Travis

by Rebecca Elise

"The fuck you can't. I signed myself in and I'll sign myself out,” I shout.

  "Travis, what you are going through is completely normal. The drugs are working their way out of your system. I know you think getting high is going to make you feel better, but it's not. Once you are done detoxing, you will understand that."

  "You're trying to kill me," I accuse him. "You want me gone, you know you do. Just let me leave so I can take care of what I need."

  The doctor tells me to settle down before they have to restrain me, which only makes me angrier. Dr. Stuber ignores my screaming and walks out, I guess because I’m not getting physically violent. I start sobbing, big fat tears rolling down my pale cheeks. I pace the room for a few minutes before standing with my back against the wall. Sliding down, I sit on the floor with my knees bent and my arms wrapped around them. I begin rocking back and forth, faster and faster.

  I need it. I need it. I need it.

  I'm gonna die. Oh my God, I’m going to fucking die.

  I bolt straight up in bed. Shit, it was just a dream. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I sit there for a moment, trying to decide if I want to get up or try and go back to sleep. Lifting my head off of the pillow, I glance over at my alarm clock.

  6:00.

  Way too fucking early to get up, that’s for sure. This isn’t the first time I have had a dream about detoxing and rehab, and it won’t be the last. Sometimes I have dreams about things that happened when I was high. These dreams always freak me the hell out, and I know that it doesn’t matter how long I lay here, I’m never going to fall back to sleep.

  With a sigh, I push myself off of the bed and shuffle into the bathroom to jump in the shower really quickly. If I’m not going to go back to sleep, I might as well head to the diner for some breakfast. I haven’t been there in a few days. If I don’t show up soon, Mom is probably going to come banging my door down to check and make sure I’m all right. That’s the last thing I need.

  After I climb out of the shower, I dress in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve gray shirt before pulling a gray beanie over my head. I probably look like an idiot, given the fact that it’s summer, but I don’t care. I always feel more self-conscious about the track marks on my arms whenever I have a drug-related dream. Typically, people don’t see them since my arms are covered in tats, but I know they are there, therefore I feel like everyone is staring at them and judging me. I glance in the mirror quickly, my eye immediately flitting over to the “20”. With a loud sigh, I grab my phone and keys before walking out the door.

  Gracie is already at the diner when I walk in. She’s been on my mind constantly, but I haven’t wanted to stop in after seeing Evan Parker’s hands on her the other night. I went as long as I could, though, and now that I am sitting at the counter, I wish I would have stayed home. Gracie and Molly are talking about some upcoming date she has with Evan.

  An elderly couple walks in and sits down at a booth. Molly hurries over to them with a couple of menus, rattling off the specials of the day as she goes. Gracie steps forward, turning over the coffee mug in front of me.

  “Good morning, Travis,” she chirps, her voice full of sunshine and happiness.

  It pisses me off how cheery she is after talking about him. I know I should get up and walk back out before I do or say something I’ll regret, but I don’t. She flashes me a smile and I can’t hold back any longer.

  “Evan fucking Parker? Are you serious?” I spit out.

  Gracie looks taken aback. Her eyes widen and I can tell she is searching for something to say. “I’m sorry,” she says, finally finding her voice. “I missed the part where that is any of your business.”

  She’s right, it isn’t any of my damn business. I don’t know her, so why the hell do I care what she does outside of work? Or even at work?

  “Do you want something to eat or is there another part of my life you feel the need to criticize?” Gracie asks me.

  “Scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese,” I mutter, without bothering to look at the menu.

  Gracie glares at me for a moment before turning around and pushing through the swing door that leads to the kitchen.

  “I know that look, Travis,” Molly says, returning behind the counter to grab a pot of coffee.

  “And what look would that be?” I ask sarcastically.

  “You like her.”

  I start to open my mouth but Molly stops me by pointing one finger into the air. “I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.”

  I close my mouth, staring at her for a few seconds before turning back to my sketchbook and opening it up.

  “That’s what I thought,” Molly sings as she prances off to fill up any empty coffee mugs.

  Gracie walks back out a few minutes later and practically throws my plate down in front of me. I have to force myself to not laugh. I’m not sure why, but I enjoy egging her on. Maybe because she dishes it right back to me. It’s like our own personal little game of how far we can push each other’s buttons.

  “You know, I don’t make any comments about the company you choose to keep and I would appreciate it if you would show me the same respect.” She huffs.

  “What’s wrong with the company I keep?” I reach over the counter to grab a salt shaker. I dash a little on my eggs and return it to its rightful spot.

  “Oh let me see, what about the girl the other night at the bar?”

  I frown, tilt my head to the side and glance up at the ceiling as if I have no idea who she could be talking about. The truth is, I know exactly who she is referring to because I rarely go to bars, and when I do, it’s to The Rusty Nail for karaoke night for the simple reason that they won’t serve me alcohol no matter how much I beg them.

  “Do you think you could refresh my memory?”

  Gracie’s blue eyes widen with disgust. There is a part of me that feels offended that she believes me, like I am some sort of a womanizing manwhore. “Uh, well, tall, thin, long, dark, burgundy hair. She was practically dry humping you for the whole world to see.”

  I spear some eggs with my fork and put them in my mouth, chewing for longer than I need to while I decide how I want to answer her. Lydia and I are not together, we have never been together and we will never be together – though she has tried on more than one occasion, which is what she was doing the other night. Of course my dick has a slight reaction when she is rubbing herself against me, I am a guy, but as much of an asshole as I can be, I won’t sleep with someone simply because they throw themselves at me.

  Russell walks out from the back and immediately gives Gracie a dirty look. She grabs a rag from the stack and pretends to be wiping up a spot on the counter. I don’t see what his problem is. Aside from three tables, which Molly is tending to just fine, and me, there isn’t anyone else in here yet. And, technically, I am a paying customer, so there should be no reason for why he would need to give her a hard time for talking to me.

  “She isn’t anyone special.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I realize how bad they sound. She’s definitely going to get the wrong impression of me now.

  Gracie makes a face, not even attempting to hide the disgust in her eyes over what I just said. Feeling the need to explain myself, I shake my head and say. “I didn’t mean it like that. She’s not my girlfriend, we aren’t sleeping with each other. She called and asked if I wanted to go to karaoke with her and a couple other people, I needed a break from work so I said yes, she had one too many drinks and, well, you were apparently watching what happened from there.”

  “You had your arm around her,” She points out.

  I shrug. “I like to cuddle.”

  “Can you tell me what your issue is with Evan? Is there any reason you think I shouldn’t go out with him?” She gives me an odd look, almost like she is hoping that I will give her an out. I’m not going to do that. If she doesn’t want to go out with him, then she needs to admit that on her own. I’m not going to beg her to choose me over him, not that she has given me any inclination whatsoever tha
t she is even remotely interested in me.

  “Baby, I am not your personal love guru. You want to go out with him, go. You don’t want to, then don’t. I don’t give a shit what you do.”

  “You’re an asshole, Travis.”

  I smile, as though her words have no effect on me, though, I honestly hate the fact that she thinks of me that way. If I am being completely truthful, I’m not quite sure how I want her to think of me. Aidan wasn’t exactly lying the other day when he said she was out of my league. I’m pretty sure that Gracie and I aren’t even in the same species of human.

  Opening up my sketchpad, I pick up my pencil and begin drawing. I’m not even sure what, which is typically how the majority of my drawings start out. I just start making lines until something takes shape and I go with it. Those end up being my favorite pieces.

  Gracie stands there, staring at me for a moment. I can feel her eyes burning into me and I have no idea what she wants. With a sigh, I look up to meet her eyes. She looks as though she wants to say something else, but she makes no attempt to talk.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” I growl.

  Gracie’s mouth drops open and I instantly feel bad for acting so shitty towards her. Even if I did stand a chance with her, that chance is quickly diminishing. If I keep it up, I am barely going to get a nod and a cordial hello from her. She shakes her head and walks away quickly to check on her tables.

  “Don’t think for one second that I don’t know what you’re doing,” Molly says as she walks behind the counter.

  “And what would that be, Molly Jo?” I ask, flashing her a sweet smile.

  Molly leans over the counter, her hands clasped together in front of her. “This is your grown-up version of pulling her pigtails on the playground.”

  My smile falters. I’m not sure if I feel annoyed or relieved at the fact the Molly knows me so well. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve known each other our entire lives.

  Picking up a napkin, I wipe it across my mouth before balling it up and tossing it down next to my plate. Straightening up on the stool, I stare at Molly, trying to decide my next move. Molly isn’t an easy person to call out because she is an open book. She doesn’t try to hide anything from anyone, except for one tiny thing.

  Leaning in close to her, I smile deviously and say, “You gonna tell Nate how you feel anytime soon?”

  Although Molly has never come out and said it, it is no big surprise that Molly has a thing for my brother. She’s been into him for years. Everyone in town knows it. Everyone, apparently, except for Nathanial himself, who is ridiculously oblivious. I even mentioned something about it after I watched her maul him at karaoke the other night. His response was that she was just being Molly – whatever the fuck that means.

  Molly’s smile falters momentarily but she regains control of her emotions quickly and she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t change the subject, Travis. We are talking about the fact that you are clearly into Gracie, yet you are trying your hardest to drive her away, which I don’t get, considering she looks at you the same way you look at her.”

  The door chimes and a couple of construction workers walk through the door. One of them is Evan fucking Parker.

  “Well isn’t this just perfect,” I mutter under my breath.

  Gracie walks out of the kitchen then with a tray full of plates. She delivers them to her tables, joking around with her customers as she hands them their food. As soon as her hands are free, Evan calls out to her. She smiles in his direction, grabs a couple of menus and walks over to where he and his friends are sitting in a booth by the windows.

  I turn my head to the side, watching as he keeps touching either her arm or the curve of her waist. He makes a comment about how good she looks in her uniform, which causes her to giggle and my blood to boil. The last thing I want to do is sit here and listen to him flirt with her. I push my plate away and am about to stand up when my mother sits down on the stool next to me.

  “Good morning, Travis.”

  “Good morning, Ma.” I lean in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  She studies my face for a moment and frowns. “Why do you look like you are about to beat the daylights out of someone?”

  I glance over at Evan’s table. Gracie is still standing there chatting, while Evan is staring at her, giving her his best Prince Charming smile. I am starting to regret my response to her when she asked me if I thought she should go out with him. I should have told her that he is a complete tool and that I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that he would be able to make her happy. Maybe he could, but guys like Evan become suffocating after a while, or at least, that is what I have heard. I’ve never liked Evan and I like him even less now that he has his hands on Gracie.

  Mom follows my gaze and smiles knowingly. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

  “It’s never gonna happen,” I sigh.

  “Never know till you try, Travis. I think I am gonna go talk to her once she is done talking to that Parker boy.”

  I know what she is doing. My mother is the sweetest woman on the planet, but if there is one thing Connie Louise Foster is known for, it is the way she meddles in other people’s business.

  “Let it go, Ma,” I tell her.

  She flashes me an innocent smile. “Not everything is about you, ya know. I am just trying to be polite and make her feel at home. After all, I am Brooksville’s official welcome wagon.”

  My brow wrinkles and I look at her like she is crazy. “No, you aren’t.”

  She waves her hand through the air. “Well, I should be, and I would be, if we had a welcome wagon.”

  “All right, Ma, I have to go.” I stand up and drop some cash on the counter top.

  “Where are you hurrying off to? Don’t you want to stay and talk to Gracie too?” she asks, a hopeful look spreading across her face.

  “No.” I say. She looks disappointed, but I don’t know how many times we have to tell her to stop trying to fix us up. She keeps saying she wants grandbabies. I told her to get a puppy, which apparently just isn’t the same. “I don’t have time even if I wanted to talk to her. I have to get to the courthouse.”

  Mom whips her head up and gives me the stern look of a slow death. “Are you in trouble again?”

  “No,” I laugh sarcastically. “But thanks for the vote of confidence. Aidan asked me to paint different spots about town that would mean something to the people here. That’s one of the oldest buildings, so I figured it would be a good place to start.”

  The looks on mom’s face relaxes and she calls out a goodbye as I turn to leave. I glance at Gracie, hoping she will look up at me as I walk out. She doesn’t. Her gaze is completely focused on Evan, which, I guess is how it should be.

  Chapter Six

  Gracie

  When I turn back around, Travis is nowhere to be seen. Disappointment settles deep in the pit of my stomach. I’m not sure why I thought he might say goodbye. He doesn’t exactly go out of his way to strike up conversations with me. Hell, I don’t think he even slightly enjoys the few conversations we have had. I’m fairly certain if Travis Foster had his way, the only thing I would say to him is “Can I take your order” and “Would you like me to freshen up your coffee?”

  Still, regardless of how annoying he finds my presence, I can’t deny the fact that I am attracted to him. Which makes me wonder why I accepted a date with Evan. I am attracted to Evan, I would be blind not to be, but it isn’t the same toe-curling, fire in the belly, weak in the knees feeling that I get every time I look at Travis. A part of me wishes that it was. It would certainly make things a lot easier, considering the fact that Travis clearly is not interested and Evan is.

  “You came and visited your grandmother a couple times when you were younger, didn’t you?”

  Connie has been following me around for the last twenty minutes asking me about every single detail of my life. You would think customers would be annoyed by this, but they are so used
to her that they all just greet her and go about their own business. She is a bit intrusive, I suppose, but at least it keeps Russell off of my back for a bit, since he knows better than to say anything to her.

  “Uh, yeah, I visited a couple of times for a few summers before we moved out of state. My grandmother didn’t like my stepfather, and eventually, she and my mother stopped speaking. That was when I stopped coming around here,” I say, admitting more than I probably needed to.

  “I thought you did. I never forget a name or a face. Do you remember any of my boys?” she asks.

  I purse my lips together and shake my head. “No, sorry. I was a bit of a shy child. I mostly stayed inside and read. I did play with some kids a couple of times but I really don’t remember who they were.”

  A look of disappointment crosses her face. “Well, that’s okay, you can come get to know them now. How about you come over for dinner tomorrow night? I can make my famous lasagna.”

  “I, uh, I actually have plans with Evan tomorrow night.” I don’t know why but I almost feel embarrassed mentioning this to her, like I shouldn’t be telling her or something.

  “Well, that’s too bad.” Connie frowns for a moment, but then her eyes brighten up and she smiles again. “Come over tonight then. Are you free tonight?”

  “I am,” I say cautiously.

  She smacks her hand down hard on the countertop, causing me to jump a little bit. “Well, then it’s settled. I’m going to go. I need to prepare the food and call my boys to make sure they are coming. Come over whenever you get off. Get Nathanial to give you directions,” she calls over her shoulder as she grabs her purse and hurries out the door.

  For a moment I wonder if I should run after her and tell her that I can’t make it, but I don’t think it would actually work. She would just reschedule it to another day and it isn’t like I can string her along. She is always lurking somewhere around here.

  After I check to make sure no one needs a refill on their coffee, I push through the kitchen doors. Nathanial is busy making pecan pancakes. The kitchen smells mouth-wateringly delicious. “Your mom told me to ask you for directions to her house. She sort of invited me for dinner.”