“I’ll get you a hat, too,” I said. I hurried back across the yard and into the kitchen, excited the family would all be there soon.
“No junk food,” my mother warned, her eyebrow raised as she continued prepping for the party.
“I know, Mom.” I grabbed a box of crackers and pulled open the fridge as the front screen door squeaked on its hinges. Dad was home from work.
“Where’s my birthday girl?” he yelled. I could tell in his voice he was tired, but he smiled for Kayla anyway.
“She’s out back playing,” my mother replied.
Dad leaned in and kissed Mom on the cheek before glancing out the kitchen window.
“Where? The swings are empty.”
“She’s on the dock, Dad. I took her fishing.” I walked over to my father, pushing up on my tiptoes to point out the wooden walkway. My smile slowly fell as I looked for my sister. The dock was empty. Only her yellow teddy bear remained.
“John…?” Mom said Dad’s name like she was asking a question. Her voice was thick with worry.
“I told her to be still,” I said. “That I’d be right back.”
“Oh, God,” Mom said.
Dad was already out the door. “She’s not out there!” he screamed as he rushed across the backyard toward the water.
Cake batter splattered up the sides of the cupboards when my mother dropped the bowl she’d held in her hands. She chased after my father while I stood helplessly, watching from the window.
It felt like a lifetime had passed since they’d sprinted out the door. Boy, Kayla was going to be in trouble for not listening to me.
Nerves twisted my belly into knots as I waited to see the mess of dark curls that sat atop my sister’s head. I hoped Dad would still let her eat her cake tonight. I would tell them it was all my fault if they didn’t. I didn’t want to ruin her birthday.
My father’s head broke the surface of the pond, dark circles of water rippling from his body, expanding outward. That was when I saw her. Her tiny body in my father’s arms made her seem like she was still just a baby.
Mom’s bare feet nearly slipped from the dock as she took Kayla from Dad’s arms so he could boost himself up onto the old planks of wood.
Lying her body down on the ground, Dad began to frantically push against her chest. Once in a while, Mom would stop crying and lean down over Kayla’s face. Chills rushed through my body, and I began to shiver, recognizing something was wrong. Kayla wasn't pretending. Mom and Dad were afraid. I’d never seen Dad scared of anything, not even when the Radleys turned their garage into a haunted house two Halloweens ago.
“Come on, Kayla,” I mumbled to myself. Unable to wait, I rushed to the back door and fumbled with the handle.
I hurdled toward them, feeling like I had to do something, anything, to help her. By the time I reached them, Mom was sobbing and covering her face. Dad was slouched over, looking at my baby sister with his hands on his knees and lake water dripping from his chin.
“Is she okay, Dad?”
He didn’t answer.
“What can I do?” I asked, feeling something awful surround me. “Dad? What can I do?”
Dad broke down, his cries harmonizing with Mom’s. I knelt down to hold Kayla’s tiny, cold hand in mine.
“It’s going to be okay, Kayla,” I said.
Mom wailed.
I sat in silence, wishing I could do more. But I had no idea what it was she needed. We were all helpless, sitting around Kayla. Her pretty curls were wet and splayed out on the grass. Tears burned my eyes while I waited for her to wake up, because deep down I knew she wouldn’t.
“Kayla?” I said one last time, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
Not knowing why we couldn’t save her, and next to my sister on the ground, I promised myself I would never feel helpless again.
With cellophane taped to my freshly inked ribs, I dragged myself back to the apartment, desperate for a few hours of sleep. I knew I wouldn’t have long before Quinn was calling me again, wanting to party, and truth be told, I welcomed a break from reality. The past few days had begun to stir some repressed memories inside me. Kayla’s death was hard enough to relive; the last thing I wanted was for the rest to come back full force.
Falling back on my double bed, I closed my eyes, groaning as Dax jumped across my stomach and snuggled into my side.
I’d gotten a full four hours of shuteye before the heat from Dax’s puppy belly began to make me sweat. It was crazy how such a tiny thing make me could feel like I was under an electric blanket. I tugged off my clothes and groggily made my way to my bathroom, rushing through a warm shower.
As I smeared some ointment on my newest stripe, my phone chimed with a message from Quinn. He texted me a picture of the sign from Corner Hole Bar, and then a second picture. It took me a moment to figure out what it was: the back of Avery’s head.
Smirking to myself, I typed out a quick response, letting him know I’d be right there before changing into a fresh T-shirt and jeans. I headed out into the night, walking faster than I’d ever admit. One thing I loved about the North was the bars were open on Sundays, although Pennsylvania was a weird state where you could only get your alcohol from bars and state stores. It wasn’t like back home in Georgia where I could pick up a six-pack at the gas station.
Corner Hole was full of the usual suspects: doctors and nurses fresh from their shift and a few other third shifters peppered alongside local alcoholics. I nodded at Quinn, who held up a beer before looking to his left. I followed his gaze and locked eyes with Avery, who was laughing at something her friend Deb had said. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to suppress her wide smile.
I stared at her for a moment, unable to look away. It wasn’t until Quinn stepped into my view that I let the connection be broken.
“I don’t want to be a dick, but I call dibs on the brunette.”
I glanced around him to Deb, who was still engulfed in her conversation with Avery. Avery wasn’t as invested, still sneaking glances in my direction.
“She’s all yours, buddy.” I patted his shoulder before I walked toward the bar, struggling to suppress a laugh. Deb was a fireball, and she would eat Quinn alive, but she may have been the only kind of woman who could put him in his place besides his mother.
Leaning against the bar, I held up two fingers to Ginger, the barmaid. She nodded as she grabbed two Budweisers from the cooler and popped off the caps.
“You gonna keep an eye on this asshole tonight?” she asked as she tilted her head toward Quinn.
He mumbled something inappropriate under his breath as he picked up his beer. His grin widened as Ginger flicked her artificial auburn hair behind her shoulder.
“I’ll do my best.” I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and fished out two twenty-dollar bills, slapping them on the bar. “Can I get a round for those ladies? The usual.”
Ginger raised her eyebrow before pouring out two Cowboy Cocksucker shots.
I held up my beer to Avery as she smiled appreciatively. Deb picked up her glass and winked at Quinn before she ran her tongue over her lips and downed her drink.
“I’m hittin’ that tonight. How about you and her friend?” Quinn said, his words already slurring.
“I already hit her the other night, remember?” I laughed, and the fresh stripe tattoo on my side rubbed against the material of my shirt, reminding me the situation wasn’t funny at all. Not before, and not now. Getting involved with Avery was dangerous—for both of us. She could get hurt—even more seriously this time—and I had a feeling that would wreck me.
Deb was chattering in the background, going on about the way Quinn was looking at her from across the Corner Hole bar. My ears only caught every other word, between the live band and Josh Avery’s form fitting T-shirt and five o’clock shadow drawing my attention. He had bought me a drink, and any moment, he would walk toward me with the fuck me smile I’d seen him offer to other women s
o many times before.
It was shameful, the way I could anticipate his every move before he made it, yet I was playing along. Like so many before me, I would believe this time was different. Something about me would change his whoring ways, and he would be deeply in love and loyal to me until one of us died—and maybe even after that. It was a vicious cycle that kept us perpetually single and in desperate need of our next connection, however brief.
I looked over at Deb. I had kept a small, faithful circle of friends my entire life, but that circle was ever changing and grew smaller as I aged. I wasn’t sure if that meant something was wrong with me, or I was just growing wiser.
“Thanks for being here, Deb.”
She snorted. “I asked you here, remember?”
“You know what I mean.”
After my parents died, I didn’t seem to have anything in common with my high school friends. I couldn’t hear complaints about Shari’s mom not buying that dress for an upcoming rush party or how overbearing Emma’s dad was. I was trying to figure out how to juggle funeral arrangements and death taxes along with rent for an apartment and applying to nursing schools.
Deb and I had been part of a tight group since nursing school, and we’d grown closer once we were both hired on at the ER. The other nurses had fallen away for one reason or another. Heather had cheated on her husband and, once caught, blamed her single friends for her wild ways. The result was only spending their free time with married couples. Elizabeth liked designer clothes and expensive cars on a student’s budget, then borrowed money to pay her bills. Deb and I had decided it cost too much to be her friend. Shay made us laugh and was always up for a good time, but every week some absurd drama plagued her: pregnancy scares, stalker ex-boyfriends, and friends who had wronged her. Life seemed to be complicated enough without complicated friends, so we’d cut them loose. But I’d kept Deb, and she’d kept me.
After I had been forced to let go of my parents, any feelings I had about losing anyone else were barely noticeable. I worried letting go had become too easy.
“Stop, or I’ll tongue punch your fart box,” Deb said.
My expression twisted into disgust. “You are fucking offensive.”
“Yeah, but you’re here instead of there.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I won’t let you punish yourself for whatever fucked up thing in your past you couldn’t control.”
I smiled. Deb knew I was losing myself in a sad memory and used one of her shocking remarks to snap me out of it. It always worked. Deb got me, and for some odd reason, I got her.
As predicted, Josh left Quinn at the bar to wade through the maze of people and high-top tables to the charcoal velvet love seat where Deb and I were seated. He tapped the neck of his beer to mine and then shot me a charming grin before taking a sip.
I was different. Josh just didn’t know it yet.
Since the day I had woken up in the hospital, everything was different. The old Avery wouldn’t have given someone like Josh a chance, but things like ego and how I should or shouldn’t behave didn’t feel so important now.
Josh sat in front of me, pointing his beer toward the short tower of empty shot glasses stacked on the table in front of us. “How was the shot I sent over?”
“I’ve had better,” I said.
Josh made a face. “Why are you always so mean? I never have to try this hard. Ever. It’s damaging my already fragile ego,” he joked, placing his hand over his heart as if he were injured.
I smirked. “That’s why.”
Josh had earned his nickname. McPanties would take me for the night, but Josh and I had walked away from that horrible accident for a reason. I wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but we definitely hadn’t survived a high-speed collision with a tractor-trailer for a one-night stand. Call it fate or kismet or maybe just plain dumb luck, but I wanted to know, why us?
Josh settled in next to me, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re saying I’ve got a shot.”
“I’m saying this shot,” I said, holding up an empty glass, “was mediocre. You better up your game.”
His gray irises sparkled. “Challenge accepted.”
I giggled, lifting my bottle to take another sip. The bottle never made it to my mouth. Dr. Rosenberg was standing at the bar with Michaels. She was still wearing her scrubs, a ball of orange frizz seeming to hover above her head. When she spoke, her wild bun wobbled.
Dr. Rosenberg barely acknowledged her, looking trapped and uncomfortable. Good. Michaels had likely talked him into grabbing a drink after work. She wasn’t known to take no for an answer, and Dr. Rosenberg had been catching a lot of hell recently for not being approachable. I sighed, hating that I was making excuses for him. If I wasn’t careful, he would topple from the pedestal I placed men like him on.
Josh stopped and turned to see what had drawn my attention. When he faced me again, I felt my cheeks burn.
He gestured toward the doctor, clearly annoyed. “What is your deal with him? Are you having an affair?”
“No. God, no. He’s married,” I stuttered, not anticipating him being so direct. Josh wasn’t the type to sugarcoat anything, no matter how bitter the truth was to swallow.
“So?”
I frowned.
He held up his hands and shrugged. “I’m not saying I agree with it, but a doctor banging a nurse isn’t the craziest thing I’ve heard.”
“Dr. Rosenberg is a good man. He would never cheat on his wife.”
“So, that’s it,” Josh said as the skin between his eyebrows smoothed and he visibly relaxed.
“What?”
“Why you like him so much. He’s safe. You think you don’t have to worry about him returning your affection.”
I turned to him and narrowed my eyes, leaning my shoulder into the cushion. “Well, Dr. Avery, continue your analysis.”
“You obviously have daddy issues.”
“Oh, please. Who doesn’t?” His assessment was spot on, and I tried to count the years it had been since I’d even spoken to my aunt.
He didn’t hesitate. “You like me.”
“False.”
“Bullshit.” His eyebrow rose as he tipped the beer bottle to his lips.
“That certainly falls in line with your initial belief that I’m addicted to unrequited love.”
“You’re in love with him?” He didn’t try to hide the disgust in his tone.
“No. That’s not what I said. At all.”
“Then stop staring at him,” he said.
I blinked, realizing I was watching the doctor again. “I wasn’t. I was … I’m watching Michaels.”
“Because she’s with the doctor, and you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m revolted. I might have a tiny crush on him,” I said, watching Josh squirm at my confession, “but I would never act on it. Michaels would.”
Josh observed Michaels for nearly a minute before he made a judgment. “Yeah, she would. But Rosey is a big boy. You can’t make his decisions for him.”
“He would never,” I said. “He loves his wife.”
“Then why isn’t he at home with her right now? Even husbands who love their wives cheat. Men are animals, Avery. All it takes is fucking the same woman for seven years and a little extra attention from the right barely legal blonde.”
I sneered. “Maybe for you.” I looked at Dr. Rosenberg with a new respect. “But not him. He’s one of the good ones.”
“Get a few shots in him and see if that’s the case. He’s only human.”
The multi-colored lights flashed over the bar, highlighting Deb giggling and pawing at Quinn. I hadn’t even noticed she’d left the love seat. Corner Hole was packed. The ten-by-ten wooden dance floor was shoulder to shoulder, couples were laughing and kissing, meeting for the first time and falling in love, and sitting next to me was my knight in shining armor, advocating adultery. I peered into my longneck bottle, wondering if maybe he was just a cynic in a tinfoil hat.<
br />
My eyebrows pulled in. “Not every man shares your lack of morality.”
He balked, almost offended. “I have never cheated.”
I shot him a dubious look. “Because you’ve never been in a relationship.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t commit to someone if I wasn’t ready. That’s much different from those who are willing to leap but still stray.”
I put down my beer. “I did … like you. For about two seconds. Then you started talking.”
Josh put down his beer, too, only more determined. “That’s because you’re not listening. You’re the type of chick—”
I glared at him and he rephrased.
“You’re the kind of woman who listens to reply, not to understand. But I can’t fault you for that. I’ve come to learn that is the way most women are. It’s in your genes or something.”
“In my genes?”
“You know …” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “If you let me into your jeans, maybe I could get to know you better?”
I burst out laughing, and Josh’s arrogant smirk faded. “Does that usually work for you?” I tried to make eye contact with Deb, hoping she’d be ready to leave, but she was turning out to be an awful wingman.
“Dance with me,” Josh said.
I looked at him, waiting for him to admit he was joking, but he was serious. For once, I didn’t have a witty retort. He stood and then held out his hand.
“We can’t dance to this,” I said, referring to the band’s cover of Ellie Goulding’s Halcyon.
Josh looked at the lead singer and put his thumb and middle finger in his mouth, filling his lungs and then blowing a loud whistle that cut through all the loud talking and music. He pointed to me, the singer nodded to her band, and the music transitioned seamlessly into a slower song.
“You know her?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I know everyone.”
I stood, following him to the dance floor. He slid his arm around my lower back, his fingers pressing against the thin fabric of my blouse. The heat from his hand warmed my skin as he pressed me against him. His other hand gently enveloped mine, dwarfing it in his palm, and he began to sway slowly to the beat. As she began to sing the opening lines to At Last by Etta James, I relaxed into him.
Sweet Nothing Page 5
