All the Different Ways Read online

  ***

  David opens Cullen’s door and ushers me in. “It’s the Chiefs fan!” he shouts. I hear laughter roll in from the kitchen.

  “Hi, David, good to see you again.” We walk through the living room following the yummy smells of roasting food. My mouth is watering at the temptation of anything Cullen has cooked. “Now, you just recently moved to Seattle, isn’t that right? Hello, Olivia!” At the kitchen counter, Cullen and his mom are collecting plates and flatware for dinner.

  “That’s right. We’ve been there three years now.”

  “So,” I continue, sitting on a bar stool and leaning on my elbow, “did your Seahawks fandom follow the fair weather of 2014?” I shrug my shoulders in question. “I mean, it was only one Super Bowl.”

  Cullen erupts in laughter and comes around the counter to hug me from behind. He gives me a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek, “That’s my girl! She’s got you, Dad. I think you’d be wise to change the subject.”

  David is silently laughing and shaking his head, while Olivia sets the table. She’s grinning and chewing her cheek.

  I tilt my head back and give Cullen a quick kiss. My heart swells at the endearment “my girl”, and I pause just a moment to gaze into his eyes. Cullen gives me his attention right back, and I almost let an “I love you” slip. Almost.

  With a small shudder, I pat his hands, which are still wrapped around me, and he lets me go.

  “Here, Olivia, let me help you with that,” I offer, and normalcy continues.

  Cullen brings steaks in from the grill, I pull roasted vegetables out of the oven, and we all sit down at the table. Another table meal. I’m in heaven and I can’t help my smile.

  Cullen puts a hand on my hip and kisses my temple, “What’s the smile for?”

  “I love meals at the table.”

  “Well, we’ll do it more often, then.”

  I look up at him and smile, then I catch Olivia watching us. I smile at her, too, and pull my chair out to sit down.

  I’m nervous about conversation because I don’t know how they feel about what Cullen’s told them about me. I can’t imagine that I’m the kind of baggage the Metz’s want for their son, no matter how happy he seems or successful he’s being in his endeavors. However, thirty minutes pass and the only history we get is of Cullen’s antics as a child, bits and pieces of family drama, and the cause of the Seattle move. It’s fun witnessing the exchanges between the three of them, and I can see why he was anticipating their visit.

  “So, Violet, you have a niece, is that right?”

  I turn to Olivia and fold my hands in my lap, “Yes, Hollyn, she’s just a year old. My sister’s daughter.”

  “Aww, how wonderful. Do you get to spend a lot of time with her?”

  “I babysit as much as possible.”

  “She has a room,” Cullen cuts in, “at home set up for Hollyn when she comes over. It’s important to Violet that everyone has a place.”

  He focuses on me from across the table, and I on him. There’s an intensity between us that has my heart thrumming in my chest. My neck and ears warm. Awareness creeps over me like hot lava over cool granite.

  Olivia makes a sound of interest, “Hmm, I’m sure your sister appreciates that. And you’re a teacher, too. You’re obviously a fan of children.”

  “Mom! Wow, where’s that going?” Cullen starts picking plates up from the table. I watch him with interest as he seems a little uncomfortable. Remnants of a previous, more private conversation maybe? I figured one of the two parents would go there.

  I smile at her. “I am a fan of children. More of a Chiefs fan right now,” I wink at David, “but eventually, yes, I’d like kids, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Cullen comes back to the table for another round of dishes. He seems nervous by the way his eyes keep darting between his mother and me while pasting on a half-ass smile. Since I’m not stupid, I assume the details about my past are minimal and decide that now is as good as time as any to let them in on it. Cullen’s uncomfortable as it is, but I think it’s probably more protectiveness and worry about me than anything.

  My stare follows Cullen away from the table and then flicks back to his mom. “My husband died before I ever had the chance to consider kids, but it worked out for the best anyway because after a while, I realized he wouldn’t have made a very good father.”

  I bravely take inventory of the faces around the room. David is sitting back in his chair with a contemplative look. Olivia has her mouth slightly parted, but her eyes are sad and telling of some sympathy and understanding of what I’m saying and not saying.

  It’s Cullen who has me pausing before I say anything else. He’s standing just past the kitchen counter on his way back to us at the table, fists clinch at his sides, and a dish towel drapes over his shoulder. He runs his hand through his hair—his tell that he doesn’t quite know what to do.

  “Violet, you don’t have to.”

  “It’s fine, Cullen.”

  David actually speaks before Olivia. I look to him, so like his son. “How long were you married?”

  “Two years. I was young.”

  “And he’s been gone for?”

  “Physically? Since May, so five months. Emotionally? The entire two years,” I attempt a reassuring smile, but it falters. I shift in my seat, refusing to look away. The pressure heats my body in a different way than with Cullen minutes ago.

  Cullen comes and takes my hand, “Hey, come with me for a minute. Excuse us for a sec, Mom and Dad.”

  He practically drags my chair with me as I hurry to get up. I didn’t realize I was sweating until the breeze from moving fans under my short dress and through my leggings. I try to fluff out the hair on my neck with one hand as Cullen leads me around the stairs and into the living room. I think we’re going to stop but he continues into the laundry room and shuts the door.

  The space is tight but manageable. It’s not as claustrophobic as an elevator since there’s room for not only the washer and dryer but also a hamper, a small counter for folding clothes, and some cabinetry. There’s a desktop-sized fan blowing down from a shelf by the ceiling; my neck cools when my hair swirls around my face.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d get so nosy.”

  “I’m fine, Cullen. You can’t protect me from everything. And she’s your mom; she’s going to have questions.”

  “I know, but you don’t even like to talk to me about it, so that couldn’t have been easy.”

  I sigh and try to imagine that the walls aren’t slowly pushing in. I pinch the bridge of my nose, “I don’t like to talk to anyone about it, but really, it’s fine. I’m good.”

  The air in the room moves as he crosses his arms across his chest, “Look at me and tell me that.”

  I flop my arm down to my side and look right at his chin, “It’s fine.”

  He puffs out a breath of air in a smirk, “Nuh uh, try again.”

  This time, I cross my arms and I’m sure we look like we’re having a stand-off. If I wasn’t feeling so deflated at the moment, I’d find it comical.

  “Ok, you win,” I square up and make eye contact. I hope I don’t look as miserable as I feel. “It will be fine.”

  Cullen steps closer and wraps me up in his arms. The heat seeps into my blazer, right to my skin, soothing whatever nonsense upset I was feeling about having to confess to Cullen’s parents that I was married to an asshole. My head rests on his chest, and I listen to the thudding of his heartbeat echoing in my ear. I want to stay locked in the laundry room for the rest of the night.

  Cullen

  After Violet leaves, my parents and I sit casually on the deck around the fire pit. Occasionally, the scent of coffee from my parents’ mugs overwhelms the burning maple logs but I wouldn’t know what it tastes like—I’ve had a whiskey on the rocks since Violet left. My feet stretch out in front of me and pull my jeans away from my ankles. A moth flutters around the vessel straining towards my big toe. I kick it
away with my other foot while Mom and Dad talk about their travel plans home tomorrow afternoon.

  I take a sip of my drink and let the heavy burn sink down to my stomach. Warmth swirls behind my eyes and creeps back through my nose as I exhale. Staring at the fire with the murmurs of my parents a low hum in the background, Violet’s confession after dinner plays in my head, “I am a fan of children… I realized he wouldn’t have made a very good father.”

  The flames breathe together in a blur of sizzling orange and yellow. The wood snaps and sparks fly.

  An ache starts in the pit of my stomach. How devastating to be stuck in a reality that holds no chance of a future, no chance of anything ever getting better or moving forward. To be cemented in a place that’s slowly breaking you into little tiny pieces. To know without a doubt that you’re never going to have anything that you truly want and to have to be satisfied with sinking disappointment.

  “Cullen?” Mom calls my name. I blink and my thoughts go blank. She’s cuddled into Dad with her legs crossed and her foot tapping in the air.

  I do my best to place my whiskey-soaked attention in her direction. “Yeah?”

  “Was Violet ok when she left?”

  My head lolls back towards the fire and I shrug, “It’s hard for her to talk about. He was a real dick. I’ll call her later and see how she’s doing. She’s strong, though, that’s for sure.”

  “We know,” Dad speaks up, “you wouldn’t be in love with her if she wasn’t.”

  My eyes practically roll back in my head while I shift so I can see the two of them better. “Give me a break, Dad. I’m not ‘in love with her’,” I emphatically use air quotes. “I have strong feelings for her, yes. But it’s not love, not yet anyway. Not for either of us.”

  Dad chuckles, “Are you sure about that?”

  Mom smacks him lightly on the chest while I take a gulp of the strong amber liquid swirling around in my glass and lean my head back. The warming sensation is immediate and welcome. It fills my mind almost as completely as Violet does. Ice clatters together, signaling time for another refill, and I get up to answer the call. Silently, I pad into the house for my bottle of Three Ships. Mom and Dad stay cozy nestled in their chairs by the fire.

  I reach for my phone and the single malt. No messages. Not expecting a text but wanting one anyway, I slide the device away in frustration and pour a few more fingers into my glass. I take a sip, savor the spice and vanilla, then grab my phone again. It slips easily into the back pocket of my jeans as I walk out with my glass to tell my parents goodnight.

  Once I’m upstairs, I strip down and replace my campfire-scented clothes with gym shorts. It’s a struggle, I won’t lie, but still I toss back the remainder of my nightcap and with bleary eyes, dial Violet.

  “Cullen?”

  “Hey, baby.” When I speak, it’s nothing short of a whisper. I crawl into bed clutching the phone. My skin tingles like it’s lit from the inside and the individual rays are searching for a way out. I’m not sure if it’s the whiskey or the husky sound Violet’s voice is carrying that’s getting to me more.

  “Are you ok? What’s going on?”

  I smile and accidentally breathe air into the phone. It echoes. “I’m good, just missed you.”

  “Oh my god, Cullen, you’re drunk,” she giggles into the phone and I want to feel her body quake against mine as she laughs.

  “Nah, just drank two of the Three Ships,” I chuckle at my own joke.

  “Oh for shit’s sake,” Violet mutters. “Are your parents still awake?”

  “They’re outside having a fire on my deck. I’m in bed. I wish you were here with me, Violet.”

  “In your bed?”

  “Yes. In my bed, in my house, in all of it. I’m sorry about tonight. It’s my fault you left and I’m so sorry,” I slap my forehead. My brain can’t get my mouth to shut the fuck up fast enough and it’s frustrating. I run my hand down my face hoping my whiskey confession will stop before it gets out of hand.

  “Um, well I don’t really know what your ‘all of it’ is, but it’s fine. No worries, Cullen. You don’t need to apologize, ok?”

  My hand flops on my chest. I drum my fingers, “Too late.”

  “I know. Thank you. It’s fine. Why don’t you get some sleep and come over later tomorrow once things settle down over there, huh?”

  “Yeah, I will,” I draw out the words on a sigh. I really want her with me now. Her honeyed skin tucked into my side while I run my fingers up and down her spine giving her goosebumps. The last thing I remember is the phone slipping down my cheek and an image of Violet’s big, brown eyes looking up at me.

  Violet

  I’m not purposely keeping my distance today, but it’s turning out that way. The awkwardness of our return after closing ourselves in the laundry room sneaks up on me at odd times—like now, when I’m emptying my hummingbird flower pots from my pint-sized patio square. I didn’t know what to say when I returned to the room, Cullen towing me behind him protectively. We all attempted small talk, but the casual ease of the night had gone sour and I ended up leaving shortly after dessert.

  The dried up flowers are already in a paper bag ready for composting at the greenhouse down the block, but eliminating the dirt so that I can store the pots is another story. The bisque is heavy, heavier still with the soil weighing it down. I perch on my heels with dirty jeans and an old flannel, trying to decide if anything I’m attempting is worth it. I put my head in my arms on the edge of the pot.

  “Seems an odd place for a nap.”

  Cullen’s voice filters down through my shirtsleeves and I sigh. My voice echoes into the pottery, “I’m not napping, Metz. I’m thinking.”

  “Hmm. What about?”

  I turn my head to the side so I can see him better. The light of the evening sun is behind him, casting him in shadow while lighting the background. He looks like an angel in loose sweats and a tight thermal. It’s sexy as hell. Quite the paradox.

  “I don’t remember,” I lie. “Can you help me with these?”

  Cullen helps me get the rest of the organic material out of the pots and puts them in storage for me so I don’t hurt myself.

  “How did you get these out here anyway?” he asks as we walk back inside.

  “My dad helped me when I moved.”

  “Oh, yeah, when you didn’t call me,” he pulls me into him for a kiss.

  I groan, “I’m sorry, ok? I wanted to, I did. I just didn’t know what to do with you once I had you here. There was so much going on.”

  I try to step back, but Cullen won’t let me go.

  “I know. I’m sure you had all kinds of things to do with the house and work and the last of the arrangements still.”

  Cullen is looking at me so intently. I know he wants to talk about it. Last night drudged up questions for him and the whiskey topped it off. Now he wants to know that I’ve really moved on from Anden and that all that went with him is out of my life. He needs reassurances for where my head, and probably my heart, is. I want to tell him. My chest aches to explain everything—to tell him what Anden was like and what he did to me before he died. I want Cullen to understand my hesitations and that they’re not because I doubt how deep my feelings for him run. They’re because I doubt myself.

  “The arrangements were done.” He looks at me in disbelief, but I continue anyway. “They were; it was fast. There was a lot going on with me and how I felt about the possibility of being alone with you finally.”

  I poke him in the chest and he fakes that it hurt. I’m hoping to distract him from all talk about my former life.

  Fortunately, he takes the change of subject and runs with it, “I knew you had the hots for me!”

  “I… mmm… Cullen,” my breath hitches as he plays with the sensitive skin behind my ear with his tongue. Tingles shoot down my spine, coiling right in my center.

  “Moan my name again,” he demands as he tugs my hips in closer.

  “Make me,” I whisper
in his ear before I pull his lobe into my mouth.

  On a growl, Cullen takes my hand and starts half leading, half dragging me up the stairs. When we reach the top, he swings me around and hoists me up by my waist into his thick, muscular arms. My hands tangle in his dark hair and pull his mouth to mine. A few more steps, and we collapse on the bed.

  His red thermal is blocking my way to his searing hot flesh, so I yank it up over his abs, his chest, and then his head. Since he’s kneeling on the bed in front of me now, I have a moment to appreciate the view and savor his heat by licking up from his navel to his pecs. Cullen’s dick jumps in his sweats, and I drag my nails down the V to where his massive length is begging to come out of his pants. I look up at Cullen and stroke my thumbs over the tip through the insulated cotton. His eyes darken to almost black and he bites his full lower lip.

  Stretching the waistband, I pull his pants out, then down in front, allowing his cock to spring forward first, then I continue to slide them down the back with the palms of my hands, feeling the tight muscles of his ass contract as they try to hold his position on the edge of the mattress. He attempts to get up to take them all the way off, but I shake my head. Leaning forward, I pull him into my mouth and work his length with my tongue. Cullen’s hands go to my hair as mine go to his thighs and around his hips, stroking and playing with his cheeks while I flutter my tongue over his satiny head and shaft. I maneuver faster and harder. Cullen pulses, thickens, and then with a groan, pulls back. He swipes his thumb over my lip before kissing me hard and yanking at the buttons on my shirt. They clatter to the floor as it hangs loose and limp at my breasts. He assaults my mouth again, palming one of my breasts through the lace of my bra. I tug the flannel off while his lips are still on mine and undo the clasp at my back.

  I scramble up towards the top of my bed, pulling off my jeans and underwear as I go. I’m watching Cullen as he finishes removing his sweats from around his thighs and rolls on a condom. We’re both naked now, breathing heavy, and he’s crawling up toward me like a predator after his prey. A thrill runs straight through me; I almost giggle in anticipation. Adrenaline has my legs shaking and heart racing. I’m hot and cool at the same time.