by RP Fischer
I start pacing in the lot, sweat beading down my back, and I run my hand through my wet hair.
“He’s up for parole because he completed his rehab requirements and his attorney filed another appeal saying because he was drunk, he wasn’t in the right mind to do it on purpose. He could still stay in if the judge denies parole, so don’t go acting like he’ll be out on the streets tomorrow.”
Whatever air I had trouble breathing earlier in the gym is completely gone through the anger I have for the piece of crap, Billy Mason.
I turn back to Zander and ask, “Have you spoken to the Mitchells’ yet?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I figured you’d want to be the one to talk to them. Especially to tell Kylie.”
I clap him on the shoulder and tell him thanks before I head inside to the locker room. I take a quick shower, and as I dress, I call Kylie.
Her sweet voice picks up on the third ring. My heart beats a million times faster with her gorgeous voice. “Hey, Aaron.”
“Hey, I was wondering where you are right now? I need to see you.”
She quickly replies, “I’m at the field house. Your mom moved the cheerleading practice inside because of the weather. Is everything okay?”
I sigh and quickly hide it, not wanting to scare her. “Yeah. I just have something to talk to you about. I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay? I’m leaving the gym section.”
I leave my stuff in my locker and run over to the field house. My mother has been running the place for as long as I can remember, and I begged her to build a state of the art gym here. I’d rather come here where I can still be around family instead of using the gym at the college or some private place where the fees are the length of my arm. It also means I know this place like the back of my hand. I take the few minutes to calm myself down. If both of us are upset then neither of us will stay level headed.
As I reach the entrance to the field house, Kylie is making short walks back and forth, looking down constantly at her phone, and playing with the bracelet I gave her a few years ago. When she notices my presence, I grab her hand and walk her toward the small running trail.
“Aaron, you’re scaring me. If you don’t want me to jump you into a headlock until you tell me, then I suggest you start talking.”
My shorts tighten at the sound of her jumping me in any way, but my brain remembers the reason we’re here instead.
“Kylie, it’s about Billy.”
Her eyes quickly fill with tears of sadness before she gets angry. “What about that monster?”
I take several deep breaths before I tell her “He’s up for parole next month.”
Shock, fury, sadness, and pure hatred crosses her eyes before she just breaks down. Through her tears, I grab her into my arms. Her head barely clears my shoulders, but I can feel the wetness soak through my shirt.
She pulls back angrily, pacing back and forth again. When she starts speaking, I can’t tell if she’s talking to me, herself, or the world in general. “So he drank on the job, drunk-harassed dozens of people in the restaurant, then tried to kill me by speeding toward me in a car, but killed my brother instead when he pushed me out of the way, and he gets the POSSIBILITY TO GO HOME?! No fucking way in all that is good will I allow that to happen. He took my brother away from me! He took one the most important things in my life away permanently! Does Bryce get the possibility to come home? NO! He never will! So why should Billy Mason?"
I stop her from the pacing and hold her tightly by the shoulders. “Kylie, it’s only a possibility. You have the power to stop it. Talk to the parole board. Let him suffer for the rest of his sentence. I know there are people who would say you should forgive, but then there are those who believe in true justice. Do what you need to do to live, and let go of all the pain to move forward and to be whole again.”
The sudden coolness of Kylie stepping back from me has me realizing we’re still at the community center. In broad daylight and I made her cry. The one thing I swore to Bryce I’d never do. Hell, I swore it to her myself.
I feel empty and destroyed as I watch her fight the battle inside of her own head. I sit us down on the wooden walkway and hold her as sobs rack through her.
After a few minutes, her cries turn into heavy breathing as if she’s trying to catch her breath. I rub up and down her back, trying not to let her go at the same time.
She sits up away from me and starts to wipe her face, but I move her hands to dry her cheeks for her. Her voice is shaky to my ears, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
I pull her back into my arms and kiss the crown of her head. I wish I could keep her there for the rest of our lives. “Kylie, Ii’s fine. Every PTSD is different. Reactions are unpredictable. How people handle their PTSD can change every minute of every day. Triggers can happen at a second's notice. I’m so fucking sorry I was the cause of this one.”
We sit there in silence for a few more minutes before an idea forms in my head.
“How about I take you home and we make a night of mind-numbing television with my sister if Matt can spare her for one night?”
Kylie simply nods, and we start the walk toward the main parking lots. I left my car in the staff lot since I got here after Kylie and as I make my way over, I call my sister, Charlie, on my hands-free.
“Yes, your Ace majesty?”
I barely muster a laugh at my younger sister. I can hear the happiness in her voice, and it somewhat calms me. The only time I’m ever truly calm is when I have Kylie in my arms.
“Yeah, that’s right, little Munchkin. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean I’m still not in charge of your butt forever. Life boss ,little sister. Life boss.”
She laughs a little at my joke, both of us knowing she has her husband wrapped around her finger, and she’ll ignore me if she feels like it.
“What do you need, Ace?”
I take a deep breath before I tell her about the parole hearing, and she mutters out a few choice words our mother would wash her mouth out for saying. I ask her, “I’m thinking she would rather have you crash on our couch tonight than her parents.’ Think you’d be up for a sleepover?”
I hear a weird noise in the background before Charlie replies, “I just got a text from Kylie asking me to come over. I’ll bring the fixins’ for her favorite breakfast and pie for tonight.”
I can’t believe it. What started out as a nightmare has turned into full-blown reality.
In the state of shock I’m in, I really shouldn’t be driving, but my car is on autopilot from the community center back to my condo.
I sent a text to Charlie asking her to come over tonight. Yes, Aaron will be there, because well, we’re married, but I don’t trust myself to be alone with him. The constant walking on eggshells about our feelings toward Bryce’s murder is what is driving me insane faster and faster every day. Aaron constantly battles me on my guilt over Bryce protecting me that night. As much as we love each other, this is our biggest fight. He wasn’t here and I know he feels just as bad, but that’s the roof of it.
He wasn’t there.
He didn’t see everything.
I saw everything.
It’s not even sundown, but my body is dead tired. After helping the kids with their cartwheels and back handsprings, my body isn’t bouncing back like it used to, and I want to soak myself in a bucket of ice cream.
When I park, I see the beautiful man of my good dreams not far away, sitting on the tailgate of his truck. As destroyed and angry as I feel right now, a part of me feels safe knowing he will be there tonight and every night for the rest of my life.
We don’t even speak as we walk up the stairs into the condo. After throwing my flip flops to the side, I make a beeline for the couch where my cat, Waffles, is lounging around. Scooping him up into my arms, I fall into the couch and get comfortable, knowing I probably won’t leave this spot if and when I fall asleep. Aaron takes his usual spot on the other end of the couch and pulls my feet into h
is lap.
A few hours later, after diving into the amazing chocolate mousse pie that Charlie brought over, I’m so drained of all emotions that I pass out.
Another birthday has come. Today, I turn twenty-one.
Normal twenty-one-year-olds would go out celebrating the night and getting so drunk that they don’t even remember it.
Not me.
Bryce has been planning this birthday for weeks. He wanted to be the first one to share a drink with me. He’s my best friend. How can I deny him?
We’ve spent the day in Charleston, watching the boats go by and enjoying the spring air. I didn’t need anything fancy for my birthday. Just spending some time with the person I love more than anything in the world.
I love riding with him on open roads. I let the air run through my hair with the windows down. He’s letting me gush over the beautiful and historic houses in the city on our way to the restaurant.
He made reservations at one the best-known Italian restaurants in Charleston, and I’m starving for a hearty meal.
Sadly, the night starts to go downhill after such an amazing day. Our waiter is a complete and utter douchebag. Bryce requested a new waiter, but according to the hostess, two other waiters called out sick, and their replacements were running late from the last minute call-ins. This waiter, whose nametag reads Billy, makes me want to throw this wine on his head.
I can tell he’s drunk off his ass just by looking at him. A guy whom we assumed was the manager, stays at several tables for a few minutes each with angry faces from all the guests he spoke to. Many just got up and left.
My salad comes out as soup, finger holes are found in the tiramisu, and Billy spills wine on Bryce, but we try to stay calm and collected. But then for some reason, Billy decides to hit on me in front of Bryce as we’re leaving. He grabs my arm and is slurring out how much he wants to bend me over the table and have his way with me.
up against a wall and shouted for the manager. A couple men were also pissed with Billy come to hold him back while Bryce threatened the manager for sexual harassment against Billy. The manager fired Billy in front of everyone after being questioned why he was getting complaints about Billy being drunk. Billy admits to drinking in the freezer because he was overworked, and then he makes another perverted comment about me.
Bryce decids0not to call the cops on Billy for touching me since he felt firing Billy was punishment enough. The manager made a statement to apologize for everything and gave everyone gift cards.
A few the other patrons watch as the manager escorts Billy out of the building before the rest of them go back to their meals. Bryce and I make our way out to the parking lot. We’re still hungry, so he offers to take me out for ice cream to make up for dinner.
We stop at his car. “Before we leave, I want to tell you about your next gift.”
I jump up and down in my shoes. “Bryce, you’ve already given me a perfect day. Even that dinner couldn’t ruin it. What else could you possibly give me?”
He turns and points toward his car. I’ve always envied his blue 1967 Camaro that he restored with Dad. He even taught me to drive in it.
“You’re giving me your car??!! Oh my gosh, Bryce! You can’t give me your car!”
He starts laughing at me, “Oh yes I can. I’m looking into a truck to haul all of my stuff for the community center and work in construction part-time. You love this car, and I’m not gonna trade it in.”
As we’re rounding the car, the sunset catches my eye against the paint of the car. I take my phone out of my purse and speak to Bryce.
“Bryce, I’ll be right back.”
The sky is beautiful, so I walk to the corner curb, away from the power lines, and stop to take some pictures real quick. No sooner after I hit the last click, I hear yelling.
“YOU FUCKING COCK TEASE! YOU GOT ME FIRED BECAUSE YOU CAN’T TAKE A JOKE?!”
Suddenly, the roar of an engine comes close to me, and it takes a second to register that the car is coming right at me. I know I need to jump out of the way, but my brain can’t connect with my feet.
“KYLIE!! RUN, DAMMIT!”
The headlights of the car are coming straight at me and before they reach me, I’m shoved out of the way. I roll across the gravel several times before I hit my head on the curb. People are screaming, and the tires from the car are screeching to a halt. Someone comes down next to me and holds my neck.
“Don’t worry, an ambulance is on the way!”
“Bryce. Where’s Bryce?”
I try to sit up, and the world spins. I fight the urge to throw up when I turn my head to see Bryce crumpled on the ground at an odd angle. I crawl to him against the protests of the people around me.
I scratch out, “B-bryce. Bryce, talk to me!”
He’s not getting up! Why is he not getting up?!
I carefully sit next to him, not wanting to move his neck. His eyes are open and staring at me. His breath is coming in short pants. This can’t be happening.
I shriek louder, “Bryce, come on! Blink! Speak! DO SOMETHING!”
I grab his hand, hoping for anything. The sirens are wailing in the distance, but I’m not letting go of Bryce. I don’t know if it’s my wishful imagination, but I can feel him squeeze my hand. Tears are streaming down my face.
“Don’t leave me, Bryce. Please don’t leave me. We need you. Everyone needs you.”
I look around the parking lot full of people.
“Someone do something! Please! He’s my brother!”
I feel the twitch of his body, and I look down at him, the tears still flowing onto his shirt.
“Ky…Kylie.”
I squeeze his hand tighter. Blood is trickling from his head and the corner of his mouth. His other arm is bent at an angle I’d rather not look at, and his legs are twitching.
“Kylie.” He coughs and more blood drips out when he tries to speak again. “I love you.”
His head tilts to the side, but his eyes stay open.
NO, NO, NO, NO!
There’s no life in his eyes! Make it come back! Bryce is full of life! Don’t take it away!
I’m hysterically crying, “BRYCE! COME ON! PLEASE DON’T DIE! COME BACK. PLEASE.”
The last rise and fall of his chest has me screaming at the top of my lungs, “BRYYYYYYYYCCE!!”
I’ve been lying next to Kylie all night, not sleeping a damn bit as I watch her toss and turn. She’s been stuck in some nightmare, and I can’t get her out of it no matter what I try until I hear her screaming.
“BRYYYYYYYYCCE!!”
She wakes with a jolt, sweat pouring down on her, and she’s bawling her eyes out. I immediately grab onto her and hold her in my arms to stop her from thrashing.
“Kylie! It’s me, Aaron. Wake up, baby. Please! Wake up. It’s a nightmare. Come back to me.”
Her grief-stricken and swollen eyes finally open. It takes her a couple minutes to register where she is and that I’m right here. She immediately jumps into my arms and knocks me back against the headboard. Her lips are on mine as if trying to feel that I’m real. As much as I should stop her, I can’t deny her anything. I want her to know that I’m real and I’m here, but I can’t let it go too far.
She lifts my shirt over my head and scratches into my skin like she’s trying to bury herself inside of me. I hold onto her as best as I can on her lower back, trying to keep my own urges in check.
I whip my head back, and Kylie practically falls into my chest from the disconnection.
“Kylie, baby. You need to go back to sleep and rest. I know you might think you want this to feel real, but trust me. I am real. This…is real, but you just woke up from a nightmare.”
Her crying has subsided and she continues to scratch against my chest, but lighter now as if she just wants to touch me. I have no complaints about that.
“I just need to feel you close. To feel you connected with me.”
I grab her hand and place it over my heart where my tattoo lay. “Do yo
u feel that? The racing heartbeat? That’s me connected to you. If anything ever happened to you, my heart would be disconnected from everyone and everything. Where there is love, there is life. Just because.”
I scoot us down the bed until we lay back against the warm sheets, keeping her cheek against my chest so she can continue to feel my heart beating. Several moments later, her breathing evens out once again, but she stays still.
It reminds me of the first night we ever slept over together. I’ve known she was scared to share a bed with me because she fidgets so much in her sleep. She kicked me so many times that I had a bruise on my shin, but it was worth it to have her in my arms and wake up to her the next morning.
I finally drift off for a few hours until the smell of bacon wakes me up. I throw my shirt on and walk to my kitchen to find my sister starting to make breakfast. I pull my waffle maker out from under the counter, and we work in silence for a few minutes.
Charlie’s voice echoes lightly, “I heard her screaming. This one was really bad wasn’t it?”
I start grabbing the other supplies we need while I talk. “Yeah. Finding out about Billy hit her a lot harder than she thought.”
“I’m glad you were here, Ace.”
“Me too, munchkin. Me too.”
Charlie starts cooking up some of her peach compotes to go with these waffles, and I have vanilla ice cream stashed in the freezer. We’re almost done making the waffles when the door to my room opens and my Kylie walks out, looking quite refreshed.
“Belgian waffles with peaches and ice cream? You guys made me my favorite breakfast?”
I nod over to the table.
“Yes. Now go sit down while we finish everything up.”
Charlie plates the food while I scoop out some of the ice cream onto each plate before ushering both of them to the table.
We all eat in silence like we have so many times before when I used to barge into their house for food.
Kylie breaks the quiet with a request. “Can we go to the cemetery please?”