Then I heard it—the running—a heaved breath as two sets of feet stopped in front of me.
“Oh. God. No,” Vickie’s voice hit an unbearable pitch.
“River!” she screamed in my face. “Where’s my son?”
I pried open my eyes, and the look in my tear stained face told her what had happened.
“NO!” she screeched as I tucked my head into Adam’s shoulder against the sound. “NO!”
Her wails softened against the fabric of a shirt, and I knew Alec pulled her into his arms.
So we crumbled. A broken family even further broken by the lack of the one thing that held it together. Bobby.
Adam’s sobs finally softened, but I felt the silent tears still continuing to stain my shirt. His, or mine—I couldn’t tell.
It didn’t really matter.
Once Tara’s parents arrived I managed to pull Adam with me to go home. There was no point in standing around anymore. There wasn’t anything we could do. Adam’s parents had to handle the final things.
I realized walking up the stairs to our apartment was the worst part of it all. With each step it felt as though a thousand pounds of bricks was piled, slowly, agonizingly, on my chest until I reached the top.
Adam and I stood and stared at Bobby’s apartment for a period of time that didn’t seem it would end. We were glued to the spot, and I wondered if he was praying somehow Bobby would open the door and beg me to make dinner. I was praying for it, but there was no movement.
I finally dragged Adam into our apartment where he collapsed on the couch. His impeccable black suit was wrinkled now, and his tie was barely hanging on because he’d loosened it so much.
“You should change,” I said, and my voice sounded strange against the silence that had come over us in the car. The words seemed to echo and Adam sat up.
“You should too,” he replied as he rubbed his face but didn’t look at me.
I nodded and went into the bedroom. I closed the door behind me and pressed the back of my head against the wood, wishing I could mold into it. I took a deep breath before looking down at the gorgeous dress I was wearing, and for the first time that night—morning now—I remembered Adam had planned something special enough to wear this dress.
I turned to face the mirror, taking in my pale face framed by dripping mascara lines. In something so beautiful I looked like the hell my life had suddenly become. I fought the urge to rip the thing to shreds and instead slowly released the zipper on the side and slipped out of it.
I turned away from the mirror and grabbed yoga pants and one of Adam’s old band tees before cracking the door open. I watched as Adam slipped a box back into his pants before standing and kicking the air.
“You’ll be more comfortable if you change,” I repeated.
Adam turned and nodded before slipping past me. I went into the bathroom to wash my face off, and when I came back into the living room Adam was sitting on the couch, leaning his forearms against his knees as he stared at his cell phone on the coffee table. His arms and back muscles were visibly tensed in his shirtless state.
I sat down beside him and ran my fingers over his bare skin as I tried to make him relax, but instead he flinched. His muscles stayed tense, and his eyes remained fixated on the cell phone. I pulled away, curling my legs into my chest and tucking my head on top of my knees as I tried to comprehend why he’d reacted that way to my touch. Every part of me ached from my heart and soul to my physical limbs. My head felt as though it might explode in the stillness that ensued, because inside my skull the words kept screaming:
Gone. Gone. GONE. GONE.
Yet I couldn’t produce a sound or a comforting touch. Instead I sat there for sixteen hours, nothing changing. I silently begged the cell phone to ring and tell us the doctor had lied—that there was no reason for the war that was raging in my head as I tried to find a reason for why this had happened to us. To Bobby.
Adam’s head sunk into his hands, and I blinked my eyes to clear the dryness that had set in. His body shuddered and I leaned forward by instinct, but I didn’t touch him, afraid my touch may irritate him more.
“You’ll never forgive me,” he said, his voice flat as it echoed. The sound sent shock to my system after such a long period of absolute silence.
He looked over his shoulder at me, his hands still cupping his head, and his lips pursed painfully tight as his eyes searched mine.
I shook my head, but my voice didn’t seem to work. His hand sent the cell phone grating against the wood top as it slid towards me.
I grabbed it before it could hit the ground and the screen responded to my touch. There—on the screen was the answer for Adam’s empty stare.
BOBBY- You were right. Our parents are assholes. I won’t let them do this to you anymore. You’re the family that matters to me. Coming home. See you soon.
I swallowed as my throat thickened at the words. My eyes raced over them again and again as I tried to comprehend the meaning. I looked up at Adam, and his eyes were fixed on me, just like they had been on the cell phone.
“It’s not your fault, Adam,” I finally whispered.
“They fought over me. He got in that car pissed and determined to get home to us and now…now…he’s dead.”
“It’s not your fault, Adam,” I repeated.
The vacant look in his eyes let me know he wasn’t listening anymore. He stood and went into the bedroom, his movements robotic as he grabbed his guitar off the wall. He flicked the amp on and began to play a slow wailing song I’d never heard.
All the pain in the world seemed to be drawn into our bedroom as he stood there by the window with his head pressed to the freezing pane. Each staggered breath he took sent a mist across the glass and as the tendrils began to retract his hand rose to glide harshly against the strings of his guitar.
His shoulders curled and his hand gripped the neck of the guitar so hard his knuckles turned white. I knew what was going to happen.
I ran into the room to grab the guitar just as he turned to slam it into the ground.
His eyes locked on mine as we stood hovering with our knees crouched, the guitar inches from meeting its fate. I watched as his breath began to come rapidly before he let the guitar slip into my hands, and he hit his knees. I set the guitar on the ground before pulling him into my arms.
So we break.
Pieces of Perfection (Beautifully Flawed, #2)
Coming Summer 2014
I sat there with Adam’s head in my lap, running my fingers through his hair until the tears had stopped, and his breathing had slowed. He was asleep, and I didn’t know how to feel anymore. He’d flinched at my touch when he’d thought I’d blame him, but now it seemed to be the only thing holding him together…semi-together. He still blamed himself, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I’d always been able to fix Adam, and now I didn’t know how to because I was just as broken.
I moved his head onto a pillow and stood to go to the door. I closed it slowly behind me, and sunk to the floor with my back against it as I stared across the way.
I was so close to losing everything I loved. Bobby was dead. Tara was lingering on the edge of the darkness, and Adam…I didn’t know what would happen with him. His grief was overpowering; it felt like all the air had been sucked from the earth, and I was suffocating from it, while drowning in my own ocean of pain.
I struggled to feel as my eyes bore into the faded wood door. I might never see two of my best friends walk through that door again. I’d certainly never see Bobby walk through it again. Finally, I bowed my head to my knees and sobbed. There was no one there to comfort me, but I wasn’t sure that was what I needed. Adam needed me to be strong, so I would be—at least when he was watching.
I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, and I pulled it out slowly as I wiped my face. The number I feared wasn’t there. The number I wished I had never seen.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Duckie?” Dad’s voice was a shock t
o my system, and I had to take a deep breath. We hadn’t spoken since the tattoo incident.
“Daddy…Daddy,” my voice cracked as a fresh set of tears streamed down my face. “Bobby—”
“I know—don’t say it.”
“What do I do?” I begged through hiccups. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Where’s Adam?”
“Asleep.”
“You need me, Duckie?”
“Yes,” I whispered; “but Mom will kill you.”
“Nothing is worth your pain—not a God damned stupid tattoo, especially not one that matches the man you’ll marry someday.”
“Adam’s fucked up, Daddy,” I replied. I thought back to the hospital. He hadn’t said a word, not one. He’d handed me the keys to the GLI and curled up on the backseat. Then he’d come home and stared at that cell phone until he admitted his guilt—that he thought the whole thing was his fault.
“We all are. None of us saw this coming…none of us could imagine…”
“I don’t know if I can fix him…it’s like he’s not even there. He sobs, but doesn’t speak—he holds me, but only to hang on.”
“I know this won’t make things better, but it’s only been a few days—eventually everything will settle.”
“I don’t think you’re right,” I replied.
I heard his car start. “I’ll be there as soon as traffic will allow. I love you, Duckie.”
“I love you, too.”
I hung up the phone and stared at the door again before standing and going to it. I placed my hand over the knob and pressed my face against the wood. Bobby’s hands had touched these surfaces. It was the only thing left, pieces of him, scattered memories. Our childhood. Twenty years of happiness and he’d molded himself into a part of who I was. Now I was torn in two. I needed to stay strong for Adam, but I wanted to crawl in the same hole Bobby would be buried in.
The overwhelming pain of loving Bobby washed over me again and every touch remembered sliced a part of me away. Each laugh that echoed through my skull was a memory of intense happiness suddenly overruled by intense pain.
“River?” a groggy Adam called from behind me.
I looked over my shoulder to see him standing in the doorway with his eyes wet, but the tears had stopped. I wondered if it was because there was none left.
“Hey,” I replied as I let go of the knob.
“I heard you talking?”
I held my cell phone up.
“It was Dad,” I answered.
“Your dad?”
I nodded.
“He heard?”
“He’s coming.”
“Now?”
I nodded.
“We need one good parent here,” he answered as he stepped forward and closed the gap between us.
He pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again,” he said.
It was the one thing that pained me as much as the loss of Bobby—what if Adam couldn’t ever be Adam again?
What if I could never be River again?
Acknowledgements
I don’t ever know where to start. I guess I should start with where it started—thank you Mom and Dad for supporting my writing since I was a toddler with an imagination and a stubbornness that’s never left. Then there’s that musician who stole my heart and healed my soul—Jeff, you’ll always be my Adam (and my favorite cover model!). Of course, I can’t forget those that helped this book become what it is. Special thanks go to my editor, Faith, who is always there to bounce ideas off. You’re seriously awesome! In addition, I’d like to thank the bloggers and readers who have helped spread the word and continue to support my passion/addiction for writing.
About the Author
Cassandra doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t writing. In fact, the first time she was published was when she was seven years old and won a contest to be published in an American Girl Doll novel. Since then Cassandra has written more novels than she can count and put just as many in the circular bin. Her personal goal with her writing is to show the reader the character’s stories through their dialogue and actions instead of just telling the reader what is happening. Besides being a writer, Cassandra is a professional photographer known for her automotive, nature and architectural shots. She is happily married to the man of her dreams and they live in the rolling hills of New England their dogs, Bubski and Kanga.
Other Novels by the Author
New Adult
Love Exactly (Sticks & Stones, #1)
Contemporary Romance
Young Adult
In Between Seasons (The Fall, #1)
Dystopian, Post-Apocalyptic Romance
Walking in the Shadows
Romantic Suspense
Children’s:
The Adventures of Skippy Von Flippy (Skippy Tales, #1)
COMING SOON
Pieces of Perfection (Beautifully Flawed, #2)
Broken Perfection (Beautifully Flawed, #3)
Finding Perfection (Beautifully Flawed, #4)
New Adult Contemporary Romance
Flawed Perfection Page 23