Broken Dreams (Spiraling Book 2)

by H. L. Karhoff

  “Here.” I took the pack and retrieved one.

  “Thanks.” He put the cigarette between his lips.

  Carter, Chase, and I watched as he lit the cigarette and inhaled. His face contorted in pain. “Fuck.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Clenching his jaw, Devon closed his eyes and shook his head. His left arm tensed, his hand tightening into a fist.

  “What’s wrong?” I repeated, more forcefully.

  “Nothing.” Devon’s voice was low as if it took a great deal of energy to speak.

  “Don’t lie to me, Devon,” I scolded. “Let me see.”

  He glared at me. Carefully, I moved his left arm out of the way. He winced, taking short, jagged breaths. I tried to be as gentle as possible, but it didn’t matter. Even the softest touch elicited a groan. Under his faded black T-shirt, a large, dark red bruise stretched across the lower part of his rib cage and left side of his stomach.

  “Oh my.” I gasped.

  “Ouch.” Chase grimaced. “That shit looks like it hurts, dude.”

  “Ya think?” Devon growled.

  I let Devon’s shirt fall back into place.

  He put his arm down and tried to take another drag from his cigarette. It went about as well as the first one. Giving up, he cursed under his breath, tossed the cigarette into the street, and grabbed his truck’s door handle.

  Chase set his hand on Devon’s shoulder. “I think maybe I should drive.”

  Devon gritted his teeth and shot Chase an icy glare.

  “Sorry.” Chase lifted his hand slowly.

  “Here.” Devon reached into his right pocket, pulled out his keys, and laid them in Chase’s palm. Using the truck for support, he limped to the passenger side.

  “Hey.” Carter swatted my arm to get my attention. “Come on. You can ride with me.”

  “Okay.” I reluctantly followed Carter toward his car, glancing back several times. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

  “Probably,” Carter answered.

  I stopped at the passenger door of Carter’s car and watched Devon’s truck pass. Dread weighted my heart. Please, let him be okay.

  “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Carter said.

  I looked across the top of the car. “Thanks, Carter. I just . . .”

  “I know.” Carter opened his door and disappeared inside the car.

  Eighteen

  It took most of the summer for Devon to heal completely from the fight. The deep gash above his eye left an ugly scar. Otherwise, his face returned to normal within a few weeks, but the bruise on his chest lingered along with the pain. He couldn’t put his arms around me without wincing, let alone do anything else.

  “You should go to the doctor,” I said.

  We sat on Chase’s couch. I’d snuggled into Devon’s right side and tried to focus on my chick flick while he read something with a long, impossible to pronounce title.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it’s been like two weeks and you haven’t gotten better.”

  “I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

  I sat up straight and twisted my body to face him. “But you might have a broken rib or something. I looked it up on the web at Carter’s and it said if you think you have a broken rib, you should go to the doctor as soon as possible.”

  Devon removed his glasses and sighed. “Tori, I’m fine. I’ve broken ribs before. It’s not a big deal.”

  I dropped my shoulders and stuck out my bottom lip.

  “Don’t do that.” He scowled as he put his glasses back on.

  “Do what?”

  “Pout. I told you. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said.

  “Yes. I do.” He turned back to his book as if he were done with the conversation.

  “But what if you’re not?”

  “I am.”

  “But what if you’re not?” I grabbed his hand between both of mine.

  He inhaled slowly before looking at me. “Tori, I promise. I’m fine. Don’t worry so much.”

  “I can’t help it. You know that.”

  He chuckled softly. “I love you, baby doll.”

  “I love you, too. Will you, please, go to the doctor?”

  “No, but I love that you want me to.” He pulled me closer and kissed my forehead.

  I slumped into his side, folded my arms across my chest, and turned back to my movie. It wasn’t a particularly interesting film. The main character was a popular girl who would no doubt learn a valuable life lesson by the end. I’d seen the same movie dozens of times with different actors in different settings. They all ended the same: the main character had an epiphany that caused him or her to change their ways and everyone got along, and they all lived happily ever after with the hero or heroine winning the heart of the less-than-popular love interest. It made me want to puke.

  “Devon?”

  “Yes, baby doll.” He sighed.

  “Why didn’t you come back right after you got out of juvie? You said you stayed with your brother for a few days. Why didn’t you just come back to Trent?”

  “Because I wasn't going to come back.”

  I pushed away from his side and spun to face him. “What?”

  He didn’t look at me. “I wasn’t going to come back. After Lia kicked me out, I didn’t plan on staying around. I was trying to save up enough to move back to Ashton, anyway.”

  “You were just going to leave?” My lip quivered.

  “There wasn’t much keeping me here.”

  “What about me?”

  He slowly turned to look at me, sadness dulling his eyes. “We weren’t together. I’d screwed that up like everything else.”

  “What about after you got out? We were together then, weren’t we?”

  His shoulders slumped. He spoke at barely more than a whisper as if he didn’t want to say the words. “I thought you’d be better off if I wasn’t around.”

  “Well, I wasn’t,” I said. “I missed you every second.”

  Cupping my face in his palm, he kissed my forehead. “I missed you, too.”

  I grabbed his shirt in both fists. “I will never be better off without you. Ever. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Without thinking, I shoved his book out of the way and tossed my leg over his to straddle him. I pressed against his chest as I kissed him. Instead of kissing me back, he groaned in pain.

  “Oh, god. Sorry.” I leaned back. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t respond. His eyes closed and he drew in slow, sharp breaths.

  “I’m so sorry.” I brushed his hair back. “I forgot.”

  “It’s okay,” he replied slowly. “Can you . . . ?” He patted my side.

  “Yeah. Sure.” I moved off his lap.

  He took as deep a breath as he could manage and opened his eyes.

  I knit my hands together between my knees. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s okay, Tori.” He grabbed my clasped hands. “Just . . . be a little gentler next time. All right?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “Come here.” Sliding his arm around my shoulders, he pulled me into his uninjured side and kissed the top of my head.

  I snuggled against him. Guilty tears stung my eyes. I’m so stupid. It’s my fault he’s hurt in the first place, and I have to hurt him even more.

  Sliding behind the wheel of his truck, Devon reached across himself to pull the door shut with his right hand. I watched him light a cigarette, then strain to put his left hand on the steering wheel. He took a deep, ragged breath before starting the truck and putting it into gear.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Sure.” He nodded, though his tone said otherwise.

  “Does it still hurt to drive?”

  “Not as much.”

  “I’m sorry. If I knew how, I would.”

  He narrowed his eyes
and looked at me. “You don’t know how to drive?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head.

  “Aren’t you about to turn sixteen?”

  “Yep.” I nodded.

  “And you don’t know how to drive?”

  I felt attacked, like he was making fun of me. “It’s not my fault. Nobody ever taught me.”

  “That’s it.” He flipped the ash from his cigarette into the open ashtray in the dash. “After we swing through a drive-thru, we’ll find a back road and I’ll teach you how to drive.”

  I didn’t think he was serious. When he pulled to the side of the road on the way back to Chase’s trailer, I’d forgotten his offer. He moved the shifter, turned off the truck, and opened the driver’s side door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “You’re driving back,” he answered.

  “No way.” I shook my head. “I’ll end up crashing or something.”

  “No, you won’t.” He stepped out of the truck, shut the door, and walked around to the passenger side. “Just go slow and you’ll be fine.”

  I slid over, nervously gripping the large steering wheel as he got in the passenger side.

  “There’s a lever under the front of the seat,” he said. “Pull it and slide the seat up so you can reach the pedals.”

  I moved the seat as far as it would go.

  “Can you reach the pedals?” Devon asked.

  “Barely.” I laughed. Holding the steering wheel, I put my feet out. “I look like a little kid.”

  “No, you don’t.” Devon tried to remain serious, but his mouth twitched as if he was doing his best not to laugh. After he regained his straight face, he instructed me to put the truck in neutral.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Make sure the shifter moves freely.”

  I put my hand on the shifter and wiggled it.

  “Start it.” He waved his hand at his keys dangling from the steering column.

  Hesitantly, I turned the key in the ignition, but the truck wouldn’t start.

  “Press the clutch and the brake,” Devon said. “The pedal on the far left and the one in the middle.”

  Sliding forward on the seat, I pushed the pedal with my foot as far as it would go and turned the key again. The engine roared.

  “You still got the clutch pressed?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded.

  “All right. Put it in first.”

  “How?”

  “Move the shifter all the way to the left and up.” He waved his finger left and up.

  I took a breath and grabbed the long stick that extended up from the floorboard. Up and left. It wouldn’t go left.

  “You’re in third,” Devon said. “Move it down to the middle, left as far as it will go, and up.”

  “Sorry.”

  I forgot about the pedals as I moved the shifter again. The truck lunged forward and died.

  “Keep your foot on the clutch,” Devon instructed.

  “Sorry,” I replied.

  Considering he had the shortest fuse of anyone I knew, sometimes Devon’s patience amazed me. He somehow stayed calm while I repeatedly failed to start the truck, put it in gear, and drive forward.

  “We might need to find an automatic,” he said.

  “An automatic what?” I asked.

  “Car.” He held his left side and inhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, baby doll. I can’t do much more of this jerking back and forth.”

  “It’s okay.” I dropped my hands from the wheel. “I’m sorry. I know I suck at this.”

  “You’ll get better. I’ll see if Carter will let me borrow his car and pick you up tomorrow after work.”

  “Are we done then?”

  “For tonight. Yeah.” He retrieved a pill bottle from his pocket, shaking three or four white pills into his hand. After he’d swallowed them, he leaned back, closed his eyes, and took slow, haggard breaths.

  I watched him in silence. The sun sank on the horizon, shining through the window and giving his silhouette a golden glow. He looked angelic, as if at any moment he’d sprout wings from his back, don a halo, and start playing a harp.

  As if. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle.

  “Everything okay?” Devon looked at me.

  “Uh-huh.” I cleared my throat. “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Nothing. It was stupid.” I pulled my feet up on the seat and turned to face him. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I need a minute and then we’ll get going.”

  “Okay.” I smiled.

  He leaned back and closed his eyes again. My mind abandoned fantastical images, focusing on concern. I wondered if Devon hurt more than he'd admit. He’d been taking a lot of pills. I had no idea what they were. He said he hadn’t gone to the doctor, but I’d seen a prescription label on one of the bottles he had in his pocket. I thought maybe he didn’t want me to know what was wrong, so he’d lied about going. He thought if he didn’t tell me things I’d worry less. He was mistaken.

  Nineteen

  Sucking on the side of my lip, I reread the paragraph I’d already read three times. I couldn’t concentrate. Devon sat in the chair, his eyes fixed on a thick paperback.

  “Finished?” he asked when he caught me staring at him.

  “No.” I pouted. “It’s so boring.”

  “You can’t drive if you don’t pass the written test.”

  “You drive, and you didn’t even take the test.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “I think it is the point.” I raised my eyebrows. “Why is it okay for you to drive without a license, but not me?”

  “Because your parents won’t let you drive without one,” he said.

  “Because they suck.” I frowned. “I wish I could just do whatever I wanted.”

  He opened his mouth to respond but changed his mind. His brow furrowed slightly, he looked at his book and turned the page. I bit the inside of my lip, feeling self-conscious. His silence made me think I’d said something wrong.

  “So, what are you reading?” I asked.

  “East of Eden,” he answered.

  “Is it good?”

  He nodded. “It’s one of my favorite novels.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Different generations of brothers, one good, one bad. The bad one resents the good one because their father prefers him and does all this stuff to gain their father’s acceptance.”

  “Why is one good and one bad?”

  “They’re not actually. It’s just the way they perceive themselves.”

  “Why?”

  Squinting, he scrutinized my face. “Are you trying to get out of studying?”

  “No.” I shook my head, smiled, and batted my lashes. “Why would you say that?”

  He chuckled. “No reason.”

  I sat back on the couch, driver’s license manual in hand, and pretended to read. Devon returned to his book but raised his eyes every few seconds.

  “Do you want to get lunch?” he asked.

  “I would love to.” I bolted off the couch.

  Devon dog-eared his page in the book before setting it on the table. He checked for his wallet as he stood and the two of us left the trailer. Instead of going into town, he took the left fork toward Clarington. I scooted into the middle of the seat, held his bicep, and rested my chin on his shoulder.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Clarington,” he answered.

  “Where in Clarington?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  “Ooh.” I sat back. “Can we go to Jumbo Burger?”

  Devon’s eyebrows knit together. “Jumbo Burger? That’s where you want to go?”

  “Yeah. They’ve got this new barbecue bacon cheeseburger I want to try.”

  “All right. We’ll go to Jumbo Burger.”

  “Yea.” I clapped my hands giddily before hugging his arm and la
ying my head on his shoulder again.

  After eight months of being together, I didn’t think eating a sloppy burger in front of Devon would be an issue. It was. We both ordered the new burger. While he devoured his without caring that sauce dribbled down his chin, I resisted the impulse to do the same and dabbed my mouth with a napkin between each small bite. When he’d finished, he leaned back in his side of the booth and watched me as if I were a zoo exhibit.

  “That was a good burger.” He smiled.

  I nodded.

  He glanced around at the other tables, rapping his fingers against ours. “I’m going to step out and smoke a cigarette.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  He slid out of the booth and walked outside. I watched his back, almost wishing he wore tighter jeans, so I’d have a view to admire. As it was, his gray T-shirt hung loose over his muscular shoulders, covering the two inches of white boxers revealed by the way his black belt secured his too-big black jeans around his hips instead of his waist.

  As soon as he’d gone, I inhaled the burger, licking the barbecue sauce from my stubby fingertips with moans of delight. I had most of the fries shoved in my mouth, too, when Devon returned and looked at me with an expression that balanced between surprise and disgust. Covering my mouth with my hand, I swallowed the half-chewed fries.

  “I was hungry.” I lowered my eyes.

  “I see that.” He sat, still staring at me. “Except for Lia, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl put away food like that.”

  Great. Compare me to your bowling ball sister. I slumped down in the booth. I already know I’m fat. I don’t need you to remind me.

  “Sorry,” he said after an awkward pause. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  I sighed.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He stood and offered me his hand. Taking it, I kept my eyes on the tile on the way out the door. I didn’t want to look at his face for fear he would still have the disgusted expression.

  After he helped me into his truck, he hesitated in the open door. “I’m sorry, baby doll.” His hand swept my cheek. “I promise I’ll try not to eat my foot anymore.”

  I raised my eyes, my brow wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

  “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I stuck my foot in my mouth.”