As the memories and old feelings come back, I’m pulled from the couch to five years ago. I’m transported back to the pool the night I almost ruined everything.
The distinct scent of chlorine fills the cold air as I near the black gates. As I open them, I fill my lungs with my second favorite smell in the world. I gaze around to the water that brought me nothing but peace, up towards the white and red flags that made me feel like a champion, and all I feel now is despair towards the one thing that I cherished most in my life. It makes me laugh. It’s a sound that I’m not accustomed to hearing, nor is it the sound my laugh used to be. Instead, it has a darkened tone to it. It matches my soul, how fitting.
It’s chilly as I sit down at the edge of my high school pool. Putting my feet in the cold water, I instantly feel at ease. I’m finally doing the right thing for once in my life. I grab the bag of pills from my pocket, emptying the Norcos and muscle relaxers into my hand. The pills take up the entire space of my dainty hand. I try to remember why I’ve fought this for so long. I come up blank.
I watch the moonlight reflect off the water, the way it ripples as I move my feet through the Arctic water. Lifting my hands to my lips, I empty the pills into my mouth, and take a long swig of the water bottle beside me. Swallowing them all at once is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’m glad that I went back to my car for water since dry-swallowing these would have been tougher than taking my tiny birth control pills.
I lay back on the concrete and look up at the stars . . . waiting for the medicine to take effect. The stars shine brighter than usual tonight. The North Star, the one that points you home, mocks me by burning the brightest. I have no home.
After a few more minutes of stargazing, I slowly sit up. My head feels fuzzy. As I stand, I wobble a little while I strip out of my jacket. I stumble my way to the diving board. I’m in my favorite suit. The one my mom bought me when I made varsity freshman year. Taking another deep breath, I step onto the diving board, get into the position that was drilled into me at a young age, and dive into the water for the last time.
I swim one, one hundred, stretching out all my muscles with each stroke. Committing to memory how it feels to have the water glide off of me, how my back tightens before each stoke. Even with my head hazy, I execute the freestyle perfectly. Closing my eyes, I savor every breath because soon I won’t be breathing . . .
I take one final lap and then swim to the middle of the pool. I roll over onto my back and open my eyes to view the night sky. The white and red flags of Harvard-Westlake flap in the cold breeze. They used to bring me happiness, but now they only trigger agony. Every time I’m in the water I think of the last day, their last day, the day I lost everything. The white and red flags are the last thing I see before I allow myself to sink into the depths of the water. I hit the tile floor and blow out the rest of my remaining oxygen from my nose. I remind myself what I did and why I’m here. I’m responsible for my family’s death.
I remember the first time our father, Andy, bought Logan a soccer ball, the first time our mother, Quinn, took me to a swim class, and the first time Hadley had a recital. All of these blissful memories are quickly replaced by the last haunted flashes I have of them, of everything that I lost.
As I watch the last bubble of my air supply hit the surface, I hear Hadley’s screams. I begin to feel lighter as my body floats toward the surface. I don’t fight the darkness this time.
Forgive me, I think before everything goes black.
I’m gasping for breath as if I was thrashing in the water instead of sitting on the couch. I don’t even need to look at Liv to know that she’s about to tell me it isn’t my fault. I’ve heard it thousands of times before. It doesn’t change the truth, no matter how many times I’m told. She tries to rationalize, saying something about survivor’s guilt. I know she’s right, but it’s hard to believe her. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with much needed air, before I tell her the rest.
“I woke up in the hospital after they pumped my stomach. If Jax didn’t already call 911 before he even made it to the school, it would have been too late.”
Just thinking about how close I was to succeeding makes bile rise to the back of my throat. What would Logan’s life be like if I succeeded? Would his life be easier without me weighing him down?
“I don’t know how he knew I would be there or that I was attempting to kill myself, since I didn’t leave a note or anything. I was admitted into the psych ward once the doctors released me. The rest is pretty blurry.” I welcome the way my chest expands as I gulp a breath of fresh air, centering me.
“I never allowed anyone to tell me what exactly happened when Jax saved me that night.” I admit this as if it’s a dirty little secret.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I vaguely remember Jax visiting me, but the memory retreats as soon as it appears. I’ve blocked the majority of that time; remembering it now seems impossible. It feels like I don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle. I need to talk to Jax. He’s the one that holds all the answers. I just don’t know if I want to hear them. Maybe it’s better not knowing.
I’m thankful that Liv gauges my mood well enough to ask the easiest questions right now. I don’t think I can handle the real ones. Those will be for another day.
“Why didn’t you ask what happened and how Jax knew those things?”
I release my bottom lip when I realize I’m chewing on it. It makes a loud popping sound, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know. I guess I never really wanted to know. I felt so ashamed for how weak I was when Logan was struggling with their absence, too.”
“Logan was dealing with the loss of his family. Not survivor's guilt, at least not to the extent you were, Adalynn. You and your brother were, are, going through two very different things. You both lost your family that night, but he wasn’t there. You are going through the loss of your family and survivor's guilt. You blame yourself, and keep everything that happened that night bottled up. Talking about it will help. ”
I ignore her and focus back on the suicide. It’s too soon to talk about the accident.
“I didn’t want to ask Jax how he knew what was happening, how he found me, and all of that crap.” I wave my hand through the air. “I just wanted to pretend like it never happened.” If only.
Liv waits a second before she gives me the hard blow. “So you wanted to pretend everything was fine instead of dealing with the problem . . . What’s stopping you now? I thought you were done pretending.”
Check mate.
I hate that she’s right, that she’s always right. Sometimes it seems like she knows me better than I know myself. I pat the teddy bear, surprised to find myself clutching him close.
“I’m trying not to pretend anymore. I just don’t see the point in getting those answers. I still tried to kill myself but Jax saved me.” I shrug. “New information won’t change anything.”
“You’re right.”
She has my attention again. “I am?”
“Yes, but you’d be surprised what can change when you put all the pieces together, Addie. It won’t change the events that happened, but how you feel might.”
This session is getting too emotional for me, too real. I’m done, I can’t take anymore of this. Not today. I set the soft bear beside me even though I secretly want to smuggle him into my purse and take him home.
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“We’re done for today, I take it?” Liv asks.
I nod before rising. “Thanks, I feel better talking about the whole Jax thing.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Leaving her office, I’m surprised how true those words are. I am happy with how much we talked through today. It’s helped my feelings toward the whole Kohen situation. I can finally stop playing ping-pong in my head with my emotions. The Jax thing will need to change and soon. He either needs to be in my life, even just as a friend, or not in my life at all. I refuse to continue
tiptoeing around him, now knowing what’s okay and what isn’t.
When I reach the waiting room, I smile warmly at my brother, letting him know that I’m still in a good mood.
He opens the door for me. “I hope you’re hungry because I have it on good authority your favorite food will be at Connor’s.”
“Starved.”
Later in the car, he comments about how upbeat I am and how much it means to him to see that I’m happy again. Basically he spends the entire car ride being a big cheese-ball. I think it’s more to make up for his behavior earlier about my new job. As quickly as that thought rolls in, I force it away. Logan isn’t pretending because he feels guilty. He really sees a change in me. It makes a small blossom of hope build inside me. Maybe therapy is helping and I’m getting better. Maybe it’s possible to move on from my past after all.
Soon we step out of the elevator and into Connor’s penthouse. I hear the telltale signs of cooking. Crap, Connor cooking, so not good. Logan shares my horrid expression when he hears something banging around.
“We can still get out of here to eat something then come back before he notices,” Logan whispers, reading my mind.
I’m nodding in agreement when Connor comes around the corner sporting a “kiss the cook” apron with a revealing swimsuit model, complete with red sauce all over the front. He glowers at us. Whoops, I guess he heard. I can’t seem to find the urge to care at the moment. I’ve tried one too many of Connor’s attempts at cooking, if you can even call it that.
“Not a chance, now get in here and tell me about the interview you had with the enemy.”
Awesome, I’m starving and won’t be eating anything edible for at least three hours until I get home. I know Logan is counting the minutes until we can both escape, too. Mutely, we follow Connor into the kitchen.
I’m startled when I see Kohen chopping away at the kitchen island. A wonderful aroma assaults my senses. I turn back to my brother. He’s just as surprised as I am. Connor wears a shit-eating grin. I throw him down a few notches.
“Oh, relax Connor, we know you had help since the building wasn’t on fire when we showed up.”
Kohen holds up his hands, one hand still brandishing the menacing knife. “Actually Connor is doing most of the cooking.”
I can’t help it, I laugh with my brother. Connor cooking is too funny to picture.
“I’m serious.”
We laugh again, earning a glare from Connor.
“I’m just instructing him on what to do,” Kohen says with his charming smile.
Logan beats me to the insult. “Oh please, even with directions, the only thing he can make is either a sandwich or something that can be cooked in the microwave.”
Everyone laughs, except for Connor. He hits Logan across the back of the head before resuming his post near Kohen. Logan sits in one of the barstools alongside the island to watch Connor attempt to make dinner. I pour myself a glass of red wine. I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed with Connor. He hasn’t cut off any fingers yet and he’s chopping the onions pretty fast, well fast for him at least. After taking a delicious sip of the fruity wine, I lay my head against Kohen’s back.
I move beside him and lean against the counter. “Do you need any help?”
Kohen pauses long enough to give me the don’t-be-stupid look before returning to his task. “No, just relax, baby, and let us men folk cook you dinner for your accomplishment today.”
Jumping on the counter, I allow myself to relax while I tell them about the interview. Being so focused on retelling everything in perfect detail, I don’t even notice that I’ve finished my glass of wine until Kohen takes my glass. I’m more surprised when he washes my glass and puts it away instead of pouring me another.
“I would like some more,” I say quietly into his ear.
He shakes his head. “One is plenty.”
“I would like another glass.”
I hate that I’m whispering, but I don’t want Logan and Connor a part of this conversation. It’s embarrassing that Kohen is trying to dictate how much wine I can have. He sets down the menacing knife and stands in front of me. As he bends his head down to murmur in my ear, an act that looks like he’s whispering sweet-nothings, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, and not the good kind.
“If you’re thirsty, I will pour you a glass of water. You will not get drunk and embarrass me in front of your brother and Connor.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain to him that two glasses of wine will not get me drunk, but when he squeezes my hand, harder than necessary I refrain. Instead I nod and finish telling everyone about the interview.
“I had a feeling I had it in the bag when he showed me where my office would be. He then asked if I was interested in looking around to see if I thought it would be a ‘good fit.’ Hello! It’s Malcara Enterprises, of course it’s a good fit, but obviously I didn’t tell him that.”
“Obviously,” Connor deadpans.
I go on and on about how it seemed like everyone enjoyed what they were doing. How all of the employees seemed nice but busy. It isn’t until Connor staking plates that I realize I left out the most important part.
“Connor, you would not believe how hot this girl is that works there.” I bite my knuckles like I’ve seen him do in the past.
I smile, knowing I have his complete attention. I go for nonchalant as I describe the pixie woman that I immediately intrigued me.
“Tinkerbell, the nickname that I secretly gave her, is the hottest little thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t know where she’s from since I only talked to her for a second, but somewhere southern because she has that sweet southern accent.” I say the last part in a butchered southern accent, that doesn’t do her justice, but it gets the reaction I wanted.
Conner raises an eyebrow at me in a silent get-on-with-it manner as he prepares everyone’s plates. I hop off the counter.
“Oh, and she’s so out of your league,” I say to Connor while I pass him to sit down at the cozy oval table.
My brother pats Connor on the back before joining me. He sits across from me, while Kohen sits beside me and sets a glass of water down by my plate. I have to remind myself that it’s just wine, nothing to fight about, and bite my cheek to keep from saying anything. Conner takes the head of the table, muttering under his breath that I can’t hear. This is going to be fun. I decide to poke the bear a little more tonight.
“What was that, Connor, I didn’t quite hear you?” I ask.
Connor opens his mouth to speak, but Logan beats him to it. “So does Tinkerbell have an actual name or did her parents hate her that much?”
“Harper, but I think Tinkerbell suits her better.”
Connor finally asks the question I knew he was going to ask; it was just a matter of time. “Vague much, Addie? What’s her last name?”
As deadpan as I can manage I say, “Bell,” as nonchalantly as possible.
Connor gives me a death glare.
Staring at him I say slowly, as if I’m speaking to a child, “You’re a whore, so you won’t be getting her last name because we know you will charm your way into her pants just to piss me off. So don’t ask.”
Connor’s mouth hangs open. He closes and opens it again, then wisely shuts it. As the boys start talking about sports, I decide not to tell them they’re wrong about their predictions. It would only hurt their fragile egos for me to nicely point it out.
I smile when I see how much Kohen gets along with my family, almost as if he belongs here by my side. He even played a basketball game with them the other day at the gym. I love that he likes to hang out with my family without me there. I love that he cares so much about me and wants to be a part of everything in my life. He’s simply amazing. I know he plays a huge part in helping me heal, even if he doesn’t know it.
I’m smiling like an idiot when I’m finally pulled out of my thoughts and notice that the room has gone quiet. Everyone is watching me. My face turns red from getting caught sta
ring at Kohen. Awesome.
“Eh . . .What?”
From the look on everyone’s face, it’s obvious that I missed something, again. Kohen wraps an arm around my shoulder, bringing me closer to him, and kisses the top of me head.
“I have to go, babe. I’m sorry, that was the hospital.”
I look at him, confused, because I honestly have no idea what’s going on. Kohen pushes back his chair while saying his goodbyes to the guys. That’s when it clicks into place.
“Wait, you’re leaving?”
Whoever said there’s no such thing as a stupid question has never met me. I fight the urge not to smack myself in the face. Of course he’s leaving, he just said that. Kohen helps me out of my chair and engulfs me into a hug.
He breathes me in. “Yes, I’m sorry, enjoy your night though.”
“Go and save lives.”
I kiss him, forgetting that we’re not alone, but Kohen hasn’t forgotten because he pulls back before it gets interesting. Saying a final goodbye to the guys and thanking Connor for dinner even though he cooked most of it, Kohen rushes toward the elevator. After watching Kohen leave, I turn to help with the clean up. When Connor starts to collect the plates, I stop him.
“Go sit down and watch T.V. or something. We’ve got this.”
I grab the plates out of his hands and make my way to the kitchen. Logan puts away the leftovers so I rinse off the dishes before loading them in the dishwasher.
Afterwards, Logan joins Connor in the other room for a beer. Once I’m left alone, I take my time cleaning up, wondering if I should leave or not. I know Kohen will check up on me to see what time I come home. I’d rather be home when he calls than explain to my brother why it matters where I am.
Even though I’ve cleaned the counter enough, I continue wiping it. I know I’m stalling and yet I can’t stop. When the kitchen sparkles and I have nothing left to do, it’s time to make my decision. If I stay, I’ll have fun, Kohen will pretend not to be upset, and I won’t go home to a lonely apartment. If I go, I’m doing it because of Kohen. I tap my foot, contemplating. I need to live my life for me and not someone else. Just to spite Kohen, I snatch a beer from the fridge before striding to the living room.
Beautifully Shattered (The Beautifully Series Book 1) Page 18
