Follow Me Back

by A. Meredith Walters

  There’s one place I could go for some quick scratch, my subconscious teased.

  It was tempting. I missed the club. I missed the dark world where I was king. I missed the adrenaline rush of doing something I knew was wrong and getting away with it.

  God, I missed the drugs.

  I’ll always be here, waiting for you, my addiction whispered seductively in my head. My hands began to shake and something that felt dangerously like physical withdrawal racked my body. My heart started to pound and sweat dribbled down my back. I felt sick and dizzy. The need to use was overwhelming.

  Get it together! I screamed silently to myself.

  I needed to lose myself in something safe. I got up and rushed back to my bedroom and threw open my closet door. I dug around inside with my heart slamming angrily in my chest.

  Get a grip, Maxx!

  I finally found my sketch pad and a box of charcoal. I sat down cross-legged on the floor. The lighting was shit, but I didn’t need to see. I needed to feel.

  My fingers moved almost mechanically at first, but then the fluidity of drawing took over. My breathing began to slow. My heart calmed down. The sweat dried on my skin. Minutes turned into an hour, my fingers never stopping.

  When I was finished, I straightened my back, feeling stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. I stretched and held up the pad in front of my face and couldn’t help but smile.

  The style was uniquely mine. Tangles of long hair becoming snakes as they reached down from the sky. Fingers sprouting up from the ground like talons.

  It was warped. It was fucked up.

  But it looked pretty freaking awesome.

  I knew that I was good. Enough people had told me throughout the years that I believed it.

  I thought with regret about that meeting with Mr. Randall all those months ago. I had really messed up something good.

  It was the story of my life.

  I walked over to the corner of my room where I had stacked at least two dozen canvases. I slowly went through them, pulling out the ones that stood out. The ones that best demonstrated my ability.

  Feeling impulsive, I pulled out my wallet and found the card Tatum Randall had given me over six months ago. I was actually surprised I had kept it.

  Maybe there was a part of me, even when I was bombed out of my mind, that held on to this small possibility.

  I quickly dialed the number on the crisp, white card before I could talk myself out of it. I chewed on my thumbnail as the phone rang and rang.

  “Bellview Gallery, how can I help you?” a woman’s voice chirped in my ear.

  “Um, hi, is Mr. Randall available?” I croaked.

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Maxx— I mean X,” I fumbled, sounding like a moron.

  “X?” the lady asked incredulously.

  I gritted my teeth. “Yes, X. He’ll know me,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Okay, then, hold on. Let me see if he’s still here.”

  I was put on hold and had to listen to five minutes of really bad elevator music.

  Just when the horrible strains of John Tesh were about to send me over the edge, the phone clicked.

  “X. Hello. I must say I’m rather surprised to hear from you,” Mr. Randall said. He sounded cold and less than thrilled.

  “Yes, I understand. I didn’t make the best impression when we met,” I said, hating to grovel, but what other choice did I have?

  “I believe that is an understatement,” Mr. Randall scoffed.

  He was starting to piss me off and I had to work hard to rein myself in.

  “Yes, well, I wasn’t in a very good place back then. Things have changed considerably since then.” I paused a moment, mentally preparing myself to beg.

  “I wanted to know if you’d still be interested in seeing my work. I’ve put together some amazing pieces—”

  “X, after our last meeting, I think it’s safe to say that you wouldn’t be a good fit for my gallery.”

  I felt myself bristle at his automatic rejection.

  “Sir, I get that I was a bit of a mess. I was dealing with some stuff. Not that that excuses my horrible behavior. But I don’t think it’s exactly fair—”

  “Look, I’m sure there are a lot of other galleries out there that would be interested in you and your . . . eccentricities.” The jackass wouldn’t let me get a word in. “But Bellview Gallery isn’t that place. I’m sorry.”

  I felt what little hope I had about possibly using my art to generate a livable income dwindle away.

  I crumpled up my pride into a tiny ball and shoved it away. “Sir. Please. Just give me another chance. I think you’ll change your mind if you just see my work. My real work.” I sounded desperate. He had to hear it in my voice.

  Mr. Randall was quiet for a bit. I chewed through the skin on my lip and tasted blood, the sharp sting keeping me grounded.

  “I’m sorry, X. When I saw your street art I thought you were a different artist. I thought you were someone I could promote and nurture. Unfortunately, the impression you gave wasn’t one of someone ready to work hard and take their talent seriously. I just can’t take that risk. Not right now.” He actually sounded a bit sorry.

  But he wasn’t as sorry as I was.

  I couldn’t beg anymore.

  “Okay, then. Well, thank you for your time.” I felt despondent. Dejected. Lost.

  “Best of luck, X. I really mean that,” Mr. Randall said, sounding sincere.

  I wanted to tell him where to shove his unnecessary well wishes.

  But I held my tongue.

  I hung up the phone and looked at the canvases propped against the wall.

  I was quickly getting tired of being kicked when I was already down.

  In a fit of anger I hurled the pictures across the room.

  The one of Aubrey I had painted after getting out of rehab was split down the middle.

  Broken and ruined.

  Just like me.

  chapter

  nineteen

  aubrey

  i was drinking so much coffee that I threatened to float away. My caffeine drive had kicked up a notch now that I was making random stops at the Coffee Jerk throughout the day. I swear I was going to have to start earning stock options, given how much money I gave them.

  “Hello again. Here for round two?” Maxx asked, cocking his head to the side.

  “Yep,” I said, my mouth popping around the word.

  “Caramel latte, extra foam?” he asked, already punching in my regular order.

  “Yep,” I said again, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Our eyes met and clung for a moment before I broke the heated stare off. I looked away and pointed to a table near the door. “I’ll be over there,” I said quickly.

  I sat down and put my bag on the table. I pulled out a packet of information and laid it out on the table. I looked down at the glossy pages. The words Department of Education stood out in a bright yellow. I opened up the catalogue and started thumbing through, looking at the offered classes: Teaching Principles, Classroom Learning Assessment, Classroom Management.

  I had been thinking about my future a lot lately, and whether I was on the right path. My confidence in my ability to be a professional counselor had been shaken, and despite my efforts to put my best foot forward, I was terrified of failing again.

  “Here ya go,” Maxx said quietly, sliding the steaming mug in front of me. “Department of Education certification in elementary teaching?”

  I wanted to tell him to leave. To mind his own business. Instead I found myself telling him the truth. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just thinking through some other options.”

  Then Maxx was sitting down across from me. “I thought being a counselor is what you wanted to do.” He looked concerned and I had a hard time meeting his eyes. I worried he’d be able to see straight through me as he had always been able to do.

  I shrugged. “When I was a kid I wanted to be a teacher. That on
ly changed after Jayme died. I just think that maybe I made my career choice based on the wrong reasons.” Why was I vomiting up honesty all over the place? And to Maxx, of all people? The last person I wanted to see into the heart of me.

  “How is wanting to help people the wrong reason?” Maxx argued, frowning.

  “How is this any of your business?” I asked coldly. Maxx sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, not put out by my pissy attitude.

  “It’s not, I guess. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know anyway. I’m here if you want to talk.”

  He was being sincere. I could see how much he wanted me to accept his offer. It would be so easy to open my mouth and tell him everything. To forge a type of intimacy that we had never really experienced together. We never had the chance to connect on a level separate from the angst and turmoil.

  But I didn’t say anything.

  I ignored him, my eyes trained on the booklet in front of me, not really seeing it. After a few awkward moments, Maxx cleared his throat. “Okay, well, enjoy your coffee. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Aubrey, you are an idiot, I chastised myself. I turned to look at Maxx, who was walking back to the counter, his shoulders slumped. I opened my mouth to say something.

  To call him back? I had no idea what I was going to do.

  “Hey.” I was startled by the sudden appearance of my roommate. Renee sat down in the chair Maxx had just vacated. Her hair was windblown and wild, her cheeks flushed as though she had just run across campus.

  “Hey,” I said back, resisting the urge to look at Maxx again. She took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair. She glanced up at the counter, her eyes widening. “I didn’t realize Maxx worked here.”

  I grunted noncommittally. She pushed my cup with her finger. “Is that why you’ve been walking around like a tweeker on a meth binge? Caffeine overload?” Renee narrowed her eyes.

  “I’m just indulging my love of lattes. Nothing more.”

  Renee shook her head and sighed, pulling the Department of Education brochure toward her. She frowned again. “What in the world is all this?”

  “I’m thinking of changing my major,” I remarked breezily, as though it wasn’t a huge deal. Because it was a huge deal.

  If I were to change my school trajectory, I would be essentially going back to square one. But the harder I worked to fight my way back into the counseling program, the more my doubt grew. I was beginning to question absolutely everything. It was unsettling.

  “Change your major? Did you drink some crazy juice this morning?” Renee asked in disbelief. I understood why she was confused. This was completely out of character for me. But since meeting Maxx, out of character had become in character.

  I glanced at Maxx out of the corner of my eye, unwilling to admit that perhaps he was a major reason for my change of heart.

  “I just have a lot of thinking to do.”

  Before Renee could respond, her attention was pulled to the light tapping on the window beside us. We both turned in unison. Devon Keeton stood on the other side of the glass, his red hair sticking up all over his head, his hands shoved into his pockets. Renee swallowed, her eyes darting to me.

  “What’s that all about?” I asked, jerking my thumb in Devon’s direction. He tapped on the window again, seeming a little agitated when Renee purposefully turned her back.

  “It’s no big deal,” she mimed, giving me a loaded look.

  Renee fidgeted in her seat and continued to look through the course catalogue as though her ex-boyfriend, the same guy I caught her making out with only days before, wasn’t standing there, staring at her beseechingly.

  “Is he just going to stand there all day?” I asked, unsettled by Devon’s stalker behavior.

  Renee blew out a breath and rubbed her temples as though she had a headache. “I just want to ignore him. I don’t want to look at him. I just want to forget about him.” My friend looked tired, sad, and more than a little conflicted. Finally she got up and stormed angrily out of the coffee shop.

  “Who’s that?” Maxx asked, wrapping a dish towel around his hand. We both watched Renee and Devon’s obviously heated exchange.

  “He was her mistake,” I said with a clear edge to my voice. Maxx’s eyes flashed and he looked at me, picking up on the innuendo.

  “Is that why you come in here three times a day for coffee you don’t really want? Because I’m your mistake?” Maxx asked, sounding angry.

  “I like coffee,” I muttered, looking back out the window. Devon tried to reach for Renee, but she put her hands up, stopping him. I could see that she was crying. She shook her head violently, her red hair flying around her face.

  “Aubrey,” Maxx said softly, grabbing my attention as surely as if he had shouted it. “We’re not them,” he said quietly, picking up on a thought I had mulled over more than once.

  He still stood there, twisting the damn dish towel around his hand. He was gnawing on his bottom lip again, a sign he was anxious.

  “We’re us. And that’s not such a bad thing, you know,” he continued quietly.

  I sighed, not responding. Because, really, what could I say? He was right. We weren’t all bad. Even though there was some really messed-up stuff between us, there was also some beauty as well. Because of Maxx, I had been able to open myself up in a way I hadn’t been willing to do in three years. Because of Maxx, I started to become the Aubrey Duncan I used to be. Spontaneous. Open. Vulnerable.

  I had to find a way to get past this anger I felt toward him. This bitterness was clawing a hole through my gut. “I know,” I finally admitted, watching as Renee shouted something at Devon and turned away, walking quickly down the path toward the parking lot. Devon stood there, looking at a loss. If I didn’t know what an asshole he was, I might have felt sorry for him. Because he seemed honestly heartbroken.

  Serves the abusive fuckhead right!

  “How about, instead of coming in here three times a day, you let me take you somewhere?” Maxx said, startling me.

  “What?” I asked, my mouth gaping open like a fish’s.

  “What would you say if I wanted you to spend the day with me? Out of the coffee shop, that is,” he said, his mouth curving upward in a hesitant smile.

  I was hit by a wave of déjà vu that had me sucking in a painful breath.

  Spend the day with me, I recalled him saying that first morning we had spent together. I remembered exactly what we were doing when he had asked me to blow off classes and be with him.

  Just for today. No classes. No work. Just you. Just me. Just us together.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, Maxx,” I said, showing both of us exactly how different things were between us now.

  Because that time, all those months ago, I had done exactly as he had asked, no hesitation.

  Maxx stopped twisting the towel in his hands and dropped it onto the table.

  “I’m not asking you to run away with me, Aubrey. I’m just asking for a few hours. I could come by after you go to the library and take you out to the farm where I work. The stable manager said I could ride the horses sometime. That’s it. If you have a horrible time, I’ll never ask you to come out with me again,” Maxx stated.

  Horseback riding? The randomness of it reminded me yet again of how much I missed that spontaneous side that only Maxx brought out in me. “You just won’t give up, will you?” I asked, feeling myself giving in. Because I already knew the answer. And I hated that the part of me that still loved him didn’t want him to give up. Ever.

  I sighed and looked up, meeting the eyes of the man who stood in front of me with his heart in his hands, hoping that I would reach out and take it.

  “Okay,” I whispered. I felt as though I were standing on a precipice, ready to topple over.

  “Really?” Maxx asked, his smile turning into a full-blown grin. He looked as though he had just won the lottery.

  It was sort of irresistible.

  And by
the sinking feeling in my gut, I knew I was in trouble.

  chapter

  twenty

  aubrey

  why had I accepted Maxx’s invitation?

  I had a strong feeling that the world I had only just gotten back on track was about to change all over again.

  I sat on my couch only an hour after leaving the coffee shop, the brochure for the Department of Education in my lap and a thousand different possibilities for my life floating around in my head. I was feeling completely and totally overwhelmed.

  Renee walked through the door in the middle of my silent freak-out looking much calmer than she had earlier. “Are you all right?” I questioned her.

  My friend collapsed on the couch beside me. “I’ve made a mess of stuff,” she said, her admission rough in her mouth.

  “You want to talk about it?” I asked, giving her the opportunity to share with me what was going on with her. My curiosity was killing me. I wanted to know what Devon said to her. I wanted to know what exactly she was doing with her abusive ex-boyfriend. I wanted to grill her more about Iain and what had happened between them. Renee put her hand over mine that still clutched the course catalogue and squeezed. The comforting gesture was clearly for her as much as for me.

  “I do want to talk about it, Aubrey. I really do. Just not right now. My head sort of feels like it’s going to explode.” She gave me a wry smile that I returned.

  “This is definitely a head-explosion zone,” I agreed.

  “So, Maxx . . .” Renee’s voice trailed off, letting me fill in the gaps for her.

  “He asked me to go horseback riding with him,” I told her, grimacing.

  “Horseback riding? Since when are you Annie Oakley?” Renee scoffed.

  I rolled my eyes. “Since never. But I told him okay,” I said in a rush, putting the truth out there as quickly as possible.

  Renee squeezed my hand again and dropped her head onto my shoulder. “What’s wrong with us?” she asked, giving voice to the very question that had plagued me for months.