile. Erik tried to kick him under the table but missed. “We’re not in a rush,” River said. “We were about to order an appetizer.”
“I’ve got friends waiting downstairs, but I can stay for some coffee, maybe?”
Erik sipped his water and licked his lips, caught like a wolf with its paw in a trap. When he finally mustered the courage to look at her, he saw a refined, wiser version of the girl he’d left in California. Her hair was still black, shaved on the left and draped over her shoulder on the right. A silver bar decorated her eyebrow, and she stood with loose confidence Erik admired.
“Erik,” Beverly said, softer, more serious, “I can go if you don’t—”
“Sorry, no, I… It’s fine, I’m just…” He paused to chew on his lip. “I feel like a dick,” he blurted, because it was the truth and one of them had to say it.
“For ghosting me the other day?” Beverly’s smile stretched. She plopped in the seat beside him and shrugged. “It’s not like you haven’t been dodging me for years, asshole. I’m used to it.”
He caught the furrow of River’s brow, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes flicked toward the window. Erik had chosen this particular pain, this inescapable haunting. River hadn’t, and Erik doubted he would understand it.
The server brought them coffee. River ordered deviled eggs, and Erik tried to calm his racing heart.
“This is River,” Erik said. He finally met Beverly’s eyes, rimmed in black liner, and jerked his chin toward River. “River, this is Beverly.”
“Cool name,” Beverly said. “Nice to meet you.”
River smiled. “You, too.”
Erik’s fingers tightened around his glass. He stayed still, preparing for an onslaught of questions. Why’d you leave? Where the hell have you been? Don’t you know people needed you? How could you do this? Or an explosion. Everyone looked for you. You just disappeared. It was your fault. Everything inside him trembled. River placed his hand over Erik’s knuckles, a single, steady touch. The quiet swelled around them. Somehow, Erik found himself looking at Beverly, silently hoping she wouldn’t say too much.
Beverly clucked her tongue. “Look at you, O’Malley,” she whispered. When she reached for him, River’s hand slipped away. Slowly, she set her fingers on his cheek, feeling across the seam of a scar. “Things are always breaking against you, aren’t they?”
“Maybe I’m always breaking them,” Erik said.
Things were always breaking inside him and around him, not just against him.
Beverly huffed out a laugh.
“So, Beverly…” River floundered to pick a conversational thread from the heavy air.
“Bev is fine.” Her eyes never left Erik’s face.
“Bev. How long are you in town for?”
“I’m not sure. I’m doing a wandering sort of vacation. Wanted to make sure I caught this one before he skipped town again. Isn’t your boss sending you somewhere soon? Texas, right?”
Panic unraveled inside Erik, long, thick strings of it that wrapped around his bones and squeezed. His breath caught, and he shook his head again, desperate for an escape. This wasn’t how Erik wanted River to find out. He glanced at River, and his eyes softened, but River looked back at him with fierce, startled recognition. The expression someone wore when they finally understood a secret they’d been kept from.
“No.” Erik bit down on the word. “I don’t know what’s next, honestly.”
Beverly hummed. “What have you been up to these days?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but River got there first.
“He fights,” River said. “In a cage.” There was ice in his voice. Distrust. Unfamiliarity. He glanced at the table, the window, the bar, at anything but Erik. “And he bartends when he’s not busy taping himself back together.”
Erik deserved that. He cleared his throat and kept his mouth shut.
“But he’s kind of a shit bartender,” River teased, painting on a wide smile to mask the hard set of his shoulders and hurt in his eyes.
Beverly smirked. She kept her hand on his face, thumb on his scar, and said, “Fighting, huh? Sounds rough.”
“It is,” Erik said.
“What about you, Bev? What do you do?” River asked.
“I’m a drug counselor,” she said, and smiled at the server who brought them coffee. Erik’s knuckles were white, hands wrapped around the edge of the table. “After Lee died, I wandered a bit. You know how it goes.” Her eyes shifted to River. “Well, maybe you don’t. When you lose someone like we did, young. Eventually, I pulled myself together, put myself through trade school. And here I am.”
She said Lee’s name casually, but it hit Erik like a bullet.
“And you?” Beverly kept her attention on River.
“I’m a tattoo artist.” River plucked the napkin from his lap and folded it on the table. His movements were uncoordinated and twitchy. He offered another tight smile as he stood. “I’ll give you guys a minute to talk—it’s fine,” he said, hushing Beverly’s quick protest. “I need some air, anyway.”
Erik didn’t watch River walk away. He inhaled, exhaled. Stay steady.
“He didn’t know I was leaving.” Erik’s voice fluttered over his lips.
“Are you leaving?” Beverly tilted her head.
“I don’t know—I mean, no, I just…”
“Hey, look at me.” Beverly placed her knuckle under his chin. “Self-destruction is my job, Erik. You can’t fool me. What’s going on?”
He’d never been able to fool her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even fool himself.
Beverly let the silence fester before she finally said, “You can’t keep doing this.”
“I know, Bev. You don’t need to remind me.”
“Someone has to,” she said. “Lee would’ve.”
Erik’s heart ruptured. He flinched like he’d been struck, recoiling from her with a hard jolt. Heat climbed into his throat, gathered behind his eyes and settled high in his nose. Around them, the restaurant swelled with chatter and laughter, noise Erik wished he could flee from.
“Erik, no,” she whispered. She clutched his wrist. “He never would’ve wanted this. Look at you. At this…” She touched the scar again. “Look at…”
Erik blinked at the ceiling, face hot and at his limit. He pawed at his eyes, rubbing the sting away. “Please, Bev. Enough.”
A server set their appetizer down. Erik sipped his water. Cleared his throat. Breathe. Wondered if River had left for good or not. Breathe. Wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t come back. Keep breathing.
“He doesn’t know.” Erik swallowed around the lump in his throat. “About Lee. And I don’t know how to tell him.”
“It’s not your fault, Erik. It was never your fault.” Beverly squeezed his hand, but he couldn’t erase the hurt that crossed her face when he yanked it away. “It wasn’t,” she said again, sounding out each word slowly. She glanced over his shoulder then back to his face. “Your boyfriend’s coming back. Can I see you again before I leave? Please?”
“Yeah, yes, I’ll be here.”
“You should probably tell him that.”
“I know, okay? Fuck, just…”
River touched his shoulder, and Erik almost shattered under the weight of his palm.
Beverly stood. “It was good to meet you, River.”
“Yeah, likewise.”
“I’ll see you around. Erik promised me a date.” She tapped the table next to his hand. “Right?”
Erik nodded. It was all he could do to keep it together, to stop his voice from breaking and his eyes from burning. Beverly stepped behind his chair, wrapped her slender arms around his shoulders, pressed her cheek to his, and held onto him.
“I miss you, Erik O’Malley,” she whispered. “I miss you every day.”
“I miss you, too.”
Erik listened to her heeled boots hit the floor as she left. He turned toward River, hoping his eyes weren’t glassy. They stayed like that, looking at each other. River deserved the truth. Erik intended to give it to him. But not like this. Not when he was three words away from falling apart.
Silence squirmed between them. Finally, River forked a deviled egg onto his plate. “She’s nice,” he said. “So, what sounds good? I’m still craving the salmon sandwich.”
The sky outside was still blue. The wind was still warm.
River looked down at the menu but reached across the table and took Erik’s hand.
“Yeah, I don’t…” Erik cleared his throat. River traced his palm again. “I don’t know. The chowder looks pretty good.”
Maybe this was mercy, Erik didn’t know. But he tried to smile, even if it was small, and River smiled back, even if it was hollow.
…
After a day spent walking the city, Erik brought River home with him.
Erik’s legs were wrapped around River’s waist. He clutched the sheets above his head, back arched and mouth trembling, and gasped when River’s fingernails dug into his hips.
“C’mon, babe,” River whispered. He slid his arms under Erik’s legs and fell forward, hands on either side of Erik’s shoulders. He felt River’s breath on his temple. Heard the catch in his voice that meant he was close, and left red streaks down River’s back. They devolved into a shivering mess, tangled and impossibly close. River kissed him through the aftershocks, and didn’t stop until they were both spent, trembling and exhausted.
“That was…” Erik panted, swallowing hard around a deep breath.
The bed dipped when River flopped next to him. “Good?”
“Intense.” He rolled onto his side, taking note of the ache settling in his hips. He scoffed. “It’s always good.”
A small smirk graced River’s mouth. He kissed Erik, once on the cheek and again on the lips. “You’re the most intense person I know,” he teased. “Dinner tomorrow?”
Erik’s brow furrowed. “You’re not staying?”
“I have to be up early,” River whispered. “And if I stay we won’t get any sleep.”
“What…?” He traced River’s cheekbone with his index finger, caught the strange distance in River’s eyes, and smothered the urge to ask about it. They’d done this enough to both know they’d get plenty of sleep if they wanted to. Erik knew an excuse when he heard one. “Okay. I— I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
Erik looked at the ink on River’s back, the black map and geometric shapes, the compass staring back at him. He watched River get dressed, watched him slide on his shoes and run his hand through his hair. River stopped to meet his eye after he kissed him again, a short, strained pause that twisted in Erik’s gut.
“Good night,” River whispered.
Erik sighed through his nose. “Good night, River.”
River left. Erik didn’t sleep at all.