“What? A heart attack? That makes no sense! Dad’s so healthy he makes healthy people look bad!” I said, knowing I was bordering on hysterical. But this was every child’s worst nightmare. My dad was an ox. My Mr. T and Arnold Schwarzenegger all mushed together in a peace loving hippie package. He was bigger than life and now my mom was telling me that the man who I had hailed as my own personal hero my entire life was in fact very, very mortal.
“Sure he is but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his vices like everyone else. I’ve been on him to quit eating those damn greasy hamburgers at Sal’s. But he swore he exercised enough and drank his wheat germ tea so he’d be fine. Stupid ass man!” I was so taken aback by my mom’s use of curse words that I didn’t respond immediately. My mother never, and I mean never cussed. This was almost as scary as the fact that my dad was in the hospital.
“Will he…I mean, is he going to…” I couldn’t force myself to finish the statement. I just couldn’t ask my mother whether my dad was going to live or die. Somehow putting it into words would give it power. Making all of this way too real.
My mom took another deep breath, as though trying to collect herself. “I don’t know, Ri. I just don’t know. But you need to get here as soon as possible. I just don’t know…” she stopped talking and I could hear the sound of her quiet sobbing.
My hands were shaking and my palms were wet. The phone slipped out of my hands and when I bent to pick it up another hand reached out to get to it first. I blinked a few times, not understanding why Garrett was outside, stood beside me, with a look on his face that was both bleak and sad.
I took the phone from him and turned my back. I couldn’t deal with him right now. Definitely not right now. “I’m leaving work. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is Gavin there? What about Fliss?” I asked.
“Yes, Gavin’s with me at the hospital and Felicity will be here in the morning. Sam is staying behind with the girls. He’ll come...later…if he has to…oh God!” My mom started to cry again and I pressed the heel of my hand against my eye so I wouldn’t join her. It would do no good to fall apart. I was the strong one. The one who held everyone else together. I could do this.
“It’s okay, Mom. Dad will be just fine. I’ll be there soon,” I promised, guaranteeing something I wasn’t sure was the truth. Did that make me a liar?
My mom seemed to pull herself together a bit. “Okay, baby girl. But drive carefully. Please,” she ended tiredly. I reassured her I’d be safe and hung up.
I stood there for a long time, staring out into the darkened lot behind Barton’s. I needed to get home. I had to pack. I had to make a bazillion calls letting my professors and my internship and the Barton’s manager, Moore, know that I’d be gone. I didn’t even know how long I’d be home. And just like that my world imploded.
I fell to my knees and smashed my fists into the cold, hard concrete. I let out a deep, guttural yell and felt my body tremble under the stress of the last few minutes. I didn’t cry though. For some strange reason, my tear ducts felt empty and dry.
Arms came around me, strong hands rubbing my arms as I struggled to breathe around the pain in my chest. “Let it out, Riley,” Garrett said softly into my hair as he pressed his cheek against the back of my head.
I held myself rigid in his embrace, not letting myself give into the urge to lose it. Even though he was encouraging me to let him pick up my pieces, I wouldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.
I got to my feet and pulled out from his arms. My hands still shook and I shoved them into my pockets. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” I asked, cringing at the way my words wobbled.
Garrett looked at me shrewdly, not put off in the least by my attempts to change the subject. “What happened?” he asked, ignoring my question.
I was tempted to tell him it was none of his business. That he should get back to playing music and pretending like he didn’t care about anything. Because that’s what he was good at after all.
But I didn’t. Perhaps it was the knowing sympathy on his face that was surprisingly not condescending. The dull awareness in his eyes that spoke of some understanding of pain that I didn’t know he possessed. Whatever it was, I found myself telling him exactly what my mom had just told me.
“My dad had a heart attack. She doesn’t know…” I tried to steady myself to say what I truly feared. But Garrett said it for me, saving me from voicing the very thing that scared me the most.
“If he’s going to make it,” he said steadily. Our eyes met and I nodded.
“I’ve got to get back to the apartment and pack. I have to head out…tonight. I need to get home,” I said, feeling the surge of panic over take me.
“And where’s home?” Garrett asked.
“Maryland. About four and a half hours away,” I said, already calculating the time and distance in my head. At this rate, I wouldn’t make it to the hospital before five in the morning. The night spread out before me, long and lonely. Crap, I started shaking even harder.
“I’ll drive you,” Garrett said suddenly and that made me stop shaking and look at him as though he had lost his mind.
“I have a car, I’ve had my license for a few years now, you know,” I said, appreciating the opportunity to lob a bit of my normal snark. It made me feel normal, capable.
Garrett’s mouth raised into a small smile. “Yes, I’m aware, but you’re in no condition to drive right now. Not after getting that kind of news,” he said firmly, as though he dared me to argue with him.
Well argue with him I would.
“You can’t do that. That’s just ridiculous. You’re in the middle of a gig. You and me…well, we’re not even friends. I can’t expect you to drive me to Maryland in the middle of the night,” I said stupidly, really not grasping why he would offer such a thing. It made absolutely no sense at all. And my brain was so bogged down with a million other worries that this new complication in the ever-evolving Garrett and Riley saga was the last thing I had the patience for.
Garrett rolled his eyes. Yes, he actually rolled his eyes at me. “Stop it, Riley. We may not be ‘friends’ but that doesn’t mean I can stand here and watch you drive off knowing what you have to face when you get there. Knowing how you’ll be going over every awful scenario in your head for the entire drive. Trying to prepare yourself for the worst but terrified to expect the best,” his voice was strained and his eyes became glassy. He was speaking from experience. And my heart, already breaking, broke a little bit more at the pain on his face.
“So let me do this for you. Please,” he said gently. And I was too tired to put up any further resistance. I only nodded and went to drop my keys in his waiting palm. Then I hesitated.
“You haven’t been drinking or smoking have you? Because I promised my mom I would get there in one piece,” I said seriously, narrowing my eyes.
Garrett wrapped his fingers around my hand that held the keys. His gaze was unwavering as he answered me. “I would never risk your life like that. I would rather die then get behind the wheel under the influence. Trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about where that is concerned.” His words were flinty hard and there was more to his staunch testament than I knew. But I couldn’t think about it.
Right now I needed to get to Maryland.
“And the gig?” I asked, wanting to give him one last chance to bow out of from knight in shining armor duty.
Garrett peeled my fingers apart and took my keys, nudging me through the kitchen doors so I could get my purse and jacket.
“Fuck the gig. Let’s get you to your dad,” he said resolutely. And if I could have, I would have smiled.
The first hour into the drive passed with minimal conversation. It was already almost one in the morning. I was tired. I was heartsick. And I was almost delusional with worry. Garrett didn’t attempt to pull me into mea
ningless chatter and for that I was grateful. I didn’t have it in me to talk about the fucking weather or what I thought of the Greenhouse Effect.
I had gone to the apartment, packed up the bare essentials, sent a text to Maysie and then climbed into my car, with Garrett behind the wheel. It was a testament to how out of whack I was that I permitted anyone, besides myself and Maysie to drive my beloved Volvo. It was almost fifteen years old; the rust colored paint chipped and was slowly disappearing. I only had a tape deck and a radio that picked up just one or two stations. But I had bought the clunker with my own money. It was completely and totally mine and because of that I was over the top possessive about it.
But Garrett treated it as smoothly as though he were driving a Mercedes and for that he gained about a thousand cool points.
Somewhere outside of Richmond, I broke the silence. Because I was going crazy with my own thoughts. “Maysie told me you guys were going on tour again,” I said, glancing at him out of my peripheral.
Garrett didn’t take his eyes off the road, but I saw the satisfied smile dance on his lips. “Yeah. Josh, Mitch’s cousin who helped us set up the tour over the summer has us lined up to for a cross-country promotional thing. He’s been slinging out our demo to a bunch of radio stations and a few of the smaller ones have started putting us into rotation. It’s all for the exposure, you know,” Garrett explained and despite the knots in my gut, I couldn’t help but be taken aback by the excitement on his face. I couldn’t recall a time he ever seemed pumped about anything.
Even when Garrett played music, he oozed this laid back, unconcerned vibe. As though he would do the same thing in his sleep. So seeing this side to him, a side that showed enthusiasm and…well…purpose, was startling. And even in my confused mind, I could admit it was appealing.
The truth was I was beginning to learn there was a lot appealing about the man sitting beside me.
“Wow, that’s awesome,” I said tiredly. I meant it, really, but Garrett looked at me warily, as though looking for the punch line.
“Thanks,” he said and then fell silent. And this time, the quiet between us was uneasy.
“I really do appreciate you taking me tonight. You were right, I would never have been able to drive myself,” I said. Garrett’s eyes were once again trained on the road and I noticed the tightening of his jaw, as though he were uncomfortable with my gratitude. Yeah, I get that he hadn’t seen a whole lot of the nice, genial Riley Walker. I was so accustomed to being sarcastic and cutting that genuine pleasantness was like a sucker punch to the jaw. It left you wondering where the hell the fist came from.
“Like I said, I couldn’t let you drive all the way home in the state you’re in,” he said shortly.
“You seem to speak from some kind of experience,” I hedged, not knowing how my dig for information would be greeted.
Garrett started to fiddle with my radio, trying to find some music to fill the awkward tension that took over the interior of my car. “Yeah, well, I’ve been there. I get it,” he explained without really explaining anything at all.
I took in his sloppy disheveled appearance. His blue, button down shirt gaped open, his muscular chest on proud display. His shoulder length hair was more than a little wild and I was hit with a sudden surge of memory. I remember how it felt that first night to put run my fingers through it. I saw with sudden clarity the way his face looked as he hovered above me, his hair hanging down around his face. Oh God, I finally remembered the aching tenderness in his eyes as he kissed every inch of my face.
I shook my head, ridding myself of those unwanted memories. “Can you tell me how you get it?” I asked carefully. Garrett gave up on trying to find anything on the radio and turned it off with a frustrated flick of his fingers.
He let out a loud and noisy sigh. The hand that came up to push his hair back off of his face shook slightly. “I lost both of my parents when I was a senior in high school. I remember the call that told me they were gone. It was like my world stopped and I couldn’t understand how I could keep going without them,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat as though to dislodge the lump in his throat.
I blinked rapidly, feeling warmth flood my eyes. I had never bothered to understand how the loss of his parents had shaped the person he became.
Until now. Until I could see for myself the devastation of his loss.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice the barest hush of a whisper.
Garrett cleared his throat again and it seemed he had to take a moment to compose himself before saying more. “It was a drunk driver. They died on impact,” he said and shot a look in my direction. “That’s why I will never drive drunk or high. Ever!” he proclaimed emphatically, his eyes snapping.
Who would have thought Garrett Bellows had layers. That he was more than the stoned out guitarist with no thought to doing something more. But sitting in my darkened car, hearing him speak about losing his parents. Seeing the intensity of his misery, I forgot completely that here was a guy I had sworn I had nothing in common with. That he and I were opposites in every possible way.
But we weren’t so different, Garrett and I. Because Garrett was a whole mess of layers and he had a depth that left me breathless.
“And I’m sorry about your dad,” he finished and all of my ridiculous romanticism about the man who sat beside me shooting down the darkened highway, popped like a soap bubble. The reality of why I was here, with him, in this car, came crashing down on my shoulders like a hundred ton weight.
“Thanks,” I whispered so softly it was if all of my bones had dissolved.
My dad might die. Hell, he might be dead already, while I made the long, arduous trek to his bedside. What would I do if I never got to talk to him again? Never got to see his smile or hear him tell me teasingly to “buck up, Riley Boo?”
“How are things going at the newspaper?” Garrett asked me a little too loudly and I was wrenched from my depressing thoughts.
I blinked a few times and stared at him. “Huh?” I asked stupidly.
Garrett gripped the steering wheel so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. His smile was forced but I appreciated the effort. “The newspaper. I’m not sure what you’re doing there, just wanted to know how it’s going,” he said.
“It’s good. Going good, I mean. I’m there for an internship. You know, to get my own byline so I can become the next Barbara Walters or something,” I answered dryly.
“Ah, so you want to write for a newspaper. That sounds cool. I can see that. Good career choice,” he remarked in a tone that was almost teasing.
“Oh, and why is that?” I asked, surprised at the subtle flirtation in my voice.
“Probably because you’re the type of chick who takes the world by its balls and refuses to let go. Not saying it like it’s a bad thing. It just makes me want to wear a cup when I’m around you,” he stated and I had to laugh.
Yes, Garrett Bellows had made me laugh. Just when I thought my world was bottoming out, here he was, taking me toward an unknown future and he was making me freaking laugh. There was something pretty wonderful about that.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or completely insulted,” I told him wryly.
Garrett’s smile this time wasn’t forced or strained. It didn’t hold any twinge of sadness or regret. This smile was one hundred percent earthshattering. Shit, it’s a good thing I hadn’t seen it before or I would have locked him away and thrown away the key. Guys with smiles like that were lethal.
“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” he said as his smile faded and he was once again focusing on the road. Our moment of levity drifting away into the darkness rushing past us.
“Maybe you should try to sleep. We’ve got another few hours and you’ll need your rest,” Garrett suggested. My eyes felt gritty with exhaustion and I should probab
ly take him up on his suggestion but my mind was in chaos and I knew I would never be able to shut it off.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of the places you’ll be going on your tour. I think I’d rather hear about that,” I said. Garrett looked surprised but then nodded.
“Sure. We’re going to start off in Charlotte, North Carolina at this bar called Warner’s.” I listened Garrett go into detail about the upcoming Generation Rejects tour and I was able to forget, just for a moment, that I would be with my very sick father in a few short hours. I could pretend that we were just two people, getting to know each other.
And I realized then that Garrett had a way of making me forget the things that haunted me. He had done it after my break up with Damien and here he was, doing it again. There was something amazing in the way he gathered up my pieces without my ever expecting him to.
For two people whose only interactions were humiliating or drunkenly sexual, our easy candor was shocking. I had never expected that the one person I had declared to have no place in my life, to be my one great regret, to fit so perfectly into my existence that it was as though he had always been there.
“Do you want to go straight to the hospital or head to your parents house first?” Garrett asked as he pulled off the interstate at exit 26. He turned right onto Route 23 toward the small, seaside town of Port David.
I squinted as I tried to read the clock on my dashboard. My eyes were blurry from my lack of sleep. It was already five-thirty in the morning. Garrett had insisted we stop for something to eat, saying I needed to keep my energy up, thus adding another forty-five minutes onto our travel time. I had been irritated by the suggestion but was now glad to have a full stomach.
“I think we should go to my parents’ first. I want to see if my brother and sister are there. Drop off my stuff,” I said.
Perfect Regret ( BOOK 2) Page 13