by Anna Paige
I was so angry at her for ruining my weekend, for treating me like a baby, for making me face my fears when all I wanted to do was be with my friends. She asked me to go get my trunks, sounding excited that she was finally getting me in the water. Instead of doing as she asked, I fumed. "I don't want the trunks. I don't want the lessons. I don't want the stupid lake, and I don't want to go anywhere with you. I just want you to leave me alone. You ruined my whole weekend, and I don't want to even be around you anymore."
I stomped off to my room and threw myself on the bed, anger pulsing through my entire body. Why did she have to smother me so much? Why couldn't she just leave me the hell alone?
A few minutes later, there was a tap on the door, and my mother stood in the doorway. I trained my eyes on the ceiling, refusing to look at her. Sighing in defeat, she said, "I called Spencer's mom. She's coming to pick you up in a few minutes." I sat up and stared at her, open-mouthed and disbelieving. She looked away, wet streaks on her face. "Your father mentioned wanting to see the house, so I'll just have him meet me up there after work. Maybe I'll go by and see your Aunt Vanessa on the way."
She sounded so small, so wounded by what I'd said. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, that I didn't mean what I'd said but I was afraid she'd change her mind about letting me go, so I kept quiet. She stood there for a minute, probably hoping I'd apologize, before nodding and walking back to the kitchen.
When Spencer's mom came to pick me up, I was so excited I could barely contain myself. I barreled out the door and down the steps before remembering to go back and tell my mother goodbye. I gave her a quick hug and muttered a distracted 'love you, too' when she told me goodbye, not looking back as I hopped into the back seat.
The call came in that night while I was out in Spencer's backyard catching lightning bugs with him and Stephanie. I was grinning from ear to ear, having just 'accidentally' brushed against Stephanie's left boob while helping her scoop a wayward firefly into her jar.
When Spencer's dad walked out onto the porch, I thought he'd seen what I did. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat when he called me over, preparing to be fussed at for touching the man's daughter. Instead, he looked down at me with watery eyes and told me to get my shoes on because we had to go to the hospital.
The rest of that night went by in a blur of sideways glances and whispers. I sat in the tattered chair in the hospital waiting room for hours, going mostly unnoticed as I stared at the ground and tried to understand why no one would look at me. The one time someone met my eye, I decided it was better to be invisible. I hated the look of pity I'd been given, so I snuck out of the waiting room and shuffled slowly down the corridor, paying little attention to my surroundings, just wanting to get away.
We're so sorry. There was nothing we could do.
The impact was just too much.
She's gone.
The words played over and over in my mind.
She's gone. She's gone. She's gone.
I kept trying to tell myself that they were wrong. She couldn't be gone. She didn't get to teach me how to swim. I didn't get to keep my promise. We didn't get to move into our house and away from my father. We didn't get to do anything she said we would do.
And she was gone.
I'd been pacing the halls for a while when my father's hushed voice filtered into my awareness. I crept closer to the sound, deciding I was tired of all the whispers, I was almost thirteen years old, dammit, and I deserved to know what happened to my mother. She died, that was all I knew, the empty void in my chest a constant awareness of her absence. I'd heard the doctor when he came out and spoke to the adults, could remember the ragged cry that ripped through my grandmother's throat, saw the look of devastation on her face.
But why? What happened? I reached the end of the corridor and spotted my father off to my right, huddled over the receiver of the payphone. "No, I didn't go after her. She stormed off, and I let her go." Silence while the other person spoke, then, "She had fucking pictures, threw them in my face and called me every name in the book." He twirled the metal phone cord in his fingers nervously. "Why deny it, the pictures showed us together plain as day."
He was quiet for a beat, glancing over his shoulder and nearly catching me snooping. "Look, I need to know whether there was enough time for bruises to show up." He glanced around quickly, dropping his voice further but not so much that I couldn't hear. "No, no. She got in my face, called me trash, and I popped her one. Just one and she stormed out of the house. So, would there have been time for it to show? I don't want these people thinking something shady happened here tonight. Rebecca was upset, and she lost control of the car. It shouldn't matter why she was upset, right?"
I watched the tension leave his shoulders as he rose to his full height. "Good. That's what I thought. Now, listen baby, we need to lay low for a while, Let all this die down and I'll give you a call, okay?"
I spun on my heel and ran back to the waiting room.
I had to find Gran.
I WOKE WITH A start, drenched with sweat and reeking of cheap booze. Sunlight crept in from under the drapes and I realized I'd slept an entire day away. My damp skin suddenly chilled in the air-conditioned room as my dream came back to me in a rush. Not a dream, a memory. The one memory I'd carry with me all my life, like a thousand pound leg-iron that I dragged with me through every step of my existence.
I could still hear my mother's voice pleading with me to jump in the water and see the tears streaming down her face when my careless words hurt her. I could still feel her silky hair between my fingers as I'd slumped over her casket and begged her not to leave me, promising that I'd let her teach me to swim if she'd just come back.
I promise I won't let go.
I felt bile rising in my throat, dashing to the outdated bathroom and barely making it to the toilet in time. Once I'd emptied the bitter contents of my stomach, I rinsed my mouth and splashed my face with cool water. The haggard-looking man I saw in the mirror was a startling reminder of just how far I'd fallen. My eyes were red-rimmed and dull, my hair was no longer the carefree kind of messy, it was just a damn mess.
I needed a shave.
And a shower.
Yet, what I ended up doing was falling back into bed to wallow in my misery a while longer. Why did it matter if I looked like shit? At least the outside matched the inside, for once.
Maybe if I walked around like this all the time, people would have the sense to stay the fuck away from me. I was a walking, talking, wrecking ball; a destroyer of lives.
A coward.
I must have dozed off again because I was startled awake some time later by a pounding on my door. Not a tap or a knock, but a fierce, angry pounding. I jumped up from the bed, feeling dizzy, and stumbled over to the door. A look through the peephole revealed the blurry outline of my best friend, who rapped so sharply on the door I jumped. "Open the goddamn door, McGavran, or so help me God, I'll kick it in."
Fuck. I should have parked my truck behind the building.
I reluctantly unlocked the door and cracked it open, mid-afternoon light flooded in to blind me. Tilting my head down to keep it from exploding from the onslaught of light and noise, I told him, "Go home, Spencer. I don't want to hear it right now."
I tried to push the door closed, but he stuck his foot in, blocking me. I glanced down at the tip of his steel-toe boot and knew I was fighting a losing battle. Dropping my hand from the knob, I turned and shuffled over to the kitchenette, looking for one of the crappy packets of coffee that came free with the room. Maybe I'd just chew the shit instead of waiting for it to brew; it would save time.
I heard a derisive snort from behind me as Spencer slammed the door closed. I spun around to face him, hands to my head, praying my eyeballs didn't pop out of my skull from the pressure. "Jesus, Spence!"
He was unmoved by my pain. "Boo-fucking-hoo. Somebody got a headache this morning, or more accurately, this afternoon?" He walked over to the table and examined the empty bott
les. "Well, this explains it. It's a wonder you're not permanently blind, drinking that shit." He none-too-gently tossed the empties in the trashcan and glared at me. "You trying to fucking pickle yourself or something?"
I said nothing as I struggled to open my packet of bargain basement coffee, getting more frustrated by the minute.
Spencer blew out an annoyed breath and stepped over to me, snatching the pouch from my hand. "Give me this shit. Go sit down before you fall over." He examined the coffee and snorted. "You fought all that time to open this, and it's fucking decaf. Idiot."
I slid into one of the dining chairs with a groan. "Figures. Decaf coffee and non-alcoholic beer should be outlawed." I groused.
I silently watched as Spencer opened the remaining packet, presumably the leaded variety, and filled the small carafe with water from the tap. I was grateful for the help but aware that it would come at a price. When the machine started hissing and gurgling, he joined me at the table. He tilted his head and studied me. "You really stepped in it this time, didn't you?"
"You sound surprised."
"Maybe I shouldn't be but I am. I saw this playing out several different ways, but I never thought it would end up like this."
I glared at him. "And how did you see it playing out? What did you think would happen when you sent me here? When you practically threw her at me knowing what you do about my track record? What the fuck did you expect?"
"You want the truth?"
"No, Spence, lie to me." I deadpanned.
"The truth is I sent her in there expecting one of two things." He paused for effect, eyeing me. "Either she would be the last thing on earth you wanted, or she would be the only thing on earth you wanted. The bitch of it is, I couldn't decide which one I was rooting for, but I knew from the moment I met her that she was going to change everything. And I think you knew it too."
I couldn't even be pissed off at him. He was right. But there was nothing to be done about it. It was over. And I needed to leave before I made it any worse. I ignored his statement and pressed on, not wanting to think about just how much Ali had changed things for me, or how much I let her down. "Brant call and tell you I want out?"
"Oh, I've been quite popular lately, thanks to you." He folded his arms on top of the table, leaning down into my line of sight. "I got calls from Brant, Blake, Talia, Ali..."
I straightened. "Ali? What did she say? Is she alright?" I had no right to ask, but I needed to know.
"We'll get to that. First let's talk about you ditching the project. Brant is fine with you taking over in Charleston, thinks he's doing you a favor by giving you a way out of here, but I disagree. I think you need to keep your ass right here, fight this out and quit fucking running."
I clenched my jaw, causing pain to shoot through my temples. Dammit. "I'm not running. I'm doing what's best for Ali. Blake said he'd fill in for me until Brant can get here. She shouldn't have to see me anymore. I know her, Spence, she's not going to just walk away from her obligation to the company. She'll stick it out because she's no coward. Just look at all she's put up with from GFS. She should have told them to kiss her ass months ago, but she's fighting to keep her job because she can't stand the thought of backing down." I shook my head and folded my hands together on the table. "She's done nothing wrong, and I won't add to her pain by staying here."
"Brant said you told him she has a connection to Holden Shepard. You sure she's done nothing wrong?" The question wasn't meant as an accusation, there was no malice in his words.
I leaned my head into both hands, holding it up by my forehead as I fought back another wave of nausea. "No way, Spence. She's not that kind of person. If I thought so, I wouldn't be as fucked up over her as I am. Besides, she would have nothing to gain from him taking over our company."
He twirled the cap to one of the empty bottles, looking thoughtful. "I tend to agree. I've come up with a theory that I think may explain the connection, though, because you know I don't put much stock in coincidence."
"Should I be drunk for this? Because there're a couple more bottles in that bag over there." I was only half-joking.
He ignored the feeble attempt at humor. "From what Brant relayed of the conversation you two had, I gathered that Shepard is financially enabling Marissa. You hired an investigator who uncovered this?" I nodded my head feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. "We know Marissa was in the office around the time the build here in Denson started, and we know she was going through the files, ostensibly to steal her own. But what if she came across Ali's new-hire packet and got curious? After I talked to Brant, I went looking, and Ali's file does reference Shepard in the emergency contacts section. We never noticed it because it was irrelevant at the time, but Marissa probably zeroed in on the name in a heartbeat."
"So, you think Marissa got nosy and stumbled on a way to get back at us by using Ali's connection to Shepard?"
He shook his head. "I think she knew Shepard's reputation and decided to help him get his hands on the company as a way to punish you. The lawsuit was probably dreamed up by Shepard, especially the part about naming me. He hasn't shown any interest in trying to buy your shares, just mine and Brant's. I think he intends to keep you on because you've got the most talent to exploit, and the best way he could think of to get me and Brant to sell is to alienate you from us. No better way of doing that than setting one of us up to take the fall for your mistakes." He thought for a moment, twirling an errant bottle cap. "Ali was just a catalyst to get Marissa in bed with Shepard, at least figuratively if not literally. Marissa saw a familiar name on Ali's contact page when she was nosing around and seized the opportunity. They have no way of knowing about you and Ali unless Ali told her mother or Shepard herself."
Shit. "They know. Ali's mom pissed her off, and she was very blunt about the nature of our relationship."
He cocked a brow. "Blunt? Do I want to know?"
"Nope. Just suffice it to say, Holden is probably aware of our personal connection."
"I'm betting that's why he's redoubled his efforts in the past few weeks. Marissa rummaged through basically every scrap of paper in that office, there's no way she missed the contract. Hell, the file was even labeled with our little nickname for it."
I snorted miserably. "The 'Clay' Clause. Perfect."
"So, we have to assume she shared that with Shepard, too. Meaning, he knew you were breaking the contract, and he was laying the groundwork so that Brant and I would know to call him first, should we decide to sell. Smarmy bastard."
I could only stare off into the distance, I had no words to apologize for what I'd done. Not just to him, but to all of them; Brant, Ali, Gran, even Talia. I'd promised her I would look after her friend, and instead I broke her heart.
Spencer reached across and snapped his fingers in front of my face. "So, what the fuck do we plan to do about it? What are you going to do about Ali? About the project? Are you really going to Charleston?"
I regarded him dryly. "Ali and Brant will finish up the build here, and I'm headed to Charleston as soon as the holiday weekend is over."
He gave me a pointed look. "Then why didn't you go back to Richmond? Why stay in this shithole motel when you have a perfectly nice house back in Richmond?"
He wasn't going to let it fucking drop, so I answered through gritted teeth. "Because it's just a house, not a home. I haven't had a home before, not even when my mom was alive. We shared a house with a heartless bastard who made sure I felt unwelcome every day of my life. Our one shot at a home was here in Denson and look how that turned out. Ali is the only home I've ever known." My voice dropped to a pathetic whisper. "I'm not sure how to walk away from that."
Spencer pounded the table, sending a surge of pain through my skull. "You don't. You don't walk away from it. You fight for it, moron." He pinned me with an intense stare. "You just mentioned your mom for the first time since we were kids, do you realize that? Do you think I don't know what losing her did to you? How the fucking guilt has ruled yo
ur life?"
I dropped my gaze and shuffled over to the coffee pot, not wanting to talk about it anymore.
Spencer wasn't done, though. He stayed at the table, his back to me as he said, "Don't you think I felt guilty, too?" I stared at the back of his head, suddenly confused. "You were on the fence about coming to my house that weekend. You wanted to go with your mom but thought you'd sound like a sissy if you admitted it. Why do you think I told you about Stephanie being grounded? I knew you liked her, so I used her as bait because I wanted you to come over." He turned in the chair, watching me. "If I hadn't pushed you so hard, maybe things would have been different. For a long time, I blamed myself, thinking Rebecca would never have died in that crash if I hadn't been so selfish."
My chest tightened as I saw the quiet anguish in his face. "You can't blame yourself for that. I wanted to spend the weekend with you. I wanted to avoid my mother forcing me to go in the lake."
He shook his head, pressing his lips together in a sad smile. "You're not remembering it right, Clay. I called twice to ask you over, and it was only after I mentioned Stephanie that you decided to come. I know what I'm talking about because I replayed those conversations in my mind a thousand times over the next year."
He stood and walked over to where I was pouring the coffee, accepting the cup I handed him with a nod. "You want to know why I stopped kicking myself over it?" Something in his eyes told me I didn't want to know, wouldn't want to hear it, but I nodded anyway. "About a year later, you were staying the night, and I woke up to the sound of you thrashing in your sleep. You were on the bottom bunk, and I leaned over from up top to see if you were okay." He blinked a few times as if his eyes burned. "You were mumbling apologies to your mother, kicking and whimpering like you were running. You said something in your sleep that night that changed everything for me. Want to know what it was?"