by A. Marie
Snatching my bag off the bed, I slip out my door and back into the hall. Low voices in the kitchen have me slowing my approach, wiping roughly under my eyes.
“What do you mean she’s leaving? What’d you do?”
“I don’t know. She was fine in here away from your bullshit.” There’s a shuffling sound. “Then she just fucking panicked and said she had to jet. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Paige is free to come and go as she pleases. You want to know about her, ask her your fucking self.”
“Why would I fucking care? You’re the one wedged up her ass.”
A menacing chuckle settles over the apartment, coating everyone inside with discomfort. What are they even saying right now?
Taking a deep breath, I round the corner to find Beckett and Marc, heads together. Neither one notices me while Esme watches them through curious eyes, continuously stirring the sizzling meat in a pan.
I force an airy laugh that sounds fake at best but does the trick to separate the two friends. My eyes stay focused on my desired destination, saying, “Off to work again.”
Work obsession, right?
I quicken my steps, reaching the front door in record time. As I go to close it though, a huge hand catches it easily.
Just let me be done for today.
Just let me be done.
“You’re really going to work?”
Beckett pounds down the stairs, hot on my heels, but I ignore him. He heard what I said in there. I don’t need to repeat myself. Whether he believes me or not is his problem.
I mount my bike, jerking my helmet on as quickly as my shaky fingers can manage before I say something I’ll regret. My emotions are all over the place today and I don’t trust myself to talk to him. I don’t trust myself to be around him. Around any of them.
Angela was right—it’s a lot. They are a lot.
Beckett yanks my key out of the ignition and it’s then I notice one of his knuckles is split. He proceeds to fold his arms over his bare chest with the key still in his grasp.
Fuck this.
I’m off my bike the next instant, walking for the exit. I’ll call one of my brothers to pick me up. Shit, I’ll hitchhike from the side of the road, for real this time.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going? After all that shit you just pulled?”
I bite my tongue, forcing my legs to take bigger strides, my breath pumping harder with each step.
“The fuck are you doing? I thought you had to work. You can’t walk there.”
Beckett catches up to me in no time, thanks to legs that are more like stilts and I rip my helmet off, knocking it into his stomach and scowling as he doubles over with a whoosh.
“Get off my fucking jock! I’m over your stupid games and I’m sure as hell not interested in having a heart-to-heart. So, get it through your thick head, I’m leaving for work and I’ll get there however I see fit. It is none of your business. I am none of your business.”
Our chests are both heaving and sweat starts to gather. I’m wearing scrubs in ninety-degree weather under the blazing sun. It’s fucking everywhere.
Before I can make my next move, Beckett spins and launches my keys across the lot. We watch as they sail over parked cars, landing with a metallic clang next to an old school Cadillac that looks like a hearse.
Without another word, he leaves, taking the stairs two at a time.
I can’t tell if I’m in shock or awe but my tall roommate just rendered me completely speechless and I wait until he’s gone to break from my spot. The last time I saw behavior that desperate was when we were kids and Caleb stole Nick’s favorite train. He hid it for a week straight knowing it would upset him. Nicky, being so much younger, grew frustrated when he couldn’t find it, so he cut off the head of a teddy bear given to Caleb by his first girlfriend. It was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Until now.
Retrieving my keys effortlessly, I release a steady stream of air, dropping the hand with my helmet to hang limp at my side. Helplessness is nothing new—not anymore—and if that’s what Beckett’s tantrum was all about, then maybe he’s finally catching on to what I’ve been trying to tell him all along.
He’s not in control here.
CHAPTER 9
Paige
I sleep the next day away after running several errands straight from work. The attempt to ignore the shit pile my life has turned into until the last possible second somehow doesn’t work though.
Nothing does.
After a rejected call to each of my two older siblings, I try Tysen again. He’s keeping something from me that’s also stopping him from spending time with Mom and I don’t like it.
I don’t like any of this.
When I only get his voice mail, I call Nick, too. He’s been M.I.A. and today’s no different it seems.
It’s official. The Christensen men are dodging me like a deadbeat dad when child support comes around.
I’m sick of men right now. All of them. Vernon’s giving me more attitude than ever. My roommates are egotistical jerks. Well, Marc’s okay but Beckett’s a shit. A sexy-as-sin shit, yes, but still a shit.
Seeing it’s close to five, I quickly shower then dress, choosing a black lacy top tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans. Once my leather jacket is thrown over top, I ride over to Sunbrook. It’s technically my day off—my only day off—but I’ve got a date. I’m going to have dinner with my mom.
I put in a special request for tonight and purchased the fresh ingredients myself. As long as it’s fresh and I didn’t prepare it, the kitchen staff was willing to let me pitch in. I’m hoping her favorite food will entice her to finally eat.
Rosie approved another nurse to administer the correct dosage of my mother’s medication should she actually eat a full meal. Vernon can kiss my ass. If he wasn’t so worried about his precious schedule he could’ve helped, too. And he would’ve been paid too, unlike me, who’s technically paying to be here. Paying for the food itself and to consume the damn meal. The cooks are great at what they do though. Some visitors come in specifically at meal times just so they can eat while seeing their loved ones. They must pay like they would at a regular restaurant but it’s worth it honestly. The food is delicious and the people make great company—just not Vernon.
Parked and hungry, I stride across the lot then wait to be buzzed in the front entrance. No employee entrance for me tonight. I can finally be my first and most important role again—doting daughter.
One of the front personnel lets me in and I head straight for room fourteen. When I find it empty, I search the hallway for that mahogany hair my entire family has. Not seeing her, I venture to the lobby, finding her frail body hunched over a cup of tea.
She’s lost more weight at Sunbrook than she did at the other home and I can’t help but rethink my decision to move her here—again. Maybe my brothers were right.
My mother glances up at me and even though there’s not an ounce of recognition, all the good, all the precious comes right back up like she never really left.
Because she didn’t. Not really. She is still here, with me, and that counts. It has to.
Transferring her wasn’t a mistake. Good enough won’t do. Not for my mother. If this place isn’t right for her, then I’ll find one that is. I’ll get a second job if I have to. She made me who I am today and whether she remembers me or not, I’ll never forget. I’ll remember for the both of us.
“Good evening.” I wait for her to acknowledge me before proceeding, saying, “I have reservations but my date cancelled at the last minute. Would you mind accompanying me for dinner? I hear this place is pretty good.”
My mother scans my face and I hold my breath and that ever-fickle Hope makes another appearance despite me treating her like shit on a daily basis.
Expect the worst, hope for the best.
Hope can kiss my ass tonight, too. I’m taking over.
I hold out my hand, giving my mom a warm smile.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry
. My husband is meeting me for a cup of tea before bed and I’d hate to miss him. I’ve been waiting for so long.”
What? No.
Her eyes scan the room, like he’ll show any second, so I move to Plan B.
“That sounds nice.” I lean in to mock whisper, “Chai is my favorite.” Hers is too. She made it all my life and I can’t think of anything I’d rather drink. Ever. “Do you happen to know where they serve the food maybe? I could use a guide.”
Luckily, she stands and motions me forward but I hang back, waiting to walk alongside her. I walk as close as possible, brushing her hand with mine every few strides. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything. I ache to hold her hand, to walk arm-in-arm, chatting like the mother-daughter duo we used to be, but we’re not there yet. We may never be there again. I’ve worked here long enough to know that but the heart doesn’t listen to common sense, or facts, only what it feels and wants. Sometimes they blur together until you can’t decipher which is which though, and that’s where you can get into trouble.
How can you tell the difference between what may be and what you wish was? Trial and error. Mistakes learned the hard way. Taking leaps of faith and seeing where you land. You only have to possess enough courage for the first step without knowing the result. The rest is out of your control.
Coming to the doorway, she lingers, and I shoot my last shot.
“Do you smell that?” I inhale loudly, waiting for her to do the same. “Butternut squash rigatoni,” I sigh, holding my stomach. “I love butternut squash. Too bad I have to eat alone. You wouldn’t be interested in eating some with me, would you?”
“It does smell nice. I appreciate the invite but I don’t eat pasta. Have a good night.”
Not yet.
Please.
My knees quake beneath me.
“Are you sure? I have it on good authority the butternut squash was bought fresh today.” From out in the middle of nowhere to be exact. Everywhere else only carried frozen cubes, so I made the trek out to Marc’s family’s farm. I didn’t see him anywhere but his mom was more than accommodating. “Could you just sit with me for a little while? Keep me company before your,” I swallow the lump in my throat, “husband joins you?”
Her dark eyebrows meet as she looks at me again, like she’s seeing me for the first time. Hope—the insistent bitch—shows up yet again.
Come on, Mom. It’s me.
She shakes her head and my confidence all at once, saying, “I can’t miss him. Not this time. Sorry.”
With that, she leaves me standing here with a broken heart and an empty stomach.
* * *
“This one. Or maybe that one.”
I squint through my already strained eyes. Is the bright light coming from the dashboard really necessary? Why is it there anyway?
“I don’t know,” I throw my hands up, not really feeling them as much as I should, “they all look the same. Park wherever you want.”
Ivan—or Ethan?—swings into a space, parking his car. Some sort of hybrid as unmemorable as the guy driving it.
Perfect.
Apparently, Ethan/Ivan lives with his parents—shocker—and isn’t allowed to bring dates over. I argued that this isn’t exactly a date but he didn’t find it funny. He’s not much for laughs.
Ethan seemed excited to nail a chick that rides a motorcycle though and jumped at the chance to take me home from the bar. Guys see a strong female as a challenge, a wild animal they have the urge to break into submission. I am neither a challenge nor can I be tamed but I’ll let E-Money here think whatever he wants.
Ivan doesn’t bother opening my door, even drivers from those apps open the fucking door these days, and I stumble out on my own, unscathed. The door handle, however, does not make it out intact and I’ll probably have to buy him a whole new car now. Add the ugly hatchback—whatever it is—to the mountain of shit I can’t afford but will work until I die to pay off.
“You think my car’s ugly?”
Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud?
I inspect the vehicle in question.
“No.” I make my way over to him, draping my arms around his neck to soften the impending blow. “I think it’s fucking hideous.”
My chest shakes with laughter but he’s not amused. Like at all.
Buzz Kill Ethan at it again.
He says, “my name’s Evan,” making me flinch.
“Nice, Paige. Didn’t even catch this one’s name first?”
Evan’s head jerks upward while I casually lean mine back as well. I’d recognize that voice anywhere and I’m not going to give myself whiplash just because he’s decided to cock block for the fifty-seventh time since I moved in. He should really find a hobby or something.
“Hello, Beckett.”
Both his elbows rest on the banister as he stares down at us unworthy commoners from his cherished Creekwood throne, with the words Just Ride It in black on his chest a stark contrast to his tan tee with the sleeves rolled up, and black soft shorts he probably fell asleep in considering it’s well past who gives a shit. His hair’s deliciously mussed though. Like maybe he was in the middle of a really, really good dream before he decided to become my worst nightmare.
“Always a pleasure.” And although Beckett’s glowering expression from our front balcony is not one for pleasure, I’d still give him a shot at it.
I snicker at my own stupidity.
Evan looks back down at me and I sober, hoping my behemoth of a roommate didn’t ruin this completely.
“Who’s that?”
“Neighborhood Watch, I’m afraid. Except instead of looking for murderers, he’s on the hunt for fornicators.”
“Uh, what?” Evan stammers.
Unable to hold it in any longer, my head hits the top of his car as it’s thrown back in another laugh causing Evan’s arms to envelop me fully—not to protect me, I’m sure, but to keep me from damaging any more of his precious go-kart of a ride.
No sooner do his hands reach my back are they ripped away in a motion I am so not comfortable with. Wobbly as it is with my support suddenly disappearing, I crash forward into a brick wall. A never-ending brick wall I like to call Beckett. But only to his face.
“What do you call me behind my back?” He chuckles.
Fuck. “I have to stop doing that.”
“Nah, I like you unfiltered.”
He’s undoubtedly wearing some obnoxious-as-shit expression I’d love to slap right off, but my face is cozy right where it is on ab number eight so I stay put. Beckett can move me if he so chooses.
“You don’t like me at all,” I mutter against my newfound pillow, sneaking inhales.
“Hey, uh, I think I should get her up to her apartment. She took a lot of shots.”
Beckett’s arms stiffen around me like a cage and I don’t know if it’s to lock me in or keep others out.
I sadly abandon his torso to look back at my chauffeur. I almost forgot about the boy. Beckett’s scent has that effect on me.
Beckett’s everything has that effect on me.
“That’s right. Ivan, thank you for driving me home. Unfortunately, as Neighborhood Watch, Beckett takes his job very seriously in making sure nobody gets laid around here. So, unless you’re up for breaking your parents’ rule and sneaking me into your room, tonight just won’t work.”
“Jesus.”
Ignoring my do-no-good roommate, I lean back, arching my spine to gaze into the small back window of Evan’s clown car. In my descent, Beckett’s hands move along my bent spine to accommodate the shift, practically bearing all my weight as I hang precariously, my hair only inches from the ground.
This also brings his face in line with my cleavage but I don’t hear him complaining, save for a sharp inhale.
“Actually, I’m not a back seat kind of girl,” not when the front is so much more fun, “but I might make an exception this once.”
My head dangling between my shoulders is flipped upward abruptly, almost bu
tting Beckett’s head as our noses come less than an inch apart. He’s now bowed over my body, yet I still feel completely at ease in his hold. The way he’s got me, it’s like I’ll never have to worry about falling.
And if I did, he’d go down, too.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Beckett’s sparkly blue gems bore into mine as he speaks to Evan, saying, “You can fuck off now. I got her from here.”
I don’t dare break eye contact to say, “I told you he was good at his job.”
“I’m good at a lot of things.”
Beckett’s soft whisper is a promise carefully wrapped in a threat coaxing me to see what’s inside. I’d happily start unwrapping if I could just figure out how to permanently shut that mouth of his. It ruins things more often than not and I can’t risk that right now.
A forced cough next to us reminds me of my original plan tonight. The plan to forget it all. To get lost in someone else for a few minutes instead of constantly obsessing about myself.
I am so tired of me.
But Beckett won’t allow that. He thinks he can direct my life like a boy playing with matchbox cars—unconventional terrain, surprise routes, and collision after fucking collision.
Keeping my eyes locked on Beckett’s, I sigh, “See ya around, Ethan.”
With one last mutter about his name, he finally takes off, leaving me and my roommate alone in a parking lot full of dead dreams and unheard wishes.
We finally rise together, locked in the same embrace Beckett’s strong arms were keeping us in, except our faces are now separated by several inches that feel more like miles. Unsurmountable miles.
Swallowing thickly, he says, “You’re trouble, you know that?”
I nod slowly, mesmerized by his Adam’s apple, finding that just like Eve I’m tempted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit.
Beckett’s fingers brushing my back brings me to my senses and I croak, “I know exactly what I am. That’s why you should stop trying to save me. If I wanted a savior, it wouldn’t be you.”
His light eyebrows furrow. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You tell me,” I shoot back.