by Jules Dixon
I could get past his cocky jerk thing. Every guy could be an ass at one time or another, but the issues part was concerning.
“What kind of issues?” I asked.
Avery glanced to Chloe, who seemed as oblivious as I was. Avery’s lips slid into a tight smile. “You know, it doesn’t matter. You aren’t interested, right?”
I stared at his texts and mumbled, “Right.”
As the word exited my mouth, I knew it was a lie. I wanted to know Drexel. Maybe his secrets? Maybe why people thought he was a jerk? What made him tick? Why did he feel the need to protect me? Things I probably wasn’t going to learn from him tonight, but I at least wanted to try.
I remembered back to the way he’d held me while we danced at Presley and Jude’s wedding reception. It was like he wanted to absorb me into him. He had his hands on the edge of an emotional wall to crawl over (and sometimes down my dress) but he never gave himself permission to be real with me. I’d been around the real him and this Drexel was hiding something, something he thought was a threat to me or to us. That sharp attitude of his had an edge to it, a jagged and mangled edge prepared to wound if someone got too close. But he’d never hurt me on purpose. The real him was still in there. Behind all the muscle and insensitive attitude and those tall walls of protection, was a man who might just be the person I needed as much as I wanted.
Aurora: I’ll watch the movie and then we can get together. Okay?
Drexel: I have a surprise for you.
I smiled at his message.
Aurora: I love surprises. I’ll text when I’m leaving here. Maybe you can come over to my place?
Drexel: Sounds good.
Aurora: I’ll text when I’m on my way so we can meet there. And I AM really sorry for my texts the day after the wedding. I didn’t mean some of those things.
Drexel: I know. Do you still want my third leg to fuck off?
Aurora: Nope, I don’t. If anything, I’d like to see him in action.
Drexel: Miss Jessen, you shouldn’t say those things.
I frowned at his text.
I’ll say what I want to.
My phone buzzed.
Drexel: Unless you’re in person. Later. Enjoy the movie. I’ll be waiting for you.
The potential bubbled between us. I flashed back to the way he spoke heated words in my ear and the way we kissed. Fireworks weren’t ever as bright or colorful as he and I were together.
Avery watched me from across the room. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, all good. Ready to watch Maleficent get taken down by three fairies and a handsome prince.”
After the movie finished I bowed out early, claiming I was tired, but secretly hoping Drexel was ready to come over and talk.
Aurora: Leaving Avery’s. Please come over to my place.
Drexel: See you soon.
The weather had been pretty normal for January, bitter cold and consistent snow, but there was supposed to be a warm-up over the weekend.
Something to look forward to, if tonight isn’t something.
About two minutes from home, I stopped at a four-way and glanced down to adjust the radio, then started through the empty intersection. Bright lights streaming in the driver’s window seemed too close. The screaming of tires didn’t come near the decibel of my screams as my truck toppled onto its side. The sound of glass breaking and metal crunching across the pavement drowned out my screams.
The high-pitched screech of sirens filled my head, and then … nothing.
Chapter Nine
Drexel
The doorbell had been pushed about fifty times in succession.
“Go away!”
The annoying ding-ding-ding started back up.
“Fucking go away!”
“Drexel! I want to talk to you,” a female voice countered.
“No.”
“Please? I brought food.”
I hadn’t eaten in four days. I thought back to when I opened my fridge this morning and found cottage cheese that reeked like a jockstrap and orange juice that made the cottage cheese smell like perfume.
I shuffled to the door in my boxers, reaching through the small opening. “Give me the food and you can leave.”
“No, I want to come inside.”
“No.”
“Drexel, please.” Her lavender hair was too cheery for my mood.
“Willow, I’m in my boxers. I don’t have the energy to protect myself if Kanyon shows up and decides to beat my ass.”
“He’s working and I won’t say anything about the boxers if you don’t.”
I left the door cracked and walked away. She darted inside and into the kitchen with two paper grocery bags.
“Do you own cookware?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever use it?”
“No.”
I slunk back onto the sofa and turned the TV up. Jerry Springer wasn’t my normal viewing choice, but seeing people with problems, possibly and probably as bad as or worse than my own, kind of made me feel better.
“What are you watching?”
“Jerry Springer.”
“Okay,” she stretched the word. “And why are you watching Jerry Springer?”
“For the hot chicks.”
She poked her head out and squinted at the screen. “Yeah, real lookers. Does that middle one even have teeth?”
“Eh, better for a blowjob.”
Willow’s huge eyeballs rolled and the saddest part of watching the expressive move was it used to do something to me. I used to think Willow was attractive, but now I wasn’t even getting a twinge in any part of my anatomy. No dick jerk. No tingle in my ‘nads. Total anatomical apathy.
In half an hour the house smelled pretty good. I imagined after days of no shower, I didn’t.
Willow sat next to me on the sofa. “Tell me what happened.”
“Same old bullshit. Wrong girl, wrong time, just wrong, wrong … wrong.”
“And what girl would that be?”
“Don’t play dumb, Willow. I’m sure Rahl and his guys called Kanyon and Jude to talk about what a miserable piece of shit I am. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here bugging the shit out of me. I don’t need your pity.”
“I don’t pity you and no one is anything but concerned about you. Drex, you have to snap out of this.”
I rubbed my hands on my face and took a deep breath. “How is she?”
“Last I heard, still in a coma, but the prognosis for a full recovery is good.”
That’s five days now.
Willow walked back into the kitchen and the clank of a dish being pulled from the cabinet echoed into the family room. “I really think you should go see her, Drex,” she called out.
I can’t.
She returned with a bowl of soup. “Loaded baked potato soup and a fresh roll.”
“Does it have celery?”
“No.”
“Onions?”
Willow huffed. “Some. But not a lot and they’re diced into teeny-tiny bits.”
I reached out, took the bowl and dug in. I shoveled spoonful after spoonful into my mouth. “It’s good.”
“Thanks.”
“Aren’t you going to have some?”
“I ate earlier and my stomach’s a little iffy today.” Willow plopped down on the sofa, closer than before. “If you want to go to the hospital, I’ll go with you.”
“If I go, I’ll go alone, but I really don’t think I’ll go.”
“Why not?”
Her barrage of questions was starting to get on my nerves.
“I don’t think I can see her that way, and since my boss thinks I’m battling the flu, he might ask why I’m there infecting his daughter.”
“I can understand being scared of what Mr. Jessen might think.”
“I’m not scared. I’m … tired.”
“Drex, people get better from the flu. From everything I’m hearing, she’s going to pull through and the induced coma is only a precaution to contro
l swelling in her—”
“Stop! I can’t hear it.”
“Drexel, just be honest. How do you feel about Rory Jessen?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I do.” Willow’s hand on my arm made me turn to her.
I narrowed my eyes. “Then please, Great and All Seeing Wiseass, put me out of my misery and enlighten me as to how I’m feeling.”
“Remember when you told me you wanted to say someone’s name like Kanyon says mine? With emotion like it’s the most important word in the world to you?”
I mumbled, “I can be such a fucking loser sometimes.”
She clasped my arm lightly. “Hey, I thought it was really sweet and you were right. Kanyon does say my name in a special way. You need to open your eyes and your ears because I bet when you say Rory’s name, which I’ve noticed you won’t do today, you feel just as much as she does when you say it to her.”
I used the bread to mop up the remaining soup in the bottom of the bowl. “What a load of crap, Harper-Hills.”
“Keep telling yourself that, and it’ll be the truth. Believe in something bigger and better and you’ll see I’m right.”
“Willow, my … problems … shouldn’t be Rory’s problems.”
“When we love someone, we want to be there through the good and the bad, Drexel. That’s why all of your friends are worried about you. We want to be here for you. Let us help you.”
It all sounded good, but I was afraid I might be a lost cause. A mid-twenties has-been MLB pitcher who didn’t understand himself—much less women—and had attempted to get clean only to find himself standing deep in snow, a cold and meaningless reality. Plus, Willow’s speech had me thinking all touchy-feely like her, which pissed me off.
“You and your new-age hocus-pocus can go now. I’m going to take a nap.”
“All right. I love you, Drexel.” She surprised me with a hug.
“I stink, don’t I?” I hugged her back and I didn’t let go.
“Don’t care. I still love you.”
Hearing those words made me nervous. The past had taught me feeling empty and hurt was sure to follow saying those words.
I cleared my throat and backed away from her. I walked her to the door.
She turned and smiled. “There’s more food in the fridge and if you stop by the café tomorrow, I’ll treat you to lunch.”
“We’ll see. Thanks, Willow.”
“Anytime. And I mean that.”
I watched another re-run of Jerry Springer, then sighed loud enough that I had to fucking snap out of this funk or forever give up my Man Card. Even if Rory didn’t want more than friendship, or if she didn’t want anything to do with me at all, I could at least support my boss and his family. This wasn’t about me. And the white stuff has a way of making it all about me.
I showered and made my way to the hospital. I was directed to the right floor by the front desk. I stood at the nurse’s station wavering on my decision to be here.
“Can I help you?” A nurse approached, holding a clipboard in her hand.
“Um, is Aurora Jessen allowed visitors?”
“Are you family?”
I wouldn’t get past this woman if I didn’t give her what she wanted to hear.
My heart started pounding as the words rolled around in my head. “I’m Rory’s boyfriend. I just got back into town. I’ve been traveling and couldn’t get back. I just want to see her for a few minutes. Please?” I clamped my mouth shut to stop any additional rambling.
“Okay, follow me.” Pushing on a heavy wooden door, she walked in before me and glanced over her shoulder as my canvas shoes squeaked to a stop. “The doctor started to wean her off of the coma-inducing drugs. Potentially she could wake up at any time. But most likely she’ll come out of the coma tomorrow or the next day. Maybe hearing your voice will do it, too. If that happens, please come get me. We’ll need to take her off the ventilator.”
I shuffled to the end of the bed and reached out to touch Rory’s foot. “She’s going to be okay, right?”
“Actually, the neurologist said he’s never witnessed someone as resilient as Miss Jessen.”
“Stubborn is what she is,” I mumbled.
The nurse chuckled. “He didn’t say that, but I’m sure you have verbiage that might work, too. Anyway, she’s going to recover, and it appears she’ll be back to her old self soon.”
“I can’t wait.” And I meant it. I wanted her old spunky self.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jessen should be returning from dinner very soon.”
“Thank you.”
At the side of the bed, I stared at Rory, air being forced into her lungs by a machine. A long white bandage sealed an injury on her forehead. I brushed pieces of her hair away from her pale face. Knowing the Jessens could be back anytime, I needed to get out what I wanted to say.
“Rory, I’m sorry. I can’t change what happened, but I wish this hadn’t happened to you. If I’d been honest with you … maybe…” I didn’t want to hope anymore. “But it doesn’t matter now. I’ve proven I can’t change and when something major happens in my life, the first thing I turn to isn’t people, it’s my white playmate, the only real thing that keeps me company.”
I cleared my throat as it closed like a door was shutting inside of me. “Aurora, you look so beautiful, peaceful. And quiet. Not sure I like it when you aren’t giving me a hard time. Fuck, I miss it.” I heard voices outside the door. “I think my time is up.” I leaned over the bed and lingered a kiss on her cheek close to her mouth. I ran my hand down her arm, entwined her fingers in mine, and lifted her lifeless hand to my mouth and gave it a kiss. I swallowed as her warm palm rested in mine. I hated moments of honesty, but since she was comatose, I made more of an effort than I normally would.
“I don’t know if I can let you in or if I should. You deserve someone who can be honest with you. I don’t know how to love people back, but I want to try with you, Rory.” Resting my forehead on hers, I waited. “Princess, please wake up.”
Nothing.
“Drexel?”
I straightened my back and released Rory’s hand back to her side. “Good evening, Mr. Jessen.”
He stepped closer, his gaze flicking between Rory and me. “Good evening. How are you feeling?”
“All better. I wanted to stop by and”—I walked around the bed, but looked back to see her again—“tell you that I’m thinking about your family and I hope Aurora has a full recovery.”
“Thank you. All signs point to that happening. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Then I felt what he was asking about. A trickle of blood seeped from my nose. The days before had been a binge and I was paying for it right now. “Excuse me.”
“The nurse said that Rory’s boyfriend was in here.”
“I just needed to see—”
“Good night, Drexel.” I heard the finality in his voice when he realized what I’d done.
“Good night, sir.”
I made my way home. I’d released what I’d needed to, and even if she couldn’t hear me, it’d lifted a weight. That Mr. Jessen walked in on me was the least of my worries. He had bigger things on his mind than my lies, and hopefully my nose.
Maybe saying what’s in my head isn’t so bad?
I pushed the thoughts aside. Time to rock some car sales and make that my focus. Mr. Jessen would forget my actions if I was a selling machine. I’d be in his good graces again soon. I grabbed a tissue on the way out the door and dabbed at my nose.
And maybe a little less using? Maybe.
Chapter Ten
Aurora
Six days after the accident, I woke up in the hospital. There were so many flowers around me I thought I might actually be dead.
“Welcome back, sweetheart. Just hold on. We’ve called the nurse.” Mom brushed my hair from my face.
I tried to speak but there was something in my throat. I panicked, gagging on the tube. Numerous alarms sounded, n
ot doing anything to alleviate my panic. A nurse came into the room and calmed me until the doctor removed the breathing tube.
“Miss Jessen, you might not be able to talk for a couple of days while your throat recovers from intubation. I’d suggest you write out what you want to communicate for now.”
Dad handed me a piece of paper. I wrote, “How’s the other driver?”
Dad and Mom stared at each other with pale faces, as if the answer was a bomb.
I scribbled out, “How many people?”
Dad squeezed my hand. “One. The driver.”
I started crying and couldn’t stop.
He leaned over me and kissed my forehead. “It wasn’t your fault, Rory. You stopped. The other driver was drunk and blew through the stop sign.”
It didn’t matter to me. Someone’s loved one was gone. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry to get out of Avery’s place, running after something that might or might not exist between Drex and me, that person might have made it home okay.
I cried almost nonstop for ten days—three in the hospital and a full week at home. January had passed and February started with no change to my attitude. The responsibility I took on myself seemed unreasonable to those who cared about me, but knowing I was involved in a death created a hole in my heart for someone else. Someone loved that person and that someone was hurting. My respect and acknowledgment of their loss was important to me. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t have to be important to anyone else.
I was wrapped up in my favorite blanket watching morning TV shows and sobbing because Matt Lauer wasn’t being funny when there was a knock on my door.
The door opened and Dad walked inside. “Hey, how are you doing today?”
“I’m fine.”
He sat next to me. “This is fine?”
“Yes, this is fine!” I snapped.
“Honey, your mother and I think it’s time you see someone.”
“Someone who?” I dabbed my nose with a tissue.
“A therapist.”
“Dad, I promise, I’m getting better. I don’t need to see a therapist. It’s just been a really bad couple of weeks.”
“Rory, we had to take you out of school. You’re not going to be able to complete this semester.”