by Lisa Sommers
I leave the restaurant shortly after them and end up at my favorite place to go to when I need a release like this.
“Shane. Its barely been two weeks. What could possibly have gone wrong between then and now?”
I first met Crazy Corey when I was fifteen. I used to stare in his window and watch him do ink. I tried to get a tattoo when I first felt the urge, but I wasn’t old enough. Eventually, he let me watch him. I would sit on a small rolling chair in the corner, with the permission of the person getting the ink, and watch Crazy do his magic. Crazy said the same thing to me every single time, “Just sit there. Don’t make one fucking peep. You do, and you’re out.” It never failed, but I could tell by the smirk on his face he was only kidding. I never tested him though. I figured he was named Crazy Corey for a reason. He was fucking crazy.
On my sixteenth birthday I came in and got my first tattoo. It runs up and down the side of my rib cage. It’s a gash that appears to open me up from the inside out. I had a hard time when my parents split, and it just seemed to fit. I was screaming from the inside out. Crazy tried talking me out of it, but in the end I won. I loved my dad, but he treated my mom like shit. Eventually, my mom moved on and started a new family. I was still sort of close to her, but not as close as my dad and I were. Soon enough, my mom had another baby. My half-sister. I was never close to her growing up, but as time went by I started to play the role of big-brother. Luckily, she accepted me. She’s twelve years old now. She’s a freaking blast, too. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks. I just can’t seem to face her since my dad passed. Maybe I’ll call her this weekend.
“Crazy, I want another one. Right here.” I point to the left side of my chest. “Maybe only about three or four inches in diameter,” I explain.
Crazy looks me over. “Let me take a look at the other one first,” he says. The look in his eyes is skeptical.
I pull my shirt up and over my head, then rotate so he can see the inside of my bicep. After my dad passed, I came to see Crazy and had my dad’s name scrawled in black script letters. “Damn, boy, you heel quick. I guess I can do another one.” Crazy Corey may be crazy, but he doesn’t mess with the possibility of infection. “What’ll it be this time?” he adds as we walk to the back room.
I explain to Crazy exactly what I want, and he looks at me like I’m the crazy one.
“Pussy,” he mumbles.
I should have never told him my reasoning. It’s just that ever since I met him, he kinda took me under his wing. I trust him, and he knows everything about me. How could he not? For every major event in my life, I have come to him to ink the memory forever.
I wake up to a slight ache on my chest. Sliding my fingers over the tattoo that Crazy drew up for me last night, I think about why I did it. It’s perfect. It’s still covered up, but I just know it’s undeniably one of the most important tattoos I will have received to date. I slowly roll over and get up. Coach called me earlier and said he wants to meet with me later this morning. I take it he had an early night, since he’s up so early. The thought brings a smile to my face. Odds are he and Alli never got very far. Thank the Lord for that.
After walking into the bathroom, I delicately peel off the white bandage and toss it in the trash. I turn the shower on warm, slide my shorts off, and hop in. I stand there with my head held low so the water doesn’t pound directly on my fresh tattoo. My thoughts drift back to Alli. I still can’t get over seeing her yesterday. What are the fucking odds? Sliding my hand down my torso, I easily find myself hard just thinking about her. Fuck, I should have walked up to her. Talked to her. Maybe she never would have left with Cal.
I don’t believe in soulmates, but I do believe in fate. It sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence that I saw her again, and in a different state.
I pulled on the stupid wishbone that night in the airport, thinking how pathetic it was that Alli was letting that damn chicken bone dictate her hopes and dreams. Well, clearly I was the one who won that bargain. Maybe I will actually get the opportunity to make her mine after all. What did I wish for again? To never miss one of Alli’s beautiful smiles again? At this point, I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. No more letting her slip through my fingers.
I pull up in coach’s horseshoe shaped private driveway. I park next to a little red car that I don’t recognize. He must have company.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” Coach greets me at the front door, then pulls me in for one of those manly hugs.
“Oww.” I wince, and quickly pull back, holding a hand against my new ink.
Coach looks at me with furrowed brows.
“Sorry, new tat.”
“Another one? Damn, boy. How many does that make?” he asks.
“Eight.” Coach leads me to his living room. He has such a glum look on his face, and I have no idea why he asked me here. Maybe it’s because of my shitty last half of yesterday’s game.
“What can I get you to drink? Did you eat lunch yet? Need a beer? How late were you out last night?” Cal starts firing questions off left and right.
Why the hell is he babbling, and why does he care how late I was up last night? We don’t even have a game today. I don’t answer him right away, but he doesn’t look my way. What the hell is going on? “Umm, sure I’ll take a beer.” I don’t know what’s going on here, but I have a feeling I will need more than just one. “Umm, coach . . . what’s going on? Is someone here? I noticed a little red car outside.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says quietly as he looks out the back windows of his large house. The view is unbelievable. I think I need to look into getting a house in this area. The solitude is great. “I need to talk to you, and I asked a friend to come over. She’s out back right now, though,” he says, and my blood starts to pump at his words. She? Please don’t let it be Alli. Please. “I want to talk to you before I invite her in.”
Does he know about Alli and I? No. He can’t. Alli never noticed me yesterday. Even if she did mention me, she doesn’t even know me as Shane. She only knows me as Chris.
Cal hands me a beer. “Take a seat, son.”
I do as he requests.
“So, you know how Bob knows your mom, right?”
I immediately jolt up to a standing position. “What’s wrong with my mom?” Bob met my mom years ago, and she and his wife, Judith, hit it off right away. They’ve been best friends ever since.
“Your mom is fine,” he hurriedly replies.
I exhale a sigh of relief. I start to sit back down when he says, “It’s your sister.”
“My sister?” The sound of my voice is harsh. I cross to Cal to make him spit his words out faster.
“She’s sick, son. She has cancer. Cheryl called Judith last night and they immediately called me. That’s why I had to leave the party early.”
I close my eyes tight and stand here in silence. One, two, three, four . . . I count inside my head, trying to calm myself down. Otherwise, I might throw this beer bottle across the room. This is coach’s house, so I can’t disrespect him. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“So far, they don’t know much. Judith is making arrangements to have the best doctors in the country in her corner. Cheryl mentioned that with the proper care, chances are in her favor.”
“Why didn’t she call me?”
“I don’t know, son. Maybe you’ve had enough to deal with lately.”
“My dad.”
“Yeah, your dad.”
“They’re not even related.”
“No. It’s just an all-around shitty situation. I’m sorry.” He comforts me.
“Coach . . .” I start, but I really don’t know what I want to say.
“It’s all right, Shane,” he says, but nothing about this is all right. “You have every right to feel pissed. It’s just me. Let it out.”
That’s a loaded statement. I look over to where he is standing. He looks wrecked. I’m sure it isn’t easy for him to give me this news. “She’s twelve, coach.” I hold my be
er bottle up. Not to salute anything, but rather because I want nothing more at this moment than to chuck this glass at something.
“In there, Shane.” He points to the gas fireplace on the far end of the room. “The maid comes on Monday. She’ll clean it up.
He barely has a chance to finish his sentence before I twist my arm back, take a pitching stance, and throw the bottle as hard as I possibly can. It lands smack dab center of the fireplace. Glass shatters everywhere, shards landing all around our feet.
Coach nods his head. “I knew I made the right decision to recruit you. Good arm, buddy.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, I thought I heard . . .”
That voice. I whip my head around so fast I almost give myself whiplash. I don’t say anything. It’s her.
Alli.
I hear her gasp. “Chris?”
I take in her features. It’s obvious she is confused as hell. She only knows me as Chris.
“No. Sorry, honey. This is Shane. He’s the one I was telling you about.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No . . .” She’s shocked to see me. Trust me, sweetheart, I was just as surprised to see you yesterday.
“Alli,” I whisper. And it feels so damn good to say it out loud. I missed you. Why didn’t you call me? Did you miss me? I want to ask, but I don’t.
“You two know each other?” Coach asks, but I refuse to take my gaze off Alli.
Alli is quick to interject. “No. Clearly, I don’t.” Hurt penetrates from the sound of her voice. She thinks I lied. Technically, I didn’t. I just never clarified a couple of things.
“We may have met, once.” I can feel Cal’s stare on me, but I still refuse to look away from Alli. I fear she will disappear again.
“Anything worth talking about?” Fucking Cal is jealous. Screw him. I found her first.
I am about to close the empty space between Alli and I when she blurts out, “Absolutely not. I just ran into him at the airport, is all. Nothing worth talking about,” she spits out.
But I can tell the spark is still there. I see it. I feel it.
She acts as though there was nothing between us. She’s mad. As a matter of fact, I can almost feel the daggers hit me head on. She feels betrayed. If coach weren’t standing right here, I’d explain to her that I had no choice but to leave.
“Okay. Well, since we are past introductions. Shane, I brought Alli here to talk to you about your sister.”
“My sister.” I sigh.
“Yeah, Alli lost her little brother to cancer . . .”
I don’t let him finish. “She ain’t fucking dying,” I yell, a little louder than I should have.
“Chris, I mean Shane,” Alli calls to me. “I just thought . . .”
I cut her off. I can’t look at her now. Not after what Cal just said. I can’t lose my little sister. “Kaitlyn will be okay. She has to,” I mumble to no one in particular. “Fuck. She’s got to be okay.” I need to leave. I need to see her. I start walking to the front door to get the hell out of here, but Alli’s delicate fingers reach out to touch my arm. I stop and close my eyes at her touch. She is just as soft as I remember. I’ve waited two weeks to feel her touch again. Alli pulls back all too quickly though. She feels it. There is no denying that Alli still feels the spark between us.
I look back at her, and empathy has clearly replaced her anger. There is so much I want to say to her. She reaches out again, but doesn’t touch me this time. She pulls back instead. She’s scared of what will happen when we touch.
I want to feel it though. I roughly pull her to me right in front of Cal, but I don’t care. I need to feel her. She’s stiff as a board. I breath in her scent. She smells like strawberries. Soon enough, her body lilts against mine. She feels so fucking good. Would it be rude if I asked coach to give us some privacy? Would he deck me? Or would he let this happen? My guess is the latter will never happen.
I hear coach clear his throat, and I want to punch him. Shit.
I reluctantly pull back from Alli and hold her at arm’s reach by her shoulders. “I need to go see her.”
Coach responds as if I am talking to him. “Go, Shane. Just call me if you or your family need anything.”
I nod at him, then return my gaze to Alli. I rotate our bodies slightly so Cal can’t see me. “Come with me,” I whisper.
Her eyes go wide.
Chapter 9
Alli
When I heard glass shatter I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay. Walking into the Cal’s living room, the last person I ever expected to see was Chris . . . Shane. What are the odds on Chris and Shane being the same person? And what are the chances of Shane being the one person, of all the people in this whole damn world, who Cal wants me to sympathize with?
I nearly dropped to my knees when I saw him. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him. I don’t even miss Jack. How can I miss someone after knowing them for less than twenty-four hours? Maybe I don’t know him. He lied about his name. What else did he lie about? All I know is, when I reached out to give him comfort, fireworks went off. It was only a touch on the arm, too. Then when he pulled me in for an embrace, I would’ve forgotten Cal was standing behind us if he hadn’t cleared his throat. Thank God, who’s know what I would have done this time.
It isn’t until Shane asks me to come with him that I’m brought back to reality. I shake my head no, and the look on his face grows even more sullen. I remember what he did to me. There is no way I can let that happen again. The past two weeks have been torture trying to forget about him. There is no way I can open those doors again.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” I know he is hurting and it kills me to make him feel worse. I pull away from him and land in Cal’s arms. I hadn’t realized he was standing so close to us.
Cal breaks our nonverbal battle. “Shane, I’ll call you if I hear from Bob or Judith. But I’m sure she will be in contact with your mom. Just call me if you need anything.”
Cal pulls me close, and it makes me feel dirty. I don’t get the same feeling in his arms that I do in Shane’s, and all it does is piss me off. I lean into Cal’s side to see if I’m wrong. I’m not. But I stay here, giving Shane the impression that there is more to Cal and I than there really is. I can’t let him get to me.
I see Shane flinch, and I almost want to take back my answer. I will go with you! I want to say, but I don’t. Instead, I stay rooted in Cal’s embrace. Shane looks at Cal’s hand wrapped around my waist, and I think he is about to rip it off me. But he doesn’t. Do I want him to? Do I want Shane to show me he wants me?
I shake off all thoughts as Shane turns and slams the door.
It’s been two more weeks since I have seen Shane. Bob, Judith, and Cal have all been in contact with him though. Christ, even Chelsea knows more than I do. She and Derek have been shacking up nearly every night this week. Most nights, they are both at his place. Cal spends the majority of his free time with me. He calls me. He shows up. He texts me. It’s almost too much. Every time I hear my phone chirp, I almost want it to be Shane. But it never is. I never gave him my phone number, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to get it. He and Derek seem to be good friends, and Chelsea told me that Shane knows she and I live together.
When I told Chelsea that Shane is Chris, she fell off her chair. She literally fell over onto the floor in our living room, knocking over her glass of red wine. She yelled, “Shit, let me get some cold water and a towel.” She stood up and walked to the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder, “Don’t think I am letting this go, I want details.” But I told her all the details when I first got into town. I have nothing left to say, unless she wants to hear about the moment Shane lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist and losing myself in complete and utter ecstasy. My heart melted that night. Nothing felt more right. I could have stayed in that moment forever. But that will never happen. If twenty-four hours with him can leave me in shreds, how will a week, a month, or a year with him leave me? I don’t think I could surviv
e it.
I need to keep my distance.
I’m at home, or should I say Chelsea’s home, and watching TV when my phone chirps. Already knowing who it’s going to be, I take my time getting to it. When a commercial comes on, I go to grab another glass of wine and retrieve my phone in the process. I was right. It’s Cal. I like Cal, but it just seems to be too soon. Or maybe knowing that Shane is back in the picture makes me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know.
I sit back down on the couch and open my text from Cal.
Cal: Hey babe, a few of us are getting together for dinner tonight. I want you to come with me.
Me: Sounds good. What time?
Cal: 7:00. I can’t wait to see you.
It takes me a minute to get back to him. I want to see him to. Something just doesn’t seem right between us though. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Me: I’ll see you tonight.
I set my phone back down and resume watching television, when I hear keys jingling at the front door. Suddenly, it flies open. Chelsea looks to be getting mauled by some guy, and I am about ready to pounce on him when it becomes clear that she’s the one doing the mauling. It’s not Derek though. They’re practically dry humping right in front of me.
I cover my face with the palm of my hands to block out the assault. I clear my throat as the guy is about to rip Chelsea’s shirt off. Not wanting to witness this, I try to speak loud enough for them to hear me. “You’re not alone!”
Chelsea pulls her claws off the guy and looks at me with a sheepish grin. “Umm, sorry, babe. I didn’t realize you were home.”
“Clearly,” I mutter.
“Umm, Brad would you mind waiting for me in my room?” She bats her long lashes at him.
Brad looks me up and down then mutters, “Is she joining us?”
My chin nearly drops to the floor.
“No, sweetie. Not this time,” my best friend responses.
