His Heart

by Claire Kingsley

  I’d blown up her phone after that, but nothing. I’d gone out looking for her, still trying to get through. After looking everywhere I could think of, I’d been about ten seconds away from calling the police. Then her number had lit up my phone.

  Some guy had been on the other end. I’d almost come unglued, but he’d been calling in the hopes that I was someone who could come get her.

  I was pretty sure I’d scared the piss out of him when I’d shown up at his door. I hadn’t meant to be a dick; I was grateful he’d been a decent human being and hadn’t taken advantage of her. But I’d also been angry as hell, and I’d stormed in there like I was ready to rip anyone and everyone to pieces.

  If he had hurt her, I would have.

  She was passed out again by the time we got to my house. I picked her up, cradling her like a baby, and took her inside. Charlie looked up from the couch. He’d stayed home in case she showed up here while I was out looking.

  “Holy shit,” he said. “Is she okay?”

  “Just piss fucking drunk,” I said.

  “Need any help?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve got her.”

  I took her upstairs, and before I realized what I was doing, I put her in my bed. I could have dumped her in the extra room, but I didn’t move her.

  She didn’t seem like she was going to wake up, so I took off her shoes and pulled the covers up around her. I was exhausted, so I stripped down to my boxers and a t-shirt. I stood next to the bed, hands on my hips, looking at her for a moment. Debating what to do. Should I leave her here and go sleep in the extra room? Sleep in here on the floor? In the end, I decided to say fuck it all to good decisions and got in bed with her.

  Brooke was still sound asleep—or passed out—when my alarm woke me in the morning. I hadn’t slept well. My body ached from sleeping in an awkward position, trying to give her room. As much as I’d wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her while she slept, I’d resisted the urge. Being pissed had made that easier. But none of it had made for a restful night.

  Thankfully, she hadn’t puked in my bed. I held a hand close to her face to make sure she was still breathing—she was—and got up. I was glad I’d woken up first. I didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of waking up in bed with her when she probably wouldn’t remember most of last night.

  I went downstairs to take my pills. It was important for me to take them at the same time every day, hence the alarm. After swallowing them all, I put on a pot of coffee and sat down at the table. They always made me a little shaky after taking them, so I waited for the feeling to pass.

  Soft footsteps came from the stairs. They weren’t Charlie’s heavy footfalls. He wasn’t up yet. I wasn’t expecting to see Brooke this early, but she crept into the kitchen, her face a mix of confusion and worry. Her hair was a tangled mess, her shirt disheveled, and her shoes dangled from one hand.

  I leveled her with a hard stare. I wasn’t going to let her get away with this shit.

  “You don’t know how you got here, do you?” I asked.

  She had the decency to look guilty, and shook her head. “No.”

  “How about I tell you what I know, and you can fill me in on the rest,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  “You were apparently too sick to work yesterday, but not too sick to go out,” I said. “You got wasted out of your goddamn mind and took off with a bunch of fucking frat boys.”

  She stared at the ground.

  “Do you know how lucky you are?” I asked, my voice rising. “That guy you almost hooked up with could have done anything to you last night. You were passed out on his fucking couch. He could have violated you in a hundred different ways.”

  “I wasn’t going to hook up with him,” she said, her eyes still on the floor.

  “No?” I asked. “He sure seemed to think so. At least you picked a guy with a conscience.”

  “That wasn’t what I was doing,” she said.

  “Bullshit,” I said, spitting the word at her. “I don’t know what happened at the bar, but you left with a pack of fucking party boys and got in the back of a pickup truck. You tried to jump out while they were joyriding down the goddamn highway.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “They had to hold you down,” I said. “You could have fucking killed yourself. And then they took you back to their house. You only ended up with me because you were so out of it, the guy decided he didn’t want to fuck some girl’s unconscious body. He called me to come get you.”

  Brooke stared at me, stricken. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “What were you thinking?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “You don’t know. You could have been raped, or killed. I was going out of my fucking mind trying to find you, and you don’t know.”

  “I didn’t mean to get so out of control,” she said. “I just wanted…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  I waited to see if she would say anything else. If she’d try to explain what she’d been doing last night. Nothing.

  “Fine.” I stood up. “I’ll take you home.”

  She stared at me for a second, looking like I’d just slapped her. I tore my eyes away from her pain and grabbed my keys.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “I have shit to do today.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll walk,” she said, her voice trembling.

  She walked away. I stood in the kitchen and listened to her footsteps, then the door open and close.

  “Fuck.” I pushed the chair across the wood floor and it slammed against the wall. Probably left a dent I’d have to fix later.

  Charlie poked his head in. “Is it safe?”

  “Were you listening?”

  “I caught the end,” he said. “Sorry, I came down and you guys were talking. Or, you were mostly.”

  “Whatever. I don’t care.”

  He grabbed the chair and pulled it back to the table.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “I know she’s been through some shit, but why is she so goddamn self-destructive? Just when it seems like she’s better—she’s not so sad and fucked up all the time—she pulls this crap. She could have died last night.”

  “She needs help, Seb,” Charlie said. “Not the kind of help you can give her.”

  “I know she does,” I said. “I’ve told her that, but she blows me off.”

  “Maybe last night will be a wake-up call,” he said. “Like hitting rock bottom.”

  “Will it, though?” I asked. “On her last day in Phoenix, she was a step away from being homeless. Living with a guy who beat the shit out of her. You know why she didn’t want to call the cops that night? She had drugs in her system. She was afraid of getting arrested. Shouldn’t that have been rock bottom?”

  “Holy fuck, Seb,” Charlie said. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “Because I’m an idiot?” I said, shaking my head. “Because I wanted to help her, and I wanted to believe her when she said she didn’t get high all the time.”

  “Do you think that’s what she’s doing now?” he asked. “If she’s using hard drugs, that’s serious, man.”

  “She might be,” I said. “Yesterday I would have said not a chance. But after last night? I don’t know.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know that either,” I said.

  He patted me on the shoulder. “Let me know.”

  “Yeah, I will,” I said. “Thanks, man.”

  I went upstairs and lay down on my bed. Turning into the pillow she’d used, I took a deep breath. It smelled like her. Not the scent of alcohol coming off her pores. Just her. That warm, soft scent that made my eyes roll back and tension build in my groin.

  God, I was stupid. I should walk away. Let her run her life into the ground. But I knew I couldn’t. I was pissed at her, but I wasn’t ready to give up o
n her yet.

  I sat up and grabbed my phone. I should have done this months ago, regardless of what Brooke had said. What she wanted and what she needed were two different things, and I was done letting her dictate either of them. At least when it came to this.

  “Hello?” Mrs. Harper said when she answered.

  “Hi, it’s Sebastian,” I said. “Sebastian McKinney.”

  “Sebastian, hello,” she said, obviously surprised to hear from me.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the thing…”

  24

  Brooke

  Two days went by, and I didn’t hear a word from Sebastian. I’d left his house with a horrendous hangover, but that hadn’t held a candle to how bad I felt for what I’d done.

  For what it had felt like when he’d written me off.

  He was done with me. I’d gone too far, and I knew there was no going back. I had no excuse. I’d let myself get completely out of control, and I’d done it on purpose. I hadn’t intended to put myself in danger, but I hadn’t cared if I did, either.

  And for the first time, it mattered.

  Letting random guys buy me drinks in bars, hopping on the back of Jared’s motorcycle when neither of us were sober, blowing off appointments or work—before I’d met Sebastian, none of those things had seemed to matter. I hadn’t really cared whether I lived or died, so why not take a risk? Chase the high? Disappear? The consequences hadn’t held any weight.

  But seeing the hurt in Sebastian’s eyes, suddenly there was a consequence I cared about. Deeply.

  He’d been trying to find me that night—afraid for me. And when he had, not only had I been completely shit-faced, I’d been with some other guy.

  Hooking up hadn’t been on my agenda. I hadn’t gone looking for a one-night stand. If I’d been anywhere close to my right frame of mind, I wouldn’t have given those guys the time of day. Technically, I was single—no man had any claim on me. If something had happened with the guy from the bar, I wouldn’t have been cheating—I didn’t have anyone to cheat on.

  Except it still felt wrong. And I knew what I’d done had hurt Sebastian just as it would have if he and I had been something more than what we were. Something more than friends.

  That was the betrayal I’d seen in his face when he’d looked at me the next morning. I hadn’t had an answer to it. I’d wanted to apologize—I still did—but I didn’t know how. How could I look him in the eyes and ask for his forgiveness when I didn’t deserve it? Not from him. Not after hurting him like that.

  I walked home from work, alone in the growing darkness. Thankfully Joe hadn’t fired me. I’d resolved to be stronger and not let myself get buried in apathy again. I didn’t want to lose my job and wind up like I’d been in Phoenix. But I didn’t have much confidence in my ability to hold to it. What would I do if—or when—the deadness overtook me? Would I be able to force myself to keep going? Was it possible to cope without completely self-destructing? I didn’t know.

  Inside my house, the quiet was deafening. I’d thought about calling Sebastian so many times, but I hadn’t done it. I still didn’t know what to say. And his silence spoke a clear message. He didn’t want to hear from me, anyway.

  Joe had brought us some takeout late in the afternoon, so I wasn’t hungry. I flipped on the TV—anything to cut the silence—and went into the kitchen to make tea. Maybe some chamomile would help me sleep.

  There was a knock at my front door and my heart jumped. Oh my god, was it him?

  I opened the door and my mouth hung open. It wasn’t Sebastian, but I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Olivia?

  She was dressed in a thin white cardigan over a floral sundress, and sandals that showed her ruby red toenails. Her blond hair was down and she had a rolling suitcase sitting next to her.

  “Hi,” she said.

  I swallowed hard. Was I really looking at Olivia Harper, standing on my doorstep in Iowa City? “Hi.”

  “Can I come in?” she asked, her voice hesitant. “Maybe?”

  “Yeah, sure. You can come in.” I stepped aside and she rolled her suitcase inside. I closed the door behind her with a click and twisted the deadbolt.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced like this, especially after, you know… everything.”

  The tea kettle whistled. I was so shocked at the sight of Olivia, I wasn’t sure what to say. “Um, I’m making tea. Do you want to come in and have some?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “I’d love that.”

  I turned off the TV, and she followed me into the kitchen. I bustled around, getting our tea ready, trying to figure out what the hell she was doing here. How she’d known where to find me. But I didn’t ask yet.

  We took our mugs to the couch and sat down.

  “Look, I’m basically incapable of bullshit, so I’m not going to dance around everything,” Olivia said. “The last time we saw each other, I was angry, and I took it out on you. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment against the sting of tears. The last time Olivia and I had seen each other, we’d gotten into an argument. I’d said some things I regretted too. But she’d told me I wasn’t really part of their family, so I should just take my mess and move on.

  “I’m sorry too.” I swiped away a tear that broke free from the corner of my eye. “I’m sorry I pushed you and your family away like I did.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I pushed you away too. You didn’t deserve that.”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

  She squeezed back. “Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” I said. “But how did you find me here?”

  “A certain big muscular bearded guy,” she said.

  “Sebastian?”

  “Yep. He called my mom a couple of days ago. She was going to fly out here, but I insisted I would come.”

  “Why did he call your mom?” I asked. Now I was completely confused.

  “Because he’s worried about you,” she said. “But you need to let me ask the questions for a minute. I love you, but you have a lot to answer for, you crazy bitch. Why didn’t you tell anyone you moved out here?”

  “Because it was nuts,” I said.

  “Shit yeah, it was nuts. Although I’ve met Sebastian, so…” She paused, her eyes on me. “Are you on drugs?”

  Her question caught me off guard, like a shove from behind I wasn’t expecting. “What? No. Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because Sebastian is worried that you’re using,” she said.

  “I’m not using drugs,” I said, my voice sharp.

  “Be straight with me, Brooke,” Olivia said. “With your history… I need to know if I’m here for an intervention or what.”

  “My history?” I asked. “You mean my mom.”

  “Well, yeah, growing up with an addict makes you more susceptible. But mostly I’m asking you because Sebastian told me what you did the other night.”

  I hesitated, staring into my tea. I felt like I was at a crossroads with Olivia. I believed her when she said she was sorry. Both of us had been angry that day, our anger fueled by grief. And if I pushed her away again now, I’d never get another chance. She’d been like a sister to me once, and I still loved her like one. I always had.

  I met her eyes. “Last week I took some Vicodin. And Saturday night I got wasted out of my mind on Xanax and alcohol. But before that, I hadn’t touched a thing since I moved here. Not even a single drink. I swear.”

  “Where’d you get the pills?” she asked.

  “In Phoenix before I left.”

  “Do you have more?”

  It took me a second to answer, a lie sitting unspoken on my tongue. It bothered me that my first instinct was to protect my stash. That wasn’t a good sign. “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “There’s more Vicodin in my sock drawer. I have a bottle in m
y purse that says Advil, but that’s not what’s in it. I’m not even sure what those are; there’s a few different things. And I took the last of the Xanax. I promise, that’s it.”

  She raised her eyebrows and got up. I waited on the couch while she dug through my purse and pulled out the bottle. She went to my room and I heard her go through my things. I let her do it.

  The toilet flushed and she came out, brushing her hands together. “Gone. We cool?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have any booze?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Damn,” she said, and one corner of her mouth lifted. “I could really use a drink.”

  I laughed. She sat down again and picked up her mug.

  “You look really good,” she said, her voice softer than before. “I was kind of worried I’d find you looking like a strung-out crack whore. But you don’t at all. You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “You look great too. How have you been?”

  She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Let’s see, since I last saw you… I transferred to NAU. After graduation I moved back in with my parents, though. That sucks, and I’m going to get my own place as soon as I can. I got what I thought was a great job, but they laid me off a few weeks ago. Me and like six other people. So that sucks too. I don’t know, that sounds really depressing, but it’s not so bad. I’ll find another job. It’s all just kind of… anti-climactic. Adulthood, you know? I’m itching for something more.”

  “What about relationships?” I asked. “Are you with someone?”

  “No,” she said. “I was dating this guy I met at school for a while. A couple of years, actually. But we had kind of a dramatic breakup.”

  “What happened?”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I wanted to get serious, so I brought up moving in together. I thought we could at least talk about it. He responded by getting drunk at his company Christmas party that night, and fucking one of his coworkers in a bathroom.”

  “Oh my god,” I said. “That’s horrible.”