“Yep, good as it gets. Be sure to track how you are feeling day to day, the first few weeks are tough, and if it gets too bad, we will re-evaluate and see what can be done to offset the side effects until your body adjusts.” After disposing the vial and packaging, she gives me a bright smile. “See you in a month!”
I make my way back to the waiting room, my ass still hurting. Karma, she is a sadistic bitch. Jase looks up with a smug grin before falling in place beside me and walking out toward the car. I think I deserve some junk food for that violation. I flinch when sliding into the passenger seat earning me another smile. “What are you so fucking chipper about?”
“I heard you cussing from the waiting room, big needle to the hip, hurts every time. Although the daily pain you endure, I’d think that was nothing.”
“It was my ass and it hurt, clearly it wasn’t nothing.” I smart back and laugh. “Why do they say hip, it undoubtedly was in my ass.”
“No, it was probably the top of your ass which is technically your hip-ish area… I think.” Jase’s eyes squint as he ponders my question and his answer.
“Don’t think too hard superstar, I need you to drive me to get some junk food.”
“Mom texted, she’s over at my place making you lunch. Also, I have a surprise if you are up for it.”
“I don’t like surprises,” I grouch as he maneuvers the car through traffic toward his place. “What is it?”
“A surprise,” he counters then smiles a toothy smile.
The woman always says ‘I don’t like surprises’, yet her dimpled cheek and childlike wonder tells a whole other story. I can’t help the grin I’m sporting, making her happy makes me smile – always has. So, we lost track of that a while ago, I left for the supercross/motocross pro-circuit her freshman year of college and having a long-distance relationship was not happening. Being out of her life for five years, only seeing each other occasionally on holidays or when she would come watch me race, took a toll on our friendship. Ha! Who am I kidding; she was my first love with friendship on the side. We crazy kids ruled the streets. Hannah, my cousin, lived three houses down from me and her now fiancé, Carter, lived across the street. He and I were best friends, inseparable until Hannah met him.
We did everything together from school dances, sporting events, parties, and coupled off even our firsts. Well not all of our firsts, with Brielle being two years younger than me, I had a difficult time waiting to kiss, cop a feel, round the bases… she doesn’t find that part of our growing up nearly as amusing as I do. Hey, what can I say – I was a testosterone-fueled teenager and once I was experienced, I taught her. I think that’s almost fair… no?
“Hey, can you swing by Walgreens for my pain medicine refill?” She yawns through her words and leans her seat back.
“Yep, no problem Ell.” Making a quick turnabout, I pull into the pharmacy she has listed at the doctor’s office. “I’ll go in and grab it; I need a few things anyway.” Wandering through the store, I pick up milk, over the counter pain reliever, and icy-hot cream before making my way to the pick-up window in the back.
“Hey Jen,” I honestly don’t know her, her nametag says Jen, so therefore I opt to use her name, always the gentleman. “I need to pick up the script for Brielle Sava.”
“Oh okay,” her smile seriously faltered when I said Brielle’s name, at least I haven’t lost my charm… okay fine I’m certain it’s my devastatingly sexy good looks. What? I’m not conceited, but I take pride in my workouts and appearance. Maybe I am a little vain, sometimes. But, it’s part of the job. “Date of birth please, and address.”
“August 28, 29048 Orange Grove Boulevard in Palm Beach Gardens,” I recite out of habit and wait for her to finish cashing out my purchases. “Oh hell, I forgot something. One second, if that’s okay,” she nods and I jog down the aisle, grab two gossip magazines, Martha Stewart’s Wedding Guide, and hurry back. “Sorry, I knew I was missing something.” I apologize just as she huffs her irritation after scanning the bridal guide.
I place two bags in the backseat of the car, then sink into my seat without waking the sleeping beauty. No really, she is a beauty – her long brown hair is now piled into a messy nest at the top of her head, her naturally plump lips, pink and soft. Sometimes I wonder if we could go back to where we were, before I left, but she insists it’s a no go. A part of me figured it was because of her on again off again boyfriend Chase, but he’s gone and out of the picture. Perhaps it’s what it’s always been, the trust and timing just isn’t there. Snapping out of my reverie, I turn the key and make my way toward my house.
Pulling into the drive a few minutes later, I see the outbuilding just behind the house and to the right of the garage through the six-foot gap connected with a glass walkway. It just looks like another shed to the unknown. Looking over to Brielle sleeping, I can’t help but remember back in the day when we’d go for trips to St. Louis and she’d pass out on the way there or home. If she isn’t driving, she’s sleeping or singing. My ears prefer the singing. She snores – like a fucking freight train… just kidding it’s more like the hum of a sawmill.
“Ellie, wakey wakey,” I sing, causing her to scrunch her nose and furrow her brows. “Let’s go eat!”
“Holy shit, shut up, you sound like a dying cat,” she moans.
“You sound like a fucking freight train, now wake up.” Laughing I swat her thigh, my fingers lingering longer than they should before I clamber out, grabbing the bags from the back and make my way inside.
“Ugh,” she yells, and it stops me in my tracks to see if it’s a grunt of pain or just her being overly dramatic. Stretching. Shit, she is so vocal. Continuing toward the porch, I’m greeted by the woman who I call mom, Shellie Fields. Her hair is cut pixie style, as she tells me, and matches her light brown top. She dyes it, she can deny it all she wants, but there most definitely should be some grey in that hair after what I’ve put her through with my racing career.
“Heya momma, slow poke is starving. Not that you can tell, she moves slower than molasses these days,” I chuckle and peck her cheek. “Thanks for making lunch.”
“You’re welcome J. Lunch is on the table, we’ll be right in.” Making my way inside I glance back and find Brie wrapped in my mother’s embrace, the sweetest smile gracing her face. Brielle is a tough cookie; she hates anyone seeing her weaknesses, even those that she grew up around. “Let’s get you some food, sweet Ellie.” I hear before walking through the front door.
My mom started that nickname for Brielle. We were all running wild in the backyard, and she fell – not gracefully either. She bit it, bad, and started to hyperventilate. Mom couldn’t get ahold of the Sava’s or the James’ and couldn’t get her to calm down, so she sang to her – some made up song, but sang Sweet Ellie in place of her actual name. Brie calmed almost instantly, be it mom’s soothing voice or the distraction who knows, we were just happy it worked. Other than when I was ten and Ellie was eight, I’ve only seen her cry a handful of times until recently. But even now, she tries to hide the tears. Hiding behind the tough exterior, she seems to think she needs.
Lunch was delicious, grilled chicken spinach salad with pecans, granny smith apple chunks, and raspberry vinaigrette. Clean food, as mom says. She has done a boatload of research on Endometriosis between chatting with Meredith, Brielle’s mother, her doctor friends, and the obvious consult of Google. Although Dr. Bradley told us to be careful how much we read into some information on the web, she did provide us with a few preferred data sources. Brie excused herself from the table to take her medicine and rest a bit before we head back to her place. I, of course, didn’t balk to that suggestion because I need her rested for my surprise.
After helping mom clear the table and load the dishwasher, I make my way up to the guest room where Brie typically stays on her visits to make sure she is settled. Not once since we started hanging out regularly this past year have we shared a bed. When I left for the pro-circuit, I made the choice to leave ou
r relationship. There were clear boundaries set to ensure that I wasn’t stringing her along or vice versa. No reason to change what isn’t broken. Slowly pushing the door open to avoid disturbing her, I stand slightly confused – where the fuck did she go. I mean it’s a big place, I suppose, but I heard her walk toward the back of the house.
“Brie?” I call down the hall making my way toward my bedroom three doors down. “Hey,” I smile, walking into my room, finding her in the fetal position snuggling a pillow, her wavy hair fanned across my pillows wearing my hoody. “I see you raided my closet.” The weak smile she gives me is more than enough to know she is in far more pain than she let on at lunch. Climbing into my bed behind her, I scooch in as close as I can and hold her tight until she wiggles free to readjust in my arms, laying her head on my chest.
“I didn’t mean to stay in here, but I had a jolt of pain, so I just thought I’d sit for a minute, except it keeps coming and going.” Snuggling closer she sighs before whispering, “I miss this,” as I kiss the crown of her head. Reminding myself that even if this is what I’ve wanted for months, she is only seeking comfort. Brielle has spoken to me at length on where our friendship boundaries lie.
“Like the cramps from before or different?” I ask. The thing with Brielle’s pain is she has such a high tolerance that she waits until the last minute to address it, or thinks she can handle it. Sometimes the pain medication only curbs the pain to the point of not dwelling on it, but it always lingers and by lingers her description is quite brutal – someone stabbing you repeatedly then pouring antibacterial in the wounds only to restart the process. No thanks, I’d rather break my collarbone again.
“Same, the medicine will kick in soon.” She mumbles into my chest, “where’s my surprise?”
I chuckle softly and push the hair off her face, “Nice deflection. Take a nap, when you wake up, I promise you can have it.”
“Mmkay.” She whispers and I feel her smile against me.
I startle to the rustling of a bag, and stretch. I had fallen asleep on the brink of tears waiting for my pain medication to kick in and help – well give me all the relief it’s capable of, snuggled to my best friend. Jase is now standing over his dresser taking items out of the Walgreens’ sack and putting them into his overnight bag. The sun barely peeking over the horizon illuminates the feathered clouds in soft blues, oranges, and pinks.
“Whatcha doin’?” I ask sleepily.
“Packing, silly,” turning, he flashes me a dimpled grin. “I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon in Vero, but I can grab a hotel if I need to.”
“Oh, I forgot. No, you can stay in the guest room. Carter doesn’t need it. He should be there tonight though,” my brain finally connects enough to gather my thoughts. “We should get going; I think they wanted to do dinner at the Reef.” I suggest while climbing out of his bed.
“I already talked to Han, she messaged me. We’re meeting them there, if you want to freshen up, we’ll do that then we can take off.” Moving to his closet he pulls out a few t-shirts, a pair of jeans and a suit then turns back to me. “Like what you see?”
“I’m still half asleep,” I smart back to him after being caught ogling. This ogling is normal. I, however, usually get by doing it without it being addressed. The way his t-shirt stretches across his sculpted chest and biceps, his gym shorts hang just right on his hips, and my god that ass is bounce a quarter off amazing… tight, perfectly rounded but not big or bulky. Yes, I’m a connoisseur of asses. “Where’s my surprise?”
“You are so needy and greedy. Go get ready; you can see it before we leave.” Jase laughs as he gathers his belongings and walks out of the room.
“I’m ready,” I laugh to his back and follow him down the hallway. I’m not getting all dressed up for the Reef, nor am I too worried about how I look going out with my friends. I’ll throw on some lip-gloss in the car and brush my hair before we get there, appearance is not important. My surprise, however, is very important.
“You’re something,” Jase mumbles before barking out a laugh and leading me through the house toward the garage. “Now, it’s not completely ready for you yet, but it will be by Saturday.”
“What are you up to?”
“Shaddup, let’s go.” He says, stopping right in front of the door.
Once beside him, his fingers then palm flatten across my lower back igniting a spark that had long ago existed. Jase and I have always been close, but after we separated my freshman year in college, I did everything I possibly could to flip that switch. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never rejected him as my friend, but romantically… no way was that a good idea. Between the voluptuous fans that are beyond giving of their goods and the Moto-Girls, I knew better. I still know better, it’s a wall I’ve built that I am not tearing down.
“Oh, did you build an indoor practice track?” I ask once we are outside heading to a newly constructed outbuilding. We were just here last month, I noticed the lot was cleared and there were construction workers in and out of the structure, but I didn’t think twice. He is always tinkering and building on the property. It’s like a safe haven here, just far enough away from the city with over thirty acres of land. It’s peaceful and secluded from the hustle and bustle, well peaceful if you enjoy the sounds of four-stroke dirt bikes. I do.
“Nope, it’s too small for that,” his smug smile reappears and I can see in his eyes the pride and excitement rolling through him. “This is your surprise,” he reminds me and opens the dark tinted door. We are assaulted with a frigid gust of air and all at once it hits me, the fresh smell of ice.
“What the…” I mutter, “what… when… wait… why?” Pause. Rewind. I am literally speechless. He built an ice rink behind his house. For me? Whoa, I think I’m missing something huge. Jase’s smug smile transforms into one of sincere happiness.
“Because, I wanted to…” he leads me farther inside toward three rows of wooden bleachers nuzzled against a cubby housing my skates and a hanging zipper hoody. “…because we talked about you staying here occasionally once Hannah leaves, and now you won’t have to pay or drive to downtown Miami or be too exhausted after skating in West Palm to make the drive here.”
“But, this is um… Jase, we aren’t… you know.” I begin stumbling through my words, “the gesture I appreciate, the thought too, but we aren’t anything more than friends and this expense is more than I can fathom right now. I'm flabbergasted.”
“Well, you’re welcome.” His smile falters a bit as he looks into my eyes, I search his brown-green eyes for more of an answer, but they give nothing away. “I know we are only friends, and as your friend, this will help me keep you safe and available to my every whim.” The laugh that follows the latter part of his comment ignites something deep inside me.
“So, uh… maybe we should get going.” I suggest, still unsure of what it is I’m feeling, but awkward doesn’t bode well for me. “And… this isn’t getting you any gherkin jerkin or tonsil hockey, or…” suddenly a large calloused hand is covering my mouth and the other is pushing me toward the same door we came into.
“Every time you get nervous or awkward you begin rambling like a thirteen year old boy, you know it?” His laughter soothes me and breaks me from overthinking. I’ll never understand how he elicits such a calming aura or how that electric charge surges when he touches my lower back.
“Yeah well, it doesn’t happen often… the awkward, I mean. Sometimes I just enjoy my immature crude self, so I share freely with others.”
“Mhmm, even if they don’t want to be subjected,” the joking continues as we make our way through the house, grabbing his overnight bag and clothes. “Mom took off to the movies while you were snoring logs, but left you this.” He hands me a bag filled to the brim with fabric swatches that Hannah had asked for, perks of family in the party business.
“Oh yes! Han and I can finish this wedding bullshit before she leaves. Don’t repeat that,” I snicker. “Now, let’s go! I want my damn snapper c
akes.”
December 19
Red snapper cakes… mouthwatering deliciousness. Dinner was a blast, as it always is with the four of us. Carter and I trying to outdo each other’s immaturity. A few hours of pure laughter and reprieve from the pending move. My heart hurts; I don’t want my Banana to move. Who will watch chick flicks, gorge on pizza, and make sure I’m not hiding away. This house is so big… maybe it’s a good thing that I’ll be staying with Jase most of the time. We already decided that I wouldn’t be going on tour with him and Shellie would keep me occupied. Well that and the FUCKING SKATING RINK! Oh yes, that came up several times throughout dinner, earning me glances from Hannah and Carter… btw they are not covert. AT ALL.
Continual beads of sweat form and roll down my face and neck, pulling my shirt off my back and over my head, I swipe off the moisture and toss it toward the door. We’ve been loading this U-Haul all morning. I’ve never seen so much shit. Hannah, Carter, and I decided we would load up as much possible before Brie woke up. Thankfully, she was still sleeping sound when we cleared out the entertainment room.
About nine days after her injection, she began to have terrible headaches and nausea. Last night though, I could have sworn the demon itself lived within her. She’s put in a call to Dr. Bradley and Dr. Agbemaple to request something to ease the side effects, but until then, she continues to push through it. She’s far stronger than I am, I’d be in the fetal position rocking and crying for my momma. I’ve been dubbed the world’s most pitiful ill person.
Hannah has invited some colleagues and their families over for a farewell cookout and pool party, tonight. Brielle isn’t so thrilled, I’m still trying to determine if it is because she is preparing everything from appetizers to dessert or if it’s because Chase is coming. But, she and Hannah would do anything for each other even if it means biting their tongue and getting on with it. Once we have all the big items and already packed boxes loaded, I head up to the room I’ve deemed mine to shower.
Finding Brielle (a Forever & Always novel) Page 5