Living with Regrets (No Regrets book 2)

by Aimee Noalane

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I—I can’t.”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  He refused to talk, which wasn’t all that surprising. My mother came back with everything I needed to clean Cole’s wounds. The first aid classes were mandatory for my job, and unfortunately it wasn’t the first time I had needed to patch up a kid.

  “Cole, this might sting a little, okay?” I cleaned up all of his wounds and put ice on his bruises. He didn’t even flinch once, and when I asked if he had bruises hidden elsewhere, he nodded but told me they were too old for anyone to do anything about them.

  I frowned. “Cole, where’s your mom? We need to tell her what happened.”

  Tears fell from his un-swollen eye. “At home… probably drunk.”

  “Then let’s go see her.”

  I was about to give the woman a piece of my mind.

  “No, please don’t,” he hurried. “He’ll hurt you. He doesn’t like you and he’ll hurt me again. Please don’t take me back there.”

  “Who’s he? Wait. Did your mother’s new boyfriend do this?

  “Y—yes.”

  How could I have not seen this before?

  “Is your mom in any danger?”

  “N—no. He just really hates me…”

  “Was he drunk?” I asked, but it really didn’t make a difference if he was: you hit a child, you pay.

  He looked at me with empty eyes. It was the first time he met my stare since I’d crossed the street. “They’re always drunk, Abby.”

  “Okay, umm…” I tried to think of the various options that were available to me. There weren’t many. I had no choice. I needed to call the police. “Mom?”

  “You don’t need to ask, Abby.” She already knew I wanted him to stay over for the night.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

  “Of course not. Jacob is sleeping here tonight, and if anything goes wrong, which I really doubt will, I’ll have two of the best backups an old lady could ask for.”

  “You’re forty-seven, Mom. You’re not old.”

  She smiled. “Cole, go to Abby’s old room. You can stay there for tonight.”

  “Thank you.” I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and left to clean myself up. I looked down at the dried up bloodspots.

  So much for my pretty cream-colored, one hundred dollar dress…

  I changed quickly, choosing three of the many pieces of clothing that were scattered on the floor. Even at twenty-three, tidying up my room wasn’t a skill I mastered. After making the necessary calls, I went back to my mother’s house. She was waiting for me at the door when I came in.

  “Is he in bed?”

  “Yeah. He’ll be fine for the night,” she reassured.

  “Thanks. The police said they’re having a busy night, and since Cole isn’t in danger anymore, they’ll come by early tomorrow morning. Thank you for doing this.”

  “Nonsense, Abby. It’s my pleasure. And for the record, that man always seemed fishy to me.”

  I gave her a sympathetic smile. Had I paid more attention to the signs, then none of it would have ever happened.

  “So, tell me, why are you home so early? Didn’t you have a late night at the bar all planned out this evening?”

  I huffed. In normal circumstances, my mother wasn’t aware of my plans. Having Oliver around was knocking my life over in more ways than one. “I did, but I wasn’t feeling well, so I came back.”

  “You seem pretty fine to me.”

  Of course I do…

  “It’s the adrenaline. Do you think you’ll be okay to go back to bed?” I asked hoping to cut our conversation short.

  She yawned. “You can go home, I’ll be fine. See you in the morning.”

  I was exhausted but knew very well that I wasn’t going home because I’d never be able to go to sleep with my mind racing like it was.

  “Mom?” I called before shutting the door.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Can I go sit out back for a while?”

  “It’s cold out.”

  We chortled. As if the temperature ever held me back before.

  “Goodnight, Mom, I love you.”

  I walked to the backyard silently enjoying the cool air. Crossing the gate, I made my way around the pool, and stopped mid-track.

  Someone was sitting in my spot…

  Oliver

  I heard her footsteps as she walked on the crisp leaves to join me under the willow tree. Abby was right: there was something soothing about sitting under it that felt serene.

  “Is he okay?” I asked as she appeared a foot ahead of the first falling branches. She just stood there watching me, either surprised or annoyed that I was sitting on the swinging bench.

  “He is for now.” She pushed the falling branches to clear a path, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you sitting in my spot?”

  I could argue that the spot was as much mine as it was hers, but for the sake of avoiding another argument I moved over and let her take her seat. She put her feet up like she did the previous night, and observed me silently. I wanted to know what was on her mind, but mostly, I needed her to understand that whatever happened at the bar wouldn’t happen again. Stephan was right: I really needed to figure my shit out before crossing that line with Abby again.

  “Abby, I’m—”

  “Please don’t say you’re sorry, Oliver. It’s really not what I want to hear right now.”

  “I—um,” I sighed. “Okay. What do you want me to say then?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want you to say anything. I just need to… I don’t know. I’m just trying to ravel everything out. So just don’t apologize yet, okay?

  “Abby, when you left—I don’t know. It felt like I did something wrong.”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “Do you regret kissing me, Oliver?”

  “Hell no. I already told you this Abby. I will never regret kissing you. Ever.”

  As long as I don’t need to explain why I did it…

  “Do you?”

  It felt like she was having an internal debate with herself. She frowned and scrunched her nose. She did that often when we were younger, especially when she wanted to win an argument with me. I smiled at how many of her habits hadn’t changed with time. After a while of silence she inhaled and closed her eyes as if she needed all the courage in the world to tell me what was on her mind.

  “Freckle Face, look at me.” I pleaded. So much silence made me feel like I’d lost her. She opened her eyes and let out what resembled a sob and a laugh mixed together, so I took her hand in mine. “It’s just me.”

  She pulled away, wiped her tears and smiled. “I have spent the last six years wanting to hear those words come out of your mouth,” she whispered. “And now part of me wishes you could take them back.”

  I frowned, “Abby, just talk to me.”

  “I’m petrified, Oliver.”

  “Of what?”

  “All of it.” she gave a sarcastic chuckle. “This. You. Me. Everything.”

  “Abs, you’re going to need to clue me in because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  And it’s bugging the hell out of me because I’ve never had that issue with us before…

  “You bring it all back, Oliver. And every time I look into your eyes, I feel it: tears, and anger, and mistakes. Everything… it fucking scares me.”

  Mistakes?

  “Explain, Abby. You’re giving me a glimpse of what you’re feeling, but something tells me you don’t want me to understand,” I reprimanded. I pulled a strand of hair away from her face and wiped away another tear. She quivered under my touch.

  “I don’t want you to understand,” she breathed.

  The air temperature dropped suddenly, so I pulled the comforter out from behind me and threw it over the space between us.

  “Why not?”

  I waited. She ignored me.

  “Abby.” I
growled.

  “Do you still drink root beer slushies?” she asked out of the blue.

  What? Where did that come from?

  “Of course, I do. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just wondered. Remember how the last summer you were home, every time you came back from summer football practice, you’d bring me the biggest glass possible, and we’d come sit right there and share it.”

  I nodded. “Or hide at the skate park so our parents wouldn’t find out. It was my favorite time of the day.” I smiled. “Which reminds me, does the corner store still sell them? It would be really awesome if we could share one before I go back to B.C.”

  “They do,” she replied, but there was something in her response that didn’t feel right.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on. Abby. It’s written all over your face. Tell me what you were just thinking.”

  “Honestly?” she mumbled, looking up to me.

  I nodded.

  “I haven’t had a root beer slushy since you left Carrington.”

  “Wait what? You’re kidding me right?”

  She shook her head, and for some reason, the whole thing saddened me. “Once a week for the past six years, I’ve been going to any gas station or any ice cream shop that sells frozen drinks, and spend at least fifteen minutes in front of the machine trying to convince myself that I want a blue raspberry Slush.”

  “But you hate blue raspberry.”

  “I know I do, but it doesn’t stop me from buying it.”

  “Okay? And what do you do with the drink?”

  “I play with the glass, twirl the ice around with the straw until it melts, and then watch as I pour it down the nearest drain.”

  “So you never drink them?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why continue to convince yourself that it’s what you want?”

  “Because I’m always scared of what the root beer will taste like.”

  “It’s going to taste the same as it always does.”

  “No. No, it won’t. Maybe in six years they changed the recipe or something.”

  “Abby, a root beer slushy is a root beer slushy. Whether you buy it here or in BC, it’s going to taste the same,” I mocked. “Now, can you please stop talking about frozen drinks and tell me what the hell you’re really talking about?”

  She shook her head.

  “God, you’re exasperating.” I snarled.

  “And you’re annoying.” she fired back.

  “How can I be the annoying one if you’re the one that brought up the subject in the first place, but refuse to explain to me why?”

  I missed this so much…

  “You know, you haven’t changed at all in six years.”

  “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

  “Actually, no.” I smiled “It’s meant as a compliment, so take it. And could you please just tell me what’s really on your mind.”

  She sighed. “Chase or Tyler or any one of them for that matter. I never loved them, Oliver.”

  “There were others?”

  “Please don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

  “Seriously? How many?” I asked.

  She shot me an irritated look.

  “Fine. So you didn’t love Tyler.”

  “No,” she responded sadly.

  “He loved you, Abby, and if you ask me, he still does.”

  “Maybe. But I still can’t be with him.”

  “He made a mistake, Abbygail. I know he regrets it.”

  Wait. Why am I pushing this exactly?

  “I know he does, but it’s not about his cheating Oliver. I-don’t-love-him.” She bowed her head and untied her hair to hide her face. “Tyler was the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for,” she murmured. “But he deserves to be with a girl that will love him back.”

  I pushed her hair away from her face. I needed to see her eyes and when she looked up to me I could see how torn she was. “You can be that girl if you want to be, Abs.”

  “No, Oliver, I can’t. And I don’t want to.”

  “Abby, are you destroying your chance at happiness and love because you’re scared of loving or because you’re afraid of getting hurt?”

  She regarded me for a while and stood up from our seat. I watched her walk around the space that was clear of branches. She circled the trunk letting her fingers travel along the rough edges and stopped near a fallen branch. Picking at it, she snapped a dead piece of wood and played with it silently for a while. After growing tired of it, she threw it on the ground and looked back at me.

  “You think I’m destroying my future because I’m afraid of being hurt? You’re wrong, so wrong, Oliver. I’ve survived hurt for six years. Hurt doesn’t scare me anymore.”

  My fists tightened at the sound of her broken voice.

  “And love?” she sneered. “In my whole life, I was in love once. That guy, he was my high school crush. He was my family. He was my best friend. He was my home. He meant everything to me. I loved everything about him: the way he’d look at me, the way he smiled at me, the way he listened to me, the way he would tease me and got annoyed with me. The way he held my hand, the way he held me close to him all the time, the way he would always protect me, the way he waved good night when we couldn’t spend the night together. I loved his heart, his kindness, his dark eyes, his dimples, his carefree spirit. I loved the way we could spend hours together and never get tired of each other’s company, or how our friends would be annoyed with our bickering and yet we’d laugh it off because it was just the way we were. Oliver, I loved you so damn much, that all I do is compare the feelings I have for other men, to what it felt like when I was in love with you.” She glanced up at the sky and brought her eyes back to mine. They were full of tears, and I knew she was doing the best she could to hold them back. “So you know what, Oliver? Maybe you’re right: maybe I am afraid. But I’m not afraid of love because I don’t believe in it anymore, and I’m not afraid of pain because it’s the only way I know I’m still alive.”

  I winced.

  “What I’m afraid of is root beer slushies.”

  I stared at her completely clueless, and I knew she was getting irritated with me, which was fine, because I was too.

  “Tonight, I tasted the fucking root beer slushy, Oliver, and it tasted the same. I wanted it. No. I needed it to taste different, and it didn’t. That’s what the hell I’m talking about.” She looked away as if she was trying to figure out which way would be the quickest one to leave again.

  Wait. I am root beer slush now? I’m so confused…

  I grabbed her hand. I didn’t want her to walk away. I wanted to tell her that six years ago I felt exactly the same.

  But what use would that be now?

  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Abby, and if this is about me kissing you, Abby I’m—”

  “STOP! Don’t say it, Oliver,” she scolded. “If you don’t mean it, please don’t say you’re sorry. You don’t get it, Oliver. I never regretted kissing you either.”

  “Then tell me, Abby, because I don’t understand.”

  She mumbled something that sounded like: “Stupid man brain. And you know what, fuck it.” and put her lips to mine. After minutes of ravaging my mouth with hers, she pulled back panting.

  “Did you feel that Oliver?”

  I did. Every single stroke felt like fireworks, and I didn’t want her to stop. When I didn’t answer her eyes fell to the ground.

  “Abby, look at me.”

  She looked up confused and hesitant. It was as if she wanted to disappear now that she had laid her heart out to me. I grabbed her by the waist and straddled her body over mine. Her hands pulled at my neck and hair as mine roamed her soft silky skin. I craved her closeness and cursed the layers of clothing between us, but then again maybe our being fully-clothed was better for the both of us.

  “Oliver, I—”

  I crashed my lips on hers,
swallowing her next words with my own secrets.

  I wanted her.

  I needed her.

  I yearned to make her mine.

  ···

  I held Abby tightly in my arms with her head resting close to my heart. The position wasn’t comfortable, but the serenity of her proximity was. Listening to her soft breathing, I gazed at the dark sky through the bare branches of the willow tree and wondered what my next move was going to be.

  “I think I should be heading back,” she said out of the blue.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  She yawned, “I think I was.”

  “Abby?”

  “Yeah?” she responded without meeting my gaze, but I saw worry in her eyes when she stood.

  I got off the swing to face her and wrapped her body in the comforter so she wouldn’t get cold. “Tomorrow, after dinner, we’re going to go to Downtown Ottawa for a beaver tail. After that, we’re going to that candy store that sells Slush Puppies, and we are going to share a real root beer slushy.

  She smiled and kissed my cheek.

  “Goodnight, Oliver.”

  Lectured by a Teen

  Oliver

  The house was silent when I walked through the patio door. Locking up, I turned out the lights Jenna had left on for me and headed to my room.

  “I remember you,” he said, startling me as he hid in the shadows of the hallway. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re that guy that used to live across the street,” he paused. “Oliver, I think.”

  “Good memory.”

  “Do you remember me?”

  My eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Sort of. I remember you liked to toss the football with Abby when she babysat you.”

  “You played with us once in a while.” He smiled at the memory.

  I nodded. “And you told me you were going to marry her one day.”

  He chuckled.

  “Do you still play?”

  “No.” He put his hands in his pockets and surveyed me for a while. I leaned on the opposing wall and waited to see if he would add more. It pained me when I saw a child being beaten up, the fact that I knew him, made it ten times worse.

  “Cole”

  “Abby changed after you left.”

  I ignored his comment, “Jenna told me what happened tonight. How are you holding up, Buddy?”