RECKLESS - Part 5 (The RECKLESS Series)

by Ward, Alice

  “And that’s when they told me that I’d just show up all the other teammates,” the guy sitting across from me said. What was his name? Tony? No, Tom. Ah, who the hell knows? Who the hell cares?

  Blind date number three was about as much of an epic fail as one and two. But I suppose, at least this guy didn’t have bad breath. Or a receding hair line. This one was just . . . oh, who the hell knows? Truth was, I’d rather bludgeon my eyes out with my spoon than sit there and listen to him drone on another minute about the Seahawks or how he almost made the team.

  I needed an escape route, but I had no idea what that could be.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, lifting my eyes to look at the dark-haired guy that I couldn’t remember the name of to save my life. “Could you excuse me for just a minute? I need to call and check on the baby.”

  His head shook, as if he were trying to shake the image of me holding a kid on my hip from his head. Mission accomplished.

  “Um, sure,” he finally said, waving his hand to give me permission to leave. As if I needed it.

  When I returned to the table, prepared to give him some line about my pretend baby having a fever, he was gone. I smiled to myself and returned to my seat. I didn’t care whether or not he’d paid the bill; I was going to finish my soup and salad in peace. No need to let good food go to waste, right?

  ***

  “No more, Amy,” I said, sitting down across from her at our usual lunch table. “I can’t do another ridiculous blind date. This last one . . . you know he walked out on me when I pretended to have a kid?”

  “But you don’t have a kid,” Amy said, lowering her menu to look at me. Not like she needed it anyway. She always ordered the fish and chips.

  “That’s really not the point, though,” I said, tapping the table with my finger for emphasis. “What if I did have one? What kind of guy walks out on a date because of that?”

  “A guy who isn’t ready to raise a kid.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I’m done.”

  “I tried to warn you,” she said, chuckling lightly to herself. “Blind dates are awful, especially when someone else has already staked claim to your heart.”

  “Ugh, I wish you’d quit saying that,” I said, setting my menu down on the table. I always ordered the chicken salad sandwich.

  Amy lifted one eyebrow at me; the expression reminded me so much of Becca; I really did need to call her. “Because you know it’s true,” Amy said, smirking at me.

  I let out a heavy huff and shoved my menu to the side so I could place my arms on the table. “You’re right. But what the hell am I supposed to do about it? Spend the rest of my life pining over a man that wasn’t mine to begin with?”

  “I’m afraid you might not have a choice. Some breaks just don’t heal right, hun.”

  I hated that she was probably right, that every man on the planet seemed to pale in comparison to Jace. The evidence was still sitting in the corner of my bedroom; I didn’t have the heart to throw a single one of his letters out, even if I was too afraid to open them.

  But I wasn’t going to admit defeat. Blind dates might not have been the answer, but there had to be one out there somewhere . . . right?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Six months.

  That’s how long I’d been living my “new” life. It felt worlds apart from what I had imagined. Lonelier, mostly. But I had found my place in the world, even if it was without Jace. I didn’t have much of a social life, but I was really going places at the magazine. Amy loved my work so much that she’d already promoted me to top reporter on the entertainment section.

  I’d also started looking at apartments over in the Queen Anne district. Quite a few of them—most of them, really—were out of my price range, but I loved the area and would keep looking until I found something that I loved. After all, the only opinion that really mattered was mine. I’d dreamed of living there since I was little, and it seemed to me that there was no better time to do it like the present.

  And yet, my life still felt empty.

  The blind dates were a flop. A few dates outside of that hadn’t gone any better. There’d been Seth from the coffee shop. Michael that I’d met at the record shop downtown. And even a hipster named Zen who turned out to be a very sexually active bisexual. I didn’t have anything against it, but I sure wasn’t up for sharing my sex life with two men, let alone one.

  A part of me was angry that Jace hadn’t come chasing after me, guns blaring, ready to save the day, to tell me how much he loved me instead of sending me useless letters that probably contained nothing more than a bunch of lies and excuses. But what had I expected? For him to leave his wife and kid? That didn’t happen in the real world. There was a reason why the “other woman” was called as such.

  But, as I trudged home that day, exhausted and a little jaded from spending time with Amy and her new boyfriend, I couldn’t help but be angry. I couldn’t bite back the sting of my rejection. It might have been six months, but time failed to ease the ache in my chest. Distractions with work and helping out with Cole’s appointments seemed to help, but only for a little while. At night, after everyone and everything was quiet, I was still empty and alone . . . and I hated it.

  A good movie and wine, that’s what I needed. And maybe a shower. Unfortunately, I still thought of him every time I stepped into it, that moment we’d shared before everything had come crashing down.

  Little did I know, the little life I’d built was about to get shaken, yet again. And this time by my best friend, the one I’d abandoned and forgotten, the one I’d written off because it hurt too damn much to talk to her. And maybe I was a little angry with her for pushing me to date Jace in the first place, and for getting her happy ending. Whatever the reason, I was about to be faced with every decision I’d made over the last six months, head on, and all at once.

  Literally.

  The second I walked through the front door, I was met with a tackle hug and a squeal. And then, before my tired brain could even register who it was that had wrapped their arms around me, I received a punch to my shoulder.

  “Bitch!” Becca shouted, hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you changed your number and refused to call me. Good thing I know how to Facebook stalk.”

  I must have stuttered for a good five minutes, trying to say her name, before it finally came out correctly. “Becca, what—you’re here?!”

  “Of course I’m here! You drop off the face of the fucking planet and you expect me to not be here?”

  “But . . . where’s Zane?” I looked around the living room, as if he might pop out from behind a doorway or a curtain.

  “With family,” she said, shrugging. “But you would have known that if you’d read any one of my bazillion Facebook messages. Or listened to my voice mails.”

  “So, what are you doing here then?” I asked, taking a seat next to her. “Shit, that sounded stupid. I—I just mean, why now?”

  “What do you mean, why now?” Her face contorted into a painful looking expression. “Since when do I need a reason to come and see you?”

  “Sorry, Becca,” I said, staring at the carpet beneath our feet. “It’s just . . . it’s been so long and I—I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Well, you should have known me better than that,” she said, bumping my shoulder with hers. “Sorry it took so long, but I had to save up for my plane ticket. Ridiculous how much they charge for summer airfare out here.”

  “Tourist season,” I muttered, knowing exactly what she was talking about. It was exactly the reason that I’d hated coming home every summer. The prices were nearly double in the summer as they were in the fall or winter. Because no one wanted to vacation to a place where it was wet and dark and cold all the time. But summers were absolutely perfect here.

  “Anyway, I’m here now, and you’re taking me out to see the city,” she said, not giving me any time to slip any further into self-pity or self-loathing for letting so much time pass without tal
king to her. “I’ve been dying to meet a movie star, and I have a feeling you’re just the girl to make that happen.”

  “Not with my luck,” I said, looking off to the other side of the room. Don’t ask me why I was afraid to tell her that I’d tried to move on and failed, but I was.

  Silence hung between us, thick and palpable, for a moment before she finally laced her arm through mine. “Well, you’re luck’s about to change, ‘cause I’m here now,” she said, pulling me up from the couch with her as she stood.

  I wanted to believe her, but how could I when all the choices and mistakes I’d made were now hitting me full-force? When I knew that she knew the truth because she was an honorary member of the band? When I knew there had to be quite a few topics she’d avoided on purpose?

  ***

  The first place Becca wanted to go?

  My favorite Thai restaurant in all of Seattle. Go figure, right?

  We ordered garlic chicken, spicy asparagus, and a pot of green tea. We talked about her flight out, the unexpected lack of rain, and, of course, her marriage. But everything about our conversation seemed awkward. That only became more noticeable as the conversation started to lag.

  I couldn’t help but feel as if she was hiding something from me. Or maybe she was just trying to avoid the topic that she knew could turn me into a complete mess in nothing more than a heartbeat. Either way, the air between us felt strained and thick, right up until we paid our bill to leave.

  “So, there’s this music festival going on downtown,” she said, digging in her purse for something. “I was hoping you’d take me. I really want to go.”

  Even though she wasn’t looking at me, I raised my brows in question. “Why?” I asked, the suspicious lilt in my tone more than noticeable.

  “I’ve become a real music junkie since . . . you know,” she dismissed the rest of the sentence with a quick wave of her hand. “I just want to go and check it out. We don’t have to stay long, if you’re not up for it. But a beer and some music would really make my day here complete.”

  Okay, what was up? Becca was never this chipper. Or this nice.

  “Becca, the bands there are no one you would know, and it’s going to be crazy hectic,” I said. “Besides, I’m plumb worn out from work today. Why don’t we just go see a movie instead?”

  “Too late,” she said. Producing two pieces of paper from her purse, she lifted her head and met me with a sly grin. “I already bought our tickets.”

  Well, I couldn’t argue at that point, right? Even if seeing another band was the last thing on my to-do list; I already listened to dozens of them every week for work. None of them were easy, not when all of them failed to deliver the same euphoria that Jace’s music had, not when I found myself constantly listening for his voice, looking for his face. I guess it made me a better critic. Or maybe it didn’t.

  ***

  Rather than try to maneuver through traffic in the middle of downtown, Becca and I decided to take a cab to the festival. Then, as we got close and traffic started to come to a standstill, we had him let us out so we could walk the rest of the way. At first, the walk seemed casual—Becca peering into some of the local shops as we walked past—but as we got closer to the festival, she started acting strange. Like, quiet and couldn’t stop fidgeting strange.

  Just outside the festival, I decided that there had to be something going on; I couldn’t put my finger on what, but I had a sinking feeling that it had something to do with the very person I had no desire in seeing or hearing about. So, grabbing a hold of her wrist, I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and brought us both to a standstill.

  “Alright, Becca, what the hell is going on?” I asked, veering my head to grab her gaze, which seemed to be everywhere but on me.

  “Nothing, Andy. I just—“ She paused. Eyes clamped shut, she drew in a heavy breath and then released it. “Zane and I are having troubles. I didn’t want to tell you.”

  Finally opening her eyes, she dropped her gaze to the sidewalk.

  “Oh, Becca.” The pang of guilt felt like a stab to my heart. “I’m so sorry, honey. I—I didn’t know.” I pulled her into me and wrapped my arms around her in a hug.

  “I just want to go and listen to some music, try and remember why I fell in love with him in the first place,” she said, sniffling against my chest. “That’s why I wanted to go here.”

  “Okay, we’ll go,” I said, rubbing her back a little. “We’ll have some beer, listen to some music and have a good time. And hey—“ I pulled her back by her shoulders. She quickly swiped at her eyes. “After we get back, why don’t you try to call him?”

  “That sounds great,” she said, a weak smile barely lifting the edges of her lips as she nodded and sniffled again.

  “Of course it is,” I said, taking her hand and pulling her toward the concert. Now I had a mission, a reason to be there, a purpose driving me through the crowd toward the front of the stage—the exact place that I knew Becca wanted to be.

  “Any idea who’s playing,” I yelled above the crowd.

  Becca just shook her head and shrugged before looking up to the stage expectantly. I followed her gaze, watched as the curtain parted. As soon as it did, my heart stopped.

  “Good evening, Seattle.” The crowd went wild as Jace’s voice burst through the loud speakers. “Now, I know you all want some music, but I have a special reason for being here tonight. I’m here to win back the girl I love, so we’re going to tone it down just a bit, if that’s alright with you.”

  Legs weak, throat dry, heart hammering away in my chest, I tried to escape. But Becca had a hold of my arm, and a group of girls were standing in my way. They looked at me as if they knew that I had been the one he was talking about . . . but they couldn’t, could they? That was just the panic and fear coursing through my veins, the fight or flight mode activated. Because the last place I wanted to be was right there, in that moment.

  “These girls are here to help me keep you here,” Becca said, her hand still wrapped around my wrist. “You need to hear him out, Andy. If not for him, then for me.”

  I wanted nothing to do with this. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry. I’d worked too hard to create a life without him, to build up my walls so that I could go on and pretend it didn’t hurt anymore. And now, here he was, about to sing a song, a song that I knew would shatter everything, that would bring those walls crumbling to the ground. I’d be nothing more than a pile of dust when he was done with me.

  Yet, no matter how hard I tried to fight it, even though I placed my hands over my ears to drown out the sound, the first chord sliced through me like a knife. His words—words that, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have said were written just for me—tugged at my heart and pulled tears from my eyes.

  With love soothing as the rain

  You taught me how to love again

  Broken and alone

  You brought my heart home

  It isn’t a place

  It’s the smile on your face….

  The tears were coming, fast and hard. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I could do anything but fall to my knees in the grass as the song continued on. Why would he do this to me? Why would he hurt me like this? Hadn’t he done enough damage?

  I couldn’t stay there, couldn’t let this happen.

  Like a feral cat, I clawed my way through the wall of women surrounding me. I had to get away, away from that haunting song, away from the man that had crushed me in every way possible. I hadn’t even noticed that the music had stopped as I ran through the crowd. Didn’t hear the footfalls behind me. I didn’t know he was chasing me until it was too late, until he had a hold of me, was smothering me, holding me against his rock hard chest.

  “Andrea!” he growled as my fists flailed, the tears streaming down my face in hot heavy streams. “Damn it, Andrea! Stop!”

  He managed to wrap my arms up in his own, effectively pinning them to my side. But I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. I thras
hed about, squirmed and tried to get away. Until his lips met mine. Until the heat singed my lips, burned through into my soul. Only then did I quiet. Only then did I still.

  “Now, will you let me fucking talk?” he asked, his hands now on either side of my face, holding it in place, forcing me to look at him. “I’m sorry I had to do it this way, but I didn’t have a choice. You left without even bothering to ask me. You’ve ignored every one of my calls. Refused to open my letters.”

  “How--?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “But the truth is in those letters. Read them and then come find me. Becca knows how.”

  He left me standing there, in the courtyard, chest heaving, emotions swirling, broken, shattered, and empty, but also full of hope.

  He spoke of a truth. A truth that I’d failed to see. One that was stashed in the corner of my bedroom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When I got home, I’d piled all the letters and little boxes onto my bed. I stared at them, trying to decide which one to open first. Which one would hold the truth, the answer I needed? Would all of them have it? I must have contemplated it for a good half an hour before selecting the one nearest to me. The date stamp said it had come shortly after I’d returned home.

  As I unfolded the single sheet of paper, a photo fell out and landed on my bed. I picked up and examined the gap-toothed children on the front of the old sepia print. One of them, the little boy, looked a lot like Jace. The other child, a little girl . . . her dark hair, those wide set eyes, the round face. I flipped it over to see if there might be a date or some sort of indicator as to who these children were.

  Jace and Brandy, March 1994 was scrawled on the back in faded cursive. I opened the letter and began to read through it.