My need to hear his voice, to be comforted by his words overcomes my pride. Dialing his number, my heart lurches in my chest.
It doesn’t even ring, just goes straight to voicemail. “It’s Dax. Leave a message.” The prerecorded sound of his voice doesn’t compare to actually hearing him. It rips open the hole of his absence, pulls him farther away from me somehow.
My pride rears its ugly head once again, making me end the call before uttering a word.
I might want him here with me—need him, if I’m being honest.
But he’s not and nothing can change that.
Sleep completely eludes me throughout the night.
Exhaustion flows through my veins, lifting box after box as we move. And despite the back breaking work of moving, sleep eludes me again.
It isn’t until the night before I have to pick up Nikki that I finally lose the battle. Even though I told them it was completely unnecessary, Ty and Lexie insist on staying with me, promising to take shifts throughout the night.
With the early morning sun, Violet bounces on my bed, demanding my attention. “Is it time to get Mommy, yet? Is it? Is it?”
Catching her as she jumps up and down, I pull her to my side. “You need to chill on the jumping as a wake-up, call. It’s not cool.”
Completely ignoring me, she asks, “Well, can we go get her now?”
Laughing, I pull my phone from my nightstand. Miraculously, we both managed to sleep past eight. I’m sure it has something to do with the exhaustion of the move—and the exhaustion of constantly looking over my shoulder at every turn, on my part at least.
When I say, “Well, we’re not supposed to be there until noon,” Violet’s lip actually quivers. Recovering as quickly as I can, I say, “But if we get dressed and grab breakfast on the way, I’m sure we can get there way before that.”
Without another word, Violet races to her room, which still sits in mostly unpacked boxes, to get ready to pick up her mom.
Luckily, my exhaustion hasn’t had too much of an effect on my distraction techniques. When Violet suggests just going through a fast food drive-through for breakfast, I lure her into a longer, sit-down breakfast at a local diner we discovered last night.
After ordering her chocolate chip pancakes, Violet sits quietly. “What’s going on? You’re still excited, right?” I ask, troubled by her sudden change in attitude.
“Uh huh,” she mutters, unconvincingly.
“Hey,” I coax, sliding into the booth next to her. “Talk to me.”
Tipping her chin up with my finger, her sad eyes meet mine. “What if she doesn’t love me anymore?”
“Oh, Violet,” squeezing an arm around her, I hug her tightly, “that could never ever happen. The world would have to stop spinning for your mommy to stop loving you.” Her teary eyes look up at me, wide as saucers.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And me, too, you know. I love you this much.” Holding my arms out to the sides, she laughs at my silly gesture.
“I love you the same,” her words are muffled against my chest as she hugs me back, her previous worries about not being loved enough seemingly gone for the moment.
For the briefest of seconds, they reappear again when we pull up to the rehab center. But when Nikki, who is waiting out front for us, races up to Violet, and nearly tackles her to the ground, all of her worries vanish for good.
“Ready to go home?” I ask, wrapping my arms around the both of them.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Nikki’s eyes meet mine over Violet’s head, tears threatening to spill over the brim.
The whole ride home, Violet chews off Nikki’s ear about our new apartment. Needless to say, Violet is beyond excited to share a room with Nikki. Listening to the two of them fills my heart with a warmth it hasn’t known in quite some time.
Nikki lets Violet make her dinner. So after our gourmet meal of macaroni and cheese, followed by banana split sundaes, Violet falls asleep in her mother’s arms.
“So how does it feel to be home?” I ask Nikki after she puts Violet to bed.
She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Really, really good. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready for it this time.” Her eyes are different, clearer, more her than they’ve ever been.
We spend a little time talking about normal stuff—work schedules, bill due dates, nights that she’ll have meetings, Violet’s fifth birthday at the end of the month and her starting kindergarten in September.
Twisting to face her, I build up the courage to ask her what I hope won’t break her. “Nik, I need to ask you something.”
She nods, her face falling slightly.
“I swear I could remember you mentioning the name Carson Smith before.” The instant his name is out in the air between us, she braces herself as if she’s been physically hurt.
“What about him?”
“You need to tell me who he is.”
“Why? Why do you care all of a sudden?” Her tone is defensive.
Grabbing her shoulders, I gently rub her upper arms. “Nik, I’m not judging. I promise,” I reassure her. “He paid me a visit down at the shop. He wanted to know where Violet was.”
“Oh, God.” Her hand covers her mouth. Her eyes widen in fear. “No, no, no.”
“Shh, it’s okay. I filed a report with the police, but you need to tell me about him. And we’ll need to let them know, too.”
“No, I can’t. You’ll hate me.”
“I could never hate you. Ever. Now, please. Tell me so I can help you.”
“Why are you so good to me?” she asks, all serious and disbelieving.
“‘Cause you’re all I got.”
Steadying herself, she smiles back at me and tells me all about Carson and all the things she wishes she could undo.
“He was my dealer, and when I ran out of money, he let me pay in other ways.” Her admission is painful to hear and probably more painful for her to say aloud. “It wasn’t long before I owed him more than I could pay in that way. So he started whoring me out. I was so high; I didn’t know what was going on half the time.”
“That fucking asshole,” I curse, hating him for what he did to her.
“I don’t really know how long it went on for, months, I’m sure. Then one morning, I found myself in a hospital, going through massive withdrawals. Turns out he beat me so badly, he just dumped me at the curb. A few orderlies found me next to a dumpster and brought me in. That’s when I found out I was pregnant.”
Remembering that time all too well, I recall how she made her way back into my life at that point. Knowing she turned to me in her time of need, an odd feeling of pride washes over me. “I remember when you told me.”
“I was scared out of my mind. How I managed to stay sober long enough to have a healthy baby, I’ll never know.”
A long, unsettled silence falls on us as we both run through the events that led to her most recent stint in rehab.
“We both know me staying clean didn’t last too long. Before I knew it, I had racked up a huge debt with Carson again. Violet is his and he must have known it. Maybe something in my face gave it away. He told me if I couldn’t pay him back, he would take her away from me. Sell her on some black market.”
“Nik.” My gut roils with sickness. “Why did you get so angry with me then?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was a failure. I wanted to take care of it myself. You’re always saving me and I . . . all I ever do is let you down.”
“Listen to me,” I hold her hands and stare into her eyes, making certain she doesn’t miss a single word I say to her, “you and Violet mean the world to me. From here on out, you need to let me know when you need me. I’m here for you because I want to be, not because I have to be. Okay?”
She nods, letting her tears flow freely down her face. Soon her quiet crying rises to loud sobs. Holding her and calming her down reminds me of the moments when I’d calm Dax through his attacks.
�
��We’ll figure it all out, Nik. I promise.”
Half-heartedly, she agrees before going to bed. We’ll go to the police station in the morning to tell them what she’s just told me. Hopefully, her information will help them catch Carson.
With my arms folded behind my head, I stare up at the ceiling thinking about the crazy turns my life has taken in the last two months. Somehow, everything seems to have fallen in place—well, somewhat, at least. Nikki’s home and Violet’s here with her. That’s all that matters for now.
But then I think of Dax, and whatever thoughts I had about feeling complete and whole, fly out the window.
It’s foolish of me to keep thinking about him like this, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that I miss him.
Knowing that my life would be better, fuller somehow, if he were a part of it, is a truth I simply can’t ignore.
It’s that thought that keeps me up later that night. And even with the only people in the world who mean anything to me sleeping in the room next to mine, I feel as if some vast emptiness is pulling me under.
“Mom,” I call into their room. It’s only hers now, though. That thought sobers me, stops me in my tracks. Leaning against the doorframe, I watch her as she fumbles with the clasp of her necklace. “Here, let me.”
My hands aren’t much steadier, but I clip it after only one failed attempt. “The car is here to take us to the church.” She looks up at me over her shoulder, her eyes swollen from the non-stop crying. “Come on. I’ll walk you down. Lance is already set to go with Carmen.”
She wobbles as she stands. Using my arm for leverage, she straightens herself. “You look so grown up in your uniform.” Her sadness morphs into pride as she runs her hands down the front of my uniform. “You know your dad was really proud of the man you became. He talked about you non-stop to all his old war buddies. Well, to anyone who would listen, really,” she laughs and it’s so good to hear. “I’m proud of you, too,” she adds as we walk down the stairs.
Chloe and Devon are waiting for us in the living room. As Mom gathers a few last minute things for the funeral, Chloe pulls me in for a long, sorrow-filled hug. “How you holding up?” she asks, wiping tears from her eyes. Devon stands strong at her side, offering me a silent nod of condolence.
“I’m okay, I think. Thanks for coming out. You know you didn’t have to.”
“Will you shut your face,” Chloe scowls at me. “You’re my best friend. Of course I’d be here for you.”
Behind her, I see Tonka dancing around by the back door. “Come outside with me while I walk him one last time?”
“Go ahead. I’ll help her get out into the limo,” Devon offers, nodding toward Mom. I’m more than thankful he’s giving Chloe and me a few minutes alone.
When we’re outside, I drop to a large Adirondack chair, letting the sadness of the last two and a half weeks weigh me down. “I guess you couldn’t get in touch with him.”
She shakes her head. “No, sweetie, I’m sorry. I tried the cell number you gave me, but it’s been disconnected and so has the house line. So it wasn’t just you he was ignoring. I’m sorry.” Shaking my head, I feel a pang of hurt spike in my chest. I had been secretly holding out hope that my attempts to contact him after Dad died were unsuccessful because he was pissed at me, because he was cutting me out. Chloe getting in touch with him was my last hope—one that was obviously a futile one.
Shrugging, I try my best not to make a big deal out of the fact that Beck has so easily erased me from his life. “It’s not your fault.”
“I even went past his apartment, but he must have moved already. Even the few times I tried to catch him at his shop, he wasn’t there. Dax, I’m so sorry. I know what he meant to you.”
“Yeah, well apparently I didn’t mean that much to him,” I spit angrily. Standing quickly from my chair, I call Tonka back inside. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” I say to Chloe when we get back inside. “It’s just–”
She cuts me off. “No explanation necessary. I’m here for you no matter what.”
And with those words, we walk out of my childhood home to go bury my father.
“Thank you for coming,” Mom says to the last of the guests to leave after the funeral. With a soft click, she closes the door behind her, sagging against it. On a deep breath, she pushes off the door and walks toward the kitchen.
“Mom,” I grab the sponge from her hand, “go lie down or take a bath. Go do something, but let me take care of this.”
Shaking her head, she sighs, “But I can help.”
“No, really. Go take care of yourself.” Lance adds, stepping into the room. “Carmen just took Isabel home. Let me and Jake clean up so you can rest.”
“I guess I can’t argue with the both of you, huh?” she laughs, tossing the dishtowel at Lance.
“Nope, you certainly can’t.” Kissing her cheek, I gently shove her out of the room, toward the stairs.
It takes about half a sink of dishes before either one of us says anything. Surprisingly, it’s Lance who speaks up first.
“So what are you going to do? Are you staying here?”
Passing him a dish to dry, I shrug. “Not sure.”
“Want to talk about it?” Though there’s uncertainty in his question, there’s also genuine interest. It’s more than shocking that he’s making an effort with me.
We ditch the rest of the dishes and make our way outside. Lance grabs a few beers on the way and Tonka trails behind us. We sit, facing the mountains, letting the unsettled silence of our newly empty home buzz all around us.
“So, what are you not sure about?” Lance asks before taking a large gulp of his beer.
Reaching down next to me, I grab a tennis ball and chuck it across the yard for Tonka to chase. “You know I always felt out of place here. You were always an unreachable goal for me, a reminder of all the things I’d never be.”
“Are you kidding me?” He chokes on his beer. “You were the one who could do no wrong. ‘Don’t rough up your brother. He’s smaller than you. You know better,’” he mimics Mom with uncanny perfectionism. “I can’t tell you how many times I felt like she loved you more than me.” His admission shocks me into silence.
Tonka drops the ball at my feet. After throwing it back out to him again, I chug back about half of my beer. “It was more than that, though. Sure, feeling like I had to live up to your legacy didn’t make for the best childhood memories, but I always felt like I didn’t belong because I was . . .” Letting my words fade away, I reconsider talking to him about something which he’s made it perfectly clear he wants no part.
“Because you’re gay,” he finishes my sentence for me, not at all sounding as disgusted as he initially did.
“Yeah,” I agree, keeping my eyes trained on the massive mountains out in the distance.
“But that’s different now.”
“What?” My face twists in confusion. “How is it different? I’m still gay.”
“Obviously,” he admits, turning to face me. Letting out a deep sigh, he actually looks torn. “Listen, I didn’t react as well as I should have when I barged in on you. And again when we were talking the other day, but I was an ass. You’re my brother no matter what. And even if I didn’t approve, who gives a fuck?”
Mouth agape, I can’t believe I’m hearing those words from his mouth.
“I mean,” he continues, “if you hated me because I loved Carmen, I’d tell you to fuck off. The fact that I have the support of my family makes it easier, yeah. But the bottom line is that you need to live the life that’s going to make you happy.”
Finishing the last of my beer, I let his words sink in.
“So, I know and Mom knows. Obviously Chloe knows. What are you going to do now that your secret’s out and it’s not nearly as big of a deal as you thought?”
“But what about Mom?”
“She’ll be fine,” he answers quickly. “It’ll take some time and it won’t be easy, but that’s her life. She�
��s the strongest woman we know, so for you to decide what to do with your life based on what she might do with hers sounds like a really lame move.” Standing from his seat, he grabs the ball and sends Tonka racing across the huge yard. “Listen,” he says, turning back to me, “you’re happy there, right? You’re happy with him?”
I nod, the words I need to express what I feel for Beck lodging in my throat.
“So it’s easy then. You need to go home.”
Home.
Turning the word over in my head for a few minutes, I wonder if I can really call Long Beach home. It was supposed to be a temporary place, somewhere I’d figure out who I was so I could come back here and be comfortable living the life I was supposed to live.
But what if that life is the life I’m supposed to live?
What if all of the challenges and miscommunications keeping us apart are all there just to make me realize Beck is the one I’m supposed to build that life with?
Nothing that’s worth anything comes without a challenge.
Holding out the longneck of my beer, I clink it together with Lance’s. “Thanks for the advice.”
He laughs, smiling over at me. “No problem. So when are you going to leave?”
“I’m that transparent, huh?”
“Like glass,” he jokes.
Later that night, lying back in my bed, I think about how different I feel. What once used to be a place in which I felt so incredibly disconnected has now become a place where I feel like I can be myself. Thankful that Mom and Lance are willing to accept me doesn’t negate the idea that for so long I was unwilling to accept myself.
The longer I lay here thinking about it, the more I realize that it’s because of Beck and the strength he sees in me, that here will never really be home to me.
“Are you sure going up there unannounced is a good idea?” Chloe is leaning up against my doorframe, watching me unpack, offering unsolicited advice on how to approach Beck.
We’ve been back in California for less than three hours and already I need to get to him, fix things.
I need to get us back on solid ground.
On Solid Ground Page 21