Brisé

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “Lucas,” my mom joins me on the porch. “Was that Phoebe?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Who was with her?”

  “More admirers, I guess.” I have no idea who the fuck they were, and it’s burning me up inside. There was once a time when she didn’t say hello to anyone I didn’t know.

  “You can fix that. Go over and check on her.”

  “I am tired of always trying to fix things with her, Mom. Some things are just better left unresolved.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “I don’t know what I believe anymore. Everything I thought was true, turned out to be a lie. Her words, her leaving, her ending us, I don’t know what part is truth and what part isn’t.”

  “You are so full of shit, Lucas. You can’t fake a love like y’all have.”

  “Had,” I correct her.

  “And now who’s lying to everyone around them. Forgiveness is a beautiful thing, Son. It isn’t easily obtainable but can be your absolution. Try it.”

  I ignore her. I want to forgive her. I crave it. I just can’t do it. I can’t trust her again, and without trust you can’t have faith. Without faith, you have nothing, which is exactly what I have. She was my end game. And I was just a game to her. A stepping stone, a bridge to get to the other side. I don’t actually believe the shit I spew in my mind, but one day I’m hoping I will because then maybe the vice grip on my heart will be released.

  I hear footsteps and my mom greeting whoever is interrupting my pity party. “Hey. Momma Nichols,” that fucking voice infiltrates my senses.

  “Oh, baby, your face.” My mom wasn’t really prepped for the beating she took. I look over at her, and I am not prepared for what I see. The fading bruises are a greenish-blue color, giving her skin a gray tone, I feel sick looking at her; they cover her entire face. Not that she isn’t beautiful; it is just that I’m sick I didn’t protect her, that she wasn’t with me at the time that asshole did this. It all comes down to the day she walked out. She left me defenseless to protect her, and that has totally fucked with my psyche.

  During her relentless chemo treatments I know she went through, she was alone. I was supposed to be there to hold her hand, comfort her, and give her my strength when she had none. The day she got the news she was in the clear . . . again, I was supposed to be there to celebrate with her, make love to her, and make our future dreams come true. Love and hate is such a fine line. I’m teetering on the edge.

  “It’s not that bad,” I hear her tell my mom. Always trying to downplay what’s going on. “This is my best friend, Brett, and his boyfriend, James.” Fuck, does she want me to just give her a knife to finish me off. Best friend. That was my title, and I see she has given that away, too. I stand up and head towards the door, I think my quota of pain inflicted by Phoebe has been met. Tomorrow I will give her a map with the places she hasn’t killed off and let her get it all over with, today . . . I’m done.

  “Lucas Nichols, where are you going?” Hearing my mom try to sound astonished at my behavior is almost enough to make me grin. Almost. She knows I won’t stick around to mingle with these fine folks, but she has to look like she’s doing her motherly duties.

  “To pack. If I leave after lunch I can make it before it gets dark.” I had planned to stay through tomorrow, catch up with my parents, and ease them into this distance thing, but I need to get out of here.

  “I thought you were staying until tomorrow.”

  I look right through her, my gaze focused on the woman behind her, “Plans change. You know how it is.” I shrug my shoulders and head inside to pack. Trying to ignore the flash of pain I see in her eyes, I keep putting one foot in front of the other. I find myself sitting on my bed with my head in my hands when I hear a throat clear behind me. I look up into the face of my nemesis. I just learned about him, but he was given the title that was rightfully mine. “You lost?” Yep, being a real dick right now.

  “No, I found what I was looking for.” I question him with my gaze. “Seeing you sitting here looking as miserable as she feels was the only answer I needed. You love her, and even though you’re both trying to make this difficult, it isn’t. You’ve been hurt by her, I get it. She made mistakes, that’s part of growing up, and isn’t that what you wanted her to do?”

  “I wanted her to make those mistakes with me, not because of me. Two totally different things.”

  “Going back to what I said . . . this is simple. Now James and I, that’s difficult. We have obstacles every single day that could destroy us. We have our share of mistakes and pain, but the outside forces that want to tear us apart; we don’t allow it. It’s as simple as mind over matter. Make up your mind if you love her enough. She’s ready to fight for you. Are you ready to let her win?”

  “I don’t know how to get past her leaving me. I’m afraid there’s not a winner in this war. I’m damaged, and I can throw out a whole plethora of words to describe the last four years. I always come back to the thirteen years of my life where she’s front and center.” I don’t know why I just opened up to him.

  “Maybe you just answered your own question. If you keep going back to the good, it has to outweigh the bad, and I think it’s what you want. It only has to be as hard as you make it.”

  “Why am I even talking to you? I don’t know you, and I’m not sure I like you.”

  He laughs at me. “You’re talking to me because you want the truth about her. You want a way in, and you think I’m the answer. I’m not, you are. Your love for her has always been her answer.” He gives me a one last smile. “And get over the best friend role. If you play your cards right, your title could be better than mine. Now unpack your bag, sit back, and enjoy being chased, Mr. Nichols.”

  Can I do this? Do I have a choice? We’ve had tons of obstacles we’ve overcome, we have more hurdles to jump. Her past was never easy, but I’ve always carried the burden for her. That may have been a mistake, but as much as we have shared we have also kept secrets. I planned out our entire life without any input from her, and she let me take the lead, no questions asked, when her parents died. I’ve always known how strong she is, but I have never allowed her to shine through. I took it upon myself to shelter her, protect her, and essentially put her in a bubble that left her unprepared for life, and even if I feel her choice that day was wrong, it may have been right for her. I know her soul; it’s pure and good. I know she’s beautiful. I know she’s mine, and no matter what I will never stop loving her.

  It goes against every lie I’ve told myself, but I unpack my bag and prepare to be pursued by the only woman I’ve ever loved. I’m playing for keeps, and I’m betting my heart, again. I decide it’s time to stop lying to myself and find the truth in her, but I’m afraid all the lies I have tried to program into my head will stop me from seeing the truth in her heart.

  When I get downstairs I see they’ve all left, and it’s just my parents and me. “Your mom said you were leaving early.”

  “Change of plans.”

  “Funny how that works.” My mom smiles at me. “Once you think you have it all figured out, life throws you a curveball. My question is … are you going to knock it out of the park or strike out?”

  “This is the world series, Momma. I’m playing for keeps.” I wink at her before sitting down at the table.

  Placing a dish in front of me she says, “That’s my boy. Eat up, I have a feeling you’ll need your strength. She’s reminding me more and more of her mom, and that can be one hell of a ride, boy.”

  I start laughing, “I’m counting on it.”

  My dad interrupts us, clearly confused, “So you aren’t going to North Carolina today?”

  “Not today, Dad. Probably not tomorrow, either.” Before he can respond the screen door slams and yelling ensues.

  “Lucas Matthew Nichols, what in the hell did you do with my playhouse?” She storms in the kitchen, not the least bit ashamed for the screaming and cussing. She is pissed, the tint in her cheek
s, the sparks flying from her eyes, her nostrils flaring and her hands on her hips. All the past bullshit is forgotten in this moment while I stare at my Phoebe. Not the timid scared girl she was earlier, not the liar she was a week ago, not the betrayer she was four years ago . . . this girl is Twinkle. And I am in a world of shit.

  “Um . . .” I am trying to stall. Come up with an excuse that doesn’t end with her tearing my dick off and beating me over the head with it.

  “I’m waiting,” she sasses me.

  “I’ll build you another one,” is the best I can do.

  “I don’t want another one. I want to know what happened to mine.” I notice my parents have left me in my time of need.

  “I had a rough night a few weeks back. Your playhouse was a casualty of my drunken stupor.”

  I can see the tears form and she struggles to hide them. “Why?” God, I feel like a jackass right now. I never stopped that night to consider how this would affect her. It was all about me and my pain.

  “I don’t know. I look out and see every moment we spent in them and it hurt.”

  “Them?”

  “My treehouse is gone, too.”

  She falls to the chair next to me. Not able to hold back the tears, “What did I do to you? Please, Luke. I’m sorry.”

  “I know, Twinkle. I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “My dad built that.” Fuck me. Forget her working for my heart, I need to earn her forgiveness. I drop to my knees in front of her, “Phoebe, I’m such an ass. I didn’t even think about that. God, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

  “Kiss me. I kissed you goodbye so many years ago. I need you to turn it into a hello.”

  Chapter 24

  Phoebe

  “I can’t,” he says, and I stand abruptly and knock over the chair, running as fast as I can out the door. “Wait,” he calls after me. Catching up with me, he grabs my arm and immediately lets go. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “You just fucking gutted me,” I cry.

  “I meant when I grabbed you,” he stares at me. I see the war waging behind his eyes, his hands rubbing his hair in frustration.

  “No. You didn’t hurt my arm.”

  “Can I explain before you bolt out of my life? Just one time, listen to me. Hear me.” I don’t speak, but I also don’t run. “You didn’t kiss me goodbye. You told me the end. I would’ve given anything for you to come back, but you never did. You wrecked me. I want nothing more than to take your mouth and erase those words from it. My mouth is watering remembering the feel of you on it. My arms ache from not holding you . . . but my heart is shattered from you not wanting it. As much as I want to kiss you like you asked, I can’t right now. I need to know that you aren’t going to turn tale and run again. I need to know you want it for the right reasons, but most of all I need to know that you believe in us as much as I once did. I need you to make me believe there’s a future for us again. When you left, you took my past, present, and my future. So I need you to show me that this is a new beginning not another ending.” His pained stare is almost enough to bring me to my knees. The desperation dripping from his voice keeps me standing. I don’t want to be the cause of his disbelief any longer.

  “You have always been my end, Luke. The days I was away from you were empty. I felt nothing until I allowed myself to think of you. Your love was my blanket, cocooning me in warmth, safety, and light. I severed that tie, and I have to live with that every day, and I’m so damn sorry. I never stopped to think about what it would do to you, never realized what I was ripping away from myself. You made your life about me and only me, your love encompassed me and kept me going . . . even in your absence. If you need me to prove it to you, I will. I’ll do whatever you need, just please don’t write me off.” I want to kiss him, sear my taste on his mouth, brand him, and mark him. I want him to feel how he makes me feel. I will gain his trust and love back, and nothing will break us again. Him before me, always. I reach up, cupping his face with my hands and force him to look in my eyes. “I love you, Lucas. I always have, and I always will. I fucked up. I hurt us both and wasted so many years that should have been ours. Instead of supporting you, helping you, and being by your side I left you. I was young, stupid, and hurt. It’s not an excuse, just the truth and that’s all I have for you. The day you told me you were my superhero, I loved you. I have never stopped. But you aren’t my superhero, you’re so much more. You are my lifeline, my reason for being here on this earth. You are the father of my future children and the only man I will ever love. You, Lucas, are my everything.” I brush the tear from his cheek and kiss my fingertips, wanting to erase the damage I have caused him. I bring my fingertips back up to his lips and caress them, kissing him the only way I can . . . for now. “I have lost so much in my life. I won’t lose you again.”

  I pray he believes me. I’m hurt he tore down my playhouse. My dad built that for me, and Luke and I spent hours upon hours in there. That’s where we spent some of our best days, that and the treehouse. Ripping them down is almost like breaking part of an invisible link to the chain that tethers us together. I don’t want anything else broken, I only want to mend things and add more. For the first time, I want a future that I can envision and standing by my side all I see is Luke. The boy next door. My superhero. My lover. My fucking existence.

  “How’d it go, Buttercup?” Fucking nicknames are going to be the death of me. I shoot him a look that should have him six feet under any moment. “That well, huh?” I don’t answer him as I stalk into the garage with him on my heels. I begin digging through all my dad’s tools, being careful not to throw shit like my frustration wants me to. I find a hammer and pick it up. “Whoa, Phoebe, calm down. I was just playing with you.”

  “Dumbass, I’m not going to bash your head in.” I point to my sore and bruised body, “I don’t always come out on the right side where violence is involved.”

  “Too soon,” Brett tells me without cracking a smile.

  “Let’s go. Get James, we have shopping to do.” He claps his hands, way too excited for the store I am taking him to. I bite my lip to control the laughter bubbling out of me. Paybacks are a bitch.

  I pull up to the hardware store, and the look on Brett’s face is enough to make me forget about all the drama for a minute. He looks disgusted and a bit scared. “Buzzkill,” he sneers at me.

  “C’mon Bob the Builder.”

  “What the fuck, Phoebe?” He hasn’t moved from the car.

  “No, the correct term is ‘Yes We Can’.” I laugh at my lame joke. “Not getting any younger here, get a move on.”

  “Where is my best friend, and when can she come back to play?” I leave him in the car with James who’s busy on his phone not paying a bit of attention to either of us. I don’t get five steps from the car before Brett is careening towards me, grabbing my arm. “Really, what are you doing?”

  “We are building a treehouse.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Nope. What happened to whatever it takes to get your man back? I do believe that was your idea.” I bet he wishes he would have kept his mouth shut and let me continue to be a moody bitch.

  “Can’t we hire someone to do this?”

  “We could, but now where is the fun in that? I think you’ll rock that tool belt.” I point to the camouflage one hanging up by the nails.

  “No way. That thing is hideous.”

  “But functional.” I can’t stop the smile. He is so easy to mess with. I make my way to the teenage boy behind the counter and explain to him what I want. He puts in the order, arranging everything to be delivered by the end of the day. I have never had a purpose like I do right now. I know this will work; it has to.

  “Pheebs, really, do you even know what you are doing?”

  “No, that’s why I ordered those plans.” He shakes his head and climbs back in the car. I hear him tell James that the meds in my IV were clearly hallucinogenic drugs and haven’t worked their way out.
He should have been an actor, not a dancer, because he would have several Oscars by now. “Let’s go eat, we’ll need our strength.”

  “And a doctor on-call.” He deadpans at me. I still don’t know how we became friends. “Do you want to tell me what happened over at Lucas’s?”

  “I asked him to kiss me and he wouldn’t.”

  “So you’re building him a treehouse so he will kiss you? We could have just gone to the mall and bought you a sexy outfit. I bet he would have changed his mind.” I can’t help it, I wipe the tears from my eyes from my laughter and actually thank my parents for sending Brett in my life when I needed him.

  “No, dipshit. I’m rebuilding our foundation.” How does he not see what I am doing?

  “I’m not pouring concrete. I draw the line somewhere.” Holy shit, I think I have met basset hounds smarter than him.

  “Brett, she’s recreating their past and hoping to change their future,” James patiently explains to him.

  “Glad he’s your happily ever after, James,” I sarcastically say. I get a dirty look accompanied by an eye roll from Brett, but seriously he definitely isn’t the brains in his relationship. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” He carb-loaded at lunch and that just made it more hysterical. “We are nailing boards to a tree, we aren’t running a ten mile race or dancing for ten hours straight.” James just laughs at me.