Tears are forming in Tanner’s eyes. Tanner and Blake had been best friends since kindergarten, which makes it twenty years now. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” he mutters. I wrap my free hand around his waist, letting him rest his chin over my head. His whole body convulses, racked with a pain I’ve come to know all too well. “It’s all my fault,” he says. “If I hadn’t canceled our plans last weekend…there was a game I didn’t want to miss. Such a shitty reason to bail on him.”
I guess I’m not the only one feeling guilty.
“Don’t blame yourself,” I say to him. I should be saying this to myself, too. Tanner releases me from his grip and seeks out Mom and Dad. They fall apart in his arms.
“Your parents like Tanner, huh?” Aspen asks, observing the heart-wrenching scene.
“He’s like another son to them. His parents are workaholics and were never home for him.”
“So you spent a lot of time with him growing up, then?” Aspen says, resting her head on my shoulder and slipping her arm around my waist.
“Yeah…he spent most afternoons at our house. Mom usually fed him dinner after school, and he’d sleep over most weekends too.” Tanner offers his condolences to a few other familiar faces around the room, then joins me and Aspen against the wall. “Your parents told me to take you ladies out for dinner. They want you to eat something, Liss. They’re worried.”
Free at last. I grab Aspen’s arm and pull her out the front door with me. Tanner follows us to her car.
“Who are you staying with tonight?” he asks.
“Aspen.”
“Okay. Why don’t you two meet me at Escada?”
We all agree, and I climb into Aspen’s SUV, not giving a crap about my car, which has been sitting in front of Mom and Dad’s house for the past week. Dad drove it here while I was in the hospital, I guess. I can’t get myself to drive it yet since Blake was always in my car. He didn’t have his own, and his stuff is in there, and it probably smells like him.
The doors close, and it takes one second for Aspen to start talking about Tanner.
“Well, he’s super-cute. And what a sweetheart.” No matter the occasion, Aspen is always one to note a good-looking guy. I can’t look at him like that any more though. “You said you grew up with him…is that all you did with him?” Her eyes ping back and forth between me and the road.
I close my eyes instead of responding. It’s taking all my willpower not to reach into my purse and finally light that beautiful cigarette I’ve been dreaming about since I woke up this morning.
“There’s more. Isn’t there? You’d better tell me right now, Felicity Stone.”
I glance over at Aspen, who looks like she’s sitting on a bed of nails, her rusty red waves flopping around over her shoulders as her hazel eyes widen with excitement. “We dated for a year,” I tell her. “That’s it. No more to the story.”
It’s obvious I’ve sparked some kind of excitement within her when she shouts, “I knew it.” Her hands slap the steering wheel. “So what happened? Why on earth would you break up with that?”
Because of Blake, of course. He was very uncomfortable that we were dating. He was always harping on Tanner’s track record with girls and said he didn’t want me to be another notch on his bedpost. It put a strain on Tanner and me, and in the end, I didn’t want to hurt their friendship, so I reluctantly ended things. Which sucked.
“Can we not go there right now?”
“You need a drink,” she says. “Or four.”
I need a lot more than alcohol right now.
We park along the side of the road and find Tanner waiting outside the restaurant. “Ladies,” he says, opening the door and ushering us in.
I know Aspen is dying to hear the rest of our story by the way she looks back and forth between Tanner and me throughout dinner. But tonight is not the night for it. She’s been after me for being single since I met her. While she makes herself happy in less orthodox ways (to her, it seems like men are a box of chocolates without a guide and she needs to take a bite of each one to see which flavor she likes best), I’ve pretty much had no personal life in the past year, which I’m totally okay with. She’s the one who isn’t okay with it; she’s always telling me how happy I’d be if I met someone. Maybe I would be, but it isn’t high on my list of things to do. Especially now.
We manage to get through dinner without anyone noticing I ate less than five bites, and without Tanner asking if Aspen had something in her eye, considering the amount of times she winked at me. Each of the three times Aspen went to the restroom, Tanner tried to break the ice by mentioning a funny memory of Blake. There’s plenty to remember. Blake and Tanner played off each other with the never-ending jokes. The laughter was constant, and there was never a dry eye at the end of a meal with the two of them. But right now, I want to jump out of my skin.
“Guys, I need to call it a night,” I pipe in over their chatter about which dessert is better. Thankfully, neither argues with me.
Once outside, Aspen jumps into the car quickly as I say good-bye to Tanner. Maybe she doesn’t realize I can see her eyes glued on us from the rear-view mirror. But nothing is ever going to happen with us again.
He leans down to give me a hug good-bye and whispers in my ear, “We’ll make it through this.”
It pushes me over the edge, and I cry. I sob like I’ve needed to since the night of the fire. Everything within me heaves and trembles. Tears pour from my eyes, and I clench my arms tightly around his back.
This is the exact reason why I’ve been avoiding hugs.
“Hey, hey.” He pulls himself from my death grip and looks down at me. “We have to be strong. It’s what Blake would have wanted. You know he’d be laughing at us for crying today.”
I nod, avoiding the use of words. There are no words.
“Come on, get in the car. Get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow’s going to be hard enough.” He opens the passenger door, and I slide in as he leans down to place a small kiss on my cheek. “Like I said, we’ll get through this.” Today was only the wake. How am I going to make it through the funeral tomorrow?
The second Tanner closes the door, Aspen’s hand covers mine. “Felicity, I’m so sorry,” she says. “I was completely out of line tonight, talking about you and Tanner. I was only trying to distract you from—”
“My dead brother?” That sounded harsher than I intended.
Her hand tightens around mine and tears rush from her eyes. “Dammit,” she shouts. “I’m so insensitive. I can’t bear to see you in this much pain. And I don’t know what to say to make you feel better. I intended to cheer you up tonight, but I think I went about it the wrong way. Can you forgive me?”
Nothing is going to bring Blake back. Nothing is going to make me feel better. “Thanks for trying. Honestly, I appreciate you being here for me.”
Our five-minute car ride was silent. We hike up the three flights of stairs to her apartment and walk inside. The usual mess is scattered about. Messes cause me panic attacks, and I have to believe she hasn’t noticed the smell from the dirty dishes or the overflowing trash.
I want to clean so badly right now.
“Sorry…I didn’t straighten up this morning,” she says nonchalantly. The fact that she isn’t embarrassed makes me wonder what’s wrong with me. I could never leave my house without cleaning it, just in case someone popped in unannounced. I would be mortified if they saw mail everywhere or an empty pizza box on the counter. I suppose it would be easier to not worry so much about living neatly, but it’s always given me a kind of comfort, too.
“Hang on; let me grab some sheets for you and clear out the spare room real quick.”
“Anywhere is fine, really. You’re already putting yourself out for me.”
She shoos me off and dashes into the spare room. I hear a few things crash, and she returns with a crumpled ball of sheets. “Sorry they’re not folded.” She laughs. “I must be the only twenty-four-year-old who doesn’t know how to fol
d a fitted sheet. They should seriously come with an instruction manual.”
“They’re tricky.” I join in her laughter, more forced than natural. I miss everything that was me. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.
I don’t know how I’m going to survive this.
I wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you for all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Realizing this scares me.
I still haven’t told her the one thing that will most definitely make her hate me.
CHAPTER THREE
SLEEP DOESN’T COME. It hasn’t for the past week. I don’t even feel tired, and I don’t have a desire to close my eyes. It’s been an hour since Aspen’s lights went off. I heard her crying for a few minutes, but now it’s silent. I didn’t realize she was taking this so hard. I’m not sure. Either way I hope she doesn’t hear me leave.
I need air. I snatch her keys from the coffee table and slip out the door, locking it behind me.
My only focus as I walk is the seductive white stick I pull out of my pocket. With trembling hands, it takes me a second to steady the lighter, but within moments of my first drag, I fall heavily against a nearby tree. My desire for these things has grown exponentially since the fire. In the past, I’ve been able to satisfy my need with one cigarette at the end of each day, but now I find myself daydreaming about them from the time I wake up. Not a great sign.
My heart rate slows, and I feel almost human again. While debating whether or not I should go back into the apartment, I stomp the butt out and pop a couple pieces of gum into my mouth. I don’t want to go back. Not yet. I keep walking until I end up at a small, unlit park—it’s the perfect place to be alone.
The muted tones of the night pull me toward a little fountain, situated between a thick group of trees, and I find a bare spot in the grass to lie down.
I used to lie in the grass at night, watching the stars, remembering what Gran always told me. The sky is a two-way mirror; us on one side, and our loved ones that have passed on the other. They’re in the stars, and they’re able to look down and watch over us. Gran left me when I was only twelve; I’ve made it a habit to watch the stars at night, in search of one that might be her. Now I have to find Blake as well.
I close my eyes, relishing the cool air. When I open my eyes, I see fire in the sky. The red night overtakes the stars, taking away everything I love.
Is this how it’ll always be?
I squeeze my eyes closed once more, hoping when I open them, the sky will return to black. Instead, something wet pushes into my cheek, and my eyes snap open. Panicked, I push myself up on my elbows and come face to face with a dog. I think it’s a lab—not exactly threatening. But why is he alone? His tail wags and he nudges me with his snout. I look around to see if his owner is nearby when a flashlight shines in my face and startles me. I throw my arm over my eyes to block out the light.
“I wondered what my dog was sniffing,” the man says.
The sound of footsteps grows closer, and the light drops to the ground. I see him emerge from behind one of the nearby trees. “Sorry if we scared you. I didn’t think anyone was out here this late at night, so I unlatched the leash.”
The dog investigates every inch of me, then covers my hand with kisses. I run my fingers down his back, giving him some attention so he knows I’m friendly. “Cute dog.”
The man comes a little closer, dropping his free hand into his pocket. With the glow of the moon and the one dim streetlight reflecting off of his face, I sort of lose the confidence I had a moment ago. He’s striking from what I can see in the little amount of light. I’m well aware of the dangers behind meeting a random man in a dark park at midnight, but in my somewhat-reckless state I seem to be stuck in, his presence is oddly calming. “It’s kind of late to be sitting here alone, don’t you think?”
“It was my intention to be alone in the dark,” I say. “What’s his name?” I scratch behind the dog’s ears, avoiding the stranger’s gaze.
“Her name is Lady.”
“Lady?” I repeat.
“Yeah, when I got her, I thought it’d be funny to yell ‘hey lady!’ every time she ran off.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Good one.”
The man closes more of the space between us and sits down beside me, pulling his dog in between his legs. A part of me wants to put more space between us, but I don’t.
“It really isn’t a great idea to sit in the middle of a park alone this late at night. And I wouldn’t be a good citizen if I didn’t warn you of the dangers, of course.” He smells like the outdoors, maybe pine mixed with a trace of cologne. It’s nice. “I’m Hayes Peyton.” He reaches his hand out to me.
I hesitate at first, but there’s something intriguing about him, so I offer him my hand. His fingers warm my cold palm. “Felicity.”
“Well, Felicity. I hope you carry pepper spray or something. I could be a creep.”
I’m not sure the thought of encountering a creep scares me the way it should right now. But I suppose even this man who looks like he just walked off a photo shoot for a high-end magazine could most definitely be a creep. Two weeks ago, I may have had a can of pepper spray on me—if I had even been dumb enough to go strolling through a dark park in the middle of the night. But tonight, my thoughts are fuzzy. My common sense is distorted. And my lack of care for my own safety is a bit frightening. “Nope. Can’t say that I do. Guess I’m a risk taker.”
As of today.
“All joking aside, Felicity, you should be me more careful.” He looks at me with concern, like I’m a baby bird that just fell out of the nest. He stands up and takes his dog by the collar. “It was nice meeting you. It’s not every night you run into a beautiful woman, alone in the middle of a dark park.” I’m glad it’s dark, or he might see my cheeks flush at his words. My heart speeds up again, but for other reasons this time. It’s different from the slow, dying beat of the last few weeks—a tiny spark that flickers and gives me an ounce of hope that I might pull through this.
“Life is full of surprises,” I say through a weak smile. It’s a start. I guess those facial muscles do still work.
“Come on, Lady. Time to put you back on a leash.” Hayes gives me one last glance, showing me the hint of a smile, too.
I’ve always heard that guys with dogs pick up more women. This guy has it down to a science.
* * *
“Good morning,” Aspen chirps. Her eyes look a little puffy, like she didn’t sleep well. Or maybe it’s from the crying. She steps out of her bedroom and stops dead in her tracks, scanning the room. “What did you…”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I clean when I’m stressed out.” And your apartment was so messy I felt like running away last night.
“Oh!” I’m not sure if that was a sound of delight. “I almost forgot what the carpeting looked like.”
She looks annoyed.
“I made coffee,” I say as a peace offering. I lean over to the counter and grab the two mugs, handing her one of them.
She eyeballs me warily while taking her first sip. “Something has gotten into you. I thought I’d have to revive you today just to get you dressed.” She looks down at my clothes, which are the same as I had on yesterday. “Stay here. I have something you can wear today.”
Please be clean. Not that my current clothes are any better.
I hear her slinging hangers over a rod, and then she shouts, “Got it!” She returns with a black dress and flings it at me. “How’s that?”
“This will work.” I hold the dress up, matching up the size to my body. It should fit. I think we’re the same size. “Mind if I hop in the shower?” I cleaned that this morning, too.
“Of course. There are towels in the closet.”
I walk past her, clutching the dress in my hand, ignoring the sight of her room as I walk past it. It’s the only place I didn’t get to.
“Hey, Felicity—or Liss, eh?” She giggles. “Wh
ere did you go last night? I woke up to use the bathroom, and you were gone.”
Shit. I know I shouldn’t be worried about an explanation. I just went to smoke a cigarette…and ran into a random hot guy in the middle of a dark, empty park. Totally normal. “Ah, I went out for a walk.”
“In the middle of the night?”
I shrug her off and continue toward the bathroom.
“That’s not the Felicity I know—Miss I-lock-the-fifteen-deadlocks-on-my-door-and-never-go-out-alone-after-dark.”
I’m not that person any more. But I don’t respond.
“Well, if it means anything, I like the new, ballsy you,” she says.
With a firm crank, the shower roars to life. After a couple of minutes, the small room fills with a hot fog. It looks like smoke. It makes my pulse race. Sweat beads on my forehead and my limbs turn ice cold. Breathing is hard, and my lungs ache.
Great. Now I’m having anxiety attacks in the shower.
I soap up with Aspen’s high-end shampoos and body wash, and I rinse off quickly, all while feeling dizzy and weak. I can’t get the towel around myself fast enough as I fall heavily against the sink, gripping the edge. I look in the mirror and examine the puffy bags under my eyes. My skin is so pale; my light eyes make me look sick. I’m a poster child for depression, and I don’t see an end in sight. Well, I guess I did for a split-second last night. I just have to get through today.
Suck it up, Felicity.
* * *
“Wrong place and wrong time, but you do look nice today,” Tanner says, looping his arm with mine as we walk through the headstones, approaching a scene I’ll want to burn from my mind forever.
Sometime between the time we got here and the time they lowered Blake’s coffin into the ground, I allowed Tanner to hold me like he used to. Now, standing behind me, his arms tighten around my shoulders, his chin resting on my head. It feels right, but if Blake were here, it would feel very wrong. It’s not like that, though. It’s the simple affection between two friends who are agonizing over a mutual pain.
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