Chapter Three

 

 

She’s been scarce— the sole person who hasn’t been up my ass. Besides Mason, but that fucker Skype’s me nine hundred times a day. I told him they’re gonna cut his ass if he spends all his time, like a girl, chatting through the phone. He’ll save some money on cups with the pussy he’s growing. I stare at her face, wanting a reaction. A fucking smile, wave, middle finger but I get nothing. “Glad you could join us.” My voice sounds menacing to my ears and her face crumbling makes me feel like an ass. I keep fucking up with her and I don’t know how to stop.

She stares, her eyes searching me for something— if she’d just tell me what it is, I’d give her whatever the fuck she needs. Instead she takes a seat, flanking the opposite side of Deacon— the furthest from me. “Hey.” Her greeting sounds hollow, as if she’s mimicking the empty feeling inside of me.

I study her from head to toe. Something is amiss. Narrowing my eyes, I look to her neck. Nope, the fucking chain and ring still there. “You packed?” Saylor probes her.

“Yeah.” Her eyes are finding the patterns of the tile fascinating because she won’t look at anyone.

“Where you going?” I question. And why the fuck didn’t I know she was planning a trip.

“Prague.” I didn’t hear her correct.

“Funny. I thought you said Prague. As in the Czech Republic.” I hand Darby to Emberlee so I can stand. I get dizzy spells and I won’t endanger that angel. This week she’s been clingy and though I don’t remember her— she’s rooted in my heart.

“I did.” Her eyes meet my face, a spark of defiance in her eyes.

“No fucking way.” I growl.

“Calm it down.” Emberlee whispers to me.

“I’m going to study under a famous street artist.” She’s matter of fact and it hits me. She isn’t covered in paint. I stalk to her, grip her hands and flip them over. Studying her nail beds— clean.

“Why aren’t you covered in paint?” I demand an answer.

She shrugs. “I’m taking a break.”

I bark in laughter. “But you’re flying to another country to do just that.” Brody claps my shoulder and pulls me back. Shit, I’m just asking a question and pointing out the obvious to her.

“Let’s take a walk.” I shrug his hand off and beeline to the kitchen to disappear in the backyard. Everyone seems to be walking on eggshells regarding her and it pisses me off. They act like my words are gonna tip her over the edge. Fuck— I don’t know why she’s behaving so touchy and nobody will explain that shit to me. Doing the breathing exercises the therapist showed me, I slow my heartbeat and calm my temper. It seems to be on the brink of exploding constantly— the unknown. I don’t fear it, I fucking crave it and my past is being an elusive bitch.

My breathing slows, I don’t feel my blood pounding in my ears any longer, so I retrace my steps and join my friends as my mom finishes setting the dishes on the sidebar. We all pile up plates and sit down. Deacon’s phone starts ringing and he chuckles. “Mason’s calling.”

Again. He’s called my mom’s phone three times today— because all my shit has been confiscated. He hits accept and Mason’s ugly mug fills his screen. “Damn. You’ve changed in the three hours since you last called.” I deadpan. In return I get his middle finger.

Deacon spans the room with his phone so Mason can see everyone is here. “Feeling better?” His question is for me.

“Yeah. I’m hoping to get the all clear to begin light weights tomorrow.” He fist bumps the air.

“You are getting soft in the middle.” He grins.

“Fuck you. When you coming home?”

“Hopefully Thanksgiving. I still haven’t been bumped to full time pitcher on the roster, but after the last break, I don’t think they’ll let me take another impromptu trip.”

“Damn. I need my wingman. My dick is dry and needs to be dipped in some pussy.” His eyes go wide, Brecklynn gasps and I feel like an ass. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot.” Story of my life.

Avery pushes from the table and looks to Brecklynn. “There’s my sign.” She hurries from the room and I stare after her in confusion. It isn’t like she hasn’t heard us talk shit regarding the pussy we pull, so I don’t know what crawled up her ass.

The phone call is strained after my slip up and my frustration grows. I didn’t mean it, but it’s fucked up. I pull Brecklynn into the kitchen. “I’m sorry. For so long it was Mace and me and I’m still in that time.”

She steps to me and gives me a hug. A tad awkward at best for me, because I don’t know what history we have to make her comfortable enough to hug me. “I know, Caden. I’m not mad. This is fucking tough— for all involved.”

I nod and give her a squeeze. “He loves you. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

“Yeah, he does. And I love him.” She smiles.

“And that rock weighing down your hand doesn’t scream micro penis syndrome at all.” Saylor giggles as she enters the kitchen.

She walks over and high fives me and I shrug, clearly missing the joke. “That’s my cue to exit the conversation.” Breck backs away and shakes her head.

“What was the high five for?” I ask Deacon’s wife.

“Oh, that’s a sore subject with Mason. He’s protective of his baby penis.” She bites her lip and I bend in laughter.

Avery returns and empties her plate in the trashcan, she didn’t eat a bite. “I’m off. I have to be at the airport at the ass crack of dawn.” She informs us.

“I thought your flight was at noon.” Emberlee jumps up.

“Change of plans. My flight is at four a.m.” She grabs her purse and Breck stands.

“Since when?” Saylor stands and joins them.

“Half an hour.” She hugs both girls and finds her way to Deacon and Brody. She pauses next to me and pats my fucking head. “Take care. Hope you get better.” Yeah— sounds convincing. I stand and crowd her, wrapping my arms around her and picking her up so she’s forced to give me a fucking hug. I lost my mind; not the years of friendship we had. I’m wondering which one of us took a hit to the head.

“Stay safe and call.” I whisper in her ear.

“Sure.” She murmurs but I feel her lips press to my cheek and wish I’d have turned my head. I place her feet back on the floor and we all walk to the door. It closes and I feel the distance. She hasn’t boarded the plane and I feel there’s a million miles separating us.

“How long is she gonna be gone?” I inquire to nobody in particular.

“Six weeks.”

“I can’t believe her parents let her go.” I don’t like it one bit.

“She’s almost twenty-two. We graduate in a week.” Deacon bites. It becomes clear to every single one of us . . . she won’t be here to celebrate with us.

“I’d have never thought we’d be miles apart for graduation.” I whisper.

“I graduated two years ago bitches.” Emberlee taunts and that’s news to me. Fuck, the new President is news to me.

“But you’re still here.” I level her with a gaze.

“About that . . .” She trails off.

“What?” Deacon needles.

“Thanks to Mason, Brody’s been offered a position as assistant trainer.” She leans into him.

“No. Darby and Kinsley are supposed to be best friends. Grow up together.” Saylor wipes her eyes.

“Uh, it isn’t Timbuktu . . . there are planes, trains, and automobiles.” Emberlee rolls her eyes.

“This sucks.” I groan.

“What?” Lee Lee steps close to me.

“We’re all grown up and I’m missing the years that shit happened.” I turn and escape the sympathetic eyes, the daunting realization that I possibly won’t graduate because I don’t know if I’ve taken my exams . . . what was I gonna do after graduation? It’s all a blank canvas and there is a certain artist I would trust to paint it. But she’s shown with her actions she doesn’t have an interest in that endeavor.

I have a future that I can’t plan for and a past that refuses to surface.

 

“What are you doing, honey?” My mom comes in my room.

“Writing molecules to form the equation for a triglyceride.” I continue the formula and reach for a book— which I don’t have— to check. “Have you seen my Chemistry book?” No answer.

I turn my head and see the tears running down her face. “You remember?” I’m the one sitting in silence.

“No. I don’t think so.” I look down to the formula variance I’ve written and flip a few pages in my composition book. “I did one for stearic acids and prostaglandin, as well.”

“Do you remember why you’re doing that?” She whispers.

“I had to take a shitload of chemistry classes to prepare for pre-med and my MCATS. Have we gotten the results?” I freeze. I squeeze my eyes closed. No fucking way. “I’m gonna be a doctor?” My eyes open so I can take in her reaction.

“Yes.” Her smile is wide. Her voice relieved. “I need to call your doctor.” She grabs her cell and I hear her discussing me but I’m still drawing a blank. Doctor? When did this transpire? I can’t ignore the surge of excitement flowing through my veins.

“Stop squinting,” she says. “We need to head into town. He wants to see you.” I slide my shoes on without tying them and follow her to the door. Maybe I’ll get cleared to drive.

 

“Sorry, Caden. Maybe next week.” Dr. Kevorkian informs me when I ask him if I can drive.

“It makes no sense. I didn’t forget that part of my life.” I seethe.

“Correct. You’re remembering and if you have flashbacks while you’re behind the wheel it can be dangerous. Nobody knows if the memories will come flooding, causing blinding pain, or an emotional toll. It isn’t safe.” I vow I won’t be a killjoy doctor like him.

“Can I at least look through my phone or read my own email?” I know by his downcast eyes what the answer is.

“We will evaluate it next week.” I roll my eyes. “But, I don’t see any reason you can’t go back to where you lived during your missing years.” He looks to my mom and she nods. “I’d still like you to have supervision for a few days but things may happen sooner than you realize. Patience is the key. Head injuries are tricky.”

“Yeah. I know.” I murmur and it smacks me in the face. I do know this shit. I’ve been reading case studies, getting a jump on med school. “Will I still be able to go to Vanderbilt?”

My mom gasps. “You remember the school?” Dr. K quizzes. I know it isn’t his name but he’s slowly killing me with each negative answer. I nod and he writes something down. “I don’t see why not if you can pass the MCATs again. I’ve been in touch with your school and you were exempt from finals. Your grades will carry. The advisor at Vanderbilt did request for you to retake the MCATs before they’ll honor admittance.”

“I want to take them now.” I’ve got this— I know it.

“Let me call and you can study for a few weeks. Maybe delay until fall.” I’m shaking my head. “There isn’t a choice. Summer session begins in a week.”

“So, I have to sit here for months?” I’m disgusted. Everyone is moving forward . . . and I’m stagnant.

“No, honey. You can move there when you get clearance. Get acclimated. The remodel is complete, so it’s all ready for you to move in.” A duplex with a blue door flashes followed by a searing pain.

“I can see a blue door.” My mom grins.

“We didn’t touch the door.” She assures me.

“Good.” I don’t know why it’s so important . . . but I know it is.

 

It takes some convincing and a lot of manipulation but I get my mom to consent to dropping me at Deacon’s place. I wish I could remember everything. I seem to be relaxed with Saylor and I want that back. “Hey.” Saylor beams as she opens the door wide. “Ignore the mess. We’re packing so we can put this place up for sale.”

“You’re moving?” I ponder.

“We’re outgrowing this place and found a house a few neighborhoods from where y’all grew up. It doesn’t have the glamour you royalty are used to— but we aren’t slumming it.” She kids with me and I study her for a minute.

“Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No.” I narrow my eyes, tilting my head wanting something to take hold of me.

“You’re staring. It’s freaking me out.”

“Did we get along?” She pushes her lips together, taken aback with if she can answer. “I’m remembering things. You can tell me.”

“Yes. We did. I credit you for fixing me when I couldn’t find my way to my heart. You are responsible for helping me find my way back to Deacon.” Her eyes water.

“Wow.” I whisper.

“Yeah.” She acknowledges. And shocks the hell outta me when her tiny arms wrap around my waist and she holds tight. “All in time.” She reassures me . . . and when she says it, I believe it.

“Aves is calling in ten.” Emberlee hollers from the kitchen as she enters the back door.

“We should have locked that. Keep the riff raff from scaling the fence.” She giggles and steps back.

“She means well. Her delivery doesn’t have a stellar history, that girl.” I chuckle and she claps.

“You’re remembering. All in good time.” She winks.

“Shit. What are you doing here?” Emberlee freezes.

“Nice to see you, too. I’m off lockdown. Got paroled.” I wink.

“Do you remember?” She hesitates and stares at the laptop set up next to me.

“Not everything. Pieces are coming.” I inform her of the progress.

She looks like she smells shit the way her nose scrunches. “Just not the big pieces.” Her tone is snippy and I’m gonna ask her to explain when DD walks in from his basement.

“Hey. Good to see you.” He pats my back. “You here for our weekly call with Aves?”

Anger rises and I quip, “No. I wasn’t invited.” She’s been gone three fucking weeks— I’ve missed three fucking calls— three fucking times I was excluded. “What’s up with that?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t schedule this shit. I’m an innocent bystander.” He looks to his wife and Emberlee.

“You didn’t have your laptop.” Saylor fumbles.

“No email.” Lee Lee smiles and it’s so fake and sweet I’m getting a cavity.

“Yeah. Nice. I’ll see ya.” I turn to head next door.

“Where are you going?” Emberlee calls.

“Home. Or next door. Whatever it was. I was cleared for that and I don’t want to intrude with your friend.” That leaves a sour taste and I’m fuming with no explanation.

Saylor rushes to the door. “Don’t take that tone with me, buddy. We can’t ignore the doctor’s orders.” Julie has appeared and is mimicking Saylor’s stance. Head cocked, hands fisted against her hips, lips pursed.

“Yez, buddy.” She shakes her finger at me. “Youz be nice.” I chuckle and pick her up, tossing her over my head. Her laughter peels through the room and a few tight squeezes from my heart muscle warms me and allows my anger to seep from my body.

“You, Ms. Julie, fix all things.” I kiss her head and make sure she’s balanced before I let her go.

“I’z know.” Modest, that one. I raise my eyebrows at Deacon and he groans.

“I’m so fucked.” He exhales.

“Sarbux.” She claps.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“Two times.” She glees.

“What?” I ask.

“Daddy has a potty mouth and it’s cheaper to give her Starbucks every time he cusses.” Saylor replays the rules.

“So, fill her with sugar?” I inquire.

“Please. Remember Mason’s lollipop farm?” She giggles. “She’s immune.” She stops when she notices my face. “Fuck, you don’t remember. I’m an idiot.”

“Sarbux.” Julie pats her leg.

“It’s okay.” I stand, close my eyes and a field comes into view, behind the diamond in the park— filled to the brim with lollipops. Avery is smiling and that’s all I can picture. Her sitting on a blanket, relaxed— happy and carefree. “Her birthday, right?”

“Holy shit.” Emberlee utters. “Yes, Julie, Starbucks. I’m aware.” Julie shoots her a glare to rival the most notorious mean girl as she passes Lee Lee.

“You can stay and talk to Aves.” Saylor grips my forearm.

I shake her off. “Nah. I need some time.” To figure why the fuck every memory that flashes is filled with that dark curly haired beauty. It’s like my life revolves around her . . .

“You got keys?” Deacon asks. Shit— I didn’t think.

“Nah.” He stands and walks into the kitchen, returning with a keychain with a few keys. “The blue is yours and Mason’s. The yellow is Avery and Breck’s.” As I leave, I hear him reassure the girls . . . yet, it does the opposite for me. “I think things are going to get interesting. Buckle up.”

Opening the front door, I toss the keys to my side without thinking and they land on a table. Good sign, things are familiar. In the living room is a couch I remember Mason and I spending all day choosing. I chuckle as the memories play forefront in my mind . . . we tested close to thirty couches until he deemed this one worthy. Said he liked the way it cradled his ass and balls. I miss that asshole. Glancing into the kitchen, I see nights of myself staring at him downing whiskey, drowning in fear.

Pills. Losing Brecklynn. Holding Avery while she broke down. Letting Mason hit rock bottom. I rub my temples and I have the urge to call him, remind him how proud I am of him. If I had a fucking phone— damn it. I veer to the right, knowing it’s my room. Most of the house has been emptied, a few things remain that I can make quick work of next week.

The door creaks as I push it open and a calm settles over me. I take one step in and inhale. I can’t place the scent but it’s one of familiarity— soothing— feels like home. The walls are bare; my desk has a layer of dust from sitting idle. I glance at the bed that’s stripped and laugh as a streak of yellow stains it— Aves’ paint. She’d been doing Julie’s mural and ran over here to get a ladder. I couldn’t wait and tackled her to the bed, wet paint and all.

I grip the doorjamb to keep myself upright. It’s flooding through my mind at warp speed. Running my fingers through her hair, kissing her lips, drying her tears, making her smile— holding her all night, how it feels to be inside her. Holy shit. She’s mine. Or she was.

I rush to the closet and drop to my knees when I see it. The 3-D art she painted for me, reassuring me she was there with me at all times. Running my fingers over the raised paint, I close my eyes and inhale. Wet drops cascade down my cheeks as I soak it in. The warehouse she’s supposed to open; her gallery. The blue door that she fell in love with. The week we spent in the city that was gonna be our new home.

I can’t put a lid on the memories as they inundate my brain. Too much. I’m feeling too fucking much.

The dugout at high school when I went along with her stupid as fuck stipulations.

The taste of her lingering in my mouth as I tasted her the first time.

The way she looks at me in complete trust and love.

My hands itch to reach for her, hold her tight— but she isn’t here. My heart races, I can’t swallow . . . my poor judgment from her last night here. I sat there and made a fucked up comment about going to get pussy. Her response flashes and I clench my hands in fists. It has to be okay. She has to forgive me. I promised to never leave her and my brain deceived me, forcing me to betray her.

I love her.

I need her.

I can fix this.

Tugging the ends of my hair . . . I need to think. It’ll be fine. She’ll understand.

Fuck.

She’s ignoring me.

She’s in another country.

She’s alone, believing her love isn’t worth a thought— because of a fucking bat, my brain made her trust that.

Forcing my eyes closed, they keep coming. I want to shut them off but they’re all I have. Hearing her laugh echo in the room, twirling her the night I took her to the museum. Putting everyone else before her. Watching her eyes take in each inch of space she chose for her gallery. Remembering how she had no hesitation to follow me to Tennessee to follow my dreams and create hers— they were intertwined.

We were supposed to be one.

We are forever.

We sacrificed too much for us to lose.

Dropping my chin to my chest, I roar. Scream. It vibrates my body, bouncing off the empty walls. It fills me with rage and depletes me. Shouting louder, my voice is breaking . . . just as I broke my promise to her.

I slipped that ring on her finger and after, let her put it around her neck. I’m the asshole who did that. I claw at my neck, feeling a noose pulling tight as the walls of the room cave in. When I have her back, she’ll put that fucking ring where it belongs— her finger— and it won’t be removed. I’ll buy a thousand fucking rings if her paint cakes the stone— I’ll tattoo my mark on her finger if needed.

With a strangled cry, I release the rest of the anguish coursing through me and when I can’t stand, I collapse staring at her art . . . one word.

Love.