by Clara Stone
I’m taken into a private room and prepped for the biopsy—including dressing in the infamous show-off-my-butt-crack hospital gown everyone loves. After another forty-five minute wait, I’m wheeled into the scariest room I’ve ever been in. I stare at the bright light above me as my eyes start to feel droopy. I hear words, but I can’t make them out. Soon, everything starts to blend together, and I’m taken into nothingness.
I hear a blur of voices. A hand grabs onto mine, warm and inviting.
“Car—gn . . . Carrigan.” Dad’s voice is the first I register.
I open my eyes slowly and squint against the bright light. My throat feels like someone’s choked me, and there’s a metallic taste in my mouth, like I’ve spent hours sucking on a quarter. Water. I need water. “W-hter.”
Dad yells my request, and he and another nurse help me into a sitting position by raising the hospital bed.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” He offers me water, and I gulp it down.
The sounds of beeping and feet shuffling reach my ears, but I ignore them.
“Take it easy,” he gently reminds me.
When my throat no longer feels like sandpaper, I pry the cup from my lips and look at him.
“You feel okay?” Dad asks.
“Yeah,” I respond. I catch a movement in the corner of my eye and nearly choke on my own tongue.
“Hi, Carrigan.” Vincent comes into view.
“Vince?”
“He . . . ah . . .” Dad looks at me, then to Vincent, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.
“Rock got into a fight, and I had to bring him to the ER to get checked for broken bones,” Vincent says, coming closer, his hands in his pockets.
A nurse walks into the room. “Mr. Casper?”
“Yeah?” Dad answers, turning his attention to her.
“I have a few more forms for you to fill out,” she says, gesturing for him to follow her.
He looks at me and I nod, letting him know it’s okay. I’m okay. With a quick glance at Vincent, then another at me, he steps outside the curtained area.
Vincent comes closer, taking my hand into his. “So, while I was waiting for my dumbass brother to get some X-rays, I saw you being transported on a gurney out of the OR.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling groggy and slightly incoherent. “Is he okay?”
He nods. “That little shit is going to end up with broken body parts if he keeps getting into fights, though. And I don’t have time to take care of his ass on top of my other brothers.” Worry lines appear on his forehead.
“I’m sure he can take care of himself,” I offer, then adjust myself to get more comfortable in the bed.
“That’s the problem,” he responds. “He thinks he can, so he picks on guys twice his size.”
“Like big brother, like little brother, huh?” I tease, remembering his standoff with the bikers a few weeks back. “He’s just trying to live up to his brother’s reputation.”
Something passes across his face, but he schools it into passivity the next second. He pulls a chair up and places his elbows on the edge of the bed. He runs his fingers across my knuckles, but there’s nothing intimate in his gesture. It feels comfortable, friendly. “Your Dad . . . he told me what happened,” he whispers, looking into my eyes. “Everything will be okay.”
I nod, then wince as I register the pain in my lower back, where they took the sample from.
He eyes me, concerned, but chooses not to say anything. “Does Heath know?”
“I’m not sure. Unless Dad . . .” What if Dad did tell him . . . ? He’d go berserk. He freaked out about me crying yesterday. God only knows what state he’d be in if he knew I was in the hospital. But, then again, he’s not here hovering over me, so maybe Dad hasn’t talked to him.
I live in that comforting thought.
Heath had called at three a.m., his voice slurry. He’d told me he loved me more than anything in the world. That he never wanted to see me cry, because it twists him in the most painful ways. He’d warned me to never, ever, ever shed another tear again—unless they were happy tears.
I’d called him back this morning and left a message. But since then, I haven’t checked my voicemail. I hope he hasn’t freaked out because I haven’t called him back.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Hutchinson asks as he walks in, Dad and the nurse following on his heels. Vincent drops my hand on the bed and stands, offering the chair to my dad. He takes it without question, his hand gently cupping mine.
“Peachy,” I respond.
Dr. Hutchinson goes over my discharge instructions—pain meds, appointment to come back and discuss the results in a few days, symptoms to watch out for, and lots of rest.
“So, she’ll be okay?” Dad asks, a little skeptical. “Go home, take medication, and rest. That’s it? What if she gets worse, or is in pain?”
Dr. Hutchinson nods. “Then you’d need to come back. You can also call us at the twenty-four hour hotline. There’ll be a nurse and doctor available to answer any of your questions. The number’s in your paperwork.”
Dad nods, satisfied with the answer.
Everyone leaves, and I quickly change. The nurse hovers within earshot, in case I need help dressing. But apart from small amounts of pain where I’d been poked and a little stiffness, nothing seems to hurt. Once I’m done, I’m wheelchaired out of the hospital to the waiting car.
Vincent helps me into my seat and makes sure I’m buckled in before shutting the door. He leans in through the open window, his forearms resting against it. “Call if you need anything.”
I nod, pressing my lips together. “Thank you for . . .” I jerk my head toward Dad, discreetly.
Vincent nods in understanding.
Dad leans over from the driver’s side and thanks him before pulling away.
Thirty minutes later, we walk through the front door of our house; Dad first, then me. He rushes off to his room. Sighing, I head toward mine.
“Ace. Wait.” Dad comes back into the living room and stops before me. He kisses my forehead, and everything in me freezes. He runs his hand over my head. “Happy early birthday, baby girl.”
I squeeze my eyes tight, living in this particular moment for as long as possible. We have a long road ahead, but at least he’s trying.
He places a small box in my hand and smiles. “I’ve been waiting to give this to you for ten years. Open it.”
I look down at the fuzzy gray box in my hand and click it open. My eyes prickle, and my throat tightens with emotion.
An oval-shaped, silver pendant stares back at me, a tiny picture tucked inside. Mom’s locket, with the picture of all of us. The one I thought we’d lost the night she died. Tears roll down my cheeks. I can’t see straight, and my breath hitches on a sob. But I don’t care.
“She’d want you to have it.” Dad kisses my forehead again, this time, lingering there a second longer. “We’ll beat this, baby girl. You and me. We’ll beat this.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, and we both let our tears push away the numbness.
MUSIC IS ALREADY BLARING from Troy’s car, which is equipped with enough shit to make a wannabe DJ’s wet dreams come true.
I take a swig of my cold beer, leaning lazily against a log in the sand, taking in the smell of burning wood on the night air. People gather around the bonfire in clumps, while others disappear into the privacy of the shadows behind the trees.
“What’s up, dipshits?” Jason hollers, his step faltering, his arm wrapped around Nicole Wall’s shoulder. He’s obviously drunk, and the party started less than thirty minutes ago. Maybe I should’ve uninvited a few of these assholes—especially Jason.
“Come on.” Lisa tugs at the arm that’s perched over my bent knee. “I want to dance.”
“Fuck off, Lisa,” I snap and take another swig of beer.
I’m still pissed that she allowed her vultures to rip on Ace. I thought she was better than that.
Damn, empty. Again.
“Easy there, big boy.” Lisa places her hand just above my waistband, steadying me.
Shit, I’m buzzed. I look over to the parking lot, hoping to see Emily’s Ford Mustang pulling in. With everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, I didn’t want Ace to be alone. So I’d tasked Emily with bringing her tonight. Where the hell are they?
I grab another bottle of beer from the cooler before Lisa drags me to join the other couples around the bonfire. The song switches and it’s like I step into a whole new universe.
I take another swig of my drink and push Lisa away from me. I stumble back toward my log, my head spinning. I’m completely lost to the alcohol. My words slur as I greet a few people on the way to my sitting spot. But before I make it there, I hear someone call Ace’s name. My back stiffens and it’s like I’ve been slapped with a bucket of ice water. I turn, looking for her.
“Ace!” some girl from the cheerleading squad squeals.
Ace.
People group around her, talking, laughing. She looks happy, but something’s amiss. Exhaustion screams from her. Dark bags sit under her eyes, and her smile is weak. The need to take her in my arms overwhelms me. But I don’t. I watch her body language and the sluggish way she steps forward to return a hug.
A flash of red string peeks around her neck, catching my attention. My heart rate kicks up a notch. She’s wearing short, red shorts and a see-through white top. Two red blobs pop clear as daylight where her boobs would be. She’s wearing a bikini top; I’ve never seen her in one before. Ace has always been modest about her appearance, never one to wear anything that didn’t cover most of her assets.
But tonight, even with her obvious weariness, a different vibe surrounds her. Like she’s really here to celebrate her eighteenth birthday.
A thrill of shock shoots through me. Maybe it’s the alcohol in my system, or the fact that it’s her birthday and I want to kiss her, right here, in front of all these douchebags, just to prove a point. I don’t know. But all I can see is Ace, and all the ways my hands could be skimming over her naked skin.
“Fuck,” Jason says, his arms crossed over his chest. He licks his lips, and mine curl with an involuntary growl.
He raises his hands up in defeat . . . or maybe defense. “Sorry, dude. Forgot you own that fine piece of ass.”
Whatever. The last time I butted heads with him, I nearly sent him to the ER. I found out that he’d been the one who had goaded Amanda into picking on Ace. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d lead the group of people that had destroyed Ace and Vincent’s project for the senior fundraiser—because he’d been jealous. Because I’d told him to stay the fuck away from Ace.
If it hadn’t been for others stepping between us, I’d have killed the bastard without regret. Now, I kind of wish I had, because just the thought of him standing next to me has my blood boiling. And if I lose my cool now, there’s nothing stopping me from finishing what I started two days ago.
So I walk away. I walk toward the only thing I know that can keep this rage under control.
Ace.
She sees me approach, and her eyes twinkle for a moment. Then a frown forms over her lips. She whispers something into Emily’s ear while keeping her eyes on me.
Emily’s gaze turns to me with a scowl. They seem to have some kind of heated conversation, but soon, Ace gives her a brief hug and leaves her behind.
I jerk my chin toward the rocks a few yards away and pick up two more bottles of beer. I down one in four huge gulps.
Once on the other side of the rock, I lean my head back against its cool, smooth surface and wait for Ace. I pry open the second bottle with the butt of my hand and take another swig, closing my eyes.
“Impressive talent there, Mr. Lovelly.” Ace’s voice drips into my ears like a sweet song. There’s something different about her . . . almost like she’s flirting with me. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol. When I don’t respond, she sighs. I open my eyes, and a smile plays on my lips.
“I thought I said nothing excessive.” She waves her hands toward the party behind us.
Her cover-up’s backless, and her bare skin faces me. The red strings of her bikini peek out of her shirt and suddenly I want to see what’s hiding below that barely-there cover-up. “And I thought I said seven p.m.”
She shrugs one shoulder without looking. “Dad’s been having a rough night.”
Ah. I can understand his pain. Especially today—the tenth anniversary of her mom’s death. I sometimes envy the man for loving his dead wife so much. Even after so many years, he can’t let go of her. That tells me how lucky he was to find a woman that still haunts his every breathing moment, long after she’s gone. It’s the kind of love that goes beyond time and space, the kind that touches the soul.
It’s the forever kinda love.
“So . . .” I walk behind her and trace my hand down her exposed arms, wanting to keep her mind off things, because I know it’s not just her dad that’s suffering. A visible shiver runs through her. But I don’t stop. I can’t seem to. But, then again, she doesn’t push me away either. So I take my newfound confidence and snake my arm around her waist, snuggling her back to my front. “Did you have a fun birthday?”
She nods, and I dig my nose into her neck, scenting her. She smells like mangos and lavender. I fight the urge to kiss the creamy skin at the curve of her neck, right under her ear.
“Spent most of the d-day with Dad, after sh-shopping with Emily,” she stammers.
I chuckle, loosening my grip. She takes the opportunity to step out of my embrace and plops down next to the basket I’d set in the sand before the party began. I knew it’d be safe on this side of the rocks, especially since it was mostly hidden in the dark.
“Yeah?” I ask.
A vertical line forms between her eyebrows, and I want to kiss it away. But I don’t. Not when . . . not when I’m buzzed and have no fucking idea what I’ll do if I touch her. “Buy anything fun or naughty?” My head and everything below is coiled like a spring, dying for some action.
She laughs and something stirs inside me.
“Yeah, totally. Art. Supplies.” She drawls each word, trying to make it sound sexy. But it’s not.
It’s cute as hell. Definitely cute. Like begging puppy-eyes kinda cute.
“That’s it?” I can’t help the teasing. “Art supplies.”
She averts her eyes and even in the darkness, I can tell she’s blushing.
“Well, no.” There’s a shyness to the way she responds.
“What else did you buy, then?” Now, I absolutely have to know.
She chews on her bottom lip, and I know she’s trying to decide whether she should tell me or not.
I scoot closer and ask her in that deep voice I know she loves, “Come on, you can tell me anything. Scout’s honor, your secret is safe with me.”
She playfully pushes against my chest and laughs. She snorts and another fit of giggles burst from her lips. “You have to have been a Boy Scout for me to believe you’d honor that.”
“Huh.” I feign innocence. “I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never been one.” I watch her smile. “So, you going to tell me, or what?”
She digs into the picnic basket, and I hear a small gasp. She pulls a palm-sized container into her hand. “You got me a birthday cake . . .”
“What’s a birthday without a birthday cake?” I dig out a single candle from the basket and push it into the middle.
She takes out a wrapped present and looks at me, then back to it. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I wait, patiently dying to see her reaction.
She slips a finger under the paper and slowly unwraps the present. Her eyes light up and she squeals. She flipping squeals like I’ve never heard before.
She throws her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “You got me the rare edition of Journey?”
I chuckle. “Only the best for my girl.”
“You’re an amazing boyfriend, you know that?” She beams, and in this moment, I forget about all the other shit.
I link our fingers together and light the candle with a lighter I grab from the basket. This time, I do scoot closer and whisper into her ear. “Make a wish, baby.”
Her head turns to me, her lips quivering and so close to mine. I imagine nibbling on that bottom lip, possibly licking away the cake. My gaze slides up to her eyes and heaviness tightens my chest.
“You’re crying.” I frown. “I said ‘no tears.’”
She shakes her head and before she can wipe them off, I do it for her.
“Happy tears,” she whispers.
I smile. “Make a wish.”
She closes her eyes, puckers her lips forward, and blows out the candle.
“What did you wish for?”
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“Hmm . . .” A sudden, hard rush of longing fills my chest. I nuzzle her ear with my nose, like I’m about to tell her a secret, but really, I’m drunk as hell on her. “Then, how will I make it come true?”
A deep blush colors her neck and cheeks. Damn, what I’d do to know what made her turn that color. I pull back and watch as she teases her lip between her teeth.
I can’t seem to take my eyes off those lips. “So, you going to tell me what else you bought?”
She blinks, like she’s confused, then shakes her head.
“Well,” I jump to my feet. “That’s too bad.”
Her head cocks to the side, and she has a thoughtful expression. Well, more like she doesn’t believe I gave up so easily. Smart girl.
“I’ll just have to get you to tell me.” I lunge for her, and she rolls over to get out of my reach. Before I know it, she’s running away along the beach, laughing, and I’m chasing after her. A tremble quakes through me, centering in the throb of my heart as I listen to her giggles filling the night air.
I make sure that I’m always a few steps behind her, just enough to make her think she’s won. When I’ve finally had enough, I pick her up off her feet, and walk us toward the ocean. “Tell me, or we’re getting wet.”