by Anna Edwards
An unexpected, small, grief-filled laugh escaped me, and for the first time since it happened, I imagined that to be the truth.
“You did all you could. You dealt with the hand God gave you, and that’s all there is to it.”
God. I hadn’t thought or believed in him since the bombing.
“Do you believe in God, Kellie?”
“I believe in Faith,” she whispered back at me, and there wasn’t a single response she could have given that could have been more perfect.
“Yeah.” I smiled sadly. “So do I.”
Chapter Three
7th July, 2010.
Five years gone.
Only one of them lived.
That single year of happiness had been thanks to the woman currently holding my hand outside King’s Cross. The wreath had been laid, the candles lit. Now all that was left to do was try and enter the station.
Kellie turned herself in front of me, holding both my hands down between us as she looked up into my eyes. I’d made love to her that morning, despite knowing it would be a sombre day. I needed her light in my life, and she’d given me the strength to pursue being selfish every now and again, even if it was still a rarity.
“I love you,” she told me.
“I love you.”
“This is a big test.”
“I’m shit at tests, too.” I cringed.
“Correction. You were shit at tests. Now you have me to use as your cheat.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Kellie looked as nervous as I felt. It was the downside of her wearing her heart on her sleeve. Every emotion she felt, good or bad, was there for me to read, whether she wanted me to or not.
“If things get too—”
“I know,” I cut her off.
“And if you feel too—”
“I know.” I nodded.
“Okay.” She sighed, glancing back into the entrance of the station. Both of us knew this was going to be with us for the rest of our lives. The nightmares, the anxiety, the bad thoughts and constant need to be reassured that light would always drive out dark would always be there. We were learning to tackle these things together, and even though I looked the tougher of the two, there wasn’t a person in the world who could convince me that Kellie wasn’t the strongest person on Earth. She’d become my rock. She was my guidance. She made my broken pieces feel whole, and I couldn’t imagine living another day without her by my side.
Reaching out, I cupped her cheeks and brought her face back to mine, dropping a kiss to her lips and holding myself there to soak her in. When I pulled away, her eyes flickered open, and she looked up at me in surprise.
“And that right there is why I love you,” she whispered. “Because even when terrified, you’re more than perfect to me.”
THE END
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Prologue
Spring 2018
“Tyler, are you sure you won’t stay here for the night? It’s late, and you’re tired,” Mom says softly, her eyes heavy as she does so.
She’s right; I’m dog tired. But I just want to get home and go to bed.
I woke at four this morning, then started work at six. After my twelve-hour shift, I came straight here. And tomorrow morning I have to be at the airport for nine o’clock to pick up my brother, Andrew.
He missed his flight last night, so he’s currently in the air on his way home from London. Mom and Dad are mad at him, so is our sister, Macy. It was her daughter’s fourth birthday today and he missed it.
“Mom, why do you even ask? He never stays,” Macy says with a smirk before blowing me a kiss and walking toward the kitchen. She and Lannie moved in a couple of months ago, after she broke up with Lannie’s dad.
I lean in and kiss Mom’s cheek. “I’ll be fine, Mom, and I’ll be home within fifteen minutes. Why don’t you go to bed?” She looks tired. Macy had the bright idea of having Lannie’s birthday party here instead of going to McDonald’s, or even a party venue. Which meant Mom was running around feeding everyone, then had to deal with cleaning up.
“I’m going. Macy’s finishing the cleaning up. You’ll text me when you get home, won’t you?” It’s the same question she always asks me whenever I leave her house at night.
“Of course I will. Good night, Mom. Love you.” I turn and walk toward my car.
“Love you, too, son. Be safe,” she calls out, and I turn and wave to her before getting into the car.
Driving toward my house, I have the radio on low, my fingers strumming along to the song—although I have no idea what’s playing. My eyes begin to droop… Shit, I’m more tired than I thought. My body’s tired. Hell, even my bones are tired. But I’ll be home within fifteen minutes, and then I can crash. Tomorrow’s my day off, and once I’ve dropped Andrew off at my parents’, I’ll be coming back home and sleeping some more.
Shaking my head, I open my eyes wider, hoping I’ll be able to keep them open. I turn the heat off and reach for the handle to unwind the window. The cool air should help wake me up.
But after a few minutes, I once again feel myself drifting off. I should have taken Mom up on her offer and stayed the night. With Macy and Lannie staying there, I would have been up early anyway.
My body’s jolted and my eyes fly open. “Christ,” I growl, as I pull the steering wheel to the right, side-swiping the verge. I fell asleep. Fuck it, I shouldn’t have driven. But I’m only a couple of miles away from my house. Now that I’m awake, I should be fine.
A horn beeping filters through my brain, and I instantly jump. As soon as my eyes open, I’m blinded by headlights getting closer and closer to me. Sheer panic takes hold of me. I somehow manage to jerk the steering wheel but it’s too late. I escape a head-on collision, but the other car clips the side of mine, sending me into a spin. I can’t do anything but watch as my car crashes into the verge. The force flips my car, and a scream becomes lodged in my throat as gravity takes over and the vehicle rolls down the hill. My head smashes against the steering wheel as the car comes to a stop on its roof.
“Shit shit shit,” I curse, as my fingers immediately go to the seatbelt buckle. I finally catch my breath and realize I’m okay, yet I need to get the fuck out of this car. I’m in shock; a complete and utter state of shock. The seatbelt won’t unbuckle. I pull and tug at it to no avail. I’m stuck.
“Oh fuck,” I murmur when the car begins to roll again. The seatbelt unbuckles just as the car rights itself. I’m jolted forward, through the windscreen, and white-hot pain radiates from my legs. It’s the last thing I feel before everything fades to black.
Chapter One
“Tyler!” Macy yells, and I inhale sharply. “You’d better not be in bed.”
“I’m up!” I yell back, pissed that I can’t even have one moment of peace and quiet in my own goddamn house.
I hear Lannie giggle. “Ooh, Uncle Ty’s mad. Mommy, you made him mad.”
She’s the only person who can make me smile, the only person I’m not a complete asshole around. My niece is the bright spot in my shit fucking world.
Eleven months ago, when I fell asleep at the wheel and went off the road and down that God forsaken hill, I woke up in hospital, only to find out I’d had surgery to try and save my leg. Trying to unbuckle my seatbelt was the most stupid thing I did, because when the car righted itself, it caused the seatbelt to break free. When I crashed through the windscreen, the glass cut through my leg, practically severing it just above my knee. In the end, the only way for the docto
rs to stop the bleeding and ensure I would have the best life possible had been to amputate. The doctor called it traumatic amputation, meaning the crash itself had caused the severing of the limb. It’s bullshit—no one gave me the fucking choice. If they had, I would have kept my damn leg.
Banging on my bedroom door causes me to groan. “What?” I shout. One day—just one day—I’d like to have peace.
The door opens, revealing a pissed off Macy standing with her hands on her hips. She’s had her hair cut. Gone is the long black hair, and in its place is a short bob. It looks nice and makes her usually warm blue eyes stand out. Right now, though, those eyes have turned glacial. “You’re an ass. Get the hell up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Macy, don’t even start. It’s not even eight in the goddamn morning.”
She sighs, coming to sit on the bed next to me, her eyes on the prosthetic leg I’ve yet to attach. “Ty, you can’t keep acting like this.”
“Like what?” I growl at her. We’ve had this conversation every day since I’ve been home, and every day it doesn’t get better.
“Like this! Stop talking to me as though I’m your enemy. God, Ty, I’m your sister. I love you and I’m begging you to listen to me. This anger you have… it needs to stop, and you need to channel your anger into a positive. The drinking needs to end. I almost lost you once, Ty.” Her voice cracks as tears form in her eyes. “I don’t want to bury you. I don’t want Lannie to have to bury her uncle.”
That’s a low blow. “You think I want to be like this? I’m not a man anymore, Macy. What the fuck do you expect me to be like?”
She shakes her head. “Ty, losing your leg doesn’t define you, and it’s not what makes you less of man. Being an asshole does.” The bed dips as she gets up. “I need to get ready for work. Can I trust you to take Lannie to the park, just as you promised?”
I stare at her hard. “Don’t question me when it comes to Lannie. Of course I’m taking Lannie to the park,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Yay, we’re going to the park,” Lannie cries as she comes skipping into my bedroom, her brown hair tied up in pigtails, which hides her mass of curls. She’s smiling widely, showing off her missing front tooth. “Oh no, Uncle Ty, you forgot to put your leg on.” Her eyes, so much like her mother’s, widen as she stares at it. She’s used to seeing it now.
When I got out of hospital and physiotherapy, Macy and Lannie had already moved into my house. The accident caused my parents a lot of stress; Dad had a heart attack and died six weeks later. It’s something that lays heavily on me. If I hadn’t been selfish and stupid, he’d still be here—Mom would still be here. She died in her sleep six months ago. Macy believes it was from a broken heart. I think it was my fault. If I’d never had the accident, they’d both be here.
“I’m going to put it on now. Did you have breakfast?” I ask her, in the hope her mom will get her out of my room already.
“Come on, Lannie, you can help me lay the table. Uncle Ty will have breakfast with us in a few minutes,” Macy says as she directs Lannie out of the room, not once looking back at me.
I’m so used to putting this prosthetic on that it’s become second nature. I can do it with my eyes closed. When I first started wearing it, it was awful. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch just to walk a couple of steps—that was all I could walk the first week. I was pissed, angry at the world. I was twenty and had just lost my right leg. It was as though my world had come crashing down. I still feel that way. What use am I to anyone with only one leg?
I hide away from everyone, and the only time I leave the house is once a week, when Macy takes me to see my therapist.
Rubbing the calloused skin on my stump, I remember the blisters I had from first walking on it. As soon as they’d drain, I’d be back up trying to walk, pushing myself further and harder than I did the day before, and even more blisters would appear. I had to push through the pain. I wanted to be up and walking as quickly as I could and having to wait until the blisters drained was a pain in the ass and disheartening.
Macy’s right; I’m an asshole. I’m a miserable fucker who wakes up, and for a split second I’m back to that carefree twenty-year-old, and then bam! I remember I have no leg, that it’s gone, and I’m back in this nightmare I call my life. I hate it, and sometimes I have thought about taking my own life, hoping it would end the constant painful thoughts in my head. All I remember is what things were like before I had the accident, when I felt normal and not like some freak that only has one leg.
People stop and stare at me when they realize I have a prosthetic, then a curious look comes across their faces. It’s the younger generation that have the balls to ask what’s on all their minds. They want to see it, and the boys think I’m a superhero, some kind of bionic man. The older generation, they want to know how I lost my leg. It’s fucking embarrassing. I lost my leg because I was reckless and drove while I was tired, whereas heroes lose theirs because they were protecting our country.
Standing up, I wait for a moment, making sure I have my balance. I’ve ended up flat on my ass more times than I can count. When I hit the deck, I find it hard to get back up. And I hate asking for help, or even accepting a hand to get me back to my feet.
I look in the mirror that’s on the door of my wardrobe and don’t recognize the man staring back at me. I look a mess. My face is gaunt, my black, shaggy hair longer than it’s ever been. I need a damn haircut. I hate the person who stares back at me. I don’t know who he is.
Feeling as though I’m able to walk without falling, I make my way into the kitchen where Macy’s cooked breakfast for us all.
“Look, Uncle Ty, Mommy made us pancakes,” Lannie shouts as soon as she spots me coming into the kitchen.
I widen my eyes dramatically for her. She loves it when I go theatrical. “Pancakes? What’s the special occasion?” I frown. “Did I forget someone’s birthday?”
Lannie laughs. “No, silly Ty Ty. Mommy made them because I told her you’d feel better if you had pancakes.” Her face is serious as she tells me this. Lannie believes everyone loves pancakes and that they’re magical food that will make everything okay.
“Oh wow, I love pancakes.” I look to Macy who’s keeping her head down. I’ve upset her. I need to be open and honest with her, but I don’t know how to. If I tell her everything I’m feeling, she’ll see that I’m weak, and that’s something I don’t want my sister ever thinking of me. I’ve been an ass to her, though, and that really does need to change. No matter what I’m feeling, Macy doesn’t deserve to get my anger.
“See, Mommy,” Lannie says with a smirk, like she’s saying, ‘I told you so’. She puts a forkful of pancakes into her mouth. She’s almost finished hers and is already eying up the plate Macy left for me.
“You were right, baby,” Macy says, kissing her head. “Ty, if you need me, call me, okay?”
I nod. “We’ll be fine. Go, you’ve got that meeting to get to.”
Relief shines in her eyes; she knows I’ve been listening to her. She’s been obsessing over this meeting for weeks. It’s an informal interview and if she gets the job, it’ll mean triple her wages, along with great insurance.
“Thank you,” she says softly, and I hate that she’s thanking me. She doesn’t need to. She’s done more for me than she had to, and I’ll be forever grateful, even though I’ve not shown her it. “Okay, baby, I’ve got to go. Be good for your uncle Ty and I’ll see you this evening.” She kisses Lannie’s head once again, but Lannie’s too busy shoving pancakes in her mouth to return the gesture.
“Bye, Mommy.”
I walk with Macy into the hall as she pulls on her jacket. “We’ll go to the park and then get an ice-cream. It’s going to take a while for us to walk there and back, but I’ll cook dinner, so you don’t need to worry about it.”
Her eyes widen before a slow smile forms. “That would be fantastic. Thank you.”
I shrug. “No worries. Good luck, although I doubt you n
eed it. You’ve worked your ass off for this.”
Her smile widens. “Yeah, I just hope they see it too. I’ve got to go. I don’t want to be late today of all days. Thanks for looking after Lannie. She’s been really looking forward to today.” She reaches for the front door and opens it.
“I’m happy to watch her. See you later,” I tell her and watch as she walks toward her car, my gut tightening, as it does every time I see someone I care about get inside a vehicle.
“Lannie?” I call out as I close the door. That girl is too quiet for my liking. Since she’s been living here, I’ve learned that if she’s making noise, that’s good. When she’s quiet, it’s time to panic.
“Yes, Ty Ty?” she says sweetly, but I don’t buy it.
Walking into the kitchen, I see she’s sitting at the table with a smile on her face. She looks sweet and innocent—a lie if there ever was one. My niece may look like butter wouldn’t melt, but really, she’s the devil when she wants to be.
I narrow my eyes at her. My plate is empty and hers is full again. “What were you doing?”
She gasps in outrage. “Nothing! I was sitting here eating.”
I don’t believe it. I glance around the room, pretending to try to figure out what she was doing. “I don’t buy it, sister.” I smirk as I watch her face fall. “Where are my pancakes?”
“What pancakes?” she asks with a smirk as she lifts her fork to her mouth.
I nod. “Hmm, the ones your mom made me—you know, to make me feel better?”
“Oh, those ones.” She peers around the kitchen. She’s trying to find a way out of this.
“Will you at least let me have one?” I can’t believe I’m begging a child for some pancakes.
She thinks about it for a second. “Just one.” She holds up a single finger to indicate that’s all I’m getting.