Well, he currently is taking a shot out of some very nice cleavage, so maybe this would be a good time to talk to him, before he does something really stupid, something that could alter the course of his life.
Walking over, I place my hand on his shoulder, smile at his bartender, then lead him away.
He looks up at me, saying, “Don’t tell Skye I did that.” He gives me a look. “I know you’re good at keeping secrets.”
Guess he’s still not over it. “She won’t hear it from me.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says, blinking his eyes hard one time, the alcohol hitting him.
“Maybe now’s not the best time to have this conversation,” I say.
“How’s my sister?”
I grin. I don’t mean to, but she makes me so damn happy. “She’s good, but missing you.”
He looks off into the distance, looking like he could probably see the ocean from here. I hope the glow of the city below is like a lighthouse leading him back to his family. “Of all the women in the world.”
“If I could’ve stopped it, I would’ve,” I say. “But I love her.”
His eyes turn back to me. “I know you do.” His head shakes. “I’ve seen it for years. You’re always there for her. I know you’d do anything for her. I just never thought it was more than friendship. It blows my fucking mind. I mean, we talk about women all the time.”
“You don’t talk about Skye. I think that’s what happens when you really love the girl. You don’t go spilling shit to your buddies because she’s too special, and what you have is too important. At least that’s how I feel about Ainsley,” I say, feeling like we just might be getting somewhere.
“She lied to me. You lied to me. For months,” he says.
“For that, I’m sorry,” I say.
“For that?” he asks, his voice losing some of its friendly tone.
“I’m not sorry for loving your sister. I could never be sorry for that,” I say. “If you want to stay pissed at me, that’s fine, but I need you to talk to her, Brody. She’s putting on a brave face, but I know she’s hurting. Neither one of us wants that.”
He nods.
Thank God, finally some progress. “I appreciate it,” I say, extending my hand.
When he takes it, he pulls me close. “Don’t hurt her, Rhett. I swear to God, if you hurt her . . .”
“I won’t,” I promise quickly.
He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this whole thing. It’s all I can think about. And honestly, I can’t think of someone who’d love her more than you would.”
He grins and for the first time in weeks, I feel like I’m going to be lucky enough to keep my best friend and marry his sister.
He slaps my back then grabs two shots off the tray of a passing waitress. “Time to celebrate. You need to catch up!”
Maybe it was the shot he took that paved this path. Alcohol does tend to make all things look better. Even the ugliest people look hot with beer googles on. Bad ideas seem great, and dating your best friend’s sister doesn’t matter anymore. Alcohol made Brody forgiving.
Problem is, it makes me stupid.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FOURTEEN MONTHS AGO
AINSLEY
The penis is not a pretty organ. Wait, is it even an organ? A gland? What the hell is it? Okay, the penis is not a pretty body part. So why Skye’s friends decorated the private room at the wine bar in penis paraphernalia, I’ll never know. There have to be classier bachelorette party decorations. There’s a big banner that reads “Same Penis Forever” in neon pink, penis shaped shot glasses, penis straws in our ice water. There’s even a gigantic penis piñata in the middle of the table. I have it on good authority that it’s filled with flavored condoms. Gross!
And I’m sorry, but I am not eating that cake. Penis shaped with chocolate icing for the pubic hair. Um, not so much. But Skye’s having a blast, laughing and carrying on. All her friends are here and her fellow nurses. I know most of them. It’s a good group, even if their party decorating taste is questionable. At least the wine bar is nice. We started the evening with a private tasting of a half dozen different wines, which turned into a couple dozen bottles. That coupled with very little food, and let’s just say the local car service companies are going to love us tonight.
Actually, I’ve barely had anything beyond the few sips at the tasting. Most people drink when they’re nervous, but I’m too anxious to even swallow. Rhett’s at Brody’s bachelor party just a mile or so from here. He didn’t go there with the intention of having some big discussion with Brody, but I don’t think either one of them would be able to ignore the situation, especially if they are drinking. Alcohol makes for very loose lips. I just hope it doesn’t make for tempers, too.
Glancing down at my phone, I discreetly hit the home button, making sure I didn’t miss any calls or texts in the cock loving craziness. Nothing. I really thought I would’ve heard from Rhett by now about how things went with my overprotective brother. I’ve had my phone next to me on the table since we arrived.
I jump when I hear a ring, only it’s not mine, but Skye’s.
“It’s Brody,” she says, her eyes flying to me. “I swear if he got arrested, I’m going to kill him.”
Not taking my eyes off her, I imagine that he’s calling her pissed off about Rhett and me. She gets to her feet, her hand going through her hair. She looked completely wasted five seconds ago, but whatever Brody just said sobered her right up.
A few other phones start to vibrate and ring. Something bad must have happened. I really hope Brody and Rhett didn’t come to blows. I stare down at my phone, willing it to ring. Why isn’t it? Why hasn’t Rhett called me?
Skye’s hand lands on my shoulder. Every eye at the table suddenly lands on me.
“There’s been an accident. Rhett’s hurt.”
“Ainsley, did you hear me?” Skye says, now both her hands on my shoulder.
The laughter and fun that filled the air five seconds ago is now replaced by a buzz, a white noise. I can’t think. I can’t focus.
I see Skye’s mouth moving. I hear what she’s saying.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
It’s wrong. How much did I drink?
“Rhett’s fine,” I say, reaching for my purse and digging inside. “He’s fine. He’s with Brody . . .”
“Honey,” she says. “Brody called me. We need to get to the hospital.”
“No,” I say, emptying the contents of my purse on the table. “He’s fine. I’ll call him. You’ll see. This is some mistake. I just need to find my phone.”
Slowly, too slowly, her arm slides in front of me, reaching toward the table. “Here’s your phone.”
I take it, holding it in my hand, and I stare down at it, like I’ve forgotten how to use it.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
“Is he dead?” I hear one of Skye’s friends ask in a whisper.
My head whips around, and suddenly I’m on my feet. “He’s not dead!”
Skye’s squeezing my shoulders now. “We need to get to the hospital.”
“He’s not dead,” I say and look at Skye for confirmation. Her eyes leave mine. “I love him. He can’t be. I love him. Skye, tell me,” I cry, begging now.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, tears rushing down her face. “We need to get there.”
I hear someone say they’ve called a car service for us. Turning around, I knock my chair to the floor. Instinctively, I start to bend down, but someone else says, “I’ve got it. You go.” Another person hands me my purse, stuffing the contents back inside. I should thank them, but all their voices and faces are blurring together.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
My legs start to move. Where’s the door? Skye takes me by my elbow, saying, “This way.”
High heels aren’t made for hurrying, and I wobble. Skye looks at me, and I step out of my shoes, leaving them behind. I’m aware that everyone is staring at me, like they know something
I don’t know.
“He’s not dead,” I say to Skye when we reach the sidewalk. “I would know. I would feel it.”
She just nods. Goose bumps cover my arms, and I start to shiver. I’ve had this feeling before. When the fire came. When my parents died. It was like the flames were burning me, too.
But Rhett is not dead. He can’t be. I love him. But I know better than anyone that love doesn’t stop bad things from happening. Love didn’t stop my parents from dying, and love can’t . . .
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
Skye frantically rubs my arms, looking up and down the street. “Where is the damn car?”
Red lights come around the corner, the sound of the siren blaring through the street, drowning out the buzzing in my head. An ambulance speeds past us. “Rhett!” I scream, taking off down the sidewalk, bare feet, chasing it. The cement pounds against my heels, sending a shooting pain up the back of my legs. My heart thunders against my chest, and I can hear my own blood rushing through my veins. “Rhett!”
Doing my best to dodge pedestrians on the street, I struggle to keep up, the sound of the siren fading more and more. I can’t lose it. I know he may not be inside, but feel like as long as I can hear the sirens and see the lights, he’s okay.
Pushing harder, the ambulance gets to the corner, only briefly slowing down to make a wide turn. The sound of the siren dulls, the lights growing dimmer until they’re gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PRESENT DAY
You are my best friend.
A. Rose
RHETT
Ass in chair, staring at my phone, the same routine as yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. My fingers tap my leg, but I don’t feel it. The last time I felt my legs was when I jumped into the shallow end of that hotel pool. My butt has been stuck in this chair since.
Paralyzed.
Wheelchair.
Life as I knew it—over.
The life I planned with Ainsley ended before it started. That was my call, not hers. God knows, she fought me on it. In the end, I won. I was a complete bastard to her, but I got what I wanted.
Her freedom.
Not consumed with my bowel management, bladder function, or if or when I’d ever be able to get it up again. I didn’t want that for her. I love her too much for that. I’m not going to be one of those miracle stories where the person learns to walk again.
The irony is, I can’t feel a thing below the waist. Yet . . .
My hand lands on my chest.
I feel everything.
How much I miss her. How much I love her. How bad I want to see her, touch her, taste her, feel her.
I was just going about my life and boom. Everything changed.
Everything I had planned. Everything I wanted was gone with one splash in the water. I don’t remember the first few weeks after the accident, but I remember exactly the moment I realized my fate. It’s not the doctors’ words that I recall or my parents’ sobbing. Those have faded with time. No, that’s not what haunts me.
Ainsley’s smile.
We just heard I’d never walk again, and she smiled at me. I’m sure she meant it to be reassuring. I know she was just thankful I was alive, but it broke my heart worse than my back could ever be.
In the months after I was released from the hospital, I stayed with my parents, not returning to work, not seeing my friends, not living. It was more than feeling sorry for myself. It was the anger than did me in. Anger paralyzed me more than my accident. For a long time, I couldn’t see my way out of it.
Her engagement ring dangles from a chain around my neck, as a reminder of what anger cost me. When I think of the things I said and did to her . . . Of how poorly I treated her . . . It makes my stomach churn, and my chest ache. It was only after I totally crushed Ainsley that I came here, to an inpatient rehab in Atlanta. My parents basically forced me, no longer able to take the hell I was putting myself through.
It’s helped. Only about five hours from Charleston, my parents make the trip in to see me a lot. I’ll be leaving here soon, ready to live independently. What holds me back now isn’t my legs. It’s the people I’ve hurt.
I want to say I’m sorry to Ainsley. I need her to know that. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her, held her, touched her. A year since I broke her heart, made her cry. It’s past time I apologize.
I pick up my phone, punching the first number. I’ve gotten this far before.
The second number.
My mom and I are close, but I wouldn’t say I always do what she tells me. That was never the case, but when’s she’s right, she’s right. Her words echo in my head. You’re hurting her on purpose. As shitty as I was to Ainsley, even I know you aren’t supposed to intentionally hurt the ones you love.
Third number.
Sadie sits up, her tongue hanging out, her tail starting to wag across the floor like a broom, encouraging me.
Fourth number.
Maybe I should leave her alone. From what my parents told me, she has her own store. Her online status tells me that she’s trying to move on. It’s not fair for me to risk that. I pushed her out of my life.
Fifth number.
This is the farthest I’ve ever gotten. Fuck, I hate the new calling requirements, that you have to use the area code before all calls. It makes the process even longer and harder. Instead of seven little numbers, I have to do eleven. The damn one plus the area code.
Sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth numbers come quickly. Before I lose my nerve, I dial the tenth number. Just one more to go.
My finger hovers over the keys. Should I press it? Would she even answer?
I hang up the phone, and Sadie slumps back down.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PRESENT DAY
AINSLEY
I want to hate him. I’ve tried to hate him, but I can’t, and seeing his parents the other day brought everything back. All the love, all the hope, all the loss, all the pain.
At this point, I doubt I’ll ever get over what happened with Rhett. I tried. I really did. I believe in the marriage vows, in sickness and in health. I know we weren’t married yet, but we were engaged to be.
Will I ever be done crying over that man?
I cried almost continuously after he was paralyzed. He was out of it for weeks between surgeries and the trauma, so I let myself cry basically all the time. Once I knew he’d live, the tears slowly subsided. Yes, I wanted to be strong for him, but it was more than that. I won’t say I was grateful he was paralyzed because that would be sick and twisted, but there was definitely gratitude in my heart. Life without Rhett was so unimaginable to me at the time that I focused on him being alive more than his injury.
I’ll never forget that night—the bachelor party—how badly I wanted Rhett to go, hoping it would help the Brody situation. I teased Rhett he could blame me if it all when to shit. Little did I know how that night would turn out. I’ll never forget the look on Skye’s face as she answered her phone at the wine bar—panic, utter fear.
My phone never rang that night. In fact, I never got another call from Rhett. I stayed at the hospital, never left his side except when the doctors forced me to. God knows, Rhett is as stubborn as they come. Once he broke my heart and banned me from his hospital room, he never called me again.
All this time, not one call.
I never even considered he’d break up with me. That was the furthest thing from my mind. I knew he was depressed. I knew how bad things were, but I thought we’d face it together. Isn’t that what love is?
He banned me from visiting, but that didn’t stop me from sitting in the hospital waiting room day after day. After he was released and went to his parents’ house, I still tried to see him. I tried every day until what should have been our wedding day. That was the deadline I gave myself—a little over six months from the date of his accident. After that, I never tried again—no calls, no emails, no letters. I didn’t keep in contact with his parents. I had to make a cle
an break. If anyone around me has updates on Rhett, they keep it to themselves, and for that I’m thankful. It simply hurts too much.
Tears roll off my cheeks. I have to stop this.
Brody and Skye are on their way over to my condo, and I need to put on a cheery face. They are having some problems of their own. They don’t need mine. I invited them over, thinking it might be good for all of us. We don’t hang out as a group much anymore. Going from the four of us to the three of us seemed wrong. So when I see them now, it’s usually separately.
Holding a washcloth under some cold water, I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. I avoid mirrors a lot these days. They always say when you’re in love, you glow, but no one ever talks about what you look like when you lose love, when it punches you in the gut. Love has done some serious damage. The glow is replaced by a dullness. I’m barely a shadow of the woman I was—a dark figure moving through the sunlight.
Smiling and laughing don’t come as easily to me.
Loss has replaced love.
Everything from my skin, to my eyes, to my hair has lost its shine. Taking the washcloth, I apply it to my eyes. Eye creams, cucumbers, cold compresses, I know the dark circles under my eyes are beyond help, but I try anyway.
That’s me. I try. I try more than most. I try longer than I should. I try so hard it hurts. Other women would’ve given up on Rhett the day he tossed them aside, but not me. Some women might have dumped him when he was injured. I never even considered it. I try. I try until my heart will no longer let me.
The phone rings, but I keep the cloth on my eyes as I pick up.
“Ainsley?”
The cloth drops to the floor with my heart.
Nothing can prepare you for your ex calling. Nothing. Why today? Why now?
“Rhett?”
He clears his throat, like that’s going to erase the awkwardness of this moment. “Hey, how are you? How’s Charleston? Brody and Skye?”
Just Love Page 11