Page 3 of Duress
“I didn’t know that was something you were into.”
“My granddad, Mom’s dad, was a cop. He retired with a good pension. The pay is decent, and it doesn’t require a four year degree or a lot of student loan debt. I figure it’s best to get a career going ASAP so there is less stress on Mom supporting me. She’s not working, and Dad’s life insurance policy won’t last us forever.”
Everly’s eyes soften at the reminder of why I have to think so practically about my transition into adulthood. She is so pretty in the firelight right now. I lick my lips absently, wondering what it would be like to kiss her.
“Oh Dane, you know Bryce and I are always here. We are more than happy to help if you really want to go to college.” Her hand rests lightly on my forearm, and it lights me up in a way it absolutely shouldn’t. I know she only sees me like a brother and wants to take care of me because of that, but I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like for her to touch me in a verynon-brotherlyfashion.
I let out a derisive snort at her earnestness that feelsmean. “As if Bryce gives two shits about me going to college. No, I won’t rely on him for anything.” Everly’s gorgeous mouth pops open as she sucks in a surprised gasp at my retort. There is a flash of hurt that barely registers on her face before she pulls her hand back. I reach out and stop her, holding her hand in mine, not ready for her to break contact the between us. The high ABV of my drink, making me forget how to hold my tongue around her.
“You are so sweet, Everly. You are the kindest, most empathetic person I have ever met. How in the hell did you wind up marrying an asshole like Bryce? You’re too good for him.”
Everly bites her bottom lip, and her eyes shine brighter with tears. Shit, I made her cry. I open my mouth to apologize, but Scott, the drunk fuck, barrels into me from behind, wrapping his arms around me in a sloppy bro hug.
“Dude, come on. They’re gonna start playing Truth or Dare. You don’t want to miss this. I’m gonna dare Grayson to streak across the football field tonight.”
I want to stay and apologize to Everly for being a dick, but she’s already up and moving away from me.
“I should find Bryce. Go have fun with your friends, Dane. Congratulations again.” And with that, she’s gone, and I might have irreparably changed the dynamic between us.
CHAPTER 3
DANE
Ipull into the circular drive of Bryce’s ostentatious McMansion at 6:59 p.m. Being on time is the absolute maximum granule of respect I am willing to give him, considering how little he respects me. If it weren’t for our mom, I wouldn’t afford him even that, but I try to be the bigger man and keep the peace. The door opens as I approach; Bryce’s wife, Everly, greets me with a warm smile and a hug.
“Dane! What a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” Everly’s light jasmine-scented perfume clouds my senses as we embrace. It takes a moment longer than appropriate for me to come to my senses and pull away from her when I hear her clear her throat awkwardly.
“Er, sorry for dropping by on you unexpectedly. Bryce didn’t mention I was coming?” I sheepishly grasp the back of my neck as I pull away, trying to find some place for my hands to be other than wrapped around Everly’s softcurves. The faint scent of jasmine still lingers in the air around us.
“No, it must have slipped his mind. He ran out for some work emergency around five.” Everly scrunches her nose up in the most adorable way, like she’s trying to remember if she’s the one who forgot I was coming over. For a woman approaching forty, you’d never know it. Between her big doe eyes the color of peridot, the freckles that dust her cheeks, and the penchant for wearing T-shirts featuring her favorite cartoons from the ’90s, she could easily pass for someone closer to my age. It’s not until you get her to smile that you notice the laugh lines in the corners of her eyes, or when the light catches her onyx hair just the right way, highlighting the few silver strands near her face that give away her true age.
Momentarily distracted by the beauty in front of me, it takes a second for her words to register. “He left for a work emergency? Bryce isn’t here? You gotta be fucking kidding me. He’s a fucking lawyer, what kind of ‘work emergency’ does he have on a Tuesday night?” Figures the shithead would demand my presence, then ghost me just to be a prick. Exasperated, I turn to leave, but Everly stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Stay. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, if he’s expecting you. I was just getting ready to have some wine on the patio. Come sit with me and have a glass.” Everly’s hand slides from my shoulder, down my bicep, setting all my nerve endings on fire with her touch when her fingers meet the bare skin of my arm. I still have half a mind to leave as afuck youto my older brother, but when her delicate handfolds around mine in a tentative grasp, I let her tug me along, powerless to say no.
Our footsteps echo on the marble tile. Their house is huge, mostly white, and devoid of almost any sign of life, much like my brother. There are small touches of Everly. Pops of color from the fresh flower arrangements from her greenhouse. Some of her smaller pieces of art that Bryce has deemed tasteful enough to display where anyone can see them. The occasional gaudy embroidered throw pillow with a silly phrase like, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit by me.” or “I’m the problem.”
I know my brother hates them. I’ve heard him, time and time again, berating Everly for her “silly hobbies”. Why a woman as kind, creative, and as funny as Everly is, is married to my brother, I will never understand. No amount of money or good looks could possibly make up for his personality.
She makes a quick pit spot to the kitchen to grab another wine glass before we continue on through the French doors out onto their patio. The sun is just setting over the mountains, so the pool lights have kicked on, illuminating the outdoor space. The sound of running water from the rock waterfall and soft music playing causes a gentle ease to roll through me. I can feel my shoulders relax as I take in my surroundings. Everly has one of her smaller easels set up on the table with paints lined up next to it. It appears to be a half-finished outdoor scene of the very sunset in front of us. The canvas features a sky shifting from pink and orange to indigo to navy tomidnight blue, almost exactly how the sky appears right now.
“Damn, Ever. Wow. That’s good. Great. Fucking amazing. Really.” I feel my cheeks heat at how I stammer over my words, making a fool of myself. I glance at her out of my periphery hoping that my compliment sounded as sincere as I meant it to be and see her biting her bottom lip, looking up at me from under her lashes, a bashful smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Immediately my mind imagines that might be very close to what she’d look like if she were on her knees, sucking my dick.
“You think so?” Her question sounds sincerely hesitant. Like she can’t tell how good it is.
I turn to face her and look directly into her eyes when I say, “Yeah, Ever. I really fucking do.” It feels like my heart forgets to beat during the time it takes for my words to sink in to her. “Why would you ever think that it’s not?”
Her cheeks flush at my final question, and I swear I catch the telltale shimmer of tears before she turns away. Everly busies herself pouring the wine, and I decide to let it go. For now. I know why she thinks it isn’t good. My douchenugget of a brother has always scoffed at her art. He met Everly when she was a junior and he was in law school at BFU. I think he saw this beautiful, creative, free spirit and thought he could mold her into his perfect wife. He’s succeeded some. Outside of the house, Everly plays every bit the “respectable attorney’s” wife. At home, in her studio or her greenhouse, she still shines as brightly as she ever did. I think Bryce entertains it only because her art does have some respect in the community. That and her dad is ajudge, which I suspect is the real reason he started dating her in the first place.
“I’ve been sitting out here every night, watching the sunset. I am trying to capture a time lapse effect to show how it evolves as the days get shorter…” Everly trails off, taking a sip of her wine. I’m sure Bryce doesn’t bother to listen to her when she’s talking about her art, so I show her I’m paying attention.
I wait for her eyes to drift back to mine before I say, “The way you captured the shift of green to blue on the mountains is incredible.”
I’m rarely alone with Everly. These days, I never have a reason to be around her without Bryce present. So being able to speak so openly to her about her art feels meaningful. Everly and I used to talk. When I was in the police academy, still living at home, she would come visit mine and Bryce’s mom and do art therapy with her twice a week. I usually found a way to hang around in the kitchen with them while she was there, and make enough dinner for her to have some too. I learned a lot about Everly in those months. Her sessions with mom brought back the woman I remembered from my childhood, before my dad’s death. Before the depression caused her to retreat into herself, becoming a ghost of the mother I used to have. I will always be grateful for Everly for that reason alone.
I reach over and place a hand on her shoulder, gently cupping her neck, to keep her attention on me as I try to convey how serious my next words are. “You are so insanely talented, Ever. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?” Another fraught moment passes between us, where I swearit feels like the air is charged. It reminds me so much of that moment by the fire at my high school graduation. Her pulse flutters rapidly under my fingers, and I wonder if it’s racing for the same reason as mine. I wonder if she feels this connection between us. The moment is shattered by her phone’s ringtone going off. Ever gives me a small smile before turning away to answer the call. As she puts the phone to her ear I see my brother’s picture on the screen. Great.
“Hey, when are you gonna be home? Your brother is here.” I see her shoulders stiffen at whatever response my brother has. “He said you told him to be here at seven. Okay… How long?” I can feel my frustration rising when she shoots me an apologetic glance over her shoulder. I can’t hear the words my brother is saying, but he’s loud enough that I can pick up on his self-important tone. Everly winces at whatever his last words are before hanging up.
