I'm at a complete loss for words. Is he lost in something that actually happened? "Riggan, I'm not Abby." I walk closer to him on my knees trying to get his attention. I grab his face in my hands. "Are you listening to me? I'm not Abby. I'm Kinzleigh. Look at my eyes. What color are they?"
"Green," he whispers.
"What color are Abby's?"
"Blue."
"You need help, Riggan. You can't keep living like this. People love you. Do you think Abby would want you to live like this?"
His face contorts into one of anger and he starts screaming. "Abby loved me! She only wanted one thing and I couldn't even give her that. I fucked up the only thing I truly cared about. Now she's dead because of me! I killed her! Are you happy? I'll admit it. I killed her. Why shouldn't I live like this? I'm the one that should be dead!"
He places his hand under the mattress and pulls out a pistol. My eyes go wide as I catch sight of it. A wave of terror runs through me that I've never known. He places it to his temple with his finger on the trigger. "I need her. I fucking need her. There is only one way to get her back..."
"Riggan, please don't." I grab his wrist, but he's pressing the barrel into his skull. Tears are flooding from my eyes in panic. "Don't do this..."
"I love you, Abby. Please forgive me."
I close my eyes still trying to pull the gun from his hand. The only thing that I can think is that someone is about to die...and I can't stop it.
"What the fuck, Kinzleigh?" I hear two familiar voices scream out those four little words in unison when the gun goes off.
My eyes flutter open to the touch of two hands on my face. Breyson is leaning over me with tears in his eyes. "Am I dead?"
"For fuck's sake, Kinzleigh, you almost gave me a heart attack. Next time you want to be a super hero could you at least wait until I can keep my eyes on you? Did that six months apart really mean so little to you that you would risk it again? Dammit!" He's breathing heavily.
Nope, I'm not dead, but I'm about to wish I were. He's pissed. Last night was about a tenth of what he is right now. He is seething, which means it's about to detonate. I want to know what exactly just happened, but I'm scared to ask.
I'm lying on the floor and can only see the ceiling above me. As morbid as it sounds I don't see any blood splatter. Does that mean everyone is okay?
Breyson grabs me by the hands, pulling me up into a sitting position. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing tightly. "I can't lose you again, Kinzleigh. What were you doing? I'm calling the cops."
"No!"
He leans back, scrunching his brows like I've really lost my mind. "He will either hate me or thank me. Call the local hospital and tell them he's a threat to himself or others. They are required to take him. He doesn't belong in a jail cell. He belongs in a rehab facility, Breyson. You say you can't lose me again, well there is something I need to show you..."
I pull free from him. Konnor and Riggan are absent from the room and the gun is lying against the wall. I don't see any blood in the room and immediately I feel relieved.
The photo is still lying on the floor. I reach over to pick it up and lean back to Breyson. I hand it to him. "This is what's wrong with him. This is what I discovered while you were gone. He needs to lay her to rest, Breyson. He isn't out to hurt anyone. His mind is tainted with guilt. I don't know all the details, but being in a cell with criminals isn't what he needs."
He opens it. I can tell when he realizes what he's looking at, because I can see him adjust the focus of his eyes as if he's seeing things. I did the same thing that night in Abby's spot.
He looks up at me and he pulls me into his arms, against him. "I'm just glad you're okay. Who is she and why does she look like your clone?"
"She's his Kinzleigh," I say. "Abby Carter was her name."
"What do you mean was?"
"She died a few years back. He's not dangerous he's broken. He saved me, Breyson, and he saved Bryce. I want to save him."
He exhales, knowing he's lost this battle. "Okay, Kinzleigh. If this is what you want I'll back you one-hundred percent, but only if you promise me one thing."
"Anything..."
"Promise me you won't try to do anything like this unless I'm with you. I don't care where I am you will always come first, but a vague text won't cut it. We're a team, remember?"
The smell of his shirt invades my sense of smell, intoxicating me. "Okay. I'm sorry. Next time I'll wait for you."
"Good."
He continues to hold me. "Breyson..."
"Hmmm?"
"What just happened, exactly?"
"When I got here Konnor was pacing and mumbling that you've been back here a while. We took off when we heard that guy yell. All we could see as we got to the door was a gun. I grabbed you and Konnor knocked the gun away just as it fired. I think it went through the ceiling."
"Oh...one more question," I say.
"What?"
"How did you know I was here?"
"I was changing classes when I saw your text. I called Konnor and he filled me in and said something seemed sketchy. I wasn't far, so I came over here immediately. I wasn't getting a good feeling."
Of course he wasn't. Breyson is always in tune with everything that involves me. Why would I be surprised now? I guess it's time to get used to the fact that he will always be my night in shining armor. There is something comforting in knowing that...
Chapter 12
Kinzleigh
It's still hard to believe Breyson is a college football player. Every time there is a game and I see him sitting on the sidelines I could jump up and down I'm so happy for him. He may not get any playing time¸ but he deserves this. He's worked his butt off in school and in practice. Tonight is game night and like every other game we are all going out to support him whether he plays a second or not.
Bryce has had his shots this week, but I'm still not comfortable taking him out in a crowd of that size, so Mims and Pops volunteered to stay behind and watch him.
Breyson had to be there with the team, so I'll be riding with my parents there and then back with him. I look in the mirror at myself. It's kind of ironic his school colors ended up being the same as they were in high school only he has changed from a warrior to an eagle. I smile as I look at my reflection in the mirror.
Breyson had me a jersey made to match his. He always was big about marking me with his number when it came to football. He gave it to me after his first dressed out game. His instructions were that it had to be worn at every game so that all the college guys would know I was taken. The thought causes me to roll my eyes with a smile. As if the large diamond on my finger doesn't say that already.
I tousle my curls in the mirror after applying my lip gloss, the finishing touch of my makeup job. A small noise sounds from Bryce's mouth. I look at him through the mirror. He's sitting in the middle of mine and Breyson's bed in his carrier, flailing his arms back and forth staring at me.
"What do you think, little boy? Does Mommy look good enough for Daddy?" At the sound of my voice he begins to smile. I've been working my butt off at home during the day with a couple different workout DVDS until I can get back in a gym and it's paying off. I'm finally back in my pre-pregnancy jeans and more comfortable in my own skin now that I'm toning up.
A knock sounds at the back door. "Guess who's here? I bet it's Nana," I say in a singsong voice to Bryce. I turn and put his diaper bag strap on my shoulder before picking up his carrier in both hands.
We walk down the hall until we're in the kitchen. I place the handle of his carrier on my arm and balance the weight on my thigh so I can free up a hand to open the door.
"We're ready," I say as I open the door, only it's not my parents. I don't recognize the person standing on the other side. She's definitely beautiful, exotic kind of. Her hair is long and silky black, curled in bouncing waves. She has perky boobs peaking out of a low cut shirt. She has a small, but curvy frame fit into skinny jeans and leather riding boots. Her y
ellow shirt against her bronze skin would make any girl jealous. She's also accented in diamonds, stating that she's not hurting for money either.
"Can I help you?"
She smiles, but it's not a polite smile. It's the smile that girls use when they clearly think they are better than you, and also the one that says they are in no way here to befriend you, but to take something that is yours.
"I'm here to see Breyson," she says.
My heart halts in my chest. Please tell me she is not who I think she is. I am willing to beg. You know how sometimes you just know without a shadow of doubt that something is a particular way even though you hope you're wrong? Her accent tells me I'm right, but with everything I am I want to be wrong.
"Who are you?"
Her smile spreads, turning into a malicious grin. She runs her fingers through her long bouncing girls as an act of confidence. She looks down at Bryce and back up at me. "I'm Angelique. I thought I'd surprise him with a visit, maybe to catch up," she says, emphasizing that word, hinting at what she really means. "My plane from Spain just landed an hour ago. Is he here?"
This is that moment when no matter how secure you feel in your relationship or how much your man loves you, one look at a girl like her and knowing he's been with her, sends it all crashing down.
She starts looking over my shoulder as if she's waiting on him to walk out. My eyes start to fill with tears. I will not let her see me cry. I will not let her get to me. I take a deep breath. If I ever had a poker face now is the time to use it.
"He's not here. You need to leave. I'm sorry you wasted a trip, but it's best if you go back to where you came from. He doesn't want you here. If Breyson wanted to be with you he wouldn't have come back."
"Maybe you should let him make that decision," she quips. "The truth may surprise you."
"He already did when he slid this ring on my finger." She's really pissing me off.
Her stare turns into one of hatred. "That baby doesn't even look like him. Are you sure it's his?"
"You need to get the hell off my property. Don't stand on my doorstep insulting me. Breyson knows damn well that this is his child and you have no idea what you're even talking about. Breyson isn't here and his location isn't your concern. He's taken. Go find someone else. No one likes a home wrecker."
I start to slam the door when she catches it, holding it open. I notice her reading the school name across the front of my jersey. I want to scream. Why is it that every time my life starts moving in the right direction something has to knock me over and laugh in my face? I get that my life isn't perfect and it never will be, but dammit I wish everyone would leave Breyson and me alone. I swear the universe hates me.
"Sweetie, men are predictable. All it takes is planting the right seed. I came back to make him mine, and I'm not leaving until I get what I came for." She winks at me, ensuring that I hate her even more. "See you tonight," she says, and turns to leave.
I look down to Bryce now sleeping. I shut the door and set his carrier down on the floor. Pressing my back to the door, I slide down and break down, no longer to hold the tears back. I feel so childish, but what if he does leave me? I have put him through hell so many times. What if he decides I wasn't worth it and chooses to be with her instead? I was so sure he would never choose anyone else, but there is always that possibility.
My nerves are attacking my stomach, making me sick. I start to gag, quickly run to the nearest trashcan, and empty my stomach of the previously consumed meal. I throw up until I can't throw up any more. I grab a paper towel from the roll on the kitchen counter, wiping my mouth. I catch sight of my engagement ring and something clicks that has never clicked before.
I don't care what it takes Breyson is mine. Somewhere along the way I lost my confidence. I became this scared little girl afraid to stand up for the things that I want. It's time to stop letting life trample all over me. If she wants to fight over him then the bitch can bring it on. I have the advantage. I'm his fiancé.
The first step is fixing the mess I've made of my face. I need to step up my game. Maybe I'll surprise him with an overnight stay after the game, just the two of us. The more I linger on that thought, the more perfect the idea becomes. I have the perfect plan, but I need Mom involved to pull it off.
I fix my makeup, making my eyes smoky instead of the natural earth shades that they were before. I amplify my eyelashes with the mascara I reserve for special occasions. The shit is that expensive, but it's totally worth it. I walk over to my jewelry box and pull out my diamond studs, changing out my silver hoops with them.
Grabbing ahold of the necklace that matches Breyson's, I kiss the half heart. "I'm counting on you to triumph everything else," I mumble. Neither of us has taken them off since we put them on. I also remove my silver watch and place it on my left wrist.
Looking in the mirror I still feel plain. I look at my watch. I still have some time before my parents get here, and Bryce is still sleeping in his carrier that is now back in the middle of our bed.
It's going to be obvious that I'm letting her get to me if I straighten my hair now, and besides, Breyson likes it better curly. I remember the way he looked at me the day I walked down the stairs that week in California when Mom did my hair in a low ball of curls. I don't have time to wait on Mom to do the small braid at the front, so I'll omit it. It won't take me long.
I insert the last pin and spray it in place with hairspray. I look down at my black converse shoes. They are comfortable, but they no longer go with the rest of me. The jersey can be dressy or casual, but my hair and makeup says I'm dolling up.
I walk over to our closet and glance through all of my shoes. I have a pair of wedges that are comfortable, but will I look stupid wearing shoes like that to a football game? I've never dressed up for a football game. I've always been a cheerleader or dressed for comfort when we went to college and NFL games.
Screw it. It's worth it. Breyson said we would be close to the student section, and I remember how some of the sorority girls dress. I pick them up and walk back over to my bed, changing shoes. Luckily, I painted my toenails yesterday.
Just as I finish by spraying myself with perfume I hear a knock at the door. I really hope it's my parents this time. I don't think I can handle any more surprises. I might as well go make sure before I pick up Bryce again.
When I get to the door and open it I'm relieved to see Mom standing on the other side. "Hey, honey, are you ready?"
"Almost. There is something I want to do. In fact, I need this. Will you help me? It's kind of big and I am really sorry it's late notice, but something unexpected happened."
Mom lights up with a smile. "Sure, baby, what is it," she asks in a chirpy voice, confirming that she's in as good of a mood as she looks.
I'm just now realizing why. I never have been one to ask her for help or want to have those special talks of boys and friends, nor have I made a huge effort to do those mother/daughter things that most normal girls enjoy. I've always been a brat really, stuck in my own little self-absorbed cheerleading bubble. The few times we've talked or done things were because she initiated it, and I dreaded every second. It's kind of sad really. I'll never get that do-over in life. Being a mom myself has opened my eyes to a lot of things that matter, a real relationship with your parents being one.
Starting tonight I'm changing that. One of these days I'm going to look back and my mother won't be here to do things with anymore. I need to take advantage of every second now while I have the chance or I'm going to regret it. "Tell Dad to kill the engine. It's going to take a while. We may even miss kickoff."
She signals something to Dad and starts to walk inside. I move back to let her enter. She takes one look at me and can tell something is different. I've never once dressed this way for sports.
She nods at me and wraps her arm around my shoulder. "Tell me about it. We have time. I'll help you anyway I can."
I hope she can, because fighting over a boy is something I'm completely out
of my league on. Girls can be evil and I don't know what Angelique has up her sleeve. A girl used to getting what she wants can be lethal to any relationship. I've witnessed that with my own eyes. I know Mom can help me arrange the other.
Breyson
I'm sitting in front of my locker, suited up. I have no idea why I'm even nervous. I'm only a bench warmer. I probably won't see any play time this entire season. I haven’t so far. I’ve never been happier to be a bench warmer though. I've worked my ass off for it. At least I’m part of the team. Maybe now I can relax.
"Yo, Brey, you alright? You kind of look like shit." Fisher sits on the bench beside me, but facing the opposite direction. He's the first string quarterback. We kind of hit it off when I started coming to practice. He came from Arkansas when he was offered a full ride. The guy is pretty cool. He's the closest thing I have now that my brothers are gone all the time. I don't really see anyone from high school anymore. Most are in school and scattered, went off to work, or we just no longer have anything in common because they stay out drinking and partying, something I'm no longer interested in.
"Yeah, I'm just nervous for some reason. I have no idea why. You would think this was my first time to dress out. I never got nervous over football when I started every game, and now I'm not even playing and feel like I could throw up." Fisher is tall and built, but lean, like me. He has the same dirty blonde hair, but his is a little longer and flips at the ends. He has darker features than me like his eyes and skin.
"Maybe that means you’ll get some play time then. Sometimes our gut knows more than our minds do. You got a girl coming, man?"
"Yeah. My whole family will be here. I tried to talk them out of it, but I guess when you have abnormal circumstances they don't want to miss anything. You?"
Lasting Fate Page 20