God, my heart is breaking for these people, for Susanna who idolized her father even though he was abusive, for Keaton who was the only one of the three Westwick children to know what Holden was like before he turned mean, and for Colin who’d only ever wanted to be loved by his father, but would always feel like he never quite measured up.
Susanna is the first to step forward. She doesn’t hesitate a single second before dropping the rose. She turns on her heel and walks away without giving any of us a backward glance. I know that she just needs time.
Carly steps forward next, but she doesn’t relinquish the hold she has on her husband’s hand. She tucks herself back into Keaton’s side, and she walks forward when he does, their footsteps totally in sync, and when the first tear falls from his eye, her lips catch it right before it has a chance to roll down his cheek. He bends down and kisses the top of her head, and then he approaches me.
“Thank you for being here, Nickayla,” Keaton says, his voice gruff as he envelops me in a quick hug. “None of us could have gotten through this without you.”
I nod and give him a kiss on the cheek. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Call if you need anything.”
He nods, and then he approaches his brother. He wraps his arms around Colin and squeezes tightly, leaning forward and whispering something in his ear. Colin blanches, but he still doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t return his brother’s empathetic embrace. He remains still as ever, but I can see his resolve falling with every second. When Keaton pulls away, he places a hand on Colin’s shoulder and squeezes before he finally retreats.
When, at long last, we’re alone in front of Mr. Westwick’s casket, I turn to my boyfriend and gaze into his green eyes. They’re completely glossed over and unblinking, but when I step in front of him, they meet my gaze.
I reach up and place a hand along the side of his cheek. “Are you ready, honey?”
If I didn’t know any better, or if I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t have caught it. I barely register the movement before my eyes, but he gives an imperceptible shake of his head. I almost break right then and there, but I know that I can’t. I run my hand softly down his face, and he chokes out a ragged breath.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” His voice is so silent as he repeats his words from this morning, it’s like it was carried in the wind.
I nod at him, and I squeeze his hand in support. “Together, then.” I hand him a dark red rose and he takes it, holding it at his side as we approach the casket.
I close my eyes and bring my flower up to my lips as I whisper a plea. “Please let him find the peace in Heaven that he never found on Earth.”
I turn to Colin not a moment too soon.
It’s when he drops the flower atop his father that I realize what’s about to happen.
I feel it before I see it though: it starts with a minute twitch of his pointer finger as he grasps my hand in a death grip. The other fingers follow slowly in succession, and each time the tremor passes from one finger to another, it increases in power until his hand is shaking violently in mine. I squeeze his hand and try to take all of the emotion from him, to let the pain run through my fingertips, through my hand, through my body, through my heart, just so that he won’t have to feel it anymore. It’s less than a minute before his entire body is shaking violently and collapsing to his knees in a fit of quakes so strong that I have to drop to my knees beside him just to keep from being overtaken by the sheer power behind them. Before I know it, I’m kneeling behind him, still clutching his shaking hand above his heart and wrapping my other hand around his front. I’m holding onto him and trying to keep my wits about me, but none of it can prepare me for what happens next. A loud, twisted, mangled cry escapes his lips before he keels over and the tremors intensify, and with that, the floodgates, both his and mine, burst. I hold on to him, running my hands along his back and his chest as I attempt to soothe him to no avail. I can barely see through the cloud of tears, through the emotional haze that’s overtaken me as I watch the boy I love break at the hands of his father, not for the first time. We sob and we shake, our emotions connected to one another through an invisible tether that neither of us can bear to break.
…
It’s not until two hours later that Keaton and Jamie are half-dragging, half-carrying Colin’s body through the door of our apartment.
They’ve had to carry his inebriated body up two flights of stairs, so I’m surprised when they go the extra mile and continue drag-carrying him until they reach our bedroom.
Jamie sets him on the bed as gently as is possible, and Keaton grabs his little brother’s legs and lets them flop onto the mattress. Keaton crouches at the foot of the bed and plucks Colin’s shoes off one by one, tossing them aside as though they’re nothing.
He falls to the floor and brings his knees up. His green eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head. “I’ll crash on the couch. He’s gonna be in a whole world of hurt when he wakes up in the morning, Nic.”
I shake my head in response as I approach the bed and lean forward, brushing my boyfriend’s sweaty hair back and away from his forehead with my hand.
I sigh, closing my eyes. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” I reply, and Jamie coughs skeptically.
“Are you sure, Nickayla? I know you want to save him and everything, but he’s not going to get over this by tomorrow. You know that, right?” Jamie asks, his eyebrow cocked as though I’m insane.
It dawns on me that up until last year, Jamie and Keaton were the people who took care of Colin. They were the ones who took care of him when shit got sour. They were the ones who made sure he was alright. With that in mind, I start to think that maybe they’re uncomfortable leaving him—and Suze—with me in such a trying time. I admire them for that, because that means they truly care about him.
I give them both a smile before I begin to speak. “Yes, I know that, Jamie. I know that better than anyone, and you know it. I’m telling you, Jame, I’ve got this. If I need anything, I’ll call.”
Jamie nods once before he comes over to me and envelops me in a hug. He holds onto me for a long time before he kisses my hair and then sighs. “Well, make sure you’ve got some Motrin, Ginger Ale, and Harry Potter ready when he wakes up. He’s a giant ass baby when he doesn’t feel well—take it from the guy who suffered through the chicken pox with him.” He smiles at me and releases me, but not for long. He wraps me in yet another hug, like he’s afraid to let me go, like he’s afraid of what the outcome of all of this will be. Finally, he lets me go and then sighs again. “Okay. I’ll give you a call in the morning to see how everybody’s holding up.”
I nod.
“I mean what I said about the Harry Potter!” he exclaims on his way out of the door.
I give a halfhearted laugh. Keaton remains on the floor, his green eyes regarding me with skepticism. Jamie looks over at him, then at Colin’s sleeping figure, and shakes his head.
“I’ll meet you in the car.”
I walk over to Keaton and extend my hand. His glance travels from my hand to my face and back to my hand before he registers what I’ve extended it for. I rear back as he grasps my hand and struggles to his feet.
I pull him into a hug and hold him tightly until my lips are at his ear. “I know you’re trying to be strong through all of this. But I also know that sometimes, that means you don’t get to properly grieve yourself. I just wanted you to know, I know you have Carly, but if you ever need anything, I’m just a phone call away.”
He nods, and I swear I feel him almost choke on a sob. When we break apart, he eyes his younger brother warily. He rakes his hand over his face and groans. He, like Jamie, doesn’t look like he’s quite ready to go yet. He looks like there’s no place he’d rather be than taking care of his little brother—even if that means leaving his wife alone for the night. It’d be funny to me if it weren’t so damn sad.
He looks reluctant to speak, but he clears his throat. “Are you su
re you’ve got this? Carly wouldn’t mind me sleeping on the couch. She knows I need to help Colin more than I need to help myself right now,” he says.
“I’m positive. Go home to your wife, Keaton. Let her heal you.”
“Nic—”
“No. I’ve got this. I know you want to take care of him forever, but there’s someone out there who wants desperately to take care of you. And you need to let her or so help me, Keaton, I will kick your ass.”
He remains silent for a long time and then he regards me with puppy dog eyes. Little does he know, Colin’s done the same thing one too many times, and I’m now immune to the smoldering green eyes of the Westwick boys. I smirk at him and place a hand on my hip.
“Keaton, seriously. Go.”
He shakes his head and then exhales loudly. “Okay. If you need anything, Nickayla—”
Jesus Christ. This man is going to drive me even crazier than his brother. “I’ll call. I swear.”
“Okay,” he says hesitantly. He pauses, glancing at Colin once more. “He’s lucky to have you. I’ll let myself out.”
I beam, and the minute he’s gone, I begin worrying over Colin. I reach for his tie and pull on it until it loosens. I untie it and pull it out from beneath his collar.
I tug off his jacket as gently as I can without waking him, and then I fuss at unbuttoning the buttons of his shirt. I untuck it, and rip it open, not caring how much this ensemble cost him. I reach for his belt and unbuckle it, then I unfasten his pants and tug them down his legs until they’re off, and his entire suit is a pool of clothes at the foot of our bed. Once he’s undressed, I pull my stockings down and then kick them off once they’ve pooled at my feet. I reach behind me and unzip my dress, slipping my arms through the holes and letting it fall to my feet. I pad over to Colin’s dresser and reach in the top drawer for one of his t-shirts. I grab one that smells like him, like sandalwood and musk and boy all in one, and I slip it over my head. Moments later, I pull the sheets and comforter back and climb into bed, draping my legs over his and my arm over his stomach, and then I nestle my head on his chest and close my eyes.
I’ve no idea how I’m going to get all of us through this, but I know one thing is for sure. This beautiful boy has been strong for me too many times to count. I can be strong enough for the both of us now. I know I can.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, hoping that we can all fight our way through.
It’s not long before sleep pulls me under.
Nine.
The following morning, I awake with a heavy heart. I reach for Colin, but he’s not in bed with me.
At first, my mind goes into panic mode. What if he snuck out last night and drank some more? What if he went to his mother’s? My mind is working overdrive thinking of all the negative possibilities of where my grieving boyfriend might be right now. I reach for my cell phone to give him a call and see where he is, but then I hear him. He’s in the bathroom.
I leap out of bed and open the door to our en suite bathroom, and Colin’s kneeling on the floor, his head hanging over the toilet.
“Morning, Sunshine,” I say, trying my best to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
His head moves upward in slow motion, and when he catches my eye, he groans.
“Jesus, Nickayla. Go away!” he exclaims. “I don’t want you to see me like this. Go, please.”
I’m not sure if it’s the embarrassment that causes the flush in his cheeks, or the fact that I just missed the sight of my boyfriend getting violently ill. Either way, I feel a little bad for him. I place my hands beneath his armpits and put all my strength into helping lift him up. At first he struggles, but he gets to his feet and I walk him back toward the bedroom. We get to the bed and he flops down on top of it, and then tosses himself backward. He brings his arm up over his eyes, and then groans.
“This is so embarrassing.” He pauses, peeking at me from beneath his arm. “You should never have to see me like this.”
I take a seat on the bed beside him, running my hand along his leg. “It’s okay, Colin. Really. You’ve seen me much worse than this. Remember when I had the flu right before Christmas?”
He lifts his arm and glares at me. “Yeah, but you didn’t get drunk and make a fool out of yourself at Christmas dinner. This isn’t the same.”
I sigh.
“Don’t worry about it. As strong as you are, you deserve a weak day every now and then.” I pause. “What can I get for you? Motrin? Ginger Ale? Harry Potter?”
I can barely fight the smile that’s forming on my face. Colin slowly gathers his wits about him and props himself up on his elbows as he eyes me suspiciously. Realization dawns and he closes his eyes. “Fuck. I’m going to kill Jamie.”
I laugh as he lets himself fall onto his back again. “Yeah.”
Raising an eyebrow, I get up off the bed and walk to the door. “Yeah to what?”
He’s silent for a long time before he covers his eyes again. “Yeah to all of the above.”
I smile and blow him a kiss from the doorway, padding off to the kitchen to get what he needs.
Making my way through the apartment, I secretly hope that Madilyn isn’t awake yet. I don’t want to have to deal with her this early in the morning.
I automatically halt when I hear two distinct voices coming from the kitchen. I take a deep breath and strut into the kitchen, completely stunned by the fact that Mads is sitting at my kitchen table wearing shorts shorter than the ones I’m wearing right now. She’s sitting across from Susanna, who looks less than thrilled to see that she’s still here.
“Morning,” she says brightly.
My head whips around and I try my hardest not to shoot a death glare at her. “Morning.”
Suze glances at me nervously and pushes away from the table. “Um…I’ll go check..do…I’ll see you guys later.”
I rush to her side and place my hand on her shoulder. “Stay.” That’s what I say to her. What I want to say to her is that I need her to stay in the kitchen so that she can keep me away from the knives. Something about Madilyn makes me extremely violent.
Suze must know what’s going on in my head, because she sits without another word. I grab a mug from the cabinet and reach for the coffee pot. I lean against the counter as I pour myself a cup of coffee and stare at Mads.
“So. What are you doing today?” I ask her.
“I was actually going to hang around here for the day.”
Her voice is so sweet, it’s hard to believe that she’s as bad as she is.
“No you’re not. Colin and my friends are coming over to check on us. And as much as I’d love to have you here, I can’t guarantee that Michele won’t murder you now that we’re not on holy ground. I’d steer clear of the apartment until at least seven p.m.”
We’re all silent for a long time, and Mads coughs before turning to me. “Nickayla, I’m really sorry about how things escalated last summer. For the things I said…the things I did. I’m sorry.”
I put the coffee pot down and walk over to the refrigerator for coffee creamer. All the while, I never take my eyes off of her. I narrow them, and she pales.
“Okay.” I don’t know what else she expects me to say. Does she expect forgiveness? Because if so, she already has it. That doesn’t mean that I want to be around her, though. “What do you want me to say?”
Suze glances back and forth between the two of us as I gather all the things I need to take back to Colin from the kitchen. I make sure that I toast him a couple pieces of bread and place them on a plate so he can have something in his stomach before he takes a painkiller for his headache. Once I’m done preparing what he needs, I turn back to face his ex-girlfriend.
“I don’t expect you to say anything. I just…I want you to know how sorry I am.” She sounds genuine, but I know better. “I know you think that I want to get back together with him. You think I’m here for Colin.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you though? I mean, you show up here, inst
ead of going to your parents or your sister, and you flaunt around our apartment in what are practically underwear, with your bottle red hair and your fake smile, and you expect me to believe that you’re not after my boyfriend? I may have been born a blonde, but sweetie, I’m anything but dumb. Try again.”
Susanna stands up and walks over to me. She reaches for the toast in my hand, but I pull back. “Nic, just…go take it to Colin and call it a day. Please?”
“Sure.” I take the two liter of ginger ale from the refrigerator, and grabbing his Motrin and toast, I walk to the living room. I turn and face Madilyn. “You want me to believe that you don’t want Colin? You REALLY want to convince me?”
She nods, and her cheeks turn pink as she smiles at me. “Yes. I really do.”
My eyes roam from her hair, down her body to her bare legs as I scoff. “Then put some Goddamn clothes on.”
I walk back to the bedroom and, shutting the door behind me, I take a deep breath. I don’t want Colin to see me worked up. He’s got enough on his plate already, and the last thing that he needs is to worry about Mads and me.
Once I’m inside the room, I shut the door behind me and lean against it as I take a deep breath. I need to calm myself before I approach Colin because I guarantee he’ll notice that there’s something wrong with me immediately. I step further into our room and as I continue walking, Colin’s head lifts marginally. He greets me with what’s an extremely odd mixture of a grin, a grimace, and a stink face.
“Gee, babe, if you’re not happy to see me, you could just say so,” I say teasingly.
He struggles into a sitting position and pats the space on the bed next to him. “Yours is the only face I wanna see today, pretty girl,” he says softly, and I can’t stop the heat the rushes to my cheeks.
I grin, sitting next to him and presenting him with Jamie’s suggested hangover remedies. He eyes the items in my hands and beams appreciatively.
“I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”
His words make my heart sing. “Okay, Casanova. Eat your toast.”
Almost Everything (Nickayla Quinn Trilogy Book 2) Page 8