Wasted Words: Inspired by Jane Austen's Emma (The Austens Book 1)

by Staci Hart

  I took a sip of my beer. “I’m not looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. We got in a fight last week about Cam, and I haven’t talked to him since.”

  “I suspect it won’t be pleasant. But maybe he’ll leave it alone and stay away.”

  We looked at each other and shook our heads. “It’s a nice thought,” I added. “Maybe not impossible though. He was smart enough to leave us alone last night.”

  “Well, that’s a good sign. You meeting with Darryl tomorrow?”

  “After the game for a bit, yeah, and during the game we’ll see each other, since I’ll be on the field. We’re working out on Sunday still, right?”

  He nodded, smirking. “It’ll be nice to whip you on the field again.”

  I chuckled. “Just like old times.”

  He watched me for a moment. “How’ve you been feeling?”

  I knew what he meant without any specifics. “Fine, you know. The usual. I love and loathe football season. Easier to watch it on TV, anyway.”

  “I’d like to say that gets easier, but I don’t know if that’s true. I can’t imagine the loss, even though I’ve tried a million times. The day you were injured, it changed all of our lives.”

  Breathe in. Breathe out. “I know.”

  His eyes were full of understanding and pain. “All we’ve ever wanted is your happiness, son.”

  “I know that, too.”

  He sighed and looked down at his hands. “I know you already know all this, but I’m proud of you for picking up and moving on. You’ve never buckled. You never gave up. You fought and smiled your way through the pain in a way I don’t know I could have done, if it had been me. And I’ve prayed it had been. I’d trade places with you in a second.”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Are you happy, Tyler? That’s all I need to know.”

  “I am, Dad. I’m happy. The past would have swallowed me up, if I’d let it, and I knew that. There’s no point in looking backward. No good can come of wishing for things we can’t have. All I can do is keep going, one foot in front of the other, toward the things I can have. Go after them with all the passion I put into everything I want.”

  “I support that, fully and wholly. Is Cam a part of that philosophy?”

  I spun my bottle around slowly, eyes on the label. “I’m hurt. She hurt me. But …” I pulled in a shaky breath and let it out.“I think I love her, Dad.” My heart stopped at the words, at the realization as it dawned on me.

  He nodded. “I think you do too. And if you love her, you have to go after her.”

  And he was right. Cam wanted me, that much I knew for certain. I wasn’t wishing for something I couldn’t have. I could have her, but it wouldn’t be easy.

  It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.

  25

  BURN TOGETHER

  Cam

  I WOKE SLOWLY, SLIPPING OUT of the dream world a little more with every breath. The day was gray and dreary, my room darker than it should have been. Rain pattered against my window, the cold pressing in from outside.

  I felt it all the way in my lonely bed.

  I’d tossed and turned most of the night, waking to roll over and reach for him, but he was gone.

  He’d be gone anyway, I told myself, which was true. But the loneliness wasn’t the same. This loneliness was hopeless and complete.

  I lay there for a long time, listening to the rain, the occasional rumble of thunder somewhere off in the distance, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking about me, missing me the way I missed him.

  I felt like I’d made a horrible mistake, sabotaging us like I had. I wondered if it would be better for us in the long run. Maybe hurting him now would save him later. Maybe I’d save myself. Maybe it was the right thing for both of us.

  But it felt wrong, so wrong that I didn’t even want to move — the pain was too acute.

  I didn’t know what time it was when I crawled out of bed, wrapped in my comforter. I found the rest of the cupcakes in the kitchen and took the box to the couch with me before turning on the TV.

  It was college game day, a day I usually spent with Tyler, and I flipped through the games, needing something familiar, hoping it would help. And for a while, it did.

  The Iowa game was on — they were playing Nebraska, and I turned off the sound and turned on music, feeling like if I couldn’t hear the chatter of the sportscasters it would make it easier. So I put on Warpaint again and ate cupcakes in the dark apartment, the flicker of the screen nearly the only light to speak of.

  My second cupcake was nearly gone, the sugary sweetness barely breaking through my senses, when I saw him.

  Tyler stood on the sidelines in Nebraska gear, a red windbreaker and khakis, red cap flipped backward, nodding and smiling as he talked to a couple of players with a clipboard in his hand. He looked happy, strong, his shoulders broad, legs long. But it was his smile that gutted me.

  It was only a second. Just a moment of his face, and I was lost again.

  Tears welled as I scrambled for the remote and turned off the TV, sitting in the dark, sobbing quietly as the ghostly voice sang to me about what was gone forever.

  Right and wrong. Yes and no. Joy and pain.

  I’d lost him. I had him, and I lost him because I was afraid.

  I wiped my tears, needing to get out of the house. So I clicked on the lamp, pulled myself off the couch and walked into my room. Pulled on rain boots and a coat. Grabbed my keys and walked out the door.

  I flipped up the broad hood of my coat and stuffed my hands in my pockets, not sure where I was even going. If it hadn’t been dreary and rainy, I would have walked through the park, but I was glad for the rain, glad for the low hanging clouds that hid the tops of the buildings. I looked up at them, knowing that on the other side, the sun shone, unaffected, as if life really existed up there and not down here. Like I was underwater, and the surface was too far away to reach.

  I headed for the subway, descending the stairs as I put in my earbuds and walked through the turnstile, all to the same album I’d been listening to on repeat. I always did that — listen to them over and over again until I was almost afraid to turn them off, afraid to lose the feeling the music gave me. This one in particular I’d played until I knew every single note, every beat, every word, and the whole of it made up the sum of me as I stepped into the metal train, heading for Wasted Words.

  I didn’t have anywhere else to go. At least there was alcohol there. And Rose. I could really use some Rose.

  The train rattled and clattered down the track, though I was lost in thought, even as I reached my stop and made my way out, ducking my head against the rain once it found me again. Before long, I was standing in front of the store, my home away from home, pulling the door open.

  I flipped back my hood and took out my earbuds, stowing them in my pocket. Rose was behind the bar, and her brow rose as I approached.

  She frowned as I took off my jacket and sat down, feeling flat and dead.

  “Whiskey?”

  “Whiskey.”

  She nodded and poured me a drink, watching me inconspicuously. “Want to talk about it?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  She handed me the drink, and I took it, sipping it gratefully. “We got in a fight. A bad fight. And now he’s gone.”

  “Oh, Cam,” she said softly.

  I shook my head and shrugged. “It went so much worse than I thought it would. He said he didn’t want to talk about it again. That if I didn’t get it, there was nothing else to say.”

  She frowned again, and this time her whole face joined in.

  I shrugged again and took another drink, wincing against the bitter rye.

  “So you didn’t talk to him about what’s holding you back?”

  I shook my head. “He didn’t want to hear it. Our relationship was already so fragile, and I blew it up. I think it’s over, Rose.” My nose burned as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

  �
�Just like that? I mean, it’s not like he can avoid talking to you about it. You live together.”

  “This whole time I was worried about me getting hurt, and I didn’t spend nearly enough time worrying about how he felt, what he wanted. I’ve been selfish. I’ve betrayed his trust by worrying he would betray mine.”

  She didn’t have anything to say, just waited for me.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say to him or you or anyone. He’s hurt because I took it too far.” I sighed. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

  Rose’s lips were tight. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why? He’s better off without me, I’ve been saying that this whole time. This way we can just move on.”

  “You really think you’re going to just pick up and move on from Tyler?”

  I shrugged, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

  “Come on, Cam. You’re smarter than this.”

  I didn’t respond.

  She fumed. “I’m not kidding. You guys breaking up isn’t better for either one of you.”

  “How so? Because he was right. I was on the fence the whole time, and that’s not his fault. I’m too fucked up to be with him, that much is painfully clear.”

  “I’m through being cute with you about this. Look at you. You’re fucking miserable. You think you’re doing anyone any favors with some bullshit self-sacrifice? You think you’re saving yourself? Or saving him? Because that’s absolute horse shit.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and banged out a text. “You’re talking to Patrick.”

  I made a face. “Why?”

  She gave me a pointed look. “Because he’s been an idiot before too, and you need to hear the truth from somebody as stupid as you are.” Her phone buzzed. “Good. He’s on his way. You just sit there and get a little drunk while we wait for the cavalry.”

  “I don’t need a talking-to. I’m not a child, Rose.”

  “Really?” she said, hands on her hips and brows high. “Because you sure are acting like one. Your dream guy is all about you, and you pushed him away because you think he’s better than you. That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever fucking heard in my life. You speak like a thousand languages and have an IQ that puts you somewhere in the borderline genius category of humanity, and yet here you are, giving up. You shot yourself in the foot because you’re afraid.”

  “I know I did, but that’s just how I feel, Rose. Like I don’t fit in. I don’t always know my place around him, not like here. Not like over there.” I motioned to the comic side of the store. “Why do you think I worked at a comic store all that time? Sure, I could have gotten a ‘real’ job pushing papers and filing reports and who even knows what, but I don’t fit in there either. I want to feel like I belong, just like anybody. So I worked at the comic shop because I didn’t feel weird or different. I could be me, and that was enough.” The words left me too quickly, too honestly, with my heart banging and cheeks flushed.

  Her face softened. “I know, Cam. I know. But you’re enough. The raw version of Cam is who we all love. We don’t want you to be different than that. And I get you feeling out of place, I really do. But just because you put on lipstick and a dress doesn’t mean you’re not who you are.” She threw a coaster at me that said, Comparison is the thief of joy - Theodore Roosevelt. “Why do you compare yourself to anyone else? To strangers, to what you think Tyler wants? Why can’t you just accept who you are and who he is and let that be enough?”

  My chin flexed, nose burning as I swallowed. “I don’t know, Rose.”

  Rose’s eyes darted behind me, lighting up. I looked back to see Patrick walking in, shaking the rain off his jacket with tattooed fingers as he wiped his boots on the mats. The way they smiled at each other was enough to make my heart flutter for them. I only wished I had someone to look at me that way.

  Except you did, and you lost him.

  Patrick walked up to the bar and greeted Rose — she leaned over the bar to give him a kiss — and he turned to me, smiling as he sat.

  He leaned on the bar. “Rose wanted me to come talk some sense into you.”

  I snorted and took a sip of my drink.

  “Do you need sense talked into you or is she just being pushy?”

  “Hey,” she said, mock pouting as she poured him a drink too.

  I shrugged. “Maybe both.”

  He nodded and took a drink once she handed it over. “So, you and Tyler got in a fight?”

  “Yeah. I started to talk and then … then he just walked out.” I drained my drink and passed it to Rose for a refill, which she provided.

  “Does he make you happy?” Patrick’s blue eyes were intense, like he could see right through me.

  I blinked, brow quirking at the unexpected question. “Of course he does. He’s the best person I know.”

  “And you make him happy.”

  I took a sip, slumping as I leaned on the bar. “I think I did, for a minute at least.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “You know, for a long time after I broke up with Rose, I just let her be angry. I let her hate me, thinking I deserved it for leaving her in the first place, and by the time I realized there was a chance for us, it was almost too late. In fact, for a while there, I thought it was too late. But it’s never too late. You’ve got to go after what you want, Cam. If you’ve found love, if you need him and he needs you, then there’s no question. You have to try, not run away because you’re afraid of what it might be, or because you’re afraid of losing him. Don’t make my mistake.”

  My eyes welled with tears again. Rose looked satisfied. I, however, felt worse. “So what do I do?”

  “Apologize,” Rose said. “Let go of all the reasons why you can’t and focus on why you can. Stop fighting it and just let go. Tyler will take care of your heart. He’d never hurt you. You know that.”

  I nodded and sniffed, biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry.

  “Feel better?”

  “I need a plan. A way to say I’m sorry that doesn’t involve too much talking.”

  “Nude apologies are the best for that.” She smiled. “Now drink some more. Did you get cupcakes like I told you?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “Good. That should help. Just try to keep it together until he gets back. Feel all your sad mopey feelings and remember how much you want him. You could always try calling him.”

  I shook my head. “He’s so busy this weekend. It’s homecoming and he’s courting a player.”

  “Well, he’ll be home Monday, right?”

  I nodded again.

  “Come in and work tomorrow, if you need something to keep your hands busy. I have a crate of books in the stock room that need to be labeled and shelved,” she joked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like a real party.”

  She shrugged, smiling.

  I finished my drink, letting it all soak in as Rose and Patrick talked. I had to go after what I wanted, fearlessly, and for the first time, I thought I might be able to.

  I filled with tentative hope.

  After a little while, I said my goodbyes and thank yous, aching for solitude again. The rain had subsided, though it still drizzled, and I popped my hood again, stuffing my earbuds in, the music crooning in my ears a little too sad all of a sudden . I switched it to my walking music, the playlist full of happier songs, with driving beats that held purpose, and every step, I found, held a little purpose too.

  They were right, I thought. Caring about each other had to be enough. I did trust Tyler. He’d never hurt me on purpose. It was the truth I’d been fighting all along, what he’d been painstakingly trying to convince me of.

  Being with Tyler had kicked up the dust of my past, bringing the pain of what happened with Will back into my heart when I thought it had been buried. All these years when I thought I’d been fine, strong and protected by rules that had become a cage, but I hadn’t really dealt with it at all. It had always been in the back of my mind, just waiting for the moment it coul
d spring out and ruin something brilliant for me, which it had.

  But the truth was simple. The truth was that I was exactly who I was, and that was enough for Tyler, and it was enough for me. The truth was that love had no rules. There was no right or wrong, just as Tyler had said. There was just him and me.

  So my apology to Tyler would begin with that admission.

  I didn’t want to lose Tyler, but I had. I lost him simply because I didn’t want to lose him.

  I laughed out loud on the train, and a few people turned to give me dirty looks, but I didn’t care. Not now that I could see the truth, the path out of the fog and back to his shores.

  By the time I reached the apartment, I was cold and wet, but my mind rolled over my thoughts like sweet wine. I was warm from the whiskey, fanning the flame of the flicker of hope in my chest.

  I hung my jacket on its peg and kicked off my boots, changed my clothes and settled into the couch with my book, thinking about all the ways I’d apologize to Tyler, all the ways I’d make it right, feeling like it would be a million years until I had the chance. My eyes found my old, battered copy of The Hobbit, and I picked it up. Later, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, though at the time it called to me.

  I opened to the page where he’d left off, marked by the ticket to the Giants game.

  To say the book was damaged was putting it mildly — the corners were curled, the pages yellowed and dog-eared, passages highlighted over the years, noted in the margins with my thoughts. But on the page Tyler had stopped on, he’d marked one of my highlighted passages.

  If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together.

  The note next to it in the margin simply said This, Cam.

  My heart skittered in my chest, breath shuddering.

  We should burn together.

  And I knew then without a doubt that I wanted to burn with him. That if it were to end, we would go together, into the fire.

  The shelves didn’t matter. Kyle didn’t matter. And those truths found their way deep into my heart, setting me free.

  My tears hit the book in my lap with a small splat that wrinkled the page, and I closed it, clutched it to my chest as I sank back into the couch and cried. But my tears weren’t sad anymore. They weren’t full of longing. They were full of hope.