“Uh, no. Getting back to my previous thought . . . he’s blind. Kind of hard to hide.”
Yeah, a person would think so, right? Except I seemed to be the one exception to that detection rule.
“Did you not know he was blind?” Paige’s face twisted up into an expression of disbelief. I raised my eyebrows, and her whole face fell as her eyes went wide. “Oh, shit. Holy shit, Liv. You didn’t know? You really didn’t know?”
I was too emotionally exhausted to even correct her latest curse, and really, that same word had been playing on repeat in my head most of the night. “I really didn’t know,” was all the answer I was capable of.
Paige’s eyes went even wider. “How is that even possible?”
“Exactly. How is that even possible?” I shook my head and studied my hands in my lap. Paige had arrived at the same questions I had. Maybe she could provide some answers as I couldn’t. She sat there as silent as I was, but I felt her watching me . . . studying me.
After another minute, she cursed under her breath before whipping her head from side to side. “Ah, shit, Liv. No way. No. Way.”
“No way what?” My eyes flickered up.
Hers were still wide with shock or disbelief or a combination of the two. “You’re . . . you’re actually . . .” Paige clamped her mouth closed, inhaled, then tried again. Her eyes blazed into mine. “You’re in love with him.”
Now it was my turn for my eyes to go wide with shock. Or disbelief. Or a combination of the two. “Oh no, I’m not. I couldn’t be any more not in love with Will Goods if I tried.” Those words were a lie and I knew it, but I couldn’t let Paige think I loved him. Especially because I had to say good-bye to him. I didn’t want the first guy either of them had seen me fall for be the same one I had to walk away from a millisecond after realizing how I felt for him. Talk about setting the example for what happily-never-after looked like.
Paige just shook her head. If she’d heard my reply, she sure hadn’t believed it. “I mean, hell, I’ve heard of love making you blind, but I didn’t think love made you blind to . . . blindness.”
That earned her a shove. “Not funny. And stop saying I’m in love with Will.” I leaned into her. “Because. I’m. Not.”
Paige leaned into me as well then grinned and patted my cheek before standing. She dropped her bowl in the sink before heading out of the kitchen. “You’re the single worst liar I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, Liv.”
I was fuming in my seat. Not at Paige directly, but at what she’d said. “I’m not lying to you.”
Right before she disappeared into the hall, she glanced back. “No, you’re lying to yourself.”
WHEN I HEARD the hood of the Suburban screech open a couple hours later, my heart took off. Will is here.
And then what I’d been informed of just hours ago reminded me that it wasn’t okay to feel excited when Will was close anymore. If he knocked on the front door to check in on the three of us or worked all night on the Suburban, my heart wasn’t allowed to race any longer for a man who’d betrayed me. For one who’d lied to me while letting me believe he was some incredible anomaly of a person.
After he’d been tinkering for a few minutes, I moved from the couch I’d been sitting on since Paige had gone to bed—contemplating everything that had happened—and headed for the back door. Opening it silently, I snuck out and moved just as silently around the side of the trailer toward the Suburban. The sun wasn’t quite rising yet, but there was enough barely-there light for me to make out the shape of Will working on the Suburban. He’d been waiting for the last few pieces to come in, and he’d said it should be up and running after that. Back when he told me that, I’d been nudged by a bit of sadness because once those parts were in and he’d installed them, he’d have no more reason to come down and hang out. I’d never guessed that in the same two weeks’ time, so much could have happened that instead of him saying good-bye because he’d fixed the Suburban, I’d be saying good-bye for a couple of other reasons.
I came around the side of the Suburban and stopped, watching him undetected from not even five feet away. He didn’t have a clue I was there. How had I missed it? It was so obvious now that I’d opened my eyes.
A few bandages covered the larger wounds he’d sustained earlier, but other than that, he looked just as healthy and strong as the first night I’d met him. A few more minutes went by. Will continued to dodge around the hood, pulling pieces out and replacing them with new ones, and I stayed where I was, trying to figure out what to say. Having him so close reminded me that Will wasn’t a villain. But he wasn’t the hero either. At least, not the hero I’d thought he was. Yes, he’d proven he would put his life at risk for others, but there were other ways to be a hero too. Up until earlier, I’d thought Will had mastered those areas as well.
“You know. Don’t you?”
Will’s voice breaking through the silence jolted me, along with what he’d said. “How did you know I was here?” I crossed my arms and came closer.
Will leaned out from beneath the hood and gripped the edge of the grill. He stared at the engine, his forehead lined. “A man doesn’t need his sight to sense when the woman he cares about is close by, Liv. Or haven’t I made that point this entire time?”
“I’d say you’ve definitely made your point, Will. Bravo. You had me fooled. In fact, you had me so fooled that if someone had said that one of us was blind, I would have been convinced it was me before I would have been convinced it was you.”
Will’s eyes closed. “I’m sorry you had to find out from someone other than me. Yes, I’m permanently and completely blind. I’m sorry that the man you used to see is different than the one you see right now. I can hear it in your voice.” A flash of pain crossed Will’s face. “But most of all, I’m sorry that you feel betrayed. That was the single last way I wanted you to feel about me.”
I crossed my arms tighter around myself. I didn’t add the other reason, the main reason that note of betrayal was in my voice. We’d get to that, but I had a more pressing question. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me every last thing about yourself? Every single thing you were proud of, ashamed of, or keeping in a secret, safe place?” Will’s voice was also a whisper, but his words blasted through me.
“Don’t turn this around on me. Don’t you dare do that.” This wasn’t about me, this was all about him . . . but as soon as I’d thought that, I questioned if that was true.
“I’m not trying to turn it around on you. I’m not trying to be argumentative, Liv. I’m trying to prove a point. To get you thinking . . .” He rubbed his temples, displaying all the confusion and uncertainty I was keeping bottled up. “But instead of proving my point, I’m only pissing you off.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it too much. I was already pissed off before you opened your mouth.”
Will winced right before I did. I hadn’t intended to be so cutting and cruel. I’d intended to approach this calmly and as rationally as I was capable of . . . but all of my best intentions flew off with the light summer breeze when Will was so close.
“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t want to tell you I was blind the instant I met you. You remember that night I was out working in my shop, and you came up and we started talking like a couple of awkward middle schoolers?” He almost grinned at the memory.
The same one made me want to cry. “I remember.”
“Well, I didn’t want to shake your hand and introduce myself as Will Goods, twenty-eight-year-old blind man who likes to work on cars. I didn’t say it, because I assumed it was obvious.”
I exhaled. Loudly. Even Will thought it would have been obvious that he couldn’t . . . see.
“It wasn’t until we’d talked a couple of times, when you asked me to drive you in the Chevelle, that I figured it out. By that time, I knew I liked you, and I guessed or hoped you might like me too.” Will shook his head and let it fall. “I guess I wanted you to
get to know me, the person I really was, before I told you about being blind. I wanted you to be able to see past it when you finally learned the truth. When you thought of me, I wanted you to think of Will, not that blind guy who lives next door.”
He had one hell of an explanation—I had to give him that. He’d probably been working it out in his head this whole time, knowing the inevitable reveal was coming. He’d mastered just the right level of sincerity. Each carefully crafted word tugged on my heart, begging me to believe him. A few hours ago, it might have worked, but a heart made of stone like mine had become couldn’t be tugged on.
“We had sex, Will. Multiple times. I shared things with you I’ve never shared with anyone. That would have been a good time to mention you were blind.”
He gripped the wrench that was still in his hand. From the looks of it, I would have placed my money on Will’s fist winning in the bone-versus-metal-breaking match. “Yeah, you’re right, it would have been. Especially with the conversation we’re having now. Yes, telling you last night would have been about a million times better than this . . . but last night . . .” He sighed then dropped the wrench. “I meant it when I said it was the best night of my life. I didn’t want to ruin it by telling you that I was . . . that I was—”
“That you’d been getting serviced and doing plenty of your own servicing with some other woman at the local strip club?” Apparently now was the time to broach that topic. I don’t know if I’d “eased” into it because Will’s explanations as to why he didn’t tell me about his blindness were chipping away at me or if I just needed to hear his side of the story so I could say good-bye and move past all of this. So I could begin healing by trying to erase Will Goods from every corner of my mind. “You lied to me, Will. You promised you never would . . . and you lied to me.”
Will’s reaction took a moment to register. At first, his entire face ironed out like he was trying to figure out what I’d just accused him of. A moment later, it twisted with confusion, and a moment after that, it morphed into something between disbelief and outrage. And I thought I was the only one who got to be outraged tonight.
“Is that what you think? Oh my God, it is,” Will hissed before spinning around. “When you realized I was blind, your first thought was that I’d been pursuing you while sharing—as you referred to it—‘servicing’ exchanges with some other woman? You think that because I’m blind, that makes me dumb and oblivious and unable to tell one person from another just because I can’t see them. Because, you know, it’s not like I still have my sense of hearing or smell or taste or feeling or . . . fuck . . . my goddamned soul.”
I’d never seen Will so flustered, so not in control of himself. I’d never seen him regard me with disappointment—until now. “Will—”
“Is that what you think, Liv?” He stepped toward me, and even though I knew he couldn’t see me, his eyes found mine. They were thick with accusation. “That’s the kind of man you think I am? One who could be with one woman one night and another on the next?” After asking his loaded question, he waited. The longer he waited, the more accusation filled his eyes. “Then what are you still doing here standing in front of me? Shit, what am I still doing standing here talking to you if that’s the kind of man you think I am?” Will grabbed the lip of the hood and slammed it before marching away from me. His toolbox and the wrench on the ground he left behind, along with me. “Leave me in the rearview like you always planned to. Now you’ve got that good reason I know you’ve just been waiting for.”
I choked on whatever words were coming next. I didn’t know what they were going to be and neither would Will because, even if I’d managed them, he was so far away that I knew he was forever out of reach.
IN TWO WEEKS, my life had taken yet another abrupt turn. Almost as much as the last life-shaking turn I’d made when I moved back to Death Valley in May. Some things had changed for the better, and some things had changed for the worse.
Well, one thing had changed for the worst: Will Goods. I hadn’t seen him since our volatile conversation that fateful day, and other than the note he’d left beneath one of the new windshield wipers, alongside a shiny key for the Suburban, that had read, Leave it all behind, I hadn’t so much as seen him ducking beneath a hood up in his shop.
I’d hurt him. He’d hurt me. We’d hurt each other. If ours wasn’t a relationship doomed for failure, I didn’t know what was. I reminded myself that I was better off this way, cutting off all contact with him . . . but I didn’t feel better. In fact, I’d never felt worse.
So even though I hadn’t seen or heard from Will in person, he was in my dreams every night. Given the way I’d convinced myself I felt about him, a more accurate description was probably that he was haunting my dreams, but I awoke every morning feeling almost renewed. But by the time I’d crawled out of bed and slipped into my bathrobe, that state of renewal had passed.
That was what I was staring at now—the bed I’d slept in for the past two months where it seemed I’d dreamt more about Will than I’d dreamed other dreams my entire life. I couldn’t stop staring at it—I couldn’t let it go—despite knowing I had to.
“Hey! I’m about to start growing chin hair out here. You ready, or are you having a sentimental moment saying good-bye to this hunk of junk?” Paige yelled from outside. She and Reese had just tossed the last couple of boxes into the back of the Suburban. The working Suburban.
Shoving off the doorframe, I waved at the empty room, turned around, and left it behind. “I’m just doing one last check to make sure we aren’t leaving behind anything good. You’d be in tears if we pulled up to our new apartment ten hours away without your copy of Kill Bill.”
“Are you kidding me? You think there’s a remote chance I could leave something essential like that behind? Please, Kill Bill was the first thing I packed, right before underwear and earplugs.”
Paige was rearranging a few boxes in the back of the Suburban when I stepped onto the porch and closed the door for the last time. The only reason I locked it was to keep any potential trespassers from being exposed to the poison thick within.
“Earplugs?” I asked as I came down the stairs.
“If Reese and I are sharing a room, with the way that girl can snore, I’m going to need a serious supply of them.”
“I don’t snore,” Reese shouted from the inside the Suburban.
“Of course you don’t. When you’re awake.”
What looked like a rolled up pair of socks sailed out the back window in Paige’s direction. She dodged it with a laugh, which was followed by Reese’s. Their mood was light. My sisters were eager to leave, practically bubbling over with excitement.
When I’d sat them down a week ago to go over my so-crazy-it-had-to-be-good plan, I hadn’t known what they’d say to me suggesting the three of us pack up and move to California, to the same area I’d been before coming back here. I’d guessed Paige would hate the idea because it was California and nothing but Barbie and Ken dolls lived there, and I assumed Reese would hate the idea of transferring to a new school for her senior year. I thought they’d stage an all-out revolt. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
It turned out my sisters were as desperate for a fresh start as I’d been several years ago. Before I’d gotten out more than a couple of sentences about the move, they’d both bobbed their heads and practically reached for their suitcases. There was nothing left in Death Valley for them either, not even Kitty.
As a confirmation that we were doing the right thing by leaving, a card had arrived in the mail yesterday. It was a graduation card. From Kitty. To Paige. The fifteen-year-old who still had three years of high school to get through. There hadn’t been a return address, just a note scratched in barely legible handwriting about how now that Paige could spread her wings and fly away, so could she. I guessed Kitty had forgotten that she’d spread whatever broken, sad wings she had and flown away long before.
Actually, I guessed Kitty had forgotten so much more. Like
family. And love. And trust. And being there for someone when they needed you most. She’d moved on from us a long time ago. We’d only just figured out how to do the same, and now that we had, we weren’t looking back.
The last week hadn’t only been busy with packing. I had been busy getting my old job back at the Water Cooler, thanks to January, and re-enrolling in school. Even though I’d have to retake this last spring semester, I didn’t care about that anymore. So what if I’d had a bit of a hiccup and would take four and a half instead of four years to complete my degree? I hadn’t let that hiccup ruin it all, and that was what mattered.
I’d also managed to find an apartment that was close enough to school and work. It was even large enough that we wouldn’t feel like we had to walk over one another to get to the kitchen sink. It was only a two-bedroom, but when I’d asked the girls if they’d mind sharing a room, they both shook their heads emphatically—yet more proof for how excited they were to get out of here. I’d been under the impression that for the two of them to share a room, an act of Congress would have to be passed.
We had a place, I had a job plus a nice nest egg thanks to my stint as a stripper—something I probably wouldn’t bring up at family dinners one day—I was back in school, and I’d managed to get the girls enrolled in a new high school with little to no trouble. I might have had to break a few laws and forge five million documents to get them enrolled, but I’d do a lot worse to ensure my sisters got the new beginning they both deserved. If the school district one day found out I’d forged Kitty Bennett’s signature and they wanted to press charges, then let them. I was fairly certain they’d be able to find Elvis before they could locate Kitty to get her testimony as to whether she had or hadn’t signed that stack of paperwork.
“You two ready, then?” I asked in a good-natured voice. I couldn’t help it. Realizing the future was at our fingertips and seeing them both so happy brought an energy that was impossible to ignore.
Damaged Goods Page 30