by Alexa Martin
All anger and color drain from his face.
“He what?” he whispers.
And even though I told myself I would not touch him, under no circumstances would I comfort him, my feet move of their own accord. Sure, Nurse Bitchy might get pissed, but I climb into TK’s bed, dropping my head onto his chest and curling into his side.
“I love you, TK, so, so much,” I whisper, my tears falling onto his hospital gown unchecked. “I actually never stopped loving you. I hated you, but I still fucking loved you. And now I watch you come home limping. I see you closing your eyes and rubbing your head from the headaches. You used to be the voice of reason between the two of us, now you snap and get so crazy angry over everything. Something is not okay. You are not okay. I feel like I’m watching you kill yourself. And I can’t do it. I can’t watch as the man I’ve dreamt about spending my life with withers away in front of my eyes because of a game.” I hiccup, trying to fight past the tears. “I love you too much to stand around and watch it, and I love you too much to ask you to walk away from football. But if I stay, it’s going to break me.”
“But I need you. I need Ace.” His heartbeat is pounding faster and faster beneath my cheek. “You guys can’t leave me.”
“You’re his dad, and now that you know, I would never take him from you. But me and you? It’s not going to work.” I close my eyes, soaking up his heat and comfort for the last time. “We made the best kid and we got caught up in old feelings, but me and you just aren’t meant to be. Time couldn’t change that.”
TK doesn’t say anything, he knows I’m right. His arms tighten around me, almost to the point of painful, but before I can register any hurt—at least the physical kind—he drops his forehead to mine and the only thing I feel are his tears falling onto my face.
We lie in the hospital bed, unmoving, for what feels like hours, our tears merging together, our silent pleas and regrets floating around us, until the curtain opens and light from the hallway floods his room.
“Mr. Moore?” the doctor’s hesitant voice says. “We have to take you for a CT scan now. Do you need a moment?”
“No.” I push away from TK and scramble out of the bed. “He’s ready.”
“Poppy.” TK reaches for me, but I’m too far away . . . in every way possible.
“Go, TK.” I don’t try to fake a smile, it would only be a slap in his face. “Get better. When you’re out, we’ll talk and figure out an arrangement with Ace.”
“Please,” he whispers, his hoarse voice causing a fresh bout of tears to fall down my cheeks.
“I love you.” I turn, pushing past the doctor and into the hallway, not caring what people think as I run with tears streaming and almost nonhuman-like sounds falling from my mouth.
I find a stairwell, not capable of waiting for an elevator or breathing in the same confined air as anyone else. My grief is too large, too consuming. I know I’ll suffocate.
I won’t survive.
I burst through the hospital doors and into the parking lot. Cold air and an unwanted memory hitting me hard. Thoughts of me bursting into the parking lot of the Emerald Cabaret filling my mind. Only that time, TK was falling into my life. Now I’m pushing him away.
I thought, leaving his hospital room, I had already broken.
But I was wrong.
I was still moving then.
Sharp pains shoot through my chest from the pieces of my shattered heart. My legs give out beneath me and I fall to the cold concrete sidewalk outside Saint Joseph. My lungs catch fire as they fight with the tears stealing my breath.
I ignore the passersby and hide in the darkness of the night as I give in to the soul-shaking, body-racking sobs of a heart that will never be mended.
Thirty-eight
“Sadie, I’m fine.” I slide a drink in front of her and hold her very disbelieving eyes. “I am!”
“You are so not fine.” She brings the straw to her lips, sucking back some Diet Coke.
Okay. She’s right.
I am so not fine.
When I got home from the hospital on Monday, Ace was asleep, Mrs. Duncan was gone, and Sadie, Vonnie, Charli, Aviana, and Brynn were all sitting in my living room. Brynn, bless her heart, came with a few bottles of wine she’d snagged from HERS.
So of course, this made me burst into tears . . . again.
Sure, Sadie was my girl and I knew I could always depend on her, but I’d never had this. I’d never had a tribe.
After the tears stopped, I told them my story with TK. Most of which Sadie had heard, most of which none of the other girls had a clue about. They sat there, not saying a word, just refilling my glass when it emptied and passing me tissues as I spoke.
By the time I was finished, Brynn’s wine contributions were depleted and my personal stash had been opened. They didn’t try to change my mind—well, not right out, at least—and Vonnie stayed after everyone else had left while I packed up TK’s stuff for her to bring to her house.
TK called the next day. I told him where his stuff was, and since he was going to be out for the next few games and the team had an away game this weekend, we decided he’d pick up Ace from school on Friday and he’d stay for the weekend.
So not only did I lose my boyfriend, I’m losing my kid too.
And I’m flipping out.
“I’d be fine if you guys would stop watching over me like I’m about to snap!” I snap, realizing belatedly that I proved their point.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Vonnie says from her barstool. “Tell us again how fine you are.”
Charli, Sadie, and Aviana giggle. Jacqueline, who was not informed of the details of my jacked-up life before she was forced to come babysit me, looks uncomfortable.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, thrilled it’s Friday and busy enough so I’m not stuck with these well-meaning bitches all afternoon.
I load up my tray with half-priced drinks, thanks to happy hour, and escape as fast as I can without dousing myself with vodka and beer.
“Let me know if I can get you anything else.” I shove my notepad into my apron and grab the now empty tray when I hear the bell over the door sound. I turn to greet the new customers, but when I’m met with a familiar face, the words die in my throat.
Now, the reason I remember customers at HERS is because I like them. The reason I remember customers from the Emerald Cabaret is because they gave me the creeps. There weren’t a ton of them, but there were a few, and one of those few is Jacob from one of the last bachelor parties I worked.
Jacob and two other men walk in and stop at the hostess station. Jacob’s eyes roam the restaurant and completely overlook two other waitresses before settling on me. A small smile touches his lips and the same feeling of unease I felt with him at the Emerald Cabaret snakes down my spine.
I mean, he’s handsome enough, tall, blond hair cut short and neat, and a decent physique. He and his friends are all dressed similarly—nice trousers and button-up shirts with no tie or jacket—so I’m assuming they are coming in after work. Of course, two people are out with the flu today, so I have no choice but to quiet the alarm blaring in my brain that he might be a serial killer and cross the room to greet them.
I mean, really, what are the chances he was sober enough to remember that night and recognize me with my curls and real clothes?
“Hey!” I say with a little too much pep in my voice. “Would you like a table or a seat at the bar?”
“Bar’s good,” Jacob answers for the group, and I brighten, knowing I won’t be alone with them since the only other people at the bar are my people.
“This way.” I turn, guiding them to the bar, then gesturing my hand at the empty seats. “Take a seat wherever.”
They settle, leaving a few empty seats between them and Charli, and I hand them menus. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ll h
ave whatever beer you have on tap,” Jacob’s friend or co-worker or whoever the hell he is to him says.
“Me too,” his other friend says.
“Good choice.” I smile and mean it.
Given that HERS was built for women, we have more martinis and wine than we do beer. But also, because it was built for women, the beer we do have is the shit. Brynn told me she finds a new local brewery every few months, does a tasting, and then orders from there. She said it’s as much about buying local as it is supporting her brothers and sisters in small business.
Just another reason to love Brynn.
I don’t have to write down their drinks to remember them, and when I look at Jacob, the glint in his eyes makes my stomach knot.
“You don’t remember my drink?”
Crap.
“Sorry?” I decide in a split second playing dumb is the way to go.
“Serena, right?”
I mean, what are the freaking chances?
“No, I’m Poppy,” I correct him, regretting giving him my name the second it leaves my mouth.
“I know. Poppy Patterson, TK Moore’s new piece, which is why you weren’t at the Emerald Cabaret last time I was there and asking for you.”
I hear his friends snicker and feel my friends’ eyes on me, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Jacob. A smile, or more like a snarl, pulls on the corners of his mouth and he’s watching me like I’m some wounded animal he’s about to attack.
“What?”
He leans across the bar, his voice dropping a decimal. “If I’d known you went for extras in the parking lot, I would’ve left a bigger tip.”
“What?” I repeat, trying to comprehend what the hell he is saying to me.
“I mean, you’re hot in an urban, exotic way, but I can’t believe TK Moore would turn down all the ass he’s offered for you.” He leans back on the barstool, his eyes dropping to my chest. “You must be working with something like magic. I wouldn’t mind a taste.”
Okay.
So no.
I try to count to ten, I really do, but I only make it to three.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I screech, having it up to here with everything in my life.
The conversation floating around the room dies and all eyes turn to me. I vaguely hear the sounds of barstools pushing out, but I don’t look away from Jacob. The cocky smirk he’s been wearing since he walked in starts to fade and he looks a little nervous.
And rightfully so, since I’m two seconds away from a five-to-ten-year sentence.
“Did you seriously come in here to harass me? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm me down. “I don’t know what you heard, but there isn’t enough money in the world for me to ever do anything with you.”
“Whoa.” His friend, the kind, chubby one with an admittedly kick-ass mustache, butts in. “I think you need to calm down a bit.”
Big mistake.
“Me, calm down?” I turn angry eyes to him and watch as he visibly shrinks into his seat. “Your friend here just called me a prostitute!”
Not that I have a problem with prostitutes, make your money, honey. But that’s not the point here.
“You were a stripper.” He makes the unwise decision to defend himself.
“I was never a stripper!” I pound my fists on the bar, and the empty glasses lined up fall over from the impact.
Before I can say another word, all of my girls are behind me and Brynn is at my side. Brynn might seem like a delicate flower, but you don’t fuck with her bar or her people. And these douchebags are messing with both. She squeezes my hand but doesn’t step in or fire me.
“You know Moore is gonna fuck you over, right? He can get any piece of ass in Colorado, hell, probably the nation.” Jacob regains some of his bravado. “You need to leave him before he leaves you. I wasn’t the only guy in the club who wanted a chance with you.”
Is he hitting on me?
“Are you hitting on me?” I’m not even about to try to work out his thought process on my own.
“I think you’re hot.” He shrugs, then leans forward again, taking my not yelling anymore as encouragement.
“Wait.” My eyes go wide and I take a step back, thinking about the flowers I’d received. What are the chances a person who knows me as Poppy and Serena and hints for me to break up with TK randomly wanders into my job? Plus, it’s clear to anybody with a set of eyes that this guy’s out of his mind. “Are you the one who’s been leaving the flowers and notes at my house?”
“What?” His back goes straight and all gloating leaves his face.
“I called the police,” I tell him, my voice quiet but deadly. “You think it’s funny? Threatening me and making me scared in my own house?”
He’s white as a ghost when I finish, and his eyes have tripled in size.
“No!” He shoots out of his seat, grabbing my arms. “I didn’t do it!”
Brynn’s no longer an idle support behind me. Before I can even register the pain from his fingers digging into my arms, liquid flies over my shoulder and into Jacob’s face. “Get your hands off her now,” she growls, her tone one not to be challenged.
Jacob lets go and his friends start pulling him away.
“It wasn’t me! It was Rochelle!” he shouts, panic lacing his voice as soda drips down his face. “We’ve had a fling for the past few months. She’s been fucking with you, leaving notes at your house, spreading all sorts of rumors on the Internet and shit. She called me last night and told me to come in today. Said you had a thing for me.”
“That bitch!” Sadie takes the words right out of my mouth.
Dammit.
I should’ve known.
Now I’m even more pissed because I feel stupid!
“Get out,” Brynn cuts in, pointing to the door after I stand frozen, saying nothing.
They don’t hesitate, they take off running, the one friend who was quiet through this mess slapping Jacob on the back of the head as they go.
“Take Poppy home,” Brynn whispers to the crowd behind the bar when the door shuts behind them.
I don’t hesitate. I untie my bedazzled money pouch, hand it to Brynn, and walk to the office to get my purse.
When I push through the door and walk back into the restaurant, my girls are all waiting for me, worried looks marring their beautiful faces.
I know they think this is going to push me over the edge, but they’re wrong.
What they don’t get is I’m used to having crappy luck and getting screwed over. I wasn’t used to going to nice dinners and waking up to my to-do list being taken care of.
“I’m fine,” I say, answering their unasked question.
“You know what you need?” Sadie asks.
“Don’t you dare.” I point at her, stepping backward.
But before I can get far enough away, she lunges toward me, grabbing me with one hand and using her free one to cover me in glitter.
“I hate you so much.” I stand still, glaring at her.
“You love me.” She shrugs off my declaration, knowing it’s a lie. “Plus, I invested in fine glitter, you’re gonna sparkle for at least a month.”
And as awful as my day—my week—has been, I start to laugh.
“Only you would think that’s a good thing.” I shake my head, thankful for her craziness.
“Come on, you sparkly bitches.” Charli pushes open the door. “Let’s take this party back to Poppy’s.”
We are halfway to my house, all of us laughing, even Jacqueline, when my phone rings in my purse. I recognize the number even though it’s not saved in my phone so I slide my finger across the screen to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Patterson?” the friendly female voice asks.
“This is
.”
“Hi, this is Julie from Hamilton Elementary. I have Ace here and he’s feeling a little worried. He said his dad was supposed to pick him up, but nobody came. Could you come in and get him?”
Ice slides through my veins before fire melts it away. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you,” Julie says, her voice holding the barest amount of judgment.
I don’t say anything else. I hang up and go straight to TK’s name. I hit Call and listen to the phone ring and ring before his voicemail picks up. “Forget something?” I spit into the phone, hitting the End button and throwing my phone back into my purse.
“TK forgot to get Ace,” I say to the worried—again!—faces watching me.
At this, a few things happen. Vonnie and Sadie get pissed. Charli and Aviana look sad. And Jacqueline walks to me, takes my hand in hers, and squeezes it.
“Go get him,” Vonnie says, her no-nonsense voice taking over. “We’ll meet you at your place and I’m taking Ace to have a sleepover with my boys.”
“Vonnie—” I try to interrupt, appreciating her offer, but not going to take her up on it.
“No,” she says, cutting me off and pointing a red fingernail in my face. “Ace loves playing with my boys and he’ll be sad his jackass dad forgot him at school. You’re going to find TK, cuss his sorry ass out, go home to an empty house, drink wine, take a bath, and sleep in.”
“But . . .” I try, and fail, again.
“But nothing!” she yells, and for a moment I have to remember I’m the one who should be yelling now.
“Vonnie, I appreciate this, but you don’t have to get worked up, I’ll be fine.” I reach for her hand but pull it away when I notice my words only served to piss her off more.
“Did I say you wouldn’t be fine?” she asks.
“Well, no . . .”
“And I damn well do have to get worked up! You’re my friend, this is what happens when people fuck with my friends. I get fucking angry!” She keeps yelling, ignoring the faces of strangers as they pass us, not even attempting to pretend they aren’t listening. “Fuckin’ TK. Always messing around, thinking everything’s a goddamn joke. Piece of shit.”