She stared absently at the picture in my hands and laughed lighter this time. “No matter what Damian did, that boy of mine loved his father something fierce. I’ll never understand it.”
Me neither. Even now, Dee was still teaching me what it meant to live with the kind of grace and courage no circumstance could shake.
I set the picture frame back in the spot on his desk outlined in dust and pointed to the center drawer. “May I?”
She nodded.
I only had to sift through a few loose papers to find the sketchpad Dee had shown me months earlier. Removing it uncovered a small brown leather journal. I peered at Ms. Mendierez again for permission.
She backed into the hallway. “Take your time.”
The tremor in my hands kept me from opening the journal’s worn binding all the way. This was part of Dee. A part I wasn’t so sure I could handle seeing. But a name caught my eye before I closed it. I scanned backward until I found the beginning of the sentence: I never blamed A. J. for his reaction when I first came to the center.
I flipped the page over to the beginning of that day’s entry. He’d written it only a couple of days before he died. I sank onto the chair as the memory of Dee’s voice lifted off the page.
I wonder if this is what it’s like to have a brother. Someone who cares about me enough to teach me when to man up to my potential. To show me how to treat a girl and live without holding anything back.
I never blamed A. J. for his reaction when I first came to the center. He saw what everyone else saw. But when he accepted me—even after he knew the things I’d done and was capable of doing—that didn’t make no sense.
Guess it sounds crazy to think God would’ve gone to so much trouble to get me to the center just so I’d understand what it means to have a family. But what if he did? For the first time, I know what it feels like to walk through life with a brother by my side.
I wiped off the tears collected at the bottom of my chin. Did A. J. have any idea what kind of impact he’d made on Dee’s life? He needed to read this. For Dee and for all the kids at the center, A. J. had to know what he’d be forfeiting if he didn’t come back.
After one last scan around the room, I closed the door to the visible reminder of what we’d lost. But with the treasures Dee’d left behind in my hands, I left knowing I’d do whatever it took to see his artwork printed.
“Ms. Mendierez?” I called when I reached the bottom of the steps.
Not a single sound. I crept around the banister and followed a slender hallway into the kitchen. She sat at the table with a look of detachment glossing her eyes. A half-empty bottle of Bacardi weighed her arm to the floor beside shards of broken tumblers. That must’ve been the crashing noise I’d heard when I’d first arrived.
I stepped into her line of sight and raised the pad and journal. “If it’s okay, I’d like to borrow these two things for a little while. I promise to return them just as they are.”
She didn’t stir. Didn’t speak.
Had I overstepped my bounds? “If this is too much, I can—”
“It’s fine, Miss Matthews.” With a forced blink, she veered her focus toward me. The simple motion took longer than it should have.
Midway in a turn toward the door, I stopped. I couldn’t leave. Not yet. I knelt by her side, pried the bottle from her cold, feeble hand, and held on.
“I know this is difficult to hear, and the last thing I want to do is be insensitive to what you’re going through, but I can’t leave without saying this.” After how many times I’d needed people to speak hard truths into my life, it only seemed right for me to do the same for someone else.
“I won’t pretend to understand what you’re experiencing right now, but I know what it’s like to lose a family member. To want to stay in bed instead of facing another day of unanswered questions.” I sat back on my feet.
“But someone Dee loved very much had to remind me that giving up would only be dishonoring his memory.” I squeezed her hand. “For Dee, please. Please don’t stop living.”
Her eyes softened but didn’t release the fear of what returning to the present might cost. As much as I wanted to help her, she had to make the choice herself. I set her hand on her lap and pushed up on my thighs.
At the front door, I stalled one last time before closing it. The sunlit warmth soaked through my coat onto my back. What would it take to penetrate her walls?
A group of elementary kids raced toward a rundown playground a little ways up the street at the same time a city transit bus picked up a handful of people most likely headed into evening shifts.
Surrounded by the day’s evidence that life carries on, I listened for any sign of Ms. Mendierez joining it, but none came. Not even a hint of motion.
Unmoving. I’d been there. Lived through it. But maybe it wasn’t my place to influence her. Maybe it was Dee’s. This was exactly why the center couldn’t afford to close. Even though Dee was gone, I had to believe his legacy would continue to impact those he left behind . . . including A. J.
chapter six
Consequences
I’d done my best to stay occupied and keep my mind off the sense of helplessness yesterday had stirred. But after cramming for finals all day, I needed a break.
The coffee fumes taking over the living room swallowed up my tea’s spicy aroma. It was two cups against one. Not to mention Jaycee and Trevor’s mugs were almost double the size of mine.
Trev tossed a throw pillow in the air above his head like a basketball. “So, what do you two want to do tonight?”
He’d probably asked that same question a couple hundred times over the last three and a half years. We were best friends. We hung out together all the time. But something about hearing him say “you two” wrought an unavoidable reminder of who was missing tonight.
A. J. wasn’t busy with other plans or out of town. I’d lost him. Things would be different now. They had to be different.
Trevor caught the pillow midair and appraised the look on my face. “What’s wrong?”
“How is he?” I didn’t have to say A. J.’s name.
He glanced at Jaycee, hesitating. “To be honest, I haven’t seen much of him. He’s pretty much been living in the gym, self-medicating.”
Jaycee thrust an elbow shot to his ribs.
He doubled over. “What was that for? We all know Em broke his heart.”
Jaycee gear-wrenched a hand around his forearm. “Trev!”
“No, he’s right,” I said. “There’s no reason to pretend I haven’t hurt him.”
She tilted her head at me. “He’ll be okay. Just—”
“Give it time. I know.” My shoulders caved with doubt. I didn’t want to argue, but she was wrong. Time, yet again, was the enemy.
Thoughts overlapped until I knew what I needed to do.
I scooted to the edge of the couch and ran my fingers along my mug handle. “Listen, you two go out and do something fun tonight. I’m going to stay behind this time.”
Jaycee darted her head in my direction. Her angled bangs swooped across her eyes, but not before laser beams of warning streamed at me.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “No sinking back into depression. Promise. I have something I need to take care of. You guys go on. Really.”
The laser beams narrowed. And I thought I had doubt issues.
Trevor towed her up from the couch. She dragged her feet across the carpet and stared at me over her shoulder until the door closed behind them.
I unfolded the piece of paper I’d photocopied from Dee’s journal and reread it twice in hopes he would transfer his courage to me one more time. Ready or not, I threw on a coat and headed to the gym and the confrontation waiting for me there.
A quick scan across the empty basketball courts led me down stairs toward the weight room. Weights clicked together and tunneled a sharp echo through the hall straight into the clatter already pounding against my ribcage.
I stopped outside the doorway. S
eeing A. J. alone—basketball shorts, favorite red hoodie, ball cap on backward, like always—almost turned me right back around.
His gaze flickered to my reflection in the mirrored wall. A faint smile touched his eyes. “I had a feeling you’d come down here eventually.”
His voice was as real and open as it’d always been. I looked away before he saw how much I hated having to let go of that sound. “I’m sorry. I know I have no right to come—”
“Is that why you came? To apologize?” The dumbbells clanked into the rack and raised my shoulders even higher. “To apologize for what exactly?” He faced me. “For all we went through together? Because I’m not sorry. For any of it.”
Head down, I folded the corner of the paper in my hands back and forth. “A. J., I—”
“I know.” He peeled open the Velcro straps on his gloves. “Riley’s already won that battle.”
“It’s not a battle.”
He tossed his gloves over his gym bag in the corner and smiled at my reflection in the mirror. “Still naive.”
A pang of defensiveness rose inside me, but the truth weighed it back down. The gravity of what my naiveté had cost us both filled the tiny room.
I stared at the black and white tiled floor. “You’re right. I was naive. I thought we could just be friends. Thought we could be close without—”
“Without what?” He edged closer. “Letting me into your heart?”
The intensity in brown eyes withered my voice to a whisper. “You’re my friend, A. J. Of course you hold a place in my heart.” Even if it was one neither of us could visit again.
The familiar grin I’d leaned on too much this past semester slanted to the left. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Though he was standing directly in front of me now, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I untwisted the paper, but the knot in my chest kept tightening.
“I’m not saying I won’t move on.” He inched close enough to hear my soft inhale. “But no amount of time will ever take away what I’ve experienced with you. Those memories aren’t replaceable.”
He bent forward and lowered his head in front of mine until I couldn’t avoid looking at him any longer. “Carrying you up to your apartment. Fighting with you in the pouring rain. Smoking you on the basketball court. Getting you to play in front of the kids.” His mischievous grin melded into a look of transparency. “Feeling your heart race in my arms.”
I staggered backward, afraid he’d misinterpret the sound of my heart racing now. It wasn’t what he thought.
He strode forward, not letting me slip away. “Those memories are mine, Em. They’ll always be mine.”
They were my memories too. The pain of losing them trekked up my throat.
He moved closer still. The doorframe brushed against my back. He raised my chin. “Does it have to be this way?”
No matter how many times I’d asked myself the same question, the answer never changed.
I caged my tears behind my lashes. “Yes.”
Silence pressed in. I straightened and grasped for strength to remain steadfast, for both our sakes.
A pained smile creased his face. “You’ll always hold a piece of my heart.” He took off his ball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, and tugged it back on. When he looked up again, the smolder in his expression hadn’t waned. “So, I won’t lie to you this time. I’ll respect your decision and say goodbye, but I won’t let go of what we had, Em.” He shook his head. “Not ever.”
Oceans of promise poured from his eyes to mine. I turned to leave before my resolve crumbled. Halfway down the hall, I stopped and curled my fingers around the reminder of why I’d come to begin with. The center needed him.
A deep breath led me around. “I came to give you this.” I handed him the photocopy of Dee’s transcribed memories. “You need to know the difference you made in Dee’s life. The difference you’ve made in all the kids’ lives.” I folded my hand over his. “Please don’t give that up because of me.”
A. J.’s focus drifted down to the note, but he didn’t respond. I strode through the door again without stopping to look back.
The path to my apartment stretched longer than it should have. Same as my thoughts. Truth was, I couldn’t control A. J.’s reaction any more than I could change Ms. Mendierez’s. We each made our own choices. And for now, my only choice was to keep walking.
chapter seven
Inferno
Waiting for a response from A. J. was about as hard as waiting for word back on my grant requests. Studying hadn’t helped. I had to move.
On my way to the store, I rotated the vent and wrenched my scarf away from my neck. Man, Riley’s car got hot fast. Or maybe it was me. My internal thermostat seemed to be stuck on inferno since seeing that “For Rent” sign on Monday.
How could Mr. Glyndon boot us out like that? Trey’d been there for years. Yeah, money’d been tight this year, but Trey was trying. We all were. I thought he saw that.
My cell rang from the passenger seat. Without looking away from the road, I groped through my purse. “Hello.”
“Ms. E?”
“Darius? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I mean, I think so. But Trey . . . he was on the phone with that landlord guy. I heard somethin’ ‘bout him reneging on the three-month deal.”
What? The inferno setting kicked up ten degrees. I wrestled my scarf off and tossed it in the back. “Are you sure?” Mr. Glyndon couldn’t be that heartless. He wouldn’t kick us out with Christmas only two weeks away.
“I don’t know. Trey was trying to keep it all hush hush, but he was gettin’ hot. I could tell. He dipped outside when he caught me staring.”
Leave it to Trey to insulate everyone else from the blow. But he wasn’t in this alone. Deep breath. “Do me a favor. Don’t mention it to any of the kids. Keep everyone cool. Business as usual, okay?” I glanced in the rearview mirror. “Let me take care of this.”
“Don’t go doing nothing crazy. I never met this Mr. G., but I don’t trust him.”
A smile poked through. Darius might’ve been eighteen, but his protective instincts were really adorable sometimes. “Nothing crazy. Promise.”
“A’ight. I’m out, then.”
I dropped the phone on my lap, checked all my mirrors, and busted a U-turn in the middle of the street. We all had our own definitions of crazy.
By the time I reached the swanky neighborhood, my mind had sprinted home and back at least twice. Why was Mr. Glyndon making all these hasty changes?
I cruised up along a curb in front of a winding driveway leading to a ridiculously posh multi-story home. Even the guy’s mailbox had a suite added on it. I choked back an eye-roll. Glad to see he was hurting for that rent money.
A third attempt at calling him went straight to voicemail. I tossed my cell in the cup holder and rummaged through my purse for a pad and pen. If he wouldn’t take my calls, at least he could read a note. One way or another, I’d get through to him.
I jotted down my appeal and looked up right as a redhead snuck through the fence in a wraparound skirt and a bikini top that should’ve been fired for failing at its job. Where’d she come from, and seriously, who dressed like that in December?
Folding the page in half, I clambered out of the car. “Hi, excuse me?” I jogged toward her. “Is Mr. Glyndon home?”
A cautious glance met me halfway, fleeted behind her to the house, and sailed around the neighbors’ yards. “Mitch is out of town.”
Figured. “Is anyone home I can speak with?”
“Sorry, he’s on vacation.”
With his wife, no doubt.
She lowered her Hollywood sunglasses from her head onto her face and kept scouring the streets as she rubbed her arms, clearly antsy to get to her warm car.
If she had any connection to Mr. Glyndon, maybe she’d leak some information. Playing the naive card couldn’t hurt. “Do you live here?”
“No, I was . . .” She
spun the back of a long, dangling earring. “Cleaning his Jacuzzi for him.”
While modeling for the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated? Right.
“Will you be cleaning his Jacuzzi when he comes back?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Possibly.”
I spun the note in my hands. What were the chances she’d give it to him?
A door opened across the street. She slinked by me. “Excuse me, I need to get going.”
I moved to let her pass and spotted a silver BMW idling several car lengths down from Riley’s Civic. I squinted. Same tinted windows as the one from the other day. Was someone following me? I started toward it, but the car peeled out again and zipped down a side street before I caught the license plate number. Perfect.
A backward glance turned into a spin. Miss Jacuzzi Cleaner had vanished, and some middle-aged woman in a leopard-printed jacket and high-heeled boots stood across the street with her empty mailbox box open as wide as her stare. For a second, I thought someone had thrown me into an episode of Desperate House Wives.
My stomach twisted as the pieces melded together. Mr. Glyndon’s sudden urgency to close the center, like someone was breathing down his neck. The indiscreet redhead. The gawking neighbor. Was that what this was about? Some kind of blackmail for catching him cheating on his wife? The implications almost bent me in half.
It had to be Tito. His reach never ended, did it? Even in jail, he’d found a way to taunt the center. Was this retribution for Trey not hiding his little brother there? He’d done all he could for the kid. What did Tito expect? A miracle?
Back at Riley’s car, I slid into the driver’s seat and started a new note to Mr. Glyndon. I didn’t care what kind of dirty laundry he had. He couldn’t cower to Tito’s threats.
A ring lit up my cell with the same strange number from the other day. I peered around for any sight of that BMW and tentatively swiped the screen. “Hello?”
Hope Unbroken (Unveiled Series Book 3) Page 4