HICKEY Read online

  “Bran!” she called as I opened the door to my truck.

  I turned around.

  “Good night,” she said and her smile was brilliant, dazzling. I could almost believe it had the power to turn night into day.

  “Good night, Cess,” I said and started the engine, watching until she was safely indoors.

  I barely knew Cecily Barnett and yet it seemed like I’d known her forever. If I looked back through my old elementary school class photos I’d find her solemnly pretty face in every one.

  As I drove back to the solitude of my apartment over my father’s garage I felt amped and electrified. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d liked a girl this much. In fact by the time I reached my front door I was sure I never had.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Branson

  “Military haircut,” said a nearby voice and I snapped out of my trance. The man sat at a booth directly across from me with two little girls who ate their fries and colored menus with bright crayons.

  I touched my skull. “Yeah. Can’t get used to the idea that I’m allowed to let it grow out. I’ve haven’t been a civilian for long.”

  The man nodded and tousled the blonde hair of his nearest daughter. “I remember those days. It does take some adjusting to. Marines?”

  “Nope. Army Ranger.”

  “Damn,” the man said, obviously impressed. “Big shot, huh?”

  Normally the remark would have bothered me but the guy didn’t seem like he meant any harm by it.

  “Hardly,” I said. “I thought I’d be career military but getting injured on my last deployment changed my mind.”

  “Bad injury?”

  “Roadside bomb sent some shrapnel into my leg. It’s long since healed. Doesn’t affect me much.”

  He made a gesture like he was tipping his hat. “Well, you have my respect, sir. I’ve heard what a tough road it is to be a Ranger. I was in the Gulf War. Been out for nearly twenty years but sometimes I miss the life. You?”

  “Not yet,” I said and that was true. I missed my buddies and I missed the feeling that I was part of something important but I was glad to be the master of my own destiny.

  The man started coloring menus with his kids and I began collecting my trash. I’d finished my meal a while ago and I’d just been kind of sitting there, staring out the window and thinking about old times. Sometimes I felt like I’d lived much longer than twenty five years.

  The man waved to me as I headed for the door. An attractive woman with the same sunshine-colored hair as the girls had emerged from the ladies’ room and taken a seat with the rest of the family. The man smiled at her appreciatively as she sat down. They looked happy. Of course that might not be true. There might be a thousand broken pieces that were hidden out of sight but I hoped that wasn’t the case.

  As I walked to my truck a sudden feeling of fatigue hit me. This morning I’d been up at dawn in order to make it to a seven a.m. English Lit class. After sitting through two more classes in World History and Geology 101 I had to run to work and put in eight hours working security at a local golf course. The money was better than average because the owners supported hiring veterans, which I appreciated. The job was mostly dull and uneventful but I was used to that, plus it was outdoors. I couldn’t imagine doing time behind at a desk or in some stuffy warehouse.

  I thought about taking a drive, maybe out beyond the sprawling metro area and deep into the desert. The night was clear and hot and the stars were so much brighter miles away from the lights.

  But then I yawned and decided I’d rather have my bed than anything else at the moment. The Army had taught me to appreciate any opportunity to get a few hours of comfortable sleep.

  Back at Yucca Hall some jackass was leaning over and shaving his head off the same balcony where that Saffron girl had jumped last week. He didn’t seem to care that chunks of his hair were landing in the pool below. The couple fooling around in the water didn’t seem too bothered by it either. They huddled on the far side of the pool, sucking face and rubbing their bodies together.

  I didn’t acknowledge any of them. Shaking my head, I took the back staircase so I didn’t have to pass too close to Cess’s room. I wasn’t trying to avoid her, not exactly, but I felt bad about shocking her. She needed some time to get used to the idea of having me around. I wanted to give her that time, yet these last five days had passed with agonizing slowness and I was feeling more restless than ever. I wanted nothing more than to find out she was thinking but I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere by bulldozing my way in.

  Kevin wasn’t in our room and I was grateful for the peace and quiet. There was a paper I needed to write by the end of the week but I didn’t feel like dealing with it at the moment so I stripped down to my boxers, flipped the light off and stretched out on my bed. I must have dozed off right away because the next thing I knew there was were giggles and the thud of people stumbling around in the darkness.

  “Shh, my roommate’s sleeping,” Kevin whispered.

  “Should we go in the study lounge?” a girl’s voice hissed back.

  “Nah, too much traffic down there. Bran’s cool and he doesn’t wake up easy.”

  “Good,” the girl murmured and then there was the sound of kissing and the creak of bed springs.

  Before I could make a noise to let them know I didn’t sleep as deeply as they figured, things got x-rated. The room was full of heavy breathing, sucking sounds and the rustle of clothing being hastily discarded.

  “You feel so fucking good,” Kevin groaned.

  “I want you inside me,” she moaned.

  “Get these panties down,” he gasped. “Yeah, oh yeah.”

  “You have a condom, Kev?”

  “Right here. Just a sec.”

  “Ah! I love it on top!”

  “Take the bra off, honey. Damn, you’re hot.”

  “Kevin, you’re so amazing. Oh god. Oh god!”

  “Shit, it feels so good. Never felt this way about anyone, Maura.”

  “Me either. I’m close. Oh god, so close!”

  “That’s it! Fuck, that’s fucking it!”

  “AHHHH!”

  “FUUUUCK!”

  At that point I rolled out of bed, scooped my pants, shirt and shoes off the floor, seized my phone and wallet off my desk and left the horny teens to their ecstasy. Out in the hallway I almost mowed over a pair of girls who were putting their heads together and taking duck-faced selfies. They paused and giggled as I pulled on my pants.

  “Pardon me,” I mumbled, keeping my head down and wishing I could turn a corner without bumping into a bunch of damn kids.

  “What’s your name?” one of them shouted as I started to walk down the hall. “Wait, you’re Branson, right? The Army guy?”

  I waved but didn’t turn around or stop walking. This was ridiculous. I felt like a fucking chaperone at the damn prom. I didn’t know what the hell made me think this would work as a living arrangement, even a short-term one.

  After grabbing a soda from the vending machine I wandered outside and found an empty stone bench. A thunderstorm had rolled through earlier and the bench was still wet but I didn’t care. It was a more comfortable place than back in that room where I couldn’t avoid listening to clumsy teenage sex. What’s worse, I was a warped pervert. I hadn’t gotten fucked in a while and to my everlasting shame my dick got instantly hard as soon as I heard Kevin and his girl going at it like rabbits. Maybe I should just find a nice bathroom stall to jack off in until my head cleared.

  When I checked my phone there was an email from my realtor, which was good timing because I was starting to realize that I didn’t want to stay here. Living in a freshman dorm was like living inside a porno with a vaguely academic theme. Plus there was no way I’d be able to convince Cecily to take me seriously if it seemed like I was here to reclaim my lost youth.

  Unfortunately, Betty Childs didn’t have great news on the real estate front. It was a seller’s market right now. All the local condos
and patio homes in decent neighborhoods had been snapped up by investors looking to capitalize on student renters. Betty said I could either extend my price range, which was pushing it, or else decide to endure a commute. I tapped out a response, telling her to expand the location perimeter and keep looking. There were plenty of apartments nearby but I’d already been warned that they were largely wild party dens filled with frat boys and beer kegs. That didn’t sound much better than staying where I was.

  The hour was late and there weren’t too many students milling around. I opened up the soda I’d snagged from the vending machine but I didn’t drink it, just ran my finger around the rim of the can and stared in the direction of the library. Most of the buildings around campus were less than ten years old and they were in good shape, although unremarkable. I remembered reading on the school website that enrollment had climbed rapidly in the last decade but I knew the population was nothing compared to its mammoth multi-campus big brother, Arizona State.

  A sudden gust of wind and low rumble of thunder warned that another storm approached. The air smelled strangely sweet here when rain fell. I’d heard that it had something to do with the plants in the surrounding desert but I forgot exactly what.

  In the next breath I nearly dropped my soda can when I caught sight of a woman exiting the library as she examined her phone. Her long hair was lifted by the wind and she looked like Cecily.

  But only for a second.

  When she squinted up at the sky and hurried on her way I relaxed because she wasn’t Cecily after all. She wasn’t nearly as pretty and more importantly, she didn’t have a prior claim to my heart.

  I checked the time. It was after eleven.

  She may or may not even be awake now.

  She may or not answer the door when she saw I was standing there.

  Even if she did, it was possible she would tell me she’d waited seven years to tell me to go piss up a flagpole.

  The only thing I knew for sure was that sitting here alone in the dark on a wet bench wasn’t going to answer any of those questions.

  I got to my feet, tossed the soda can in the trash, and walked determinedly back to Yucca Hall, heading straight to Cecily’s door. I paused for a second and blinked at the outline of crudely drawn genitalia. Then I went ahead and knocked anyway. I watched the peephole darken and knew she was right there, inches away, deciding whether she ought to open the door for the guy who she’d once loved, the guy who she thought betrayed her because he didn’t love her enough. The time had come to let her know that all this time she had it wrong.

  Cecily opened the door, just enough for me to see that she still piled her hair atop her head in a sloppy top knot at bedtime. She was wearing a long cotton t-shirt that slipped off one bare shoulder and had me instantly thinking about dirty things that involved a lot more of her skin. She was so beautiful I almost couldn’t fucking stand up and keep breathing.

  “It’s late,” she said.

  “It’s very late,” I agreed.

  She looked at the floor. At first I didn’t think she would let me in. But then she swallowed hard and opened the door wide enough so I could walk through it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cecily

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Those were the last words he’d spoken to me at the hospital. Yet I hadn’t even glimpsed Bran’s shadow since that night.

  Yesterday I ran into Dorritt at the dining hall and tried to weasel a rundown of all the guys on her floor. She was suspicious, especially when I wouldn’t answer her questions about who I was looking for. Her wariness might have had something to do with whoever owned the orange soda dick but I didn’t feel like telling her she was free to keep that one to herself. I dropped the subject.

  Since I was an RA I probably could have checked with the university’s housing department but I decided I preferred to believe Bran’s presence was some strange hallucination. It seemed far more likely that he was still on the other side of the world, or else in a town similar to Hickeyville, getting a reclining chair blowjob while watching Monday night football while swallowing a gallon of beer.

  Of course I knew he was no figment of my imagination. But the idea made me feel better anyway.

  I was just climbing into my bed when I heard the knock at my door and I groaned, thinking it was either a prank or someone looking for the laundry room.

  It was neither. Bran was standing out there and he was definitely not a hallucination.

  “It’s late,” I said, cracking the door only a few inches.

  Bran nodded. “It’s very late.”

  Maybe I should have told him to get lost but instead I opened the door wider and turned around, crossing to the other side of the room in order to compose myself. A thrill of arousal sped up my pulse and I hated myself for being so weak. When I faced him again I crossed my arms, desperately wishing I was wearing a bra beneath my nightshirt as I willed my nipples to behave. They didn’t.

  He was wearing a faded green tee, shabby jeans and scruffy sneakers. His beard shadow wasn’t as thick as it had been a few days ago but there was still some scruff there. These days I usually preferred the look of crisp suits and clean-shaven jaws but he looked so good right now I felt slightly dizzy.

  “What do you want, Bran?” I asked, somewhat rudely.

  Bran didn’t appear put off by my attitude. He leaned against the nearest wall and surveyed the room. “I see you’re going for the institutional look.”

  My jaw clenched. He was probably trying to break the ice with a vague joke but I wasn’t in the mood for it. “I don’t have much time or use for decorating,” I informed him.

  He crooked an eyebrow. “I noticed.”

  “The college kids can do what they want with their posters of mixed drink recipes, album covers and marijuana worship. I’d rather not have to stare at so many distractions.”

  He looked around again and it seemed like he didn’t approve or the sight of my bare walls made him unbearably sad. That irritated me.

  “So?” I prodded. “I assume you have something more relevant to talk about than my lack of décor.”

  “Cess,” he said and took a step forward.

  I shook my head and moved backwards until I collided with the cinderblock wall. “Don’t call me that.”

  “It’s your name.”

  I didn’t feel like being reasonable. “I don’t care. You can’t say it.”

  “I can’t say your name?”

  “No, not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you know me, Branson Hickey. You don’t know me at all.”

  “I know you, Cecily,” he said quietly.

  “Oh, like hell you do.”

  He glanced around the room again and cocked his head, seeming confused. “What happened to you? You were such a vibrant girl, full of color.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not a girl anymore. That’s what happened.”

  “Cess.”

  “You know, you really do lack listening skills. I told you not to call me that.”

  Bran let out an exasperated noise. “Dammit, can’t we have an adult conversation?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head from side to side, causing my topknot to bob around and come loose. “I don’t think so.”

  He exhaled and paused for a few beats before continuing. “Look, Cess, I really didn’t come here to fuck with your head.”

  “Well, what did you come here to fuck, Bran?”

  Oh my god!

  The words should have dripped with mocking irony. Instead they just sounded…hopeful. Plus my eyes (traitors, both!) zeroed in on his crotch at the worst possible second.

  Bran noticed. His posture changed and his dark eyes filled with amusement. I thought about how satisfying it would feel to blast them with pepper spray.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” he said mildly. “What would you like me to fuck, sweetheart?”

  “Still a pig,” I muttered, feeling a hot blush crawl across
my skin. “There’s no point in talking to you.”

  “Then why did you let me in?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I snapped. “What I do know is that there are only a handful of things you understand and most of them are carnal.”

  “Is that so?” Bran charged over and got right up in my face. “Have you seriously talked yourself into believing that’s all we were about? A lengthy fuck fest?”

  “For you, yes.”

  He laughed. “Baby, I wouldn’t have had to marry you to get a piece of ass.”

  I balled up my fists and felt my nails cutting into my palms. “I hate you,” I whispered, knowing it was childish, knowing it was untrue.

  “You shouldn’t,” he said matter-of-factly. He was too close, mere inches away, peering down at me in all his absurdly sexy glory. He smelled like peppermint and pine, a sensual combination that ought to be bottled. I shifted my weight, trying to ignore the sudden ache between my legs.

  This was Bran. Bran, the guy who’d ruined me for all sensible, realistic men, who’d made me cry until my chest hurt, who’d taught me too much about the intersection of love and hate.

  And yet my own body wouldn’t let me deny that I still wanted him and I wanted him bad.

  He was watching me, staring down with an expression that I recognized because I’d seen it so many times before. His hard breathing matched mine.

  I licked my lips. “Tell me why you came here. What the hell do you want to talk about after seven years?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You really want to talk, Cess?”

  Nope. I wanted to tell history and common sense to go fuck themselves and pitch tits first into his hard chest.

  I stared at him. He smiled at me. I reached out and braced my palm against his chest, thinking about marching over to the door and ordering him through it. But I felt the rock hard muscle and underneath that his strong, quick heartbeat.

  Meanwhile, my brain woke up and decided to cling to a few wisps of reason, screeching all kinds of warnings about rubbing skin with Bran Hickey; former high school king/sex god/man candy/ex-husband who spent seven years being my personal cautionary tale.