by Emilia Finn
Laine simply nods.
With a nod of my own, I crawl off her bed and head back into the hall. My family whisper between themselves. Angry whispers between Luc and Alex.
We can’t.
She’s not ready.
He can’t.
She’ll freak the fuck out!
As soon as I reenter the living room, the four of them break apart and almost trip on each other in an attempt to act casual. Alex slams his head on an overhead lamp. Luc bites his knuckles, but it’s not in the way he normally does to conceal a joke. It’s simply his way of not saying something stupid.
Jules stands with her cell in her hand, and Kari watches me with pale cheeks.
But I don’t have the energy for another reunion at the door. Picking up my bag, I swing out the front door and head toward my car, and on the way, I take out my cell and open it to the message at the very top.
Al.
His name’s always at the top, because I text him more now than I ever did when he was alive. I use his disconnected service as a dear diary of sorts. Who knows; maybe there’s an afterlife. Maybe he sees my texts. Maybe he’s cheering me on.
Me: It’s time for my exams now.
Me: Last one.
Me: Wish me luck.
Me: I love you. I wish you were here.
Within twenty minutes of leaving my house, I drop my bag and cell into a safety box and take my seat at one of the exam tables. Without my cell, without my bag that contains his files, I’m left naked but for the scar on my ribs.
It’s been this way for the last two days.
Naked but for my scar.
This must be how people feel when they tattoo all the important things on their skin. Because when you’re stripped down and everything is taken from you, your skin remains, and scars are all you have left.
Irony, I think, considering the life I now live.
There’s nothing left, just a scarred heart. A heart that refuses to stop beating, no matter how much I wish it would.
It’s time for my exam. Time to start the rest of my life.
I have cases to win, and a memory to make proud.
I walk back to my car at four on the dot with absolutely none of the relief I expected I’d feel – because working toward becoming a lawyer for almost a decade has to mean something, right? Finally sitting the bar exam and not freaking out about bad results must mean something – but alas, no relief.
Just another day.
Another night lies in wait for me.
Another day of existence.
I take my cell and open it up to Laine’s name. Not the group chat. The chat that dwindles as each day passes. When half of the group stop replying, it becomes a desolate wasteland between Kari and Britt.
Someday things will go back to normal. Someday, I’ll be able to laugh with them again. Talk about the butt plug. Joke about boys. And tease my friends.
But today isn’t the day I fix it. Today, I go direct to Laine and dial.
The phone rings, and rings, and rings. I give her time. She’s probably staring at the screen, wondering if she could be bothered.
I can relate. I’ve spent four months staring at my screen when someone calls, only to let it ring out. I prefer being alone. I prefer sleep. And a falsely cheerful phone call makes everything worse.
It’s exhausting pretending to be okay.
When I think she’ll just let the call ring out, she finally picks up and answers with a croaky voice. “Yeah?”
“Hey. I’m done, Baby.” I let my relief that she answered out on a gusty breath. “It’s all over.”
She sniffles, and for the first time in months, my heart feels something other than the constant bleed for Kane.
It’s called worry.
“Congrats, Jessie. I’m proud of you.”
“Wanna come to Paddy’s with me? Dolly will do up a couple milkshakes for us. She’ll spike them if we ask.”
“No.”
“No? No spiking?”
“No milkshakes. I don’t wanna come. I wanna sleep.”
“Laine…” And in an instant, that fleeting moment of freedom comes crashing down and my chest turns empty all over again. “I need you.”
“I’m not ready. You said you wouldn’t shame me.”
I nod. At no one. At the street. But I press a hand to my heart and breathe through the ache. “Okay. It’s alright. You sleep. I’ll be home later, okay?”
“You can sleep with me tonight if you wanna. We can spoon.”
My chest shudders on a pathetic sob. “Okay.”
“Jessie?”
“Yes, Baby?” I head toward my car before someone drives past and finds me crying in the street.
“Do you still believe in magic? Do you still sleep with books under your pillow?”
“Yes.” I sleep with Kane’s file. “I dream every single night.”
“Maybe I’ll try it tonight. I need to dream of something good. You can pick a book for me if you want. Pick your favorite book and I’ll visit them in my dreams.”
“Okay. Are you looking for babysitters, or Fabios? Hunger Games, or vampires?”
“You choose. Something nice. Something not scary.”
“So, no to the Hunger Games. I know a good one. I’ll bring it when I come in for my sleepover.” Sliding into my car, I slam the door shut and blow out a breath. “He’s a vampire. She’s human, but it’s not that one you’re thinking. She’s a badass fighter. I wish I was as cool as her. She takes no one’s shit.”
“Okay.” She sniffles. “I’ll like that one. I wanna be badass, too.”
“You’re badass, Laine. You stood up to Jack, and that’s brave. He’s a monster.”
She lets out a desperate laugh. “That was forever ago. That was…” She sighs. “I wanna be her again. I wanna be the old me.”
I can relate.
I can relate so damn much, my chest aches.
“We’ll do it together, Baby. I’ll bring your book, we’ll eat snacks, down a couple shots of Tequila, then we’ll make our own stories that’ll make Dolly blush.”
“Okay.”
I switch on my car and do an illegal U-turn on the quiet street. “Alright, Laine. I better go before X tickets me for talking on the phone and driving. I’ll be home in a couple hours.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. See you in a bit.”
I toss my cell aside and turn my radio up. Calum Scott sings of heartbreak once again and forces tears into my eyes. I clamp my lips closed and ride the song out with him. It’s like he’s become the soundtrack to the end of my world. Everywhere I turn, his music meets me. Every time I turn the radio on, he’s there.
It’s both beautiful and painful.
I pull across the train tracks that lead out of town and pass Oz’s ranch house. Minutes later, I pass Marc’s. Everyone I know is living their happily ever after. Weddings and babies abound. Pretty houses, and happy families. Everyone has their happily ever after.
Then there’s me.
And Laine.
Maybe we can be like those eighty-year-old women on the internet. Single. Cat ladies. Say fuck a lot.
I pull onto the freeway and head toward Paddy’s as the wind billows in my open windows and dries my tears. I’m so tired of crying. So fed up with always hurting.
Would I go back and choose to not meet Kane if I could?
If I never went to that club, I never would have met him. Were those weeks together worth this? Were they worth this unending, blinding, fiery and pain-filled sorrow?
Yes.
They were.
It takes a full twenty-five minutes to reach the truck stop. Not speeding. Not going slow. I just cruise in the middle lane and think of each distinct minute we spent together.
I shouldn’t still be this obsessed. This broken. It’s been months, and I knew him for such a short time. But when the one comes along and takes a chunk of your heart, there’s just no wa
y to stop hurting over that chunk.
It’s impossible.
And there’s a huge part of me that doesn’t want to stop hurting. I don’t want to let go. I want him to live on forever, so if that means he lives on in my grief, I’m willing to wear it. Until it sends me crazy, anyway.
I pull into the perpetually empty truck stop parking lot and stop outside the diner windows. I turn my head to the right and eye my bag. My files.
My lifeline.
I can sit at Dolly’s counter, drink a milkshake, and read the fake report some more. Learn of the man he wanted us to think he was.
I climb out of my car and pull the hat lower over my eyes. Pushing my cell into my back pocket and swinging my bag over my shoulder, I beep the locks and move through the heavy doors.
I head back to my seat.
The one beside mine remains empty, but that’s okay. I don’t want someone else to sit there. In fact, I might buy it, dedicate it to Kane, then screw it to the floor.
The Kane Bishop stool. Only sit here if you think you’re man enough.
“Hey, baby girl.” Smiling wide, Dolly steps away from a booth and sways her wide hips as she moves around the counter. I follow her every move with my eyes, because she’s so charismatic, so large.
And I don’t mean her size.
I mean her soul.
“Coffee?” She stops in front of me and flips a mug. “It’s late in the day for coffee, but it’s a Friday, so maybe you’re looking to party tonight? I can take you out. Paint the town red.” Leaning over the counter until her boobs almost cover her eyes, she looks down at my legs. “You’ve got the shoes for it, baby girl. And I’ve got the ass.”
Laughing, I shake my head and set my bag on my lap. “No to the coffee. No to the partying. No to the ass. But I’ll take a milkshake.”
“Spiked?”
I love her so much. “No. I’ve gotta drive home, then I have a date tonight.”
“A date?” Her smile vanishes in an instant. “A date? With who?”
She’s still got Kane’s back.
“With my sister. She’s having a tough time, too. So we’re going to do Tequila shots in bed and spoon.”
“Aww.” Cupping my cheek, Dolly runs her thumb beneath my eye and catches a silly tear. “You and that girl. I swear. You feel so much. Both of you.”
“Dolly?” When she pulls away to slap my milkshake order into the kitchen, she turns back with a lifted brow. “Can I buy that stool?”
“You want a stool?” Frowning, she walks closer and leans on the counter. “I think we got them from the local co-op. They’re pretty ugly though, don’t ya think? Miss Fancy’s way too fancy for these.”
Miss Fancy.
I’d forgotten she called me that.
“Not for home. For here. I wanna own it, then maybe weld a plaque onto it. Then weld it to the floor.”
“A memorial?” Her eyes turn soft. “You wanna remember him with something he parked his ass on once or twice?”
I shrug. “I’d build a Rocky statue at the top of Main Street if I could. But Kane lost that fight, so… he sucks at fighting. But maybe I could get that Russian fighter’s statue made. Then I can remember the fight Kane lost. You remember? That time you asked if he hit himself in the face.”
Laughing, she nods and drops her eyes. “I remember. He was a damn mess. You both were. Miss Fancy comes in here with that rough man. Part of me wondered if he’d kidnapped you. It didn’t look right, you know? But then he’d talk to you, and you’d lean into him. It was definitely right, and shame on me for judging something by its cover.”
I shrug. “I mean, it was sort of a kidnap situation, I guess.”
“He declared his love that day, baby girl. You remember you were in here last week and you said he never told you he loves you?”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I nod.
“He told the whole damn world that day.”
“He was just playing. He was teasing me.”
“No.” Patting my arm, she steps away when my milkshake magically appears in the window between kitchen and dining. Plopping a bendy straw in the top, she slides it down the counter and snickers when I catch it. “He wasn’t playing, girl. He meant it. He meant it with his whole heart. That boy was already gaga for you. And you were playing so hard to get. You felt so dirty ‘cause you liked the bad boy, didn’t you?” Laughing, she stops in front of me. “Right? So naughty. Dolly knows all about naughty bad boys.”
My face flames as I bring the straw between my lips. “Little bit.”
“He knew it, too. He knew he had you all tied up in knots. That boy had your number, and he knew how to press each and every button.”
“He really did.” Enjoying the icy cold slide of milkshake down my aching throat, I close my eyes and imagine he’s right here beside me.
I pretend his shoulders touch mine.
I pretend we’re here on a sort-of date, and that he’ll take me home soon.
“Hey, Cap.” Dolly’s friendly greeting shatters my fantasies, but nowhere near as violently as how the glass breaks in my mind when someone with broad shoulders sits on Kane’s stool and brings a whoosh of masculine aftershave.
I open my eyes and stop on a red and black flannel shirt.
He grins. “Hey, girlie. Long time, no see.”
“Hey.” Memories slam down over me. Tears itch my eyeballs, but I don’t give in to it. I simply bring my bag closer and hug it in my lap. “We don’t know each other.” His smile grows as I play along. “Don’t talk to me, because I’m superwoman and I know how to shoot guns.”
Laughing, he leans into me and bumps my shoulder. “You sure are superwoman. You look good.”
I’m so absolutely not ready to be hit on.
“Thanks.”
Extending a hand, he ducks low so his dancing eyes meet mine under the brim of my hat. “We can know each other… if you want. My name’s Eric. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”
I take a deep breath and study his broad hand. Not as broad as Kane’s, but strong nonetheless. “Jess. Jess Lenaghan.”
“You been a good girl since I last saw you, Jess Lenaghan? Keeping outta trouble? Visiting Spence’s every week?”
I nod. “Spence and Dolly are my only friends now. Everyone else has been kinda pushed to the wayside.”
Sandy blonde hair slides over his forehead when he releases my hand. He turns and leans on his elbows on the counter, giving me a chance to study him. His broad shoulders – broader than I remember. His strong arms – bigger than I remember.
I guess Eric’s been working out since I last saw him.
Handsome and strong, maybe, but he’s sitting in Kane’s chair, and that annoys me. “Listen, can you–”
“Do you wanna know a secret, Jess?”
I stop and lean away. I was ready to eject him from Kane’s stool, but something powerful and painful swirls in my stomach.
Secrets.
Secrets hurt.
“What?”
“So, I was Bishop’s neighbor, right? That’s how you and I met.”
“Right.”
“So maybe I knew him better than I let on. Maybe we did know each other. And maybe he trusted me. As a friend. As a colleague.”
My eyes narrow. “A colleague… at the club?”
Grinning, he plays with the sugar packets on the counter. “Not the club. I never set foot in that club.”
Almost like I forgot Alex’s talk, like I forgot that Kane was not a criminal at all, I press a hand to my chest in remembrance. “You’re a cop, too?”
He nods. His eyes remain on the sugar packets while Dolly hovers. She’s pretending to be busy, but she wipes the same square foot of counter for minutes. “I’m a cop. Yup.”
Fresh tears burn my eyes. This man knew the other Kane. He knew the real Kane. “You didn’t say. I didn’t guess.”
“Undercover means undercover, girlie. Can’t just announce it to anyone, not even pretty blondes wi
th guns.”
“Oh god. I aimed a gun at you. At a cop. Oh god, is it time to arrest me?”
His back bounces with laughter. “You didn’t just aim at Bishop. You shot at him. That’s a felony if I ever saw one.”
“I’m not sorry for that.” I turn back to the counter. “If I aimed better, maybe shot him in the thigh, he wouldn’t have been able to work for Hayes that week. Maybe by shooting him, I’d have saved his life. I could be having a milkshake with a dude with a limp right now and listening to him bitch about that time I shot him.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You saved his life that night, girlie. You pulled his tongue outta his throat, you stayed with him, and when cocksuckers were banging on your door and I couldn’t do a thing about it without blowing my cover, you took care of it. Not all women are as badass as you. Not every man gets one of those kinds of girls.”
I shrug and steal one of his sugar packets. “He died because of me. In the end, it’s my fault he’s not here. He ran out to save me, because that’s what he does. And he died.”
“No.” Bringing his hand up, he swipes a tear from my cheek that both soothes and sets me on edge. It’s nice he wants to comfort me, but it’s not his place to touch. It’s Kane’s. “You did nothing wrong, Jess. You were sitting in a police station, and we assumed you’d be safe there. Hayes shot Turner’s junior and took you. That’s not on you.”
“But Kane came to save me. If I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t have come to the club.”
“He’s not sorry. He doesn’t regret you.”
I study the sugar granules that spill onto the counter. Tears slide along my nose, drip off the end, and land in the sugar to create a ball of cloudy liquid. “Doesn’t matter anymore.” I tilt my head to catch his eye. “I finished the bar exam today. I can maybe help people. Lock bad people away. Keep good people out of bad places.”
He grins. “Which one is Bishop? Good or bad?”
“He’s both. He did bad things, but his soul is good. His heart is good. I’d represent him.”
He laughs. “You’d rep him? You think you’d win?”
“I win at everything.” Except love. “I’d fight to the death, if I could.”