Toxic

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “I brought my bike and—”

  “Get in the damn car, Gabe.”

  So no tears — just a really pissed off freshman. Great. Wonderful. What a terrific freaking trade-off. Made my whole day, dammit!

  Grumbling, I got into the car and buckled my seatbelt. We drove in silence, and then it started to rain.

  Yes, it was slowly becoming the worst day ever.

  Saylor didn’t say a word to me the entire ride. And it wasn’t a short ride to campus — with traffic it took at least twenty minutes. By the time we pulled onto campus I was ready to scratch my way out of the car so I could be free from the anxiety.

  Saylor passed her dorm… She passed mine… and parked in front of the music building.

  She turned off the car. “Come on.”

  Sighing, I followed her into the building and up the stairs, down the hall, to our private room. I walked into the room and waited for her to sit on the bench, but instead of sitting, she went behind me, pushed me toward the piano, then pulled down on my arms, forcing me to sit in front of it.

  “Today we’re going to trade,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Oh yeah?” I stared at the keys. “How so?”

  “You said you’d make up for the second tear today, but instead, I’m going to make up for yours.”

  “But I haven’t cried.”

  “Just because we aren’t crying on the outside doesn’t mean we aren’t completely wrecked on the inside.” Saylor’s hands rested on my shoulders. “I figure you have more than one tear I can make up for, and even though I’m not the cause of them, I know exactly what you need to feel better.”

  “What?” My voice was a hollow whisper as I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Play.” She lifted my hands on the piano. “Let it go, Gabe.”

  And just like that. I played.

  For two hours straight.

  While Saylor sat silently in the corner and waited.

  And she was right, damn but she was right, because I did have tears. I had gashes and scars that were so horrendous I sometimes felt like the monster I’m sure Princess’s parents saw me as.

  When I hit the last note, a weight lifted. “How’d you know?”

  “Musicians.” Saylor got up off the floor and approached me, laying her hand on my shoulder. “We share the same soul.”

  Slowly, I raised my head to look at her. “When I look… I see you. Beyond the music, beyond your smile, your touch, your laugh.” My voice caught. “I see you.”

  “I see you too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Baring your soul to someone is like purposefully stabbing yourself in the heart and waiting for the person you love to stop the bleeding —Wes M.

  Saylor

  My hands shook as I held on to him. As if he was leaving me — because that’s exactly the look he had on his face. Like he wanted to run, like he was going to run.

  I didn’t know how to help. All I knew is that deep in his soul, music was his therapy — his everything.

  So I brought him home.

  To his real home — at the piano.

  “We were super young.” Gabe licked his lips and stared at the piano, his voice low and gravelly. “I proposed when I was seventeen — I was a kid, but I was in love, you know? Not the type of love most people at that age feel. It was huge — epic — like I’d finally found the person I was supposed to partner up with. And then she was just gone.”

  “The accident…” I asked, sitting next to him on the piano bench. “What happened?”

  “A tree.” He swore and started tapping the middle C key. “We’d been out partying — nothing crazy, but we’d had a few drinks…”

  Drinking at seventeen? I mean, I wasn’t perfect. I’d done my fair share of wild high school parties. But it just didn’t fit him, not when he seemed so controlled.

  His rhythm faltered for a couple of beats before he continued, “I wanted to go for one more run down the mountain. We were both skiing. I thought it would be fun before we met up with our friends. She said no.” His fingers moved to the piano, he played softly as he spoke. “I finally convinced her to go with me — only she was complaining about forgetting her helmet, and me being slightly buzzed and not thinking about the ramifications of a human hitting a tree at breakneck speed, blew her off — said not to worry. I discounted her fears when she had an actual reason to be afraid.”

  Gabe’s voice shook. “We went down the hill. I heard her scream.” His voice cracked again as his left hand joined his right, playing across the piano. “And then silence.” He closed his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what’s worse… the scream or the silence afterwards.”

  He sighed, his shoulders hunching over as if someone had physically put weights on his body.

  His left hand stopped moving.

  And when I went to grab it, to offer some comfort, I noticed the tattoo on his ring finger.

  It was the letter K, wrapped around like bow, with a tiny music note on top.

  And I realized whatever Gabe and I had? It stopped at music — because I would never be able to replace what he’d lost — not while he still held on for dear life.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Me too.” Gabe paused. “Do you hate me now?”

  “No.”

  “You should.” He sagged heavier against the piano. “I do.”

  My phone buzzing interrupted the silence. I wasn’t going to answer it but the buzzing was persistent.

  “Hello?”

  “Hurry up!” Kiersten shrieked in my ear. “Lisa’s going to be here any minute, and we have to surprise her!”

  “Oh, crap. Okay, we’re on our way.”

  “We? Is Gabe with you?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Thank God!” She sighed. “Okay, just hurry. Do you need directions or are you good?”

  I eyed Gabe’s hunched form and wondered how he was going to be ready to party when he looked suicidal. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  If good was finding out he was engaged to a paraplegic who was coughing up blood and was hiding his identity for no reason other than it seemed he hated the guy he used to be and wanted to be different.

  Just. Peachy.

  Gabe’s eyes searched mine once I ended the call. “Party?”

  “Yeah, I totally forgot.”

  “I never forget.” He rose from the bench, his eyes darkened as he stared right through me. “Maybe that’s my damn problem.” He turned off the light to the practice room and offered a small smile. “Let’s go.”

  And just like that, I watched him pull on the mask again and pretend like the sun was still shining, like he wasn’t taking care of his paralyzed fiancée and blaming himself for the reason she was in a wheelchair.

  Huh. And I was complaining to him about having performance anxiety. Yeah. He should have probably told me to go to hell.

  My problems? Nothing compared to the load he was carrying.

  I followed him out of the building and unlocked the doors to my car. It was weird, seeing the other side of him and knowing he was choosing to still wear his mask.

  I imagined it was like finding out who Superman really was one day only to see him try to pull the wool over your eyes the next day.

  But my memory? It was perfect. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over the look on Gabe’s face when he was playing — pouring his soul out onto the piano. He may as well have slit open his wrists and let the blood trickle out of his body as he pounded each note.

  Watching Gabe perform such a normal task as buckling his seatbelt was almost unnerving. I wasn’t really sure how he was able to function with all that guilt on his shoulders.

  “What?” His eyes flashed.

  Caught. I’d been caught staring.

  I shoved the key in the ignition. “Nothing, sorry. Just tired I think.”

  “You don’t have to go to the party.”

  You. Not us. But you. As in he didn’t want me to go or would be totall
y fine with me staying at home and napping like a senior citizen.

  “No.” I pulled out of the parking spot. “I think I should. After all, Wes didn’t really give me a choice.”

  Gabe fumbled with the heat. “Yeah, he’s intense like that.”

  “How did you and Wes meet?”

  Gabe’s hand froze midair before he pulled it back and crossed his arms. “Kiersten was Lisa’s roommate. I’m Lisa’s… cousin. Remember?” He rolled his eyes. “So I met him through Kiersten and the rest is kind of history.”

  “Through Kiersten,” I repeated, the wheels in my head turning.

  “Stop.” Gabe growled. “It wasn’t like that with her — it hasn’t been like that with anyone.”

  My heart dropped to my knees as my lower lip threatened to quiver out of control.

  “Until you,” he said it so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

  I chose not to speak the rest of the way to the restaurant, because I didn’t trust myself, and — thankfully — Gabe didn’t ask any questions.

  Maybe it was one of those understandings… Too many questions had been asked; too many answers given. A person can only handle so much, and I was officially past my limit.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sometimes I wonder if we ever truly let anyone completely in. The desire for another human being to know you, all of you, all the pieces, even the ones you’re ashamed of — is huge. But too often, we sit down and sort through the pieces only picking out the pretty ones, leaving the ugly ones behind, not realizing that choosing not to share with someone else is like committing a crime against our very soul — for how can we ever be free? When we purposefully place what we struggle with the most — in the dark? —Wes M.

  Gabe

  She knew.

  She knew.

  She knew.

  Wasn’t I supposed to feel lighthearted now that Saylor saw just a glimpse of my reality? Instead, the urge to tell her everything, to cut open my own beating heart and slam it down on the table for her to fix — to mend — was so intense, it was staggering.

  Finding it hard to breathe, I’d barely managed to make it to the restaurant without breaking down in the car. How was she able to carry on as though nothing had changed? How was she able to act like what I’d just shared with her was nothing out of the ordinary? A normal person would be freaking the hell out.

  So either she wasn’t normal—

  Or she was a saint.

  Was it wrong to wish for the second choice? I was abnormal enough for the two of us.

  “You made it!” Kiersten launched herself into my arms. I twirled her around, as per usual, and set her on her feet, kissing her forehead as she leaned forward and gripped my shoulders. “I was worried.”

  “Have I ever let you down?” I winked. Though on the inside I knew… I let her down a lot. And I wasn’t the only one carrying that particular gem.

  “Not yet.” Her bright red hair was snaked around her head like a crown. She looked like a fairy princess in her short white dress and brown sandals. It immediately made my chest hurt. Princess would have loved to dress up like that — to walk.

  “Gabe.” Wes came up behind me.

  I turned.

  He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with some indie band on it. His eyes were focused intently on me, as if he was a freaking vampire trying to read my mind.

  “So…” Saylor said from behind me. “When does Lisa get here?”

  “Fifteen minutes. We were able to stall a bit.” Kiersten gripped Saylor’s hand. “And thanks for coming, I know things have been really busy lately with practice and trying to fit everything in at the Home.”

  “No problem.” Saylor’s voice cracked. Damn. I was the reason she was going to have the most stressful night of her life. No way was she able to process everything that just went down and still function like a normal human being.

  I had four years.

  And I still wanted to slam my face against a brick wall.

  The restaurant, Marlin, was a small bar and grill on Puget Sound. I knew Kiersten had rented out the back room which led to the dock. I’d told her I’d pay for everything. When she’d argued Wes had told her it wasn’t a big deal and that she should let me do something.

  But Wes knew.

  He knew he wasn’t the only one who could buy not just the damn restaurant but half the property on Puget Sound and still not feel the squeeze.

  “Music!” Kiersten shouted, scaring the shit out of me. “I almost forgot!”

  She ran to the back of the room and plugged in her iPod then turned up the volume.

  I chuckled. The room was way too big for us. I mean, it was huge and there were going to be five of us, but still it was nice. To not have to worry about anyone recognizing the walking miracle and famous duo that were Wes and Kiersten — or worse, recognizing me.

  Not that it had happened in the last four years.

  But I could never be too careful.

  I self-consciously rubbed my hair, my dark-as-sin hair, and hated myself all over again as Saylor’s words replayed in my mind.

  She’d said I’d be hotter as a blond.

  Well, damn, if that didn’t make me want to chop off the Captain Jack Sparrow thing I had going on and go all natural.

  Kiersten and Saylor were busy talking about something while Wes watched me.

  “Creepy, dude.” I shook my head.

  He shrugged.

  And then the music changed.

  My entire body seized up. As if someone had just told me to stop breathing at once and turn into a zombie.

  “Oh my gosh! I used to love this song!” Kiersten all but shouted as she and Saylor started singing along.

  “When you take my heart, I give you my soul, but baby, you screwed up and let me go! Whoa, Whoa, Whoa.” Kiersten belted it louder. “You let me go, go, go, baby, no no, whoa. I should have known things would get sticky when I wanted you to be with me and only me, but no, no, no.”

  Wes’s eyebrows shot up as he sent me a knowing look.

  Yeah, yeah, bastard. Thanks, caught that.

  Saylor fell against Kiersten laughing when Kiersten started doing the exact choreography from the music video. I was almost tempted to join. But pretty sure that would give me away.

  No man should know that choreography.

  Well, that, and Wes would shit his pants. That was so not the way to tell people the truth. Just bust a move like a white guy who actually knew how to dance and break out into song.

  Dark hair or light. It wouldn’t matter. They’d see right through my disguise. It always amazed me how much people only saw what they wanted. They saw tattoos and thought bad ass. They saw muscles and dark long hair and thought I was a total loser.

  They had no flipping clue that I’d had straight A’s my entire life.

  That until a starlet seduced me — I’d promised myself for marriage.

  That at night I used to cry when my parents wouldn’t let me stay up late and write music.

  Beer. Hell, I needed beer or something stronger than bottled water. But the joke was on me — because this was not the type of place to flash my ID.

  Dark gritty bars with bartenders who didn’t even know their own names? Couldn’t care less.

  Nice restaurants with a peppy college student as your waitress? Yeah. Not smart.

  “She’s coming!” Kiersten hushed everyone and turned down the lights.

  The door clicked open. High heels clamored against the floor as a figure was silhouetted in the doorway.

  In perfect timing, we all jumped up and screamed in unison. “Surprise!”

  The lights flared to life.

  And I knew, in that moment, my life was officially over.

  “Hi, son.” My dad had his arm wrapped around Lisa. Her cheeks were stained with a mixture of tears and black mascara. “I don’t know why I never thought to locate your ex-girlfriend first and track you that way. Oh…” He turned to Lisa and kissed her on her cheek. She tried
to jerk away from his touch but he held her firm. “Happy Birthday, Mel.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  You can tell a lot just by reading the expression in a person’s eyes — and Gabe’s… it was the same expression a trapped animal gets before it’s shot in the head. His dad was the hunter — and Gabe was the deer. His time was up. And I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to feel sorry for him or horrified at the revelation. He was a stranger to me. A complete and total stranger. —Saylor

  Gabe

  “Let her go.” My nostrils flared as I stalked toward my dad, a man that, if I had it my way, was about to get thrown into Puget Sound and held under the dark murky water until he stopped fighting back. “Now.”

  “What?” Dad’s face was indifferent. It always was. It was part of the reason I hated him. Because I got my talent to act — directly from him. One minute he was the happiest man in the world, the next, you’d think he was working for the mafia or high on drugs. “No hug?”

  “Hell, no.” I spat. “Let her go.”

  With a cruel smile, he pushed Lisa away into Kiersten’s waiting arms. Wes strode over and stood in front of the girls. At least I knew if there was a fight we’d win. My dad didn’t stand a chance.

  Then again, he’d just sue the shit out of us if he survived and I wasn’t about to let my best friend go to prison for murder, so yeah. We were screwed.

  “New tattoo?” Dad motioned to my neck.

  Damn, but I felt every muscle strain in my body. Begging for a fight.

  “Your mom misses you.”

  I laughed and crossed my arms. “I’m sure she’s fine. After all, she has all the money she needs to be happy, right?”

  His cold blue eyes narrowed in on me. He looked dirty, like he hadn’t slept in days. He smelled like he hadn’t seen a shower in weeks.

  “Been camping in your car?” I mocked him. “Or did you have to sell that in order to pay your debts?”

  “You think—” He smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “—that you’re in any position to toss insults around, son?”

  “Don’t call me son,” I all but yelled.