i’m wine-stained and ruined. i’m fine, thank you, how are you? i let someone swallow me whole already. i know you can’t touch me this far away but you see -
i still have shrapnel from people who used to love me. i still have shrapnel from people who said they loved me.
open ⸺ @coyotestarters
location ⸺ the siren, after dinner rush
"i'm not sure how much more of this i can take." most of the time max talked to talk. it didn't matter to whom or where they were or even who else was around. the nightmare karen of a customer had finally just left with her people and he'd nearly kicked the door shut on their asses on their way out. "there needs to be a cost for people's stupidity," he vented as he lit up a cigarette now behind the bar, "otherwise i'm gonna start physically throwin' people out." smoke was blown out with force, as though it were in the way of all he had to go on about. "and what pisses me off even more is i know she's out there," max gestured to the door, "goin' on about how she told us and how the customer is always right." there was a near snarl on his lips as he shook his head. "nah. no, it ain't. not in this fuckin' house."
One thing was for certain, and that was that people didn't really patron The Siren if looking for a quiet night out. The bar slash restaurant was an absolute Americana style pub and the owner at the helm ran it as such. Whether Max meant to or not. Camila let him vent and get the sharpness of his frustrations out. Not only had she heard the commotion the impossible to please woman had stirred up, she'd worked a service industry job back in the day and knew just how awful people could be.
❝ ⸻ I absolutely agree with you, ❞ the brunette commented when he'd seemed too exasperated for words anymore. ❝ She was being difficult to be difficult and clearly wanted a free meal. ❞ At first Cami's head shook, then her hands lifted off the bar in a discerning manner. ❝ Unfortunately, they're not worth all the trouble. You don't have to worry about it though if she does try to bad mouth or leave bad reviews. This place and yourself have a longstanding reputation in the community. ❞
"What's been your worst date? I'm only asking because I went on one two days ago and had stain on my hands from doing some DIY's at home and he was convinced that it was something else. He was appalled when I asked him to smell it if he didn't believe it. I should have known when his first picture on his profile was him with a fish."
For a long, almost too stretched out moment Rocco sat in consideration. It was quite a bit of information at once that invited too much curiosity and list of follow-up questions. His hand remained wrapped around his drink and he finally turned his head to give her a real look. ❝ ⸻ I've not had a bad date. ❞ A small smile edged his response as he'd managed to not say the yet part of that answer. ❝ I'm not a good person to ask that, to be real with you. I don't really date. ❞
Amusement masked some of his thoughts on dating, on Rocco imagining himself in the postion of the guy she'd had a bad experience with. ❝ I don't know. If you ask me it's kind of weird to ask someone you're just meeting to smell some weird stain. ❞ A moment later he added, ❝ then again, I'm likely to be that guy with a dog in my picture or with the outdoors surrounding me. ❞
closed starter: utp!! (@xmarlboronights) || location: wildflower ridge reserve!! — sunlight soft through the treetops, wildflowers in full riotous bloom along the ridge trail, air humming with bees and possibility
the hike wasn’t supposed to be this steep. or maybe it was, and iris had just lied to herself on purpose. she did that sometimes — believed in the softer version of a thing long enough to make it feel true. like the climb would be gentle. like the heat wouldn’t cling to her shoulders. like the wildflowers blooming at the ridge would be worth every uphill breath. spoiler: they were. she stood near the edge of the overlook now, one boot propped on a sun-warmed rock, chin tilted up to catch the breeze. her braid was starting to come loose at the nape of her neck, strands of copper hair clinging to the damp curve of her collarbone, freckles blooming darker under the sun. her tank top was smudged with dust from where she’d slipped trying to scramble up the last incline, but she looked more alive than she had in days — cheeks flushed, eyes bright, chest still rising with the rhythm of the climb. below them, the valley was on fire with color. wild poppies, lupine, golden yarrow, indian paintbrush — all tangled together in a kind of chaos that didn’t need arranging. it was beautiful because it didn’t try to be anything else. “you ever see something so damn alive it makes your chest ache?” iris asked, not turning, but knowing someone had caught up behind her — could feel the shift in the air, the way boots crunched dry twigs, the breath that didn’t belong to the breeze. “like it’s too much and not enough all at once?” she finally glanced over her shoulder then, squinting just slightly against the sun. her grin was lazy and real, tugging at one corner of her mouth. “bet you didn’t think i’d make it all the way up. go on — you can admit it. i wouldn’t blame you.” iris dropped into a crouch and plucked a sprig of purple bloom from the edge of the path, twirling it between her fingers like it held answers. then, without ceremony, she tucked it behind the ear of whoever stood close enough to let her — bold, familiar, unthinking. “there,” she said, voice low, teasing. “now you match the view.” and maybe she meant the wildflowers. or maybe she meant the way her heart kicked a little harder in her chest when she looked at them. either way — she stood, offered her canteen, and waited. not for permission. just for whatever came next.
Before Rocco would be visualized with an entrance into the his dog would pad in ahead. Mouth open and tongue hanging out, not strained or stressed, Chelsea was conditioned for these miles they'd trekked daily. When the woman began without a turn to catch sight of him, it'd been assumed that the German Shepherd had made it into her periphery and Rocco was easily sussed out due to the dog's popularity and familiarity in any of these nature spaces. He wasn't quick to respond, never had been, though since he'd returned from service years ago he'd become an even quieter man. ❝ ⸻ That's why I come up here—why I seek out these views. ❞ Not to mention the solitude these places offered him. Rocco stepped a little closer and took in the colors of the sky, ruminated for a few on how earth's colors mingled, when she'd crouched down. ❝ I haven't seen a thing yet that can beat both the beauty and the ugliness of mother nature. ❞
It was nice to see the signs of physical exertion and the clean air of the park put some color into her cheeks and a glow into her expression. That'd always been one of Rocco's favorite when he crossed paths with hikers and nature walkers. ❝ Nah, I've learned to never underestimate anyone. ❞ Thick shoulders wrapped in his official ranger shirt, one that was a tad snug in spots, shrugged. ❝ Imagine where you might be if you make this a habit. ❞ He couldn't resist a moment in teasing the idea. It was when Rocco switched his attention to check on Chelsea, who was investigating all the smells, that she'd caught him slightly off-guard. Instincts felt the presence moments before her touch, he flinched in the smallest way and his head began to pull back away and out of her reach, but it was just enough to catch a glimpse of what was in her hand. Then Rocco stood steady and let her place the flower. ❝ I don't know about that. ❞ The response was a bit quiet, shy maybe—yet there was a flicker of a smile. Rocco wasn't used to people saying anything like that to him. Because in his definition the view was captivating. With a tip of his head he took the offered canteen and dropped a few swallows into his mouth before handing it back. In return he offered protien and energy bars. ❝ How long have you been up here? I saw your tracks but I didn't see you up ahead of Chels and me. ❞
she wanted to push, wanted to be everything that she knew bothered him and that was a cause of annoyance at herself. why did she care? why did she even bother with the effort when he'd left her like she meant nothing? "right. so you don't care that i'm seeing someone?" it was bullshit, but she watched the corners of his mouth anyway, as if trying to prove herself right.
his question triggered a roll of her eyes. she didn't even know her type, didn't trust herself to figure it out either. he'd been her type and look where that had gotten her in life. "i'm still figuring that out. the last time i thought i knew, i got it wrong." she didn't back down from his gaze, didn't blink as she spoke the brutal truth that she already knew wouldn't land the way she wanted. after all, why would it?
pru's tongue swiped at the corner of her mouth, the faint taste of wine still settled there from her earlier drinks. she hated how he used the word need rather than want, as if he knew how difficult this was for her. then again, it was probably arrogance that led the assumption rather than concern. "i could use a drink. are you offering or just trying to gauge where i am right now?"
❝ You're not, ❞ he replied steadily to her taunt. It was easy for Xavier to sniff out that Prudence was attempting to get a rise out of him. Perhaps some low level revenge, or maybe she was checking to see if he genuinely felt something. While it wasn't a smart game to play with him, this time she'd be rewarded and his ex-wife would see a slight flex in his jaw. Of course people were not property, yet—she was his. He dipped is head a little lower, to speak more intimately with her. ❝ You don't think I've kept tabs on you? ❞ A smirk because hadn't she learned that from his visit to her shabby apartment?
The problem with most people was the conscience. It made people doubt and secondguess, compelled them to fret over their insecurities and seek approval from others. It was a misstep in human evolution and would without a doubt be a downfall of society. So, Xavier, always cognizant of the fact that he had to blend in, offered a bit of an audible sigh. ❝ You didn't have it wrong, Prudence. Stop doing that. ❞ At that moment he was still invading her space and had just given it back as he turned to lead the way toward a drink.
A shock of annoyance ran through him and how his ex-wife was having to run through all of her emotions and process things. His long stride did slow, however, and wait for the blonde to catch up. Curious yet doubting he offered his hand to her and his eyes sparkled with intrigue if she'd take it. ❝ Bit of both, actually. ❞ Xavier hardly ever drank, never did any substances, hell he hardly took a Tylenol. Today, though, this rare moment, he'd have a wine with Prudence. ❝ Why don't you pick out something expensive. I'm sure you've been missing the taste. ❞
open starter: 0/4. @coyotestarters
where: in a parking lot.
inconvenient things happen all the time: a shoelace coming undone, a phone gasping on 2% with the charger three rooms away, a coffee lid that looks secure until it baptizes your shirt in public. annoying, sure. manageable.
but this—this is a new layer of hell.
edwin shuffles in the narrow strip of space between his car and the other's, pops open the driver's door, then slams it shut without so much as leaning in. his top teeth briefly snag his bottom lip, grim, like bracing for impact that hasn't come yet.he pivots slowly, turning to the stranger who's just about to slide into their own car. there's no ceremony to it, no softening.
"there's a rat in my car," edwin announces. matter-of-fact. mostly to himself, but also as an explanation for why he's standing here instead of driving away like a normal person.
fuck—he's going to have to get it out. and god help him, he might actually need this person to help him bait the thing.
Just wrapped up with some needless shopping and money wasted—thereapy, hello—Camila approached her car with an internal war going on inside her head. The brunette had been telling herself she could just turn around, go back in, and return everything. It might be embarrassing, she'd been through worse, though. She'd just hit the unlock button on her key fob and looked up, and that was when she saw him and her pace slowed to a stop.
Frown, partial confusion, and a general wondering of what was going on was a moving expression across her face. It took a moment before she scolded herself for staring and judging. Cami went to the trunk and dropped her shopping items into it and she still found her gaze fixing on him.
Then he said it. ❝ ⸻ Oh, ❞ was all that came out as she stood there stunned. A prickling, skin crawling sensation lightly began to tease her. On her tongue sat ❛ well, good luck with that ❜ yet they stayed stuck, lodged in her throat as she just continued to blink.
❝ You're serious? ❞ Maybe he was teasing—very strangely—or this was some weird fucked up prank. Immediately her dark brown eyes began scanning around for someone hidden with a camera, ready to pop out and laugh. ❝ For real? I mean, how ... how does a rat get into someone's car? ❞ And that question came from someone that had lived in New York for a good chunk of time.
actions spoke louder than words, but words started every story. apologies would dance on his tongue until the end of all time, but he'd show her rather than rattle off words that anyone could say. he'd been thankful that she didn't shut him down after their first conversation. thankful that she hadn't told him to kick rocks or to go back to new york where he belonged. truth was, he wasn't certain where he belonged, but he knew that being near her was the most at home he'd felt in his entire life.
her honesty struck a chord of sadness, one that he choked down and buried deep. it wasn't fair to feel when he'd been the one to walk to away. "i would," he assured softly as he fumbled with his trembling hands atop his lap. he knew it was easier said than done, but he was there and if she called, he'd be wherever she asked him to be in an instant. "and if you ever do decide to test that theory," he trailed off, taking a moment to swallow down the lump of emotion that had built in his throat, "i won't let you down."
the businessman nipped at his bottom lip as he took in the view of the woman and how the dress seemed to fit her perfectly. then again, he found it difficult to imagine a piece of clothing that didn't. "i was hoping i'd see you." it was a gentle confession, one rooted in truth. he'd stood in front of the mirror as he worked on the buttons of his shirt with her in mind. "i know you always liked this color," he added, this time a soft smile spreading on his mouth. it seemed silly saying such a thing aloud, that he'd picked a shirt based off something she liked, but it was true and there was no shame in admitting it.
he caught the way she looked at him, because he'd done the same the moment she came into view. "would that be a bad thing?" he nipped at the inside of his cheek, nervous that the question had been too much. he was still making amends and proving himself — he knew that things weren't magically fixed and he didn't want to make the impression that he did. "you tell me. you know this place and all the booths better than me. what's something you like?"
zay fell into step at her side and clung to every word like there would be exam after the fact. "if i asked you pick a book for me, would you?" he rarely for the sake of entertainment if it wasn't news or random articles, but that was something she enjoyed and he wanted to enjoy it too. "so, where's this glass maker and how can we make our own candles?" he wanted to do it all, to experience the festival the camila conti way. he caught her gaze, an eager excitement showing in his own dark orbs.
Given that her ex-husband's term of residing in her hometown was an unknown Camila was uncertain in how to take his statement. To acknowledge it, the brunette nodded, while resisting the urge to comment on what his assurance was up against. The wrongdoings, the hurts—the didn't need to be repeated and rubbed on like a raw nerve over and over again. Zayden was well aware that trust would take time to build, and more than that, aside from an apology, Cami wasn't sure of his intentions. What she supposed was that if anyone was going to let her down from this point on it would be herself, if she ends up needing to learn the lesson a second time. Hope that she was very wrong bloomed in her chest.
❝ ⸻ So, you did dress for me, then? ❞ The feeling of his eyes taking her in, especially the fit of her dress, after all this time filled Cami with a nervous energy. Not the bad kind, just the type that made her want to fidget and check on her hair. She wanted him to be impressed by her, and his confession let her know that he'd actually felt the same way. They were each seeking approval, to know that they hit the mark. ❝ I do, ❞ the brunette admitted, ❝ it looks really good on you. ❞ There was more that settled in her throat begging for release, she held on tight to the words out of fear instead.
For some reason Cami had anticipated that his response to the date question would be an immediate denial. That Zayden would want to keep things one level right then, or even that he'd fear being too out there too soon. In her assumption she'd felt bold in speaking it, and now—well now she was blushing. ❝ Well, ❞ her lips twisted as though she were considering it, ❝ I had liked it before. Enough that I married you. ❞ Hopefully Zay still knew her enough to understand that was a no said in the safest way possible. ❝ There's too many, ❞ the brunette replied, refocused back on their reason for being there, ❝ I think the fun is experiencing as much as you can. Maybe we should get a drink first? ❞ Brow lifted in suggestion, Cami gently bit the inside corner of her bottom lip.
As they moved along, her somewhat directing them toward the pub booth knowing she'd need liquid courage, she glanced up at his question. ❝ Of course, ❞ came out so easily, ❝ you just have to promise to read it and tell me what you thought and felt about it. ❞ That's where they had been opposites. Camila devoured books, and he would listen to her ramble about them. When they stood at the back of the line for drinks she briefly glanced around to locate where the suggestion activites were so that she could map out a game plan in her head. ❝ We can do candles first. Might be better to wait until the sun starts dipping a little for the glass works. It's a bit of a hot activity. ❞
⎯⎯𝓛ucia cracked one eye open at the sound of his voice, blinking as though she weren't sure if she was still hallucinating from pure exhaustion. But then she saw the familiar face, and something softened instantly. Her lips curved, slow and lopsided. Rocco Wade, looking unfairly good for this hour and holding out a bag of pastries like an angel sent from heaven. ❝ You always had a knack for showing up at the right time. ❞ She looked down at the scone and muffin like it was the most important decision she'd made all day, then up at him in appreciation. ❝ I'll take the scone. But only because you look like a muffin kind of guy. ❞
Carefully—like her body was debating betrayal—she stood, not even hesitating at his offer. She clutched her cup in one hand and the scone and muffin in the other, and followed his nod toward the corner table. Her gaze dropped to Chelsea, and her tired expression melted further as she knelt to greet the pup with a scratch behind the ears before settling across from him. ❝ Thanks for this. I was about ten seconds from spiralling into a complete existential crisis. ❞ Cradling her cup in both hands, she peered over at him with a bashful smile before taking a much needed sip of her coffee, savouring the taste as it coursed down her throat. ❝ So, tell me, what's been keeping you busy these days? Any new adventures I should know about? ❞
The kind of tired Rocco saw on Lucia's face was an exhaustion, bone deep, that he'd known well. Luckily, these days, his life was more relaxed and without much complication, he'll just never forget those military days and his experience in the Marine Corps. How it'd become a learned skill to find a state of a alertness despite not having slept in 48-hours. The brunette's comment crafted a slow, warming smile onto his lips—something that he felt deep. Perhaps that had to do with whom delivered the line. ❝ ⸻ Ain't nothin' wrong with lovin' a muffin down, especially a perfectly timed on, ❞ Rocco winked. With ease he let her take up her choice, scooped up the other, and then led the wait to his waiting girl under the table.
Always well-behaved thanks to her extensive training Chelsea didn't pop up and immediately beg for food when they settled. The German Shepherd Dog simply wagged her tail sweetly and sat up a little more when Lucia offered her some loving. ❝ Good girl, ❞ he praised, soft and quiet, mostly audible enough for the intended audience to hear. ❝ Yeah, you're welcome, ❞ Rocco tipped his head then sipped his own coffee, ❝ sounds like you've been runnin' ragged then. Too many doubles, or what's goin' on there? ❞ Genuine interest cast her direction from across the table, and then he laughed gently.
❝ Ah, so we're turning this on me now. Okay, ❞ his head nodded briefly like it was moving to a beat, ❝ it's just work for me. Thankfully I'm pretty lucky it offers regular adventure. Chels and I were down at Yosemite just the other week to assist with a search and rescue. I need to take a personal trip and really do something though. Maybe the beach— ❞ Tossed out with a hopeful lilt that Lucia might interpret that as an invitation.
Truck parked at the curb with the intention to go inside and grab a few things before he headed to the ridge, Rocco left the windows down for Chelsea, his German Shephard Dog and companion, as he usually did when he made a stop somewhere. Nine times out of ten she came along with him just about anywhere and she was a good girl, curious and friendly with people while minding herself all the same. With a person here and there making a pass by along the sidewalk she'd sit patiently yet attentively in the passenger seat and watch them go by while Rocco grabbed something out of his bag he'd earlier placed in the bed of the truck.
When someone walked a little closer to the truck Chelsea popped her head out of the window. Not aggressively, just letting them know she was there, and maybe a tad too curious. ❝ ⸻ No worries, you're good, ❞ Rocco stated to the person, ❝ she won't bite unless you try to get in that truck without permission. ❞ There was a grin on his face, warm and pleasant, friendly enough to invite conversation while quietly letting them know the dog was in watch mode. ❝ What's up, you need help with anything—I didn't box you in, did I? ❞ Pointer gestured ahead indicating the car in front of his.
"don't get smart," he pointed a finger at the blonde, "you know what i meant." the reason he surrounded himself with women? they were just better, and clearly more intelligent. "yes and no, there is a fine line there, britt. not everyone appreciates being told they look like shit. there are some things you've gotta deliver with a little softness." but since she'd been talking to a male patron that seemed to like the abuse, not that it actually was that, he shrugged and moved on.
"are you kidding? you know my side hustle." she also knew that he had a benefactor that paid all of his bills and a little extra anyway. so he wasn't just talking. "maybe ⸺ with the right drugs there are," max winked at britt. "which you'll have access to, right? just need to get my hookup in place." he stepped out of her way, folded his arms and leaned back against the bar back. "i wouldn't say all are creative. some are just opportunists."
❝ ⸻ We are who we are, ❞ was the blonde's retort to her boss. Luckily, Max was the kind of overhead that you could have fun with. Not only did he not take himself or life too seriously, he made it easy to talk to him and even banter. Britt hadn't had many jobs outside of The Siren, he was leagues better than any management she'd ever had. ❝ Is this more just you trying to subtly tell me to be nicer to you? Are you getting a little more sensitive in your old age? ❞ While she'd never claim to be the best read on people, the blonde usually knew her audience and the manners in which she could interact with them. The customer wasn't bothered at all.
As he hung near, clearly wanting some interaction, amusement settled on her lips as she cleaned up some glasses. ❝ I'm not gonna be your drug hookup, ❞ she laughed lightly. ❝ If your side hustle is driving you to that though then maybe it's time to move on from it? ❞ From past conversations she knew he wouldn't easily give up or move on from his benefactor so Britt was meaning his OnlyFans. ❝ And which one are you? ❞ Turned to Max then, she rested a hand on the bar and leaned her hip into it. ❝ A bit of both, yeah? ❞
"Yeah... I dunno how to describe them," her voice rasped, fingers wrapped around the delivered shot of tequila. "And I'm superstitious enough to believe they're trying to warn me of something..." For a moment longer she stared off into space, the brunette couldn't recall the dreams anymore, not vividly at least, but the unease still remained. Then she heaved out a sigh and slung the tequila back down her throat.
"I wish I had the habit of writing things down like that as soon as I wake up, you know? What I can remember, the details, the feelings..." Sammie's fingers pushed the empty glass toward Britt, not asking for another but aware she was far from done drinking for the night. Seeing the blonde already preparing one of her usuals put a smile on her face. That was the best thing about a small town, you weren't just another face in the crowd. "I know it's not necessarily uncommon but... do you ever have dreams like that? Ones you can't shake even a day or two later?"
In her state of exhaustion it'd taken Sammie a moment to catch on, but when it dawned on her the brunette chuckled while shaking her head. "I can't believe I actually forgot about that this weekend. Yeah... I'm preparing for the fact that I'll be very busy this weekend and then even more drained. So, what about next weekend? I was thinking we could drive out to Sac or Tahoe?"
❝ ⸻ I once heard something that if a dream sticks with you then there's something to discover with it—that your intuition is telling you something. ❞ There was no actual psychological link to dreams and nightmares being warnings, nothing beyond the brain working through things during a rest state, Britt didn't want to be the downer at the bar though mentioning that. The blonde had come to discover through some trial an error that when someone sat there with a drink they weren't looking for genuine counseling, just room to vent.
❝ What's been going on in your life lately? ❞ The question was casual enough without coming off too prying, they were friends after all and she meant it on that level. Britt hardly ever used her degree in non-professional settings. ❝ Anything particularly stressing, worrying, giving you a bit of anxiety? Could be the smallest thing too. ❞ When Sammie mentioned a dream journal of sorts, keeping notes on when it was all fresh in mind, the blonde was wiping down the bar. ❝ I tried that once, ❞ a little smile popped up, ❝ back when I gave therapy a try. ❞ Then she nodded at the brunette's question. Happily moving on from the fact that she was working towards being a therapist yet didn't personally believe it worked. ❝ I don't have nightmares too much anymore. I take the right sleep medication. ❞
With a bit of laughter and some nodding along because she'd nearly forgotten that she'd be busting her ass as well this weekend, Britt found herself breathing in deeper at the thought of escaping town for a bit. ❝ I hate Sac. Lets go to Tahoe. We wont be renting a boat, though, ❞ she said, giving Sammie a pointed look.
Lucia had been on her feet for sixteen hours, and it showed. She had entered the cafe with a glazed expression and the kind of limp that only nurses and bartenders earned honestly. Her ponytail was half way out of its tie, the sleeves of her scrubs pushed up haphazardly, and there was a smudge of something—coffee or pen ink—on her jaw. She hardly remembered giving her name at the counter. The barista handed over a to-go cup marked Lucy. She stared at it blankly for a moment, then gave a tired huff of amusement. ❝ Close enough, ❞ she muttered lowly to herself, sinking into the nearest seat just moments later like the chair had personally invited her. Cradling the cup in both hands, she let her head fall back against the wall. ❝ If anyone asks me for anything else today, I swear I'll cry, ❞ she said aloud, not looking around to see if anyone nearby was listening. ❝ Unless it's a donut. Then maybe I'll reconsider. ❞
It seemed they were creatures passing in the early morning light, the nurse likely on her way home for much needed and earned rest while Rocco's day was only getting started. When he'd entered The Mug, Chelsea was at his side loyally, and he directed her to sit under a corner table and wait for him while he made an order and got her the deserved pup cup. ❝ ⸻ You've got donuts on you, in a coffee shop? Blasphemy, ❞ the ranger teased quietly, a wink before he stepped forward toward the counter.
Once he'd gotten his americano and delivered Chelsea's treat to her, Rocco rounded back to Lucia's table, which was only two away from his own and set a snack on the table for her. ❝ They don't have donuts here so you've got the scone or the muffin to choose from. I'll take whatever you don't want. ❞ Not only was he all about paying others kindness, he knew her line of work was demanding and was hard on the spirit. ❝ I know you've just sat and gotten settled—if you wanna join me and Chels, ❞ he canted his head in to the corner table where his beloved German Shephard laid well mannered under, ❝ you're more than welcome to. You probably don't want anymore noise, though. ❞ Notably a reserved and quiet man, he said that as though he'd talk her ear off.
⸻ hey, is that TREVANTE RHODES i saw going for a walk in ECHO HILLS? no, it’s just ROCCO WADE, a THIRTY-FIVE year old WILDFLOWER RIDGE RESERVE RANGER from TRUCKEE, CA. HE identifies as CIS MALE and HETEROSEXUAL. they seem +HUMBLE and -RETICENT, always reminding me of the calm that settles in after a storm. they’re most frequently seen at FINLAY'S CATCH & TACKLE going on about HIKES, FISHING, AND WISHING FALL WOULD COME BACK AROUND and that’s okay because it’s been their thing for 17 YEARS. you’re going to love them!
»» ⸻ DIGGING A LITTLE DEEPER
Trigger warnings: addiction, suicide mention, needles mention, death
Raised in Truckee by a single mother Rocco Wade was destined to achieve big things in life. His mother would tell him when he was just a child that he was going to save them, that he’d be a sports star or found a business. It was a lot of pressure to rest on the shoulders of a kid but Rocco had believed every word his mother said.
There’s some vague recollections of and older and younger siblings somewhere in the picture. It wouldn’t be until he was in the start of his twenties that Rocco would learn of his older brother running away and his younger sister being taken away. The memories he’s able to look back on, it was just him and his mother, wherever life took them.
Most of his childhood consisted of moving around quite a lot. There were many apartments, some even less desirable than others, and sometimes they made a home out of his mother’s old beat up car. She had trouble holding down a job and one of Rocco’s biggest scars from the past were those hunger pains.
At the time, he couldn’t understand the wild mood swings his mother would have. Some days, some moments even, she was relaxed and dreamy, speaking excitedly of all these plans, and other days she’d fly into rages and become a terror to be around. On those days Rocco was almost happy to stay with the random people she’d leave him with sometimes.
Eventually as Rocco got older and turned to the environment he was growing in, he began to find some trouble of his own. He trailed a rowdy group of boys and went through some hard lessons about life and survival.
Despite those friend’s talk of how pointless school was, Rocco attended more than they did. For him, it offered and escape from the roughness of life on the street. In many ways it gave him hope, took him back to the days his mother would go on about how he was going to make millions playing in the NFL one day. Rocco did try out for football, and even played some, but unable to afford necessary equipment and refusing to steal for it that dream painfully went up in smoke.
The call of the wild became stronger and stronger, and some things were insurmountable, so Rocco eventually just gave in. His mother was scarcely around, disappearing sometimes for months only to return with a new lease on life, then eventually fall back into her ways. It was a vicious cycle that was too hard for Rocco to watch.
Several times the state had attempted to get involved and the last time he saw his mother they were successful in pulling him away. The first few months of separation Rocco spent his time in a group home. He was forced to attend school regularly and kept hearing about family. They were people he never met but they were wanting to take him in. His grandparents from Coyote Valley were the parents of the father he never knew.
It took some time for his anger to subside when he first moved in with the estranged extended family. Rocco couldn’t set aside the betrayal he felt that he had family out there that could have stepped in. Could have saved him and his mother from so much struggle.
Though, he was soon to learn that his father had actually been in the military and had passed away while overseas. Rocco was also told that his mother was sick but no one would tell him what was ailing her. Just that she was getting treatment and he wasn’t likely to see her for a while. He would later on find out that she struggled with addiction and had become suicidal when she had contracted an incurable disease from sharing needles.
Life had taken Rocco to behavioral camps and survival camps. It was a blessing in disguise because not only had he begun to find some peace, he found a passion. After some hard work he was able to earn his diploma and he put off college to head into the Marine Corps in a way to honor the man who gave him life and he never really got to know.
The military was tough for a young man with a bold and unbreakable spirit. His defiance and his reactionary responses brought him a lot of trouble at the start, but Rocco eventually found his way. He even began to use us GI Bill to take college courses and was able to earn a degree not long after his honorable discharge.
The first thing Rocco did was apply to be a ranger, knowing that he wanted employment that took him outdoors and among landscapes that had initially led him to find peace.
The life he’d managed to carve out for himself has become something he wouldn’t trade for the world, and he’d say his mother was right: he was destined for a good life. The only thing to complete it would be tracking down the siblings that filter through memories once in a while.
god, he's such an ass. she rolls her eyes and feigns insult, scoffing a laugh in response to his digs. "i have staff! just not as much, that's all." one good manager and a pair of speedy housekeepers were all she really needed to keep the b&b together, but bri wouldn't exactly say no to a couple more people around to pick up the slack. "anyway, i like doing things myself; it adds a personal touch to the place." plus, she saves quite a bit of money not having to call a professional every time.
brianna knew very well how quickly xavier could pivot through conversations, eventually leading back to where he wants it. as long as the endgoal remained the same, she didn't mind the detours. "you sound confident, so i'll let you pick for me," she concedes, more curious about what he thinks she might like and less concerned about his motives, "let's not make it a habit, though." the hardware store comes up fast and she reaches to open the door, offering "i'll be right back," before heading inside.
It could be claimed as a hobby of his to get under people's skin. There was something oh so satisfying about it for a man that wasn't governed by his emotions. ❝ ⸻ Sure, cuts costs and saves the hassle. Unless it becomes more expensive in the long run because a professional should've done it in the first place. ❞ Xavier also loved to play devil's advocate. ❝ Do you manage all the land care as well? That's a lot of acreage to keep up with. ❞ There were already ideas of what he'd do with it if Brianna gave him a price to buy her out.
❝ Why not a habit? I think you enjoy my company, you're just to afraid to admit it. ❞ Despite knowing it wasn't likely and completely unaffected whichever way she went Xavier knew he was more likely to wear her down the more time she spent in his company. His phone was pulled from his pocket, little did she know he'd done his research and knew what she often had for her meals. ❝ Alright, ❞ X nodded and watched her head for the door, his thumb ready to hit call on his phone, ❝ I'll add a bottle to the meal. ❞ It was off his lips before she entered the door and late enough that she'd have to backtrack to deny him.
His plea became answered. For a moment there he didn't think it would. "Absolutely. I was just leaving." It didn't take much for Kade to agree, playing along to the excuse. He didn't look at the dance instructor any longer, afraid he would somehow get pulled back in. And this was his only lifeline. Still not believing he was safe yet but once they started walking away was when Kade could grasp on to the reality and realize it was over. And he was free. Perhaps he was a little dramatic but that situation was just sticky. The lady had been glued on him and certainly could not pick on his social cues of being uncomfortable. "Yeah it happens when I was raised by a single Mother. I still think to this day I am afraid of disappointing her by acting disrespectful. She still has this pretty large spoon that would do some damage." A soft chuckle was announced from his lips. "But really, I can't thank you enough. You didn't have to get involved. I really appreciate it. So, please let me repay you somehow?"
At the mention of being raised by a single mother while they walked away, further and further into safety, her attention was practically snapped his direction. ❝ ⸻ I was as well, ❞ Britt said with a smile, though their was something more indifferent in her eyes. ❝ Gotta love a strong woman who raises her son to be a good and respectful man. I've heard stories about those spoons, ❞ the blonde chuckled. ❝ I don't know if it's because I'm a girl but my mom's tactic was guilt trips. ❞ It was said with enough humor to be apart of the banter, though it was tragically true.
They were far enough away now from the dancing workshop that Britt was a little surprised he didn't make a break for it with this new freedom he had. ❝ I saw that panic in your eyes and—I just couldn't leave you, ❞ she laughed lightly. ❝ But alright, how about a beer? Or a wine slushie? We'll call it even there. Sound good? ❞ It was understandable he didn't want to feel as though he had the weight of oweing someone on his shoulders. ❝ Anywhere but The Siren, ❞ she added. ❝ I work there and need a break from it. ❞
pru found comfort in the fact that someone noticed her. there was nothing all that particularly special about her, nothing that made her stick out in a crowd. she wrote it off as consistency — as close to a usual local as she could ever get. "some would argue this my default." after losing everything, she'd changed in ways that she never would've thought possible. she supposed the lack of money could do that to a person. "it always feels busy there, but it was stuffier than usual."
she had rejected the same poorly tailored suit three times before he'd muffled something crude under his breath and wandered off to hit another table. it wasn't his fault she had no interest in men with deep pockets, or men who looked old enough to be her father. the woman's offer caused pru's mouth to lift at the corners. it was nice and unprompted, the kind of thing she did for those who looked down on their luck. it wasn't pity that she read in the other's gaze, but understanding.
"that's a bold offer," she started, "but if you're sure, i won't say no." she would make a mental note of it, that one day, she'd return the favor. pru sucked in a shallow breath as she did the math silently. things had been good before xavier pulled the ultimate act of betrayal, but before him, she'd been coasting. life wasn't bad, but it hadn't been good either. "too many to count? if i'm being honest."
she watched as the other leaned into the bar and out of instinct, she leaned towards the wooden countertop too, pulled there by the invisible pull of the woman's orbit. "i think that's impressive on it's own," she assured, pride weaved into the tone of her voice. "so? any thoughts on what the next step is?"
the soft laugh off her tongue was cut short and the smile she'd worn during the entire exchange faded. "what did he look like?" she wanted to find the humor in the man singing anything, but all she could think about was him. "what did he ask?"
When Prudence leaned in naturally, instinctively following suit Britt wondered if she'd noticed the way she swallowed. Like she was restraining something. Perhaps she was—herself. As attracted as the blonde found herself to be to her counterpart she also never wanted to be an opportunist, someone that took advantage of another down on their luck. Luckily Britt was able to busy herself making another drink for Pru and had her chin slightly tucked to focus like she never really had to anymore. She breathed out a quiet sigh and then rubbed her lips together. Moments later delivering a fresh drink.
❝ ⸻ If there's any place to be honest I've learned it's not at a confessional, or in the psych doc's chair. ❞ With a bit a smirk she tapped the bartop with her index finger. ❝ It's the bar. The only place with the cheapest truth lubrication and we don't ask you to do penance or work on yourself. We just hear you out and maybe tell you about someone we heard that's got it a little worse. ❞
Hearing a shade of pride in someone else's voice moved her a bit so the blonde set to making her hands busy and distracting herself. With life having turned upside down when she'd been nine years old, there was no one really there to tell her good job or that they were proud of her. The relationship with her mother had become so strained as the weight of the past opened up the ground between them. Britt couldn't remember the last time her mother cheered her on, if anything there were guilt trips for the way she actually made some headway in her life and accomplished some things.
❝ I'm not sure, ❞ she answered honestly with a lazy shrug, ❝ there's more school. There's clinical rotations. But I'm satisfied here. I know it's no one's dream job, I've just always liked the work. ❞ In a way she'd even taken a big step up becoming manager of The Siren. One of the most popular bar and restaurants in town. Britt had even been there longer than Max. ❝ I've been told I'm that chick that needs a push out of the nest, ❞ to which she smirked at, ❝ I don't know. ❞
Things seemed to change rapidly at the mention of someone asking about Prudence, and with her brow raised she took a step back in surprise. ❝ Umm—he was very tall. Smelled nice, was well put together, had a light beard. ❞ Britt shrugged. ❝ Is everything okay? ❞ There was a pause only because she had to think back to the little conversation the serious man spared. ❝ Just asked if you came in here often and if you usually had company. I wouldn't tell him anything, ❞ Britt assured. ❝ So, he left a Franklin without ordering or drinking anything and left. ❞
the scent of his cologne reached her first — equal parts thrilling and devastating. it lingered in the air with an entitled ease, as if it belonged more than she did, as if this place was his and not shared between herself and a roommate. there was convincing her head of what her heart already knew. how many mornings had one of his shirts engulfed her with cotton and the smell of him? how many nights had she fallen asleep tucked into his chest? maybe she hadn't known him, not really, but she knew that smell, knew what kind of arrogance waited on the other end of it too.
again. she buried the revelation and let nothing show. well, nothing more than she already had as she clung to a bottle of vodka like it were going to save her. the blonde pushed out a huff of annoyance, his commanding tone, even and unbothered, striking another raw nerve. "fuck you," she exhaled shakily, her grip tightening on the bottle as if she were ready to revolt. she considered draining it — partly out of the need to numb herself, partly because he told her not to. in the end, she released her white-knuckled grip and the quiet clank of glass on tiled countertops echoed through the open concept space.
considering there had been no interruption from her roommate, it was safe to consider that maybe he'd forced himself out of the house. she was always telling him to do that anyway, but now, she wished she hadn't. "how did you know where i live," she asked, ignoring his directive and the comment that came after. she stayed tired. it was a combination of overworking and not getting enough sleep.
pru moved with a measured pace as she rounded the kitchen island and into the living room area. she refused to look at him, refused to take a seat at the opposite end of the couch. instead, she chose the chair, another shot at defiance. "why did you send the postcard?" it was one of many questions that ping ponged within her mind, but it was the first thing that roll off her tongue in a tone much steadier than she'd expected. she supposed that was the two shots of vodka she'd downed before his voice pulled her from chasing the bottom of the bottle.
and why did you leave me. it danced on the tip of her vodka stained tongue, but she couldn't say it. not when she was already waiting for an answer to something else. for a beat, she stared at the wooden floor beneath, it's surface scratched and dinged from years of abuse and little care. it was only after she'd choked down another fierce wave of emotion that she dared lift her gaze to meet his.
❝ ⸻ Already? ❞ There was a slight lift to an eyebrow, a side of his mouth shifted upward—a clear display of amusement at her frustration. People were so interesting with their emotions so ready and vulnerable on the surface. ❝ Haven't been properly satisfied since I've left? ❞ While X may have been teasing and taunting his beautiful ex-wife, her answer could have devastating results for someone's parents. ❝ Or maybe you've been keeping your affinity for hate sex a secret all this time. Shame on you, ❞ the scold was accompanied with a wink.
The reason he wanted her closer, in the same room and preferrably next to him, wasn't so he could read her expressions. X had learned the blonde well enough he knew her moods just by the slightest differences in her voice. It was to look at her. To admire her stunning beauty that had made his work all the more—pleasurable. ❝ You think I stopped keeping tabs on you just because we're no longer married? ❞ Her question was answered with one of his own. By now she'd learned, at least in part, what kind of man she'd been married to. ❝ How's the casino? ❞ Yet another display of his reach, all while he casually looked at his phone.
When she finally entered the room X clocked her movements like any stealth apex predator would. Prudence may have looked tired, as though she'd tied one or two on too many times, she was still the only person that pulled any kind of reaction out of him. With his ex-wife framed in his view the spark in his dangerous eyes returned, and his jaw relaxed to the point where, if she looked hard enough, the faintest smile could be discerned on his lips. He'd always thought of her as exquisite. A prize upon the empire. Her resistance had been expected, she was stubborn, and people were far too stuck in the emotional side of themselves to function cleanly. When she sat, his phone was slipped back into his pocket, and Xavier leaned his long body across the coffee table and gripped a leg of the chair she'd petulantly sat herself in—then dragged her closer. He may have let the coffeetable remain between them for now, Prudence was finally right in front of him again. ❝ You smell like cheap liquor and stale cigarettes. I should have you shower— ❞
Between her question and his phone notifying of another message he never finished where that statement was leading. Though he'd pictured having to haul her onto his shoulder and carry her to the bathroom himself. ❝ I missed you. ❞ Zero inflections in his tone, eyes unexpressive aside from the spark she put into them, there was no warmth to the statement. Before he'd faked it, been the loving and doting suitor. Things were different now. This would be a test if she could handle and stomach the real Xavier Zakaria. The words were genuine.
The woman had created space next to him, filled a void that he'd never known to pour into, and now was permanently affected by it. He still was who he was, and he may be a beast whose fate will be sealed by beauty, but after he'd felt something for the only time in his life there was never any permanent walking away. There was always a plan. ❝ How's the family? ❞
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