Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels

by Aly Martinez

  I silently hope he chokes.

  “Well, the game starts at noon, so we should probably just meet at the stadium around eleven? I’ve heard they have food in the box, but maybe we can stop and grab an early dinner after the game. I don’t know. Whatever you want to do is fine.” She rambles on faster than I have ever heard anyone talk.

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  “Okay then. See you Sunday,” she says then disappears into the back office.

  I crack my neck before walking over and sitting in the chair across from Caleb.

  “What the fuck was that?” I ask, leaning closer with every word.

  “That was me helping you out.”

  “What exactly were you helping me out with? Because it looks like you just set me up on a date. With Jess. Shit, man.” I lean back in my chair, trying to figure a way out of this mess.

  “You’ve got to move on, Sharp.”

  “Oh, because you have done such a fabulous job of moving on from Manda? You’re telling me to move on when you go sit on her grave every other night. Well guess what, Jones? You need to move on too. Manda is gone. Where’s your date?” I know it’s a low blow, but I keep talking. “Christ, I’m married. I can’t go on a date.”

  “You know what? Fuck you, Brett. Yeah, I go see Manda, but that’s because I’m the only one who visits her. When was the last time you went to her grave? Or what about Casey or even Sarah.” He spits her name out of his mouth like it burns on his tongue.

  “Don’t make this about Sarah.” I momentarily calm, knowing this is about to go downhill, and fast.

  “But isn’t this about Sarah? Isn’t it always about fucking Sarah?

  “Shut up, Caleb.”

  “It was supposed to be Sarah.”

  “God damn it! Shut up!” I scream, jumping to my feet, causing everyone to stare over at us. But their curious looks are far better than the physical and emotional war that is about to take place between Caleb and me…again.

  Four Years Earlier…

  THREE DAYS after the accident, Amanda Baker was laid to rest. Sarah was still in the hospital, but I left her with her parents so I could be with my best friend as he buried the love of his life. Because Caleb and Manda were not married, her parents made all of the funeral arrangements. They buried her in some dreadful frilly outfit that she would have despised. But then again, what do you bury someone as extraordinary as Regina Phalange in? Caleb just couldn’t accept these details.

  “What is she wearing? Oh God, she’s going to kill me if I let her parents bury her in that shit.” Leaning forward, he rubs his hands quickly across his face. “Seriously, do you think I can destroy those clothes before they close the casket?” He tries to joke but instead falls to his ass on the cold concrete outside the church. “Why is she in a casket? I need to wake up from this because I can’t do it anymore.”

  The loss in his voice is alarming. I knew he would be devastated by Manda’s death. I wasn’t expecting this level of sheer hollowness in his voice though.

  “Come on. We need to get back inside.” I try to offer a distraction from his quickly approaching breakdown.

  “I miss her,” he says into his hands, offering nothing else.

  “I know, man. I know.”

  “Oh, you think you know? You think you know how this feels?” He stands up, wiping his tears on the back of his sleeve. “Last I checked, Sarah is breathing right now.”

  “You know I didn’t mean it like that. We all miss Manda.”

  “You think you know how I feel, huh?” he asks again, this time accompanied with a manic laugh. “You have no idea what I’m feeling. Sarah lived, and Manda gets to be forgotten—six feet under.”

  “No one is going to forget her,” I say quietly, not wanting to match his level of intensity.

  “Have you told Sarah that she killed her yet?”

  “We don’t know for sure who was driving.”

  “Oh yeah? Your wife is almost six feet tall. My…fiancée,” he spits out the poisonous word, “was only five foot two. Unless Manda was wearing eight-inch stilts, the position of the driver’s seat proves it was Sarah driving that car!” Caleb steps up into my face, issuing some sort of challenge.

  I stand stock-still, refusing to take his bait. He’s broken, pissed off, and looking for a fight.

  “You need to back up. I am not your enemy, and I’m not going to fight you today. If you just need someone to punch, have at it.” I toss my hands out to the side, opening myself up to the physical blows of the man I would do anything for. “Do your worst. But if you are looking for someone to hit you back so you can forget all this shit for a few minutes, you are barking up the wrong tree.”

  He then deals a verbal assault that makes me change my mind.

  “It should be Sarah lying in that casket.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It should be fucking Sarah lying in there! How much did she have to drink that night?”

  “She wasn’t drunk. Don’t take this there.”

  “Her blood alcohol may have showed she was sober, but how long did they wait to run that? She was a cop’s wife!” he screams, stepping up, bumping his chest with mine. “You know the only reason they didn’t check her blood for alcohol the minute she was brought in is because she was yours.”

  “She wasn’t drunk, Caleb. The witnesses on the scene said it was a redhead driving. So maybe Manda didn’t adjust the seat or maybe it shifted on impact—I don’t know. But this conversation is over.”

  But Caleb was just getting started. “She killed Manda and she killed me. I don’t know what happened that night, but Sarah may as well have pulled a trigger aimed directly at my head, because she has destroyed my fucking life. I’ve heard all about her little freak-outs every day, but it still sounds like that crazy-ass bitch got nowhere near the punishment she deserves after killing Manda.”

  I didn’t pause or even think twice. I threw everything I had into punching my grieving best friend. He only staggered backwards a few steps before releasing his own fists on me.

  It took five grown men to pull us apart. I left a few minutes later, not bothering to stay for the rest of the funeral. In the end, I knocked out two of his teeth and he blackened my left eye, shattering my cheek bone. We didn’t speak after that day for six and a half months. And if it meant forgetting the day he came back into my life, I’d be willing to go another six hundred years without seeing Caleb Jones.

  Chapter Eight

  Jesse

  OH MY God, I’m going to hyperventilate. Deep breaths, Jesse. Deep breaths. That was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life. What the heck was I thinking? Of course Brett isn’t interested in me. Crap. Why didn’t I realize this sooner? No, instead, I stood there looking like a fool, asking him out in front of the whole coffee shop. I somehow convinced myself that he actually wanted to be with me. First, the football game, but then we’d eventually fall madly in love and make ridiculously tall, green-eyed babies together. Jesus, how could I be so stupid? The look on his face when I asked him to the game was mortifying. It was only made worse when Caleb so obviously threw him under the bus. Oh my God, I’m the proverbial bus! Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

  “Stop freaking out, Jess,” I hear Kara say as she walks into the back office, leaving the register completely unmanned.

  “Did you see his face? How am I ever going to face him again? This was such a mistake. Why didn’t you talk me out of that?”

  “You just surprised him. That’s all. He probably didn’t even know you were interested.” She tries to reassure me, but it’s doing nothing to stop the growing knot in my stomach.

  “I’ve been flirting with him for weeks. How the heck could he not know I was interested?” I whisper-yell, very aware that the object of my embarrassment is just around the corner. The last thing I need to do is make myself look like even more of an idiot in front of him.

  “He’s a man. Men are stupid,” she says as if it should explain all of lif
e’s great mysteries.

  “How am I going to get out of this? He obviously doesn’t want to go. Crap!” I start pacing the small office, nibbling on my thumbnail and trying to devise yet another plan. Probably not the greatest idea considering my first plan is what got me into this mess in the first place.

  “You just need to pull up your big girl panties, meet him at the game, and knock him off his feet with how awesome you are. He may be a little hesitant about going now, but after he gets one look at you at the game on Sunday, you won’t be able to get rid of him.”

  “Crap, crap, crap! This is bad. Oh, this is so bad,” I say, pacing. “Wait, what do you mean after he gets one look at me? This isn’t exactly a blind date.”

  “Yeah, but that man has only ever seen you in a white button-down shirt, black pants, and a God-awful apron. Not exactly the outfit that men fantasize about,” she says as she runs her eyes down my body.

  Trying to cut her off before she gets any crazy ideas, I blurt, “I’m not raiding your closet. You dress like a hooker.” I barely finish my sentence when I hear a loud commotion out front.

  “What the hell was that?” Kara asks as we both take off to investigate.

  When we get out front, I see Brett standing with a finger pointed at Caleb and his chair tipped over behind him. His face is so distorted in anger that I almost didn’t recognize him. He’s usually so laid back, but this man towering over the table is anything but mellow.

  “Shut up, Jones. Shut. Up.”

  Caleb sits in silence, fearlessly staring him directly in the eye.

  I’m trying to figure out what the heck is going on when suddenly it hits me. This has to be about our date. Great. As if I weren’t embarrassed enough. Now I have to talk him off the edge of killing someone at the very idea of going out with me.

  “This should be fun,” I say to myself before rushing over to the guys. ”You don’t have to go on Sunday. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry,” I hurry out when I get to the table.

  “Not now, Jess!” Brett snaps, never taking his eyes off his partner.

  “No, really. It’s okay. I’ll ask Kara to go to the game or something. Actually, why don’t I just give you the tickets and you can take whoever you want. It doesn’t have to be me.”

  The stare down continues, neither man moving a muscle.

  “Not. Fucking. Now. Jess,” Brett repeats very slowly, pausing between each word.

  In order for me to explain to you why this one sentence caused me to lose my mind, you should probably know something about me first. I don’t cuss. Cussing is for ignorant people with a limited vocabulary. I think it’s rude, crass, and pointless. My mom doesn’t cuss, and with the way my brother babies me, it’s scandalous when he says “darn it” in front of me. I don’t hate people who cuss though. Kara says the F-word sometimes, but it’s never aimed at me. It’s usually when she drops something or sees a hot guy walk by the coffee shop window. She certainly never snaps it at me in an angry tone while having a hot-guy staring competition. So, being that this is the first time anyone has ever talked to me like that, I believe I should be given a free pass on the freak-out that follows.

  “Excuse me? Did you just say the F-word to me?” I say in disbelief and anger. “What the heck did I do that was so wrong? I thought it would be fun to go to the game together, but I’m sorry I even asked you now. So you can just calm down and wipe the crazy ogre look off your face. I officially withdraw my offer. I’m sure you have better things to do and other people to swear at. You are a jerk, Brett Sharp. No, you are more than a jerk. You’re a…whatever. You’re something worse than a jerk!” I finish on a shout, only pausing to catch my breath. Then I turn very matter-of-factly and look at Caleb. “Caleb, any chance you are free on Sunday? I happen to have two tickets to the Bears game.”

  Why I asked him, I have no idea. It just came out of my mouth. Maybe it was some hopeful plan to make Brett so jealous that he realizes he can’t live without me, thus sweeping me off my feet and heading straight to the wedding chapel. I’ve seen that work a few times in the movies. It could totally happen here.

  “He’d love to,” Brett says before slamming his coffee down on the table and walking out the door.

  Well, okay then. I assume since Brett just fixed me up on a date with his best friend that I should officially accept that he doesn’t want to go out with me. Which reminds me—I need to Google the quickest route to Oklahoma.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I hear Caleb say as he slumps in his chair. “Damn it,” he grits through his teeth while grabbing the back of his neck.

  “No need to apologize. I shouldn’t have asked him out. It’s obvious he isn’t interested. I-I um… I don’t know.” I lean down, picking up the chair Brett knocked over. I sit down, feeling defeated.

  “That wasn’t about you, Jess.” I look up and see Caleb’s pale face. He looks like a lost child.

  “Are you okay?” I know I probably shouldn’t have asked. It’s really none of my business, but seeing this man so torn up makes me need to help him though. It’s not my fault I was born a nurturer.

  “Yeah. No. Shit!” He sighs, obviously overwhelmed by the simple question.

  “What was that all about?”

  “That was me being a dick. Ugh, he should have punched me.”

  “What? No he shouldn’t have! I’m sorry. There is nothing you could have said that would have warranted being hit by your best friend.”

  “I told him his wife was supposed to die.”

  “Oh, well in that case, you deserve to be kicked too. Wait.” His words suddenly hit me. “Brett’s married?”

  “No, no. He’s not married,” he says, shaking his head.

  “You just said ‘his wife.’ Is he divorced?”

  “No. Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. He doesn’t…” He pauses, looking off to the side. “I mean, he’s not…um… Well, he’s not currently in a relationship.” He slides his eyes back over to mine.

  Something’s not right with this answer. So I squint my eyes questioningly, letting him know that I don’t believe him. But my glare doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. He just stares back, and I think I may even detect a twitch at corner of his mouth as if he is trying to force back a smile.

  “All right, I need to go apologize to him. He’ll meet you at the game on Sunday.”

  “No way! I am not volunteering to embarrass myself again. Just tell him I said to forget all about it, and I’ll see you guys next time you come in.”

  “He’s interested, Jess.”

  “Yeah, okay, sure. I’m not buying it.” I roll my eyes.

  “It’s been a while since Brett has been out with anyone. You have to be patient with him.”

  “How is that even possible? The man is hot.” I slap my hands over my mouth as my face turns red at my slip-up. But if Caleb notices my embarrassment, he doesn’t mention it. I’m starting to think I’m obsessing over the wrong cop.

  “Let’s just say he’s had a lot on his plate recently.”

  “Well, after the way he reacted today, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to add me to that plate.”

  “Brett insists that we meet at Nell’s tiny coffee shop, which is several miles out of our way, every Monday through Thursday. He might be a shit cook, but I’m pretty sure he could manage to make his own fruit and granola every morning. Or at the very least, buy it from a shop closer to the station.”

  “Um, okay,” I say, confused by his change in conversation.

  “Do you want to know why we only come in Monday through Thursday, Jesse?”

  I nod, sucking in a deep breath through my nose, suddenly aware of where he is going with this.

  He smiles at me, motions me to lean closer as if he is going to tell me a secret, and whispers into my ear, “Because you don’t work Fridays.” I sit frozen as he stands and heads to the door. “We may not be here tomorrow or Thursday, but he will definitely be at the game on Sunday. He’s interested, Jess. He jus
t doesn’t know what to do with that yet.”

  And with that, he strides out the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Brett

  I CAN’T believe that I let Caleb talk me into this. After I showed my ass at the coffee shop on Tuesday, I’ve been avoiding Jesse all together. The vending machine at the station has been my only source of breakfast for the last two days. I polished off my supply of protein bars early, leaving me starving in the mornings. I tried to send Caleb to get me my usual fruit and granola from Nell’s, but he refused. He then proceeded to lecture me for forty-five minutes about how I needed to “man up and face Jesse.” For a best friend, he is completely worthless. It’s all his fault I’m even in this situation to begin with.

  I just need to tell Jesse that I’m married, let her down easy, and try to pretend this whole thing never happened. She’s a sweet girl, but I am in no position to be dating right now. Besides, Jesse seems a bit young and naïve. She is, after all, twenty-six years old and still working in a coffee house. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not one to judge anyone based on their career choices as long as it’s what you want to be doing and not just what you have gotten stuck doing. Jesse doesn’t strike me as the type of girl who wants to serve muffins for the rest of her life though, so her working at Nell’s is confusing.

  Above and beyond all of that—I’m still married. That alone is like the blinking neon sign of reasons why I shouldn’t be on a date with another woman. I’ve been broken for a long time now. I don’t have anything to offer someone else. Shit.

  Why did I show today? It would have been easier if I’d just stayed home and apologized for standing her up after the fact.

  I wait in front of the stadium, scrolling through Facebook on my cell phone. I swear, if one more of my high school friends posts pictures of their lunch, kids, or dogs, I’m going on a spree reporting everyone as spam. I can’t even turn on my phone anymore without being reminded about exactly what my life is lacking. Good food, kids, and a dog!