Stupid Love

by Cindy Miles

  I looked at her and knew she was right. “It…sucks, you know?” I said.

  “Yeah,” she agreed with a wan smile. “It really hurts like hell.”

  Our food came and we dug in, but my heart wasn’t in it. Olivia’s, as usual, was.

  “Hey, Brax is pitching a pre-season game Saturday at the complex,” she said. “Why don’t you bring Jasper and come watch with me?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  The week rolled by, and each night I got home from work I ran, worked out on the bag, showered, and lay in bed with my phone in my hand like some high school boy infatuated with some girl he couldn’t have. So many times I pulled up her name and typed You doing okay?, and then I’d delete it. So many times I had her crazy, cross-eyed face on my screen, her number right in front of me, and I’d almost tapped it. Almost called her. I’d hesitate. She wanted time. Space. I wasn’t going to chase after her. I had pride. I knew how to give space.

  Then, I broke. I called her. It went straight to voicemail, so I left a message.

  “Hey, Memory. Just…wanted to see how you were doing,” I said, then closed my eyes. “Damn, I miss you.”

  I hung up, not caring that I might sound desperate as all hell. I just didn’t fucking care.

  I had hopes that Memory might call me back, but she didn’t. I even walked to the opposite side of campus one day, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of her having lunch with her friends in the quad. I know it seemed stalkerish, but hell—I just wanted to see her. See if she was happier without me.

  From the opposite side of the quad I saw the bench she and her group of friends always took for lunch, and they were all there. Eating. Laughing.

  All, except Memory.

  And that made me wonder. Kind of made me worry. Had she pulled away from not only me, but her friends, as well?

  Throughout the rest of the week I called her once more. Texted a few times. She responded to none of my attempts. I grew angry. Worried. And then…hell, I didn’t know what to think. I knew it was fucking with my mind. Knew it was one reason why I’d been determined to stay single and focus on my career instead of getting involved with anyone.

  But I hadn’t planned on meeting Memory Thibodeaux, and damned sure hadn’t planned on falling for her. And now she had my heart in a vice, and not having her actually hurt. It fucking hurt. Not hearing her voice left me feeling hollow. Not kissing her, touching her, hearing her laugh—all of that left me a dead shell, and I was in this dumb ass predicament where I needed to be patient. Wait. See what happened. Give her this time, for whatever fucking reasons she had.

  Or let her the hell go.

  I stood in my kitchen, and it was late, and I had my phone in my hand, and although I didn’t want to beg, or seem desperate again, I couldn’t stop myself from calling. And when it went straight to voicemail another time, I left a message.

  “Christ, Memory,” I said, and my voice sounded hoarse. “Don’t shut me out like this.” I sighed, let my forehead drop against the wall where I stood, and I closed my eyes. “Just…don’t.”

  I closed my eyes as I listened to Jace’s words on my voicemail. My insides felt heavy, and my heart ripped a little more, every time he called. Every time he left a message. Every time he sent a text.

  Just…don’t.

  He hadn’t given up on me yet, and I couldn’t figure why in the hell he hadn’t. I’d ignored him. Brushed him off. I’d done everything but flaunt another guy and hell, even I had moral lines I wouldn’t cross. I didn’t have the energy or the desire to do that to him. I didn’t have the heart.

  Jace Beaumont had that particular organ, wound tightly around his little finger. Only, he didn’t know it. And I was making sure he didn’t know it, too.

  There was nothing more I could do. The headaches were getting worse and more frequent. The last one shook me up pretty bad, and I knew I had a decision to make and very, very soon. I was scared. I was worried. And I didn’t want to drag Jace or anyone else down with me. I didn’t want their pity. I didn’t want to see their faces filled with sorrow, fear. I couldn’t. I didn’t want them thinking of me in any other way than they already did. Super Memory. That’s what I wanted.

  Because it might be all they had left of me.

  I heard a truck ambling down the lane, and it was late and I’d just lain down. Daddy was in the living room, still up, watching the local news. I crawled from my bed, peered out of my window and I knew before I saw the truck, that it’d be Jace.

  I hurried down the hall and my dad looked at me, just as he was rising from his chair.

  “Send him away, Dad,” I said, and I begged him with my eyes. “Please.”

  Max Thibodeaux’s face grew stern. “He doesn’t deserve this, Memory. He doesn’t.”

  My heart cracked a little more. “I know that.” I turned and headed back down the hall, because I knew Dad would do what I asked. “Please, Max. Send him away.”

  I slipped into my darkened room and closed the door, and lay across my bed on my side. The moonlight streamed in from the window, and I waited. I heard my dad’s heavy footsteps as he walked out onto the porch, heard the low rumble of his voice.

  And then I heard Jace’s. It was unexpected.

  It was like a knife jabbing into my heart.

  “Memory!” Jace called out. “Dammit Memory, don’t do this! Talk to me!” Jace’s angry, pleading voice reverberated through the walls where it crammed inside of my head. I pushed off the bed and crept to the window and peeked out. He stood there, wearing his jeans, boots, and a white T-shirt, and he looked in my direction, and I couldn’t stop staring at him.

  “Just talk to me,” he called out, and his head dropped as though he were looking at the ground, and his voice came out a little softer this time. “Please.”

  “She doesn’t want to see you, son,” Max Thibodeaux said sternly. “You go on home now.”

  Tears trailed from my eyes and down my cheeks, and I watched him storm back to his truck, climb in and slam the door. I didn’t wait around as that familiar view of his taillights faded away. This time it meant something altogether different, and I was too big of a coward to watch. I flung myself back onto my bed, hugged my knees to my chest, and cried myself to sleep.

  As the days clicked by, changes began rapidly descending upon me. The headaches were now starting to occur at school, and they’d become so painfully blinding that I’d have to slip out of class and go to the restroom, in hopes that cold water would relieve some of the pressure. It didn’t. More than once I left campus, and pretty soon I’d decided that taking the pain medicine as a preventative was better than waiting until the headache struck.

  And soon, that didn’t help, either.

  I’d finished Jasper’s windcatcher and Dad had helped me load it onto his truck. I’d decided to run it by his house and set it up.

  Before I couldn’t do it any longer.

  As I pulled through Jasper’s gates, I secretly hoped he wouldn’t be home. That he’d be off somewhere, on one of his daily errands or something. Because seeing him brought Jace Beaumont clear and powerful to the forefront of my mind. But the moment I laid eyes on Jasper’s truck, the memories with Jace flooded me. Jasper must’ve heard my truck because in seconds, he ambled out onto the porch.

  I pulled up and turned off the truck. Climbed out, and the smile I pasted onto my face felt weak and barely there. And by the look on Jasper’s face, the draw of his mouth and furrowing brows, I’d not fooled him one bit.

  “Come on up here, girl, and take a seat beside me,” he said.

  I climbed the porch and lowered onto the swing. Jasper waited, then sat, too. I stared at my hands, clasped in my lap. Then I looked up to find Jasper’s curious and concerned gaze on me.

  “What’s wrong, girly?” he asked in that gruff voice. It had a gentle edge to it, and I knew it was as soft a voice as he had. His gaze locked onto mine. “I know there’s a good reason why you’re breaking my go
d-grandson’s heart.” He pushed my hair back. “Feel like tellin’ me?”

  I sighed and, for the first time, fought back tears that felt like they would come falling out. Usually I had ultimate control. Right now, though, I wanted to spill everything to Jasper McGillis. Everything. I wanted that weight off my heart so damned bad…yet still, I held back. “I’m sorry, Jasper,” I said, and saw his face blur behind my tears when I looked at him. “I…don’t mean to hurt him.” I half-laughed. “He’s the very last person I want to hurt.” My voice cracked. “The very last, yeah.”

  Jasper’s old, weathered hand—still large, strong—grasped mine gently. He was silent for a few moments, just sat there, squeezing as gently as if he was holding a kitten. I imagined he was trying his best to figure me out. “Well, darlin’,” he finally said quietly. “I believe you, Memory. I can’t say I know what’s goin’ on with you, but whatever it is”—he ducked his head and smiled, and the crinkles around his eyes softened his weathered face—“I know one thing for sure. Your heart is full of Jace. And it’s also heavy with something else.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek, and when he looked at me, I couldn’t help the tears that fell from my eyes. “If you ever want to share that burden, darlin’, I’m here.”

  I flung my arms around his neck and breathed in the minty, pungent scent of cigar that he smoked on occasion. “Thanks, Jasper,” I said into his shoulder. I looked at him. “Thanks.”

  He simply nodded, and then together we chose the perfect spot to erect his windcatcher, uniquely designed by Memory at Calypso. I’d etched into the metal of the blades a perfect impression of his 1929 Bi-plane, and Jasper’s smile had taken up the whole of his face. He insisted on digging the holes with the post-hole diggers, and I confessed only to myself that he had because I felt my strength waning every single day.

  Once the holes were dug, he helped me carry the windcatcher from the bed of Dad’s truck to the place Jasper had chosen, right next to the porch so he could see it. Once we’d set it in the ground and buried the legs, a big breeze—almost on cue—whipped through and turned the vertical and horizontal cups that made the wheels turn in opposite direction. And with each turn, the horizontal wheel caught the special piece of metal that sent off a cluster of chimes. It sang through the morning air, and Jasper smiled. He hugged me before I climbed back into the truck and headed home, making sure I promised to visit often. I’d promised. But it was the last time I saw him for a little while.

  The headaches worsened. I lost more weight. And I grew weaker.

  My father was at his wits’ end with me, and I knew I was losing ground with him. I still had work to do. I couldn’t risk everything now.

  Claire, although little, was beyond fierce. And fiercely loyal. She knew something was up, so she and Brie and Sugar had all cornered me and questioned me about Jace. I’d simply told them we had decided to lighten up, back off a bit until the semester was over. They’d accepted that, but I wasn’t myself. I was no longer the fun-loving Ragin’ Cajun. No longer the Winston Daredevil. More times than not I’d be holed up in my shop, and Sugar was busy with school and softball, and all three of them were busy with nursing classes and NCLEX prep. The guys were busy, too—or at least, I’d convinced myself of all of this. But when the whole gang showed up one evening while I was working in my shop and begged me to attend a pre-season baseball game, I reluctantly agreed. I knew there was a strong chance Jace would be there. But, perhaps he wouldn’t be. It was Saturday, after all, and more times than not he worked or ran the tow truck.

  I rode with Crisco, Conner and Brie to the sports complex, and I couldn’t help scanning the parking lot for signs of Jace’s truck. I didn’t see it, and even once we’d started up the bleachers, I still searched for him. I saw Olivia with some of her friends down behind home plate, but no signs of Jace, and part of me felt relieved, the other part disappointed.

  Claire and Bentley were already seated, and I slid in beside them. Crisco knocked into my shoulder, and his hazel eyes studied me.

  “What’s up with you, darlin’?” he asked. “Did he do you wrong or something?”

  I smiled. “No, nothing like that,” I said. “Just taking a break.” I gave a mock frown. “Too much seriousness, you see.”

  He eyed me cautiously, as if he wasn’t buying it. Then his gaze moved, and I followed it, and watched as Jace helped Jasper into the seats next to Olivia, and in the next second he’d glanced my way, and our eyes clashed.

  And my heart dropped.

  I tried to avoid him during the game; it was not an easy task. I felt his gaze on me more than once, and the overwhelming guilt that I had nearly choked me. I wanted to be beside him. I wanted to visit Jasper again. I missed him.

  I missed Jace.

  It was halfway through the seventh inning when my head began to hurt, and I’d already taken a dose of Fiorecet before leaving the house so there was nothing that could be done about it except pray it would stay dull until I got home. It wasn’t hot outside, but I grew warm, peeling out of my button-down shirt, down to the white tee I wore under it. The noise of the crowd rose, and the sounds and scents magnified and I knew I had to get out of there. I leaned toward Crisco.

  “Can I have your keys?” I asked.

  He looked at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Headache,” I said. “I need to lie down for a sec.”

  He handed them to me. “Want me to go with?”

  “No,” I said, and rose from the bleachers. “I’m okay.” I trotted down the steps, and each contact my foot made with the aluminum ricocheted through my body and into my skull, and I broke out into a clammy sweat, and I didn’t think my feet could move fast enough.

  I made it across the parking lot and almost to Crisco’s truck before my arm was grabbed and I spun around. Jace stood there, anger and hurt flaring in his sage green eyes. Late afternoon sun glared down, and I felt a little dizzy.

  “Why won’t you talk to me, Memory?” Jace ground out. “I don’t understand—what did I do?”

  “I can’t do this now, Jace,” I said, and my voice felt weak and sounded weaker. “Please, just go,” I insisted, and turned back to Crisco’s truck.

  Jace spun me around again. “Don’t throw this away, Memory!” he yelled. “Christ, just tell me what’s wrong!”

  “I don’t want to see you anymore, Jace!” I said, dredging up all of my strength. “We just can’t be!”

  His hand dropped. “What do you mean, we can’t be?” he growled. “What the hell does that mean?” His eyes pleaded with me. “What changed?”

  “Hey man, is there a problem here?” Crisco said behind me. The game had ended, and I hadn’t even noticed people walking to the parking lot. I glanced around, Claire, Sugar, Bentley, Conner, Brie. Olivia. Brax. His brother Kane. His girl, Harper.

  And Jasper.

  They all stood, and others were walking by slowly, their heads craned to see the lovers’ spat, and my insides started to feel light, and my head lighter, and dizziness began to spin me around and all the while the pain in my skull grew, stomped, pounded—and then my knees buckled, the daylight began to haze over, everyone’s faces began to blur, and I felt myself starting to tremble, and voices were muffled, and Jace was suddenly there, his face drawn, concerned, but soon he was blurring, too, and everything was growing gray and black I was falling…

  My eyes fluttered open, and I immediately knew I was on my back. On the hard ground. Something soft was beneath my head, and the pain that had been thundering inside my skull had somehow eased. Jace was on the ground beside me, squatting with one knee up, his shirt beneath my head. My hand was in his, and there were other faces around me.

  Jesus H. Christ, I’d passed out.

  “Memory,” he said, and his brows were furrowed, and lines of worry creased his forehead. “Can you hear me?”

  I looked behind him and saw his sister Olivia. Brax stood beside her, and Jasper next to him. Claire and Crisco
were both on the ground with me.

  But none of them challenged Jace’s position.

  “Can you talk?” Claire asked.

  “Betty, you had a seizure,” Crisco added gently, using one of the many nicknames he had for me. He smiled. “You just sufficiently scared the living shit outta me.”

  “Outta us,” Bentley added. “You okay?”

  “Brie called EMS,” Claire said. “Just lie still, they’ll be here in a sec—”

  My eyes stayed on Jace. “Please,” I begged. “I’m—no EMS. And tell me no one called my dad.”

  “I was just about to,” Jace said gently, and his face was a bit paler than usual. “You went out, Memory. Cold.”

  The fact that everyone was standing around me, staring down, looking at me like I was some kind of freak did the one thing that had never happened to me. It humiliated me. I pushed up on my elbows. “I need to stand.”

  “Maybe you don’t,” Jace said. “Have you ever had a seizure before?”

  “I just got overheated,” I insisted. “Don’t call my dad. Please.”

  The ambulance pulled in, and everyone backed up while the EMTs examined me.

  “I’m fine now,” I insisted.

  “Ma’am, maybe you’d better take a ride with us,” the one guy said. He was a little older, maybe early forties, and looked like he was ex-military.

  “I refuse,” I said, and they helped me sit up. “Politely and graciously, I refuse. I’m okay. Really.”

  “Can you make her go?” Jace asked.

  The EMT laughed. “Sorry, no. Did she hit her head?” he asked.

  “No, I had her when she started going down,” Jace admitted.

  The EMT performed a few more simple neurological tests—which, only to me, was useless—like flashlight in the pupils to check for something kooky. After finding nothing, they packed up. “Can someone take you home?” he asked me.