Changing Lanes: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 2)

by A. Marie

  The Rumi quote’s directly above one of my many scars. I got it done after a particularly bad accident, landing a jump I had no business being on to begin with. I nailed it actually, but ultimately had to bail when my tire came loose. I’d just checked it that morning but must’ve missed something. At least that’s what I told everyone. Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe I never was.

  “Like your nightmares.”

  My chest constricts. “What do you mean?”

  Paige maneuvers to her back, avoiding my stare completely.

  “Just how you bleed after a bad nightmare. When you hit yourself?” Her eyes come back to mine. “It landed me in your bed a couple times, don’t you remember? I caught you doing it and tried to help.” She points at the door that I just replaced and I feel all the blood drain from my face.

  Well, isn’t this just fucking peachy. The girl of my dreams—literally—who also moonlights as my personal dream catcher—also literally—was only in my room to watch me bust up my own goddamn nose, not because she felt drawn to me like I thought, how I’d hoped for, but out of pure pity. Because of some crazy need for pain I can’t control.

  I’ve been pitied my entire life as the boy whose own mother didn’t want him, I don’t need it from her.

  Just when I thought we were in the same place, seated at the same table, and now, now I find out she’s just getting through the restaurant door while I’ve already eaten all the fucking apps.

  Eyeballing the time on my open laptop, I say, “Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

  I watch the hurt as it mars her face but I’m too wrapped up in my own head to care. Here I thought I was going to have to reveal one of my darkest secrets to my girlfriend only to find out she was keeping one of her own. She never said a word, just kept her judgment to herself and let me think I was secure in my anonymity of being a basket case with Mommy issues.

  Fucking deception, man, it’s a son of a bitch and I’m the son of the biggest bitch there is so that’s saying something.

  Angie likes to think she has the worst mom but the truth is I’d pick aversion over indifference any day. At least with hatred there’s emotion motivating it, letting you know where you stand. With indifference, there’s just cold, empty space with disillusionment running absolutely rampant.

  Without another word, I get up and slip on some shorts.

  Fuck this.

  Laughter echoing off the walls stops me in my tracks though.

  “You inconceivable prick. I tell you I love you. You basically fuck it out of me.”

  Spinning around, I find Paige rising from the bed in her birthday suit that I like to call my birthday suit any other time and I have to clench my fists, still, to keep from touching her.

  “Then you have the audacity to get pissy because I saw you with a few bloody noses?” She steps up, putting her exposed chest just under mine. “Oh, I see. You only like the spotlight on you when it’s your doing.” My jaw flexes on instinct. “I never said anything because I thought you knew. Now that we’ve established you didn’t, think about it. I stopped you from hurting yourself because I cared. Because I care. Because I love you. And whether you like it or not, I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. And even if you won’t admit it right now because you’re scared, we both know you’d do the same for me.”

  My shoulders relax a fraction seeing the honesty in her eyes. I want to believe her, I really do, but my entire life has been one letdown after another and I’ve become conditioned for disappointment. It’s damn near my natural habitat at this point. Paige was the one person, other than my chosen brothers, that I didn’t anticipate breaching those boundaries.

  “I-”

  What? I hate thinking that one more person saw the broken little boy I’m trying desperately not to be anymore?

  It’s bad enough Marc and Coty know what they do but they’re family.

  Then again, the bond I have with Paige feels just as strong, if not stronger, and all within a much shorter time frame. Definitely in a more intimate way.

  What if I rushed into all this with only her issues in mind? When was I going to take care of my own shit? A shift in perspective and, poof, I’m healed? If only it were that easy.

  But getting upset with Paige about my own closet full of dusty skeletons doesn’t feel right either. The only one that can face them before packing their ancient asses up for good is me. Regardless of Paige knowing about them or not, they’re still there, waiting to haunt me for eternity unless I get rid of them once and for all. Can I do that with her holding my hand or should I take on my demons alone, the way I always have?

  “I need some time.”

  Her emerald eyes barely visible through slits, she hums, “Hmm…do you know how long it should take you to pull your head out of your ass?”

  Before I can get a quip of my own out, she raises to her toes and locks lips with me, stealing my breath for what might just be the last time. I don’t know.

  With a gentle push, she’s gone, walking out my door and maybe, just maybe out of my life, too.

  She’s not going out of this room like that though, is she? I think the fuck not.

  My hand meets air as she saunters across the hall and into her room, still very much naked and still very much testing every last bit of my patience. Framing the doorjamb with my hands, I watch Paige through heavy lids, fighting every molecule in my body to snatch her ass back here. I pray Marc isn’t home. If he is…

  “Four seconds.” Paige’s words bring me back to the topic at hand, or better yet ass, mine more specifically, with my head apparently lodged deep inside. “Four seconds, one kiss, and you should fucking know, Beckett. I didn’t do anything other than help protect you from your biggest enemy which is you. And I’d knock down a thousand more doors to get to you again. Don’t let this be the one that keeps me from making it in. If you want to run because shit got real, then run. Do what you think you need to do. But know this, Beckett Meyers,” a gravity I usually give into, but am battling like hell now spills from her eyes as she says, “I’m fast, too.” Just before she slams her door shut, she calls out, “maybe even faster,” making my fingers dig into the wood trim.

  First off—hell.

  And secondly—no.

  Paige may have missed the mark about being faster than me—puhlease—but she was right about one thing, shit did just get real. Really real. Too fucking real. No woman has ever reached into my empty chest to fill the cavity. It’s always been to take.

  I need to get out of here.

  Finding the apartment empty, I breathe a sigh of relief. No matter what happens between Paige and me, she can’t walk around naked again. That’s a hard line I’m drawing in the sand right fucking now. Girlfriend or not, her body is a temple that should be worshipped, not paraded around for any idiot to accidentally peep.

  And now I’m picturing paying my respects all over again even though I just asked her for space.

  Fresh air. I need fresh air, away from the reason my head is twisted up to begin with.

  Immediately, my dirt bike springs to mind. Riding has always been the quickest way to clear my thoughts and tonight I need more than paved roads, timed lights, and safety precautions.

  I scribble out a quick note that basically says all common areas are officially banned to people not wearing proper clothing and slip it under Paige’s door.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I put one under Marc’s, too.

  If there’s one thing I learned from our old neighbor it’s that feminism is exhausting.

  But necessary.

  Dude should cover up anyway. Nobody wants to see that eight pack, bro.

  With that, I’m out the door and on my way to his dad’s farm.

  * * *

  My eyelids fluttering like a butterfly in a wind tunnel, I can’t make out a single thing. Just bright. Very bright.

  Jesus fuck. I was just riding my dirt bike and now…

  “What is this?” I try to say but only garbled nonsense comes o
ut. What the hell?

  A sharp inhale somewhere nearby has me straining to see against the constant flurry of lashes until a form finally comes into view.

  Who is…

  Blonde. Long blonde hair. With what appears to be a motherfucking halo on top. But no, that can’t be. She’d have horns.

  I pause, letting my eyes rest for a bit, then try again, squinting with my heart beating out of my chest.

  She’s younger than I thought she’d be. Like a lot younger. Like my age maybe. And she doesn’t look anything like I remember her.

  Is this for real? Is she?

  Am I? What’s going on?

  Am I dreaming?

  My throat croaks again and she takes a hesitant step forward, the shine on her head dimming to show a much darker shade of blonde than I thought she’d have.

  “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be alright.” The voice is all wrong though. Unfamiliar.

  And just like the last time I heard that, I bristle. Worst famous last words ever.

  Another feminine voice from close by that sounds slightly more familiar says, “Oh, she’ll make sure of it. I just called and she’s on her way.”

  What?

  But…she’s already here. Isn’t she?

  And why don’t I feel relieved by that fact? Not like I thought I’d be. Not at all.

  Where’s the happiness? The gratitude? The filling of the deep void I’ve had for far too long? There’s just…nothing.

  I don’t even want her here. Not anymore. She can’t roll in now, after missing out on most of my life, just to catch the ending credits. Fuck that. And fuck her.

  The edges around her starting to blur, I struggle to raise my suddenly heavy hand, breathing shallower and shallower just to lift it, but she doesn’t rush forward like a concerned mother—what a joke—only widens her eyes when I stick my middle finger up but that’s when I see them. Her eyes. And they’re nothing like mine.

  Who is she?

  I don’t get to ask because everything goes black.

  * * *

  Why is it so cold? And what’s that smell? It smells like disinfectant.

  I’m met with damn near blinding white lights as soon as I crack my eyes open enough to see my surroundings.

  Oh, shit. Not again.

  The hospital. Or the emergency room to be exact. A place I’m all too familiar with, unfortunately.

  “I thought you’d be out of this phase by now.”

  I stiffen at the hoarse voice at my side and looking over, I find my father perched on the edge of the seat next to my uncomfortable hospital bed. His hair, same shade as mine but cut much shorter, is ruffled like he’s been holding his head in his hands. A tailored suit in dark tones matches his newly polished dress shoes proving he’s very much the lawyer whether he’s in the courtroom or not.

  If only he could’ve fought for our family like he fights for all his cases.

  I blink a few more times, looking around the room but not seeing her anymore.

  Was it a dream?

  “And what phase is that?”

  “Don’t give me that. How many times do we have to go through this for you to finally get it? The constant accidents that always result in you hurting yourself. You’ve been pushing boundaries further and further since the day she left, trying to see how far you can go before she comes to your rescue.”

  I flinch involuntarily. “Jesus, Dad. That’s not what this was about.”

  He meets my stare with a raised eyebrow, a cocked head, and a don’t try me attitude, saying, “Wasn’t it?”

  “No,” I say with a boldness I try not to use with my only parent. Even if he was a disappointment, he stuck around. He was there when she wasn’t.

  A lawyer juggling a single father gig—it couldn’t have been easy for him, especially during my more rebellious teen years. And he tried in his own detached sort of way so for that I cut him some slack. But today, that patience is all used up. I wasn’t trying to get hurt. I know some of the previous injuries were made during sketchy situations but today was far from that. My mom wasn’t even on my mind when I went sailing over that weird ass flat spot. The hill I scaled had a hidden lookout at the top, that probably holds one helluva view of Vega Farms. As soon as my tires touched down though I knew it was going to hurt. I didn’t anticipate ending up in the hospital and now that I think about it, nothing even hurts. Why am I here? The last thing I remember was going ass over head over the top of my handlebars, then I woke up to him.

  Or was it her?

  I cast another look around the tight room, frowning.

  She wasn’t really here, was she?

  “Then what happened this time, son?”

  Fuck, why is he hounding me with the questions? It’s not like I’m concussed. Am I?

  “An accident, Dad! Can’t it just be that simple?”

  Also, how did I get here? Someone must’ve found me somehow but who goes all the way out there? It’s nothing but open land, I thought. I went out there just before sunset, using the last bit of daylight to weave between trees stock full of apples almost ready to be picked, but ventured out past the orchard parameters, exploring some of the craggier outskirts. I had no idea someone might be out there at the same time.

  But didn’t I see something in the distance like a factory or a barn or something when I crested that sandy knoll?

  “Was it?”

  He’s still on about this? The accident was just that, an accident. A stupid err of judgment. I shouldn’t have been flying over unfamiliar terrain without at least a vague rundown of the area. Sailing up unknown inclines without knowing what was on the other side was dumb as fuck but it happens.

  It happened.

  I didn’t go looking for a place to wipe out but I wasn’t not looking either. I was taking things a few seconds at a time. Four seconds, actually.

  Shit.

  I shut my eyes, rubbing a hand over them and finding it strangely heavy, then replay everything from back at the apartment in my mind. The sex, the confessions, the subsequent fight.

  That’s what Paige had said to me—four seconds—and that’s what was running through my head the entire time I was riding. I wasn’t thinking about where I was going because I was worried about where I’d just been. With Paige.

  And then without.

  Because of my bullshit hang-ups.

  Maybe my dad’s right. Maybe it was about her after all. Maybe it was always about her. Maybe she still has a hold over me despite her letting go years ago.

  But it was different this time. I didn’t do it hoping she’d come back.

  Maybe I did it hoping the one last time of her not showing up would be what sets me free for good. The final nail in the coffin to her plaguing presence.

  A distraught female voice down the hall slices through the strained silence of my small room like a guillotine and my eyes fly open. Swinging them over to Dad, his entire body stiffens. Dude’s gripping the chair’s armrest so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it buckled from the pressure. Even though he’s a lawyer, he still works out daily to keep his shit tight. I know he never had any issue finding dates after my mom took off but he never brought them around and I think the irony in that speaks for itself.

  I wasn’t the only one holding out for her.

  As we hear my name said in a panicked tone, we both make a move but my dad pushes me back down. I stay frozen, not knowing the extent of my injury, but really, if she came to see me, if she loves me, she won’t let him or anything else get in her way. I’ve seen news articles about moms lifting cars to get to their kids.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, are you family?” a nurse, I assume, asks as I strain to hear how she’ll answer.

  Family doesn’t desert each other. They don’t fall off the face of the planet without a word for years. They stick it out. They give each other the benefit of the doubt, however many times it’s needed. Like I should’ve with Paige, damn it, instead of accusing her without listening like she deserved. I trea
ted her with the one thing I’ve spent my life trying to shake—indifference.

  Fuck. I need to call her after this.

  With my dad’s back to me, I study his brawny frame as he takes a huge breath, readying himself to face whoever’s on the other side of the privacy curtain.

  At the same time I hear a confident “yes” in answer, a voice that sounds a lot like my girl’s best friend speaks up, saying, “I called her. Let her in.”

  Didn’t I hear that already? Was that Cynthia in here before? Then who else was with her? And who’s outside?

  My dad cautiously peels back the curtain to reveal a very different face than the one we were expecting as Paige comes barreling through the thick fabric, pushing my dad out of the way in her haste to get in. To get to me.

  Our eyes collide and hold.

  One.

  A single tear brimming her eye falls, making my heart pinch.

  Two.

  Strong legs I know like the back of my hand bring her closer but not close enough.

  Three.

  “I love you,” the sentiment spilling from her mouth as serious as the expression on her face. Simple words to some, powerful words to others, everything to me.

  Four.

  Equally anxious hands, both mine and hers, reach at the same time as we welcome each other back. Back into each other’s embrace, back into each other’s lives, back into each other’s hearts.

  Four fucking seconds for everything to become crystal clear. All of it.

  I always thought that my mom would be the one to come to my rescue. That she’d swoop in and save the day, put me back together again. But now I realize I’d been waiting for the wrong person all along. It wasn’t my mom at all. It was a foul-mouthed, sarcastic as all hell, sexy as sin biker chick with wild hair, hypnotizing eyes, and a hell of an insulated heart worth chipping away at.

  Turns out the savior I’d been eagerly awaiting was the love of my life.

  Four seconds, one kiss, and you should fucking know.

  I raise my mouth to meet hers and I finally let her in. All the way in. For good.

  EPILOGUE

  Paige