Page 25 of Reckless Love

“Well,” my father says, “the Bullets play tonight. Should I turn on the game?” He picks up the remote beside him and turns on the TV that’s mounted on the wall.

I shift my chair so I can see the screen too. Watching ice hockey has become a regular occurrence for us since the Bullets came to Bellerive. “We’re lucky to still have Bishop after all these years,” I say.

“A fine man who took a pay cut to make the team better. Still isn’t paid what he’s worth. Not many like him.”

“Definitely not in Bellerive,” I agree.

“Doesn’t hurt that he’s married a Tucker. Money wouldn’t be a real concern either way.”

“I’m sure that doesn’t hurt at all,” I say.

“They’ve got a couple of kids now. You know, Bishop and the Tucker girl—what’s her name?

“Sawyer.”

“They’re younger than you.”

“Dad,” I say with a hint of warning.

“All right, all right.” He raises his hands. “Can you blame me for wanting some little ones to brighten up our family?”

Given the state he and Mom are in, I don’t think it should be grandchildren he wants so much as a better support system for me and Vanessa. I sent my sister to a therapist when I returned and saw how heavy the weight had been on her, but it doesn’t change the fact that neither of us has allowed ourselves much beyond the four walls of this house, taking care of the people who brought us into the world. We work and we care for our parents.

“I’m not unhappy, Dad,” I say, glancing over at him. “I’m not upset that my life turned out this way.”

But even as I say it, I remember the feel of Ava in my arms at the office, the way her curves still fit against me, the instinct to kiss her that I’d had to fight as though I was in a death match for my sanity. The pull to her almost impossible to resist.

My love for Ava was never reasonable or manageable. A live wire I couldn’t control.

If I was honest with my dad, honest with myself, I’d admit that part of me still believes, deep down, that Ava Tucker should be mine. That she was put on this earth to be mine. The first time we slept together and I looked into her blue eyes, I thought, Fuck, I’m ruined, and that soul-deep knowledge has held true every single day since. She ruined me for anyone else.

Seeing her every day, knowing that gut feeling of rightness will never come true, is agony—sometimes loud and ferocious, sometimes quiet and almost bearable, but always there. The undercurrent of every interaction I have with her is the painful truth.

Ava Tucker was never meant to be mine.

But I will always be hers.

At least the night shift called before I arrived and found this shitstorm on the front lawn on my own. They knew that much at least.

I put my hands on my hips, and I stare at the two young security personnel Jeanique put on guard last night.

“What the fuck were you two doing?” I gesture to the signs staked into the grass that call Raul a variety of names along with others that praise Ava for being a good boss. Neither are fine. Both are trespassing.

Along with the signs are small piles of rotting meat and baggies of marijuana with “vote no” stickers on them. The workers are returning Raul’s bribes, but they don’t look as though they were thrown over the fence. Whoever is orchestrating this wants Raul to feel like he can be reached too.

The fact that there’s no longer a crowd at the gate is also a bit ominous, as though whoever did this is expecting their display to have an impact.

When neither of the boys in front of me explains how this happened, I turn to Datu who has been combing through the debris with me. “Go check the security footage.”

“No, it’s…” The taller, younger one runs a hand through his hair as Datu heads for the house. “I fell asleep, and he decided to play video games.” He gestures to his partner.

“For like five minutes. They had the newest gaming system! No one can afford one of them right now. Five minutes. Just a taste,” he cries.

“Five minutes? I can check the recording inside.”

“Might have been a bit longer.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. “This is unacceptable. I’m sending you both back to basic training, and neither of you is being paid for last night. If whoever did this decided to break into the house, you were both useless. You were probably wearing a headset.” I toss my hand at the shorter one.