Always (Bold as Love)

by Lindsay Paige

  “Mike's got a girlfriend? How long has he been seeing her?”

  “Five months apparently.”

  “Wow. Did you like her? What's her name?”

  “Cherish and she's okay, I guess. I couldn't really tell if she was being nice because she was supposed to be or if she was being genuine.”

  “If she meant what she said, you would have known it, Sweets.”

  A lull inserts itself and silence evades our conversation. Before long, I have to interject.

  “Love?”

  “Mm?” He sounds half asleep.

  I prop myself on my elbow and look at him. His eyes are hooded, but I can tell that he's looking at me.

  “Jake Benson, don't you dare fall asleep on me.”

  “I'm not.”

  When his eyes don't open any wider, I smack my hand down on his stomach and roll towards the wall and away from him.

  “Oof,” Jake breathes.

  How can he be so tired that he doesn't want to stay awake long enough to spend some time with me before he leaves? Won't he miss me? Doesn't he care that he's going to be gone for a while and we're not going to see each other? So what if he misses a few hours of shut eye. Whatever. He can sleep all he wants.

  “Sweetness,” he mumbles, tugging me towards him when he rolls onto his side. I don't budge. “I'm sorry. Talk to me. I'm up now.”

  “I reckon you are, Jake. I hit you in the stomach. Just go back to sleep. I'm tired,” I fib.

  “No, you're not. C'mon, Sweetness.” He kisses the crook of my neck and then my shoulder, running a hand up and down my bare arm. When I don't make a move, he kisses just below my ear, swirling his tongue along my skin.

  “That's not going to work, Jake.”

  “Even if I told you that I love you and that this is the last time these lips are going to run across your body for a couple of weeks? That wouldn't persuade you at all?”

  “No.” It's tempting, though, when he puts it that way. How wrong would it be for me to be disappointed? I honestly expected him to be awake and waiting for me, ready to spend time with me before he leaves tomorrow. I thought we would stay up for a while and talk about everything and nothing. None of what we said would have mattered much because we were with each other and loving every second. Yet he was asleep and couldn't wake up enough to even kiss me goodnight.

  “Sweetness,” his voice ever so gentle. “I don't want to leave with you mad at me.”

  “I'm not mad, Jake.” And I'm not, but I know the defeat seeps through my words. “Let's just go to sleep.” To ease his worry about me being mad, I grab hold of his wrist and wrap his arm around my waist. My eyes drift to a close and a few seconds later when Jake tugs me closer, letting the issue go, I pretend I don't hear his small sigh of agitation. How is it that he gets to be annoyed? This is all his fault! He's the one who fell asleep early. He is leaving tomorrow. He hasn't kissed me tonight, except when he was trying to suck up and that hardly counts. Pray tell, why does he get to be aggravated?

  The sound of that pesky sigh runs through my mind for the next five minutes and each time I hear it, I become more and more angered.

  “Okay, now I'm mad.”

  No answer.

  Rolling over, the blow of disappointment washes over my body. Jake's sound asleep and he didn't hear me. Fury sweeps in and the only thing I can think of doing is thumping him on the forehead. His eyes instantly open and he blinks.

  “What the hell, Emily?”

  “How are you sleeping right now?”

  “Well, I'm not anymore,” he grumbles.

  “What did you do today?” I ask.

  “What?” His brows squeeze together in confusion.

  “I want to know what you did today.”

  “Nothing really. I took Drake to the rink for a couple of hours. We played catch when we got back, had supper, and started watching the movie.”

  “You applied yourself in some excruciating activities then.”

  “What? What are you talking about, Emily?”

  There he goes again, calling me Emily. He's so grouchy! After everything he's done today, you can't tell me that he's exhausted at nine thirty. Nine thirty! You would think that he's been going at it, back to back, since this morning.

  “You're leaving tomorrow and I didn't even get a goodnight kiss. You're already asleep, for heaven's sake. I'm not going to see you for at least two weeks and the night before you leave, you're just going to sleep?!” I throw my half of the covers at him and proceed to crawl over him. Once I'm off the bed, I whirl around to snatch my pillow and yank the comforter.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I'm going downstairs,” I say, already halfway to the door.

  “Why?”

  I halt and with such deliberation, I turn to face him. “Because you're an ass,” I say cooly. Satisfied, I turn and head to the door.

  “Emily,” he begins.

  “Don't call me that!” I hurry out of his room and down the steps. All I want is to stomp on each and every step. I'm doing well so far, but then everything blurs before me as I trip over the hanging blanket and fall down the steps. Pain radiates in my left ankle and already, tears are falling.

  “Emily!” Jake's voice booms as he rushes down the stairs, where I'm a mess at the bottom, both hands clutching my knee because I'm terrified to touch my ankle. Hell, I'm scared to look at it with how bad it hurts. Jake kneels down beside me.

  “It hurts,” I whine.

  “There's some swelling already.” He moves to touch it.

  “Don't touch it! It hurts enough. You don't need to touch it.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “What's going on?” a sleepy Drake asks from the top of the stairs.

  “Buddy, go get dressed. Emily's hurt herself and we need to take her to the hospital.”

  “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned.

  “Yeah,” I manage. “Just go get dressed.”

  “Let me get some ice for you before I go put some clothes on too, and I'll be right back.”

  Jake leaves and I sneak a look at my ankle. It's swollen but it doesn't look too deformed. That's good, right? I hear the ice machine dispensing and a minute later, Jake is handing me a bag full of it.

  “I'll be right back,” he repeats about to head upstairs.

  “Grab my bra, please.”

  He nods and disappears.

  Carefully, I lower the ice onto my ankle and it feels like the worse decision ever. I take deep breaths through my nose to distract myself, but it doesn't work. Practically all the lights are on in the house now and Drake's eyes widen as he comes down the steps, taking a seat on the last one.

  “What happened?”

  “I tripped and fell.”

  He looks at the blanket and pillow scattered around me and his questioning eyes land on me once more. “What were you doing down here?” he asks with accusations in his tone.

  With those watchful eyes zoned in on my own, I feel ashamed of myself. Picking a fight tonight wasn't a good decision and it's like karma pushed me down the steps because of it. Thankfully, Jake is coming down, hiding my zebra print bra behind his back.

  “Drake, I forgot my keys. They're on my nightstand, go grab them please.”

  He does as he told and I seize my bra, putting it on underneath my shirt before he can return.

  “Alright. Let's get you standing.” Jake bends, removes the ice pack, and I wrap an arm around him as he secures his around my waist. “One, two, three,” he counts and lifts. “Try putting some pressure on it.”

  His voice is easy and soothing. Delicately, I touch my foot to the ground and pain consumes me. Shaking my head, I tell him that it's not going to happen. Drake has returned and he's watching with disapproval. Jake orders him to open the front door and then he tells me that he's going to pick me up and carry me to the car. I nod.

  “Shit,” Jake mutters. “Where are your keys?”

  “On the counter in your bathroom.”

&n
bsp; “I'm on it,” Drake says, going back into the house after opening the passenger door to Jake's Mustang.

  “We can just take my car,” I say, since Jake's going to have to move it anyway.

  “It's fine,” he curtly answers as he sits me in the seat. Once I'm placed, he shuts the door. Drake has returned and hands him the keys before getting in on the other side. After he moves my car, we're off to the hospital.

  Three hours of awkward silence and a broken ankle later, I'm making my way into the house on crutches. Jake has barely spoken a word to me as if this is all my fault. I'm hoping it's just because we weren't alone. That's possible, right? As I try to go up the stairs, he huffs.

  “Let me just carry you,” he insists.

  “Fine.”

  Drake takes the crutches and easily, Jake lifts me, walking up the stairs sideways and doesn't stop until I'm on his bed. All I can do is observe as he takes the crutches, leans them against his nightstand and ushers Drake back to his room to tuck him into bed. While he's gone, I remove my bra, toss it to the end of the bed, and scoot over to my side. It's during my staring-at-the-ceiling session that Jake returns.

  “Because of your over dramatic performance, you do realize that if it had of been your right ankle, I would have had to make additional arrangements for Drake because you wouldn't have been able to drive.”

  He's scolding me? With no shirt and basketball shorts, he gets in the bed and stares at the ceiling with me.

  “Sweetness, what in the hell was all that about?”

  32

  Jake

  When she doesn't answer, I roll onto my side, prop my head up with one hand and rest the other over hers, which lays on her stomach. She blinks slowly, her lips part, but no words swoosh out. While I wait, I swirl my forefinger over her hand. Yes, I'm angry, but I feel like I let her down too and I guess I did. I don't know which I should tackle first. How can I chide her one minute and then apologize the next?

  “First off, how could you fall asleep not once, but twice?” Finally, she peers at me.

  “I don't know. I thought we were done talking.”

  “Seriously, Jake?”

  “I can't read your mind. How am I supposed to know what you want me to do?”

  “Because!” She returns her gaze to the ceiling, exasperated. So quietly that it breaks my heart, she says, “Because it's supposed to be mutual. What I want you to do should be what you want to do for me, just like what you want me to do, I should want to do for you. I should be what you want me to be for myself and for you and you should be what I want you to be for yourself and for me. We should be and do what the other would want. I guess it's not like that.”

  “Sweetness,” I start, but she stops me quickly.

  “Don't, okay? Let's just go to bed. We've got to get up early in the morning.” She sounds so tired and hopeless, her voice so dead and bland.

  “Sweetness, please.” I feel like the lowest of the low when she turns towards me and a tear fills and falls. Leaning forward, I kiss her forehead and then rest mine against hers. “I'm sorry. So sorry. With everything going on, I've been extremely stressed. I wanted to handle it on my own and was doing so poorly. I didn't mean to be an ass and take it out on you. Looks like I won't win the Boyfriend of the Year Award this year.”

  That brings out a small smile as I hoped.

  “Did it ever occur to you that I might be stressed too? Love, we're going through this together. If you're troubled, don't you think I am too?”

  “I reckon. Forgive me?”

  I search her brown eyes waiting for a glimpse of an answer. Biting her lower lip, she nods. Those few seconds of waiting for confirmation were torture. Sweetness means everything to me, and she deserves to be treated with the utmost respect and unreserved love. Right now, she's worthy of someone better than who I am at this moment. It's in that very instant that I know I'll spend the rest of my life turning myself into the person she can be proud of, the one who is good enough, the man who will stop at nothing to ensure her happiness.

  Carrying myself over and mindful of her cast, I hover over her with my elbows propping me up and my fingers lost in her hair. Sweetness has those hands of hers over my chest and those soulful eyes search the depths of my own.

  “I love you. So much.”

  “I love you too, Jake.” She snakes her hands up to my shoulders and around my neck with one diving into my hair, grasping a handful. Emily languidly tugs, dragging me down for my lips to lazily brush against hers. Sweetness' chest motions slow and steady, almost as if her body is freezing in anticipation. I wouldn't want my Sweetness to wait, would I? The kiss goes on as if we have all the time in the world. Tomorrow is a lifetime away and we're in no hurry to get there. This kiss fills the voids and presents hope that when tomorrow does come, we're ready. Together.

  Pulling away, Emily's lips are a flushed red, her eyes slightly widen. I turn the lamp on my nightstand off after I move to my side of the bed. Sweetness snuggles up to me the best she can and holds me tight. All feels right in the world as we sway into our dreams.

  Early the next morning is smooth sailing as I put the finish touches on the various things I have to do to get ready. Part of me can't believe that for the second time this year, I'm leaving my family behind. Sometimes, you just have to take those opportunities full force because otherwise, your dreams will never come true. All my hard work, time, and effort are starting to pay off. I've been trying not to think about it as leaving them behind so much as going on an adventure to make our lives better once I return.

  “Love, are you ready yet? Everything in the car? All that good stuff? You need to get going,” she asks as I come into the living room.

  “Yep. I'm ready to drive fourteen hours.”

  Emily stands with her crutches in hand and huffs. “I hate these things already.”

  “Well, you're stuck with them for the next six weeks.”

  “Don't remind me,” she grumbles.

  We slowly walk outside to say our goodbyes. Hugging Drake first, I remind him to behave for Emily.

  “I always behave,” he comments.

  “I know,” I smile.

  Emily's maneuvered both her crutches to her right side so she can hug me singlehandedly without them getting in the way. She grips me as tightly as she can and I whisper into her ear.

  “I love you. Always.”

  “I love you too.”

  Releasing ourselves from one another, I tell them, “Don't have too much fun without me.”

  “We won't. Be careful,” Emily orders.

  Nodding, I give her a goodbye kiss that will leave her weak in the knees, cradling her face in my hands, and I hear Drake clearly say, “Gross.” Once I pull away, I tell them both that I love them before turning and going down the steps. I wave once in my car as I back out before I'm off to the Windy City.

  With nothing but the radio playing in the background, I have no choice but to think. I've pushed things to the side and it's as if now all those things I didn't care to face are bitch slapping me. Dad might have spent the last few years going back and fourth between alcohol and sobriety, but he stepped up long enough for me to leave for college and complete my first year. On the other hand, he slipped and it cost him his life. I'm left doing what I've been doing since Mom died. Taking charge and caring for Drake. Dad did everything just as Mom wanted before she died because he didn't want to disappoint her.

  What about disappointing us? How can he allow his grief to consume him so much that he let down the people that remain? Two children that are a part of her? I don't understand how he doesn't see Mom in Drake. Maybe that was part of his problem? He would look at us and see her green eyes. Her smile. Her kindness and there's no doubt that Drake has Mom's personality mixed in with his own. What if Dad saw us as a constant reminder that the woman we came from was no longer here? What if we were more of a burden of sorts? I just don't understand how he wouldn't rejoice in the fact that we are part of Mom and still here, eve
n if she isn't. A part of her lives on in the rest of us. That should count for something more than a reminder of what's no longer here.

  Now he's gone and I can't even fuss at him. I can't tell him to straighten up. I can't yell at him to be there for Drake. I can't tell him that I love him even though he's an ass. I'm nineteen and both of my parents are dead. Drake turns ten this year and both of his parents are dead. Suddenly, I'm mournful of the things we aren't going to experience with them and the things they won't experience with us. Mom won't watch us get married. She won't meet Emily and trust me, she would have loved her. Mom probably would have been able to be someone Emily could come to in reference to her own mom.

  Dad and Mom don't get to age into their seventies together. They don't get to stand side by side as Drake graduates. They aren't here to see me play in the NHL. Hell, after Mom died, Dad didn't care about any of that anyway. When I told him about the draft, he looked at me and said, “Jake, you're mom is gone. That doesn't even matter. Honestly, I hope you crash and burn in the league. It's the least you deserve for letting your mother die.”

  I was so upset, I didn't even want to tell Emily what he said. Instead, I just told her he simply said he didn't want to go. She couldn't believe his behavior. The drinking, that didn't surprise me. I guess I just thought that it was more grief that she was gone than hatred and disgust. When he said that, I got a glimpse into what Emily went through. Dad sucked it up for a bit for Drake, but that was his sole reason. My parents are dead and one of them couldn't stand me.

  And then there's Emily. What the hell has been going on with us lately? It seems like it's one thing after another and if it isn't me, it's her. Why can't we simply enjoy life? We're engaged and headed in a wonderful direction. Things are pretty much happening the way we want, but arguments are happening more often. Part of me wonders if that's really normal and if it is, does that mean I missed something with my parents? I don't remember them ever fighting.

  Ugh, I wish this drive would be over with already. I'm tired of thinking about all of this nonsense. The past is one thing, but our future is just as rattling, in an exciting way. Sometime this week, I have to find us a place to live. That's going to be fun. For one, because I'm doing it alone, and two, it's going to be more expensive than what we're used to. If I can get that contract, then we won't have to worry. First things, first. I must survive the camps.