Brawler

by Tracey Ward

  “No.” I wouldn’t, because it was honest, and to take it back would be to lie. And I’d never lied to Jenna.

  “Why?” she breathed.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I confessed helplessly, feeling the ground drop out underneath me, sending me into a freefall.

  “What do you mean? You’re marrying my sister, that’s what you’re doing.”

  “Am I?”

  “Are you?” she shot back.

  “I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head and feeling dizzy. “There’s so much momentum.”

  I didn’t know how to explain to her that I’d been caught in a tide for years, one that had been pulling me farther and farther away from myself. From her.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “We’re buying a house. Did you know that?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah,” I spat disdainfully. “We’re buying a house and we’ve been buying all this new furniture for it. Filling it with stuff to start this life and I’m working my way up in your dad’s firm and I’m on this track, this bullet train to this place but I don’t know where it’s going and I don’t know—“

  I don’t know how to get out.

  “Kellen.”

  I jumped up, staggering slightly. I was out of control. This couldn’t happen now, not like this. Not while I had a fiancé down the street trying on wedding dresses. This was wrong. It was off. It was Timing, that raggedy old bitch. She’d never been kind to me.

  I reached down to help her up, carefully avoiding her eyes. “We should get back,” I told her, fighting for calm. “Laney will wonder where we are.”

  Jenna let me help her up, but she refused to let me go. “Hey,” she insisted softly, tugging on my hand.

  I knew she wanted an explanation both for what I’d said and what I’d been about to say. And I had one. A good one. I just couldn’t give it to her.

  Not yet.

  “Don’t tell anyone what I said, alright?” I asked her. “It’s the alcohol and stress of the wedding. Nothing else. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed, her face veiled in doubt and worry.

  I walked her quickly back to the boutique, careful not to say a word. I had to be honest, so I had to be silent. There were things I needed to say, but I couldn’t say them here. Not like this. Not until we were back in California and I could set things right, and while it would probably make me an orphan again, at least I’d be a man.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I sat back in my seat and stared at Laney across the small, intimate table. Her golden hair was perfectly curled, her makeup flawless, her nails freshly done, and her green dress hugged every sculpted curve of her body. She looked incredible. Sexy. Men’s eyes found her in the room and looked at her for too long. She pretended to ignore them, but she knew they were there. She’d be upset if they weren’t.

  It was our last night in New York and she had made reservations for us at this restaurant back when we planned the trip months ago. I told her that afternoon that I wanted to cancel. I’d said I wasn’t feeling up to going out, and she’d lost it. She got panicky and cried, a reaction I was seeing a lot of ever since she’d cheated on me and insisted I be with her every second of every day. It was like she was afraid if she let me out of her sight I’d run, and I had to ask myself why that thought hadn’t occurred to me.

  She smiled up at me sweetly. “Do you know what you’re going to order?”

  “I haven’t got a clue,” I said mutedly.

  “You didn’t even touch your menu,” she chuckled softly. “Are you waiting to hear the specials?”

  “No. I’m not waiting for anything.”

  It was a lie. I’d always been good at lying to Laney.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you going to order?”

  “Nothing, because I’m not hungry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Then why are we out getting dinner?”

  “Because you wouldn’t stop nagging me about it.”

  She frowned, putting her menu down on the table. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I shook my head loosely. “Nothing.”

  “There’s something,” she said suspiciously. “Do you want me to guess?”

  “Not really.”

  She picked up her menu again and flipped through it thoughtfully. “Then I suggest you perk up, buttercup.”

  I scowled at yet another nickname. “Did you just call me buttercup?”

  She smiled at me over the table. “Got your attention, didn’t it? Made you smile?”

  “I’m not smiling.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  She cocked her head. “Are you sure? ‘Cause it looks like a smile from here.”

  “You need glasses.”

  “I’d look hot in glasses, don’t you think?” I heard the thunk under the table as she slipped her shoe off. Her foot was soon running warm and soft up the inside of my leg. “Like a sexy librarian. Or a doctor about to give you a very thorough exam.”

  I scooted back slightly, slamming my legs together.

  “You are so grumpy,” she scowled. “Seriously, what is your problem?”

  “What was his name?” I asked curtly.

  Her smile faltered. “Whose name?”

  “The guy you slept with. What was his name?”

  “Kellen,” she said softly, her face falling, “this isn’t a good place to have this discussion.”

  She had first told me about the infidelity in a movie theater. Her perception of appropriate locations for ‘this discussion’ was suspect.

  “When would be a good time for you?” I asked coolly.

  “We’ll talk about it back home. For now, can’t we enjoy this vacation?”

  “You really want to sit here and eat together with that on the backburner?” I asked incredulously. “You want to fly back to California like this, pretending everything is perfect?”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes flashing around the room. “Yes.”

  “Well, I don’t,” I told her plainly, “so either answer the question or let’s leave right now.”

  “Let’s just have dinner and—“

  “Alright, your call,” I interrupted, sitting forward. “What was the motherfucker’s name?” Her mouth tightened in disapproval and I held up my hand in warning. “If you tell me to watch my language like your mom does, I’ll shout the word.”

  “What has gotten into you all of the sudden?” she demanded, her eyes going round with worry. “I thought we were good. I thought we’d put this all behind us.”

  “Clearly I’m still struggling with it.”

  “Can’t we talk about it later? Somewhere private?”

  I didn’t answer. I sat there blankly staring at her for way too long. To the point where it got awkward, and when our waiter came by, he immediately turned and left without a word because the tension between Laney and I was so thick, he’d smelled it the second he came close. Other people in the restaurant began to take notice. They looked at us out of the corner of their eyes, whispered to each other over the candles on their tables.

  Here’s why the cheating pissed me off so much all the sudden – it was hypocritical as hell.

  She’d accused me of cheating for years when I never had. I’d never been unfaithful to anyone in my life, but I’d been treated like I was a manwhore for the better part of a decade. It was infuriating. And, yes, I’d been with Laney for all these years while I was in love with her sister, but I’d never touched Jenna while Laney and I were together. I’d made a point to avoid her. I’d walked away from my only true friend to make sure I didn’t slip up because even though I wasn’t in love with Laney, I respected her enough not to cheat on her.

  Clearly she didn’t feel the same way.

  Finally Laney shook her head faintly and whispered harshly, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why are we doing an
y of this?” I shot back.

  “Any of what? I’m not doing anything.”

  “You slept with another guy, Lane.”

  “It was a mistake and I said I was sorry.”

  “Doesn’t make it right.”

  “You said we were okay.”

  “I was wrong.”

  She scowled at me, annoyed. “What’s happening? What are you saying?”

  I breathed out harshly through my nose, running my hand over my face. Finally I stood up and tossed a twenty on the table for our drinks. It landed in the wet ring around my untouched glass. “You’re right,” I told her calmly. “We shouldn’t do this here. Let’s go.”

  “What exactly is it we’re doing?” she asked hesitantly, standing slowly from her chair.

  “We’re talking.”

  “Just talking?”

  I got her coat, draped it over her shoulders, and silently led her out of the door. The cold Fall air snapped against my face as I moved to the curb to hail a cab. I felt Laney following behind me, but she stayed silent. Distant.

  I liked it.

  When a cab arrived, I held the door open for her and she got in without question or protest. I gave the driver the name of our hotel, then we were off; cruising through the streets of New York as the lights blurred past the windows that were pelted with a light, cold rain.

  “It’s not all on you,” I eventually muttered to the dirty glass. My breath fogged against it, further blurring the outside world and making everything unrecognizable. “So much of this is on me.”

  “What is?”

  “How jacked up we are. Ninety percent of this is my fault. We’re a mess because I’m a mess.”

  She sighed impatiently. “Kel, we’re not a mess.”

  “Seriously?” I chuckled darkly. “You slept with someone else and I didn’t even care. How is that normal?”

  “We’ve never been normal, but we work.”

  “I’ve started having panic attacks.”

  She hesitated. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “About what?”

  “Everything. You. Me. The house. The wedding. My job. Our engagement. Boxing.”

  “That really is everything,” she muttered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I haven’t told anyone.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what did he say?”

  I started to feel claustrophobic. The cab felt too hot, the space too small. “He told me to get therapy.”

  “Then we need to get therapy,” Laney insisted. “We’ll go together. We’ll get couple’s therapy and work this out.”

  I didn’t answer. I’d tell her everything when we got to the hotel. That I didn’t want to buy a house. That I didn’t want to go through with the wedding.

  That I didn’t know whose life I’d been living, but it sure as shit wasn’t mine.

  “Why do you need to know his name?” Laney asked tightly in response to my silence. “It won’t change anything.”

  I stared out the window with unfocused eyes. “I know.”

  “Then why?”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know his name.”

  “Then what? What do you want from me?” she demanded, exasperated.

  “Nothing.”

  “How much nothing?”

  I shook my head. “We’ll talk when we get to the hotel.”

  I would get my own room tonight. I wouldn’t lie down next her ever again.

  “Max,” Laney said unapologetically. “His name is Maxwell Campbell.”

  Is. Not was.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but my eyes were burned and blinded by two white lights. Horns blared, the lights barreled down on us, Laney screamed, and it wasn’t until the last second when the impact hit that I realized what was happening.

  Then the world went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The sun is bright.

  It’s hot out.

  The pavement burns under my bare skin exposed by my shorts.

  I drag colorful bits of chalk across the rough surface. They chip and break but they leave their mark.

  Faded blues, yellows, and a red so faint it looks pink.

  Kellen.

  My mom’s voice. She’s calling to me.

  There’s music coming from far off. It’s broken and tinny.

  Voulez-vous crème glacée?

  The ice cream man. The truck is rolling down the street toward us.

  I smile up at my mom, but I have to squint against the sun. Her face is black shadow. Lost.

  Oui, maman.

  She doesn’t answer. I wait patiently but she stands motionless. Faceless.

  Maman?

  She doesn’t respond.

  The pavement is becoming uncomfortable. Too rough. Too hard.

  Ma-

  Her shadow explodes, blotting out the light. It descends on me as the heat is sucked from my skin. I’m knocked backwards until my head hits the ground hard and the world goes dark and so, so cold.

  I’m shivering violently from the cold and fear. I can’t see or hear anything and I can’t get up. The ground is smooth beneath me. Perfectly flat, frigid, and hard. My bones ache where they’re being pushed against it. There’s something on top of me holding me down. Pinning me to the ground as I shiver and shake, completely blind in the blackness surrounding me.

  Someone. I hear breathing. Labored and wrong. It’s in my ear, bursting against the lobe, tickling my hair over my skin. I try to recoil from it but I can’t move. I can barely breathe.

  Stay quiet.

  The voice is rough. Scratchy. I want to scream.

  It’ll be over soon.

  A hand grabs my wrist, fingers locking around it like a vice.

  Maman, I cry out for her, but I know she’s gone. I’m alone.

  My small bones feel like they’ll break under the force of the hands holding me.

  You’ll like it.

  I’m crying. I’m convulsing. I’m dying.

  You’re gonna feel so good, baby. You’ll see.

  ………i hope i die………

  Réveil.

  Wake up.

  The weight is crushing me. Pinching, pulling, hurting me.

  No, I whimper. I want to disappear. I want to be nothing. I want to be anything but this.

  Please, my mother calls. Her voice is too faint. I can barely hear her.

  She’s on the wind.

  Why? I plead.

  You’re a fucking fighter.

  I don’t know who’s speaking anymore. The voices are merging and changing in my ears.

  Why won’t they let me sleep? I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to be here. It hurts. Everything hurts so much. I’m so alone.

  Why? Why won’t she let me die?

  Because I love you…

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  My eyes shot open then slammed shut against the blinding bright light. My heart hammered hard in my chest as I braced for the impact that I knew was coming.

  It never did.

  I took short, panting breaths before trying to open my eyes again. The light flared brightly then started to dim. Colors and shapes made their way through the white. My eyes burned and itched with a sandpaper dry feeling that I couldn’t seem to blink away. I wanted to rub them but my arms felt heavy and strange. I couldn’t feel the rest of me.

  A voice was in the room with me. I wondered if it was a television because the audio was muffled and indistinct. It droned on and on from somewhere on my right and I was surprised I could easily turn my head toward it. There was a black shape there. I waited for it to come into focus. A person. A girl. The voice was getting clearer. The words made no sense but the sound was familiar. So was the shape of the body. The smell.

  Soap and sweetness.

  I listened to her nonsensical words as she muttered, reading from something in her hand, and then she started
to doze. I watched her head fall forward inch by inch until her chin nearly rested on her chest.

  Suddenly the idea of her leaving me in that room alone scared me more than anything had in a long time. I worried she’d fall asleep and I’d slip under again, or worse – that this waking was a dream. One she was fading out of.

  “Jenna?” I croaked.

  Her head snapped up, her round eyes finding mine and pulling me to painful sharp clarity.

  “Kel?” she asked, her voice hushed in amazement.

  I grinned at her. “Hey.”

  Her phone slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground. She ignored it.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  I stared at her face as it settled into focus. The sting of the brightness in the room was fading. The flare was dissipating and behind her I could make out furniture beside a window.

  I licked my lips. “Where—”

  I couldn’t finish. My throat closed up painfully and I realized the inside of my mouth was bone dry.

  “Do you want water?” Jenna asked, standing quickly. “Are you thirsty?”

  I nodded, watching her. She was nervous. Jumpy. It wasn’t like her. I kept my eyes on her as she brought the water to me, fitting the straw between my lips. I drank slowly. My stomach ached, my throat felt stretched and raw, my limbs hurt in strange disjointed places. The world was coming back to me slowly by degrees and it was freaking me out. I remembered there had been an accident, but how bad was it? Had I been in it with Jenna? She looked okay, not a scratch on her. I must have been alone.

  “You remember me?” she asked, setting down the cup when I was finished.

  That question was a red flag.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, frowning and glancing around the room. We were the only ones there. “How long have I been out?”

  She immediately reached for the call button. “I should get the doctor.”

  “Wait,” I snapped, my heart suddenly racing. The familiar feel of anxiety brought bile into the back of my throat. “Answer me. How long have I been out?”

  She hesitated. “A few weeks.”

  A few weeks! my mind shouted, echoing the words around in my skull. It felt like it’d only just happened. I tried to remember, but it was disjointed and blurry. I remembered Jenna and I at the park. The bridal boutique… I knew I’d had dinner with Laney, that I was angry at her about the other guy and pretty much everything, but I couldn’t remember how it’d gone. I didn’t remember the flight home, either.