“Miss J?” Izzie calls.
I pull myself together, pasting a smile on my face before I turn around and walk out of the office. “Yeah?”
“I can’t get this to stick.” She pokes her tongue out between her lips in concentration and I chuckle as I walk over, helping her with the final petal.
“Perfect. Are you ready to go home now?”
Her face screws up. “Home? But we’re having fun.”
“I know, sweetie, but your dad wants you back now,” I explain.
She sighs dramatically. “Oookay.”
I turn as I look for my mom, finding her watching Izzie and me from across the room. I raise a brow at her in question and she smirks at me, shaking her head before getting up and walking over.
“Would you mind clearing up?” I look down at Izzie, stroking a hand over her blond locks. “I’m going to take this little princess home.”
“Of course. Will you be back, or do you want me to close up too?”
“I’ll meet you at home,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at the gleam in hers. “What?”
She turns and waves me off over her shoulder. “See you at home.”
I shake my head at her and look down at Izzie again. “Are you ready?”
She picks up her bunch of tulips and the four cards that she’s made today; one for her dad, one for her nana, one for Edward, and one for Amelia—who I’ve gathered is a sort of live-in helper from Izzie’s comments today—and we’re out of the door and skipping down the sidewalk together toward my car.
I open the door for her and she climbs into the back seat, straightening up as I lean across her to buckle her in.
I pull back and she grins at me. “You smell pretty.”
I smile. “Thanks, Izzie.” I shut her door and climb into the driver’s seat.
“Can we listen to music?” she asks, so I turn on the radio, glancing back and seeing her head bopping around to the music that plays through the speakers.
I type their address into my GPS, not really needing it because I know exactly where their house is, but I do it anyway in case I manage to get lost.
It’s only a ten-minute drive away and as we get closer, I grip the steering wheel tightly. I don’t know if I can look Clayton in the eyes again and not blame myself for causing his meltdown. Holding him as he sobbed in my arms for his mom was heart-wrenching on its own, but knowing I caused it all? I hate myself.
I drive down the street that their house is on, glancing around at the fancy houses that crop up periodically until a pillar stating their house number looms in sight. I make the turn onto a gravel driveway and my breath hitches.
Whoa!
A towering, limestone mansion sits at the end of the driveway and I feel intimidated at the sheer size of the place. That’s a lot of rooms to clean.
I park beside a circular fountain and Izzie squeals, “We’re here!”
She unbuckles herself before I slide out of my seat and get out of the car, opening her door and watching as she jumps out and runs up to the front door, pushing hard on the handle and running inside, leaving it wide open.
I walk up to it and peer inside the spacious, white entryway, wondering if I should go in or not. As I’m about to walk in, I hear voices and Tristan appears from a hallway on the left with Izzie attached to his hip.
“Hey.” He smiles. “Come on in.”
I hesitate. “I, erm... I don’t want to intrude. I’ll just—”
“No, you’re okay. Come in.” He walks ahead of me, disappearing down the hallway he showed up from.
“O—okay,” I reply, stepping onto the marble flooring gingerly, scared I’ll mark it.
I close the door behind me and take one last look around before walking down the hallway he disappeared down that leads into his kitchen.
Izzie is sitting at the table with the pretty blond woman I saw at the gallery night that I now know to be Amelia.
She eyes me and offers me a small smile before getting up and putting out her hand for me to shake. “Hi, I’m Amelia.”
I nod and return her smile and handshake. “Thought as much, the kids are always talking about you. I’m their art teacher—”
“Miss J,” she finishes for me and chuckles. “They’re always talking about you too.” She’s silent for a minute as she looks between Tristan and me, smirking and twirling around to face Izzie at the table. “Come on, Izzie, I haven’t been force-fed cups of tea for a while. Let’s go and set up a tea party.”
Izzie jumps out of her chair, waving at me on the way past before she shouts, “Race you!”
Amelia follows Izzie’s running body out of the room and I chuckle, tearing my eyes away from the hallway and setting them on Tristan who is leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Thanks for today,” he murmurs, pushing off the counter and opening one of the cabinet doors, pulling two cups out. “Do you want a drink?”
“Water, please. And you’re more than welcome, we had a lot of fun.” I watch him walk over to the refrigerator, the muscles in his arm rippling as he pulls it open and grabs a bottle of water before shutting the door and turning to hand it to me. “Thanks.” I look down at the condensation on the bottle, my earlier feelings of guilt creeping back into my psyche. “How… How is Clayton?”
His footsteps halt as he walks over to the coffee pot, his back tensing. “He’s sleeping, I…” He makes a noise in his throat and I watch as the back of his head shakes. “I think you and my mom were right.” He turns back to face me when he’s poured his coffee. “I need to get him some help. I can’t let this keep happening.”
“It’s all my fault; I wasn’t thinking when I planned the session.”
I tear my gaze away from him so I don’t realize that he’s moved toward me until I see the front of his boots in my peripheral vision. “It’s not your fault.” His voice is low. “You can’t not plan a session that has something to do with moms because of one child. He needs to learn how to deal with what’s going on in his head, but it’s hard for him. He’s still a kid and I don’t think he fully understands what happened or more importantly, why it happened.”
“I should’ve been more considerate though, I can still picture his face...” My eyes flutter shut at the thought of him holding onto me as if I were the only thing holding him together.
The feel of fingertips against my cheeks shocks me and my eyes fly open, staring into Tris’s. “Harm.” His voice is like a plea and he steps closer, his hands cupping each side of my face now as his thumb swipes away an errant tear that’s making its way down my cheek.
I swallow against his closeness, the air crackling around us as his eyes bore into mine.
“I… I’m sorry,” I say, halfheartedly, my eyes flicking down to his lips. “I don’t know why—”
“You did nothing wrong.” His hand whispers down my face, his thumb running along my bottom lip as his eyes track his movements.
My breath stutters out at his touch and his eyes sparkle as they flit back up to mine, a fleeting thought running behind them before he breathes out and slides his hands away, pocketing them as if trying to stop himself from touching me again.
“I…” I point toward the hallway, not knowing how I should feel about my reaction toward him. Where has all my anger gone? “I should go.”
He scrubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Erm… yeah. Thanks again for looking after Izzie. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” I reply, staring at him for a beat before setting the untouched bottle of water on the counter and turning on my heels.
I hear him behind me as he walks me toward the door and I open it, turning to face him and looking around the desolate entryway. “Nice house by the way, have you guys just moved in?”
“No… it was... Natalia’s dream house,” he murmurs, cringing at his own words.
“Oh, it’s... erm. It’s… nice.” Did that come out like a question?
“Ye
ah… she...” He clears his throat again, shaking his head before shuffling on the spot. “She had big plans for the interior, but we… we never…” His hand reaches up and rubs the back of his neck again awkwardly as we stare at anything but each other’s faces.
I break the silence, needing to get out of here as I’m reminded that he married my old best friend. “Well, I’m sure it would’ve been beautiful.” He lifts his head and as our eyes connect, I see the sadness sitting there but there’s also something else that I can’t quite decipher. Considering I used to know him so well, I’m confused that I can’t work out what is shining in their depths. “So…” I point behind me and he nods in reply before I spin around, taking a couple of steps toward my car.
“Harmony.” His voice travels on the wind and I come to a stop briefly. “I…”
I wait for several seconds, but when he doesn’t say anything else I continue walking toward my car, needing to get out of the awkward atmosphere that has surrounded us.
Bastille—Oblivion
Ocean Park Standoff—Good News (Thompson Remix)
Grace—How To Love Me
Sam Smith—Latch(Acoustic)
Ariande Grande—One last time
It’s been three days since Clay’s meltdown and after having decided I needed to seek him some professional help, I contacted several counselors in the area, hoping that I could get an appointment with one of the ones that were recommended to me.
I finally got him in with one of the best in the city and he’s scheduled in this afternoon. It’s time for him to work through his emotions and to try and move forward—at least as forward as he can.
He shouldn’t be feeling all of this, especially not at his age. He should be laughing every day, playing with his friends, and generally being a kid and having fun.
He seemed better this morning, at least happier than he has been since Saturday. It’s a start and I think it has something to do with him knowing that he’s seeing someone today; either that or the fact that he gets to have the afternoon off school.
I walk out of my office building and to the waiting car that Edward stands beside, ready to go and fetch Clay from school and to start this whole process of getting him help.
“Your mom tried to bribe me to bring her,” Edward says, chuckling as we both get in the car.
I groan and shake my head as I lean back in the seat. “I’m surprised you made it out alive.”
“Oh, trust me, it wasn’t easy and I’m firmly in the bad books.”
I wince but don’t say anything because she doesn’t need to be here. From what I understand, the counselor will be on her own with Clay so that he can talk openly and honestly.
I shake my head before pulling my cell out of my pocket, clicking onto the messenger app and opening the messages from Harmony.
When I learned that she was on Facebook from Nate, I signed up and sent her a friend request. Once she finally accepted it, we started to message each other. Although I know that we have a long way to go, I finally feel like we’re getting to the stage where we can be friends again.
When we were together back in college, this kind of thing wasn’t around; if I wanted to speak to her I had to call her or go to her place. The internet has made it so much easier to keep in touch with people and to also form relationships with each other online.
In a way, I’m glad that we’re getting to know each other all over again. It’s a fresh start, and although we both have extra baggage and we’ve grown up a lot since college, we’re still—essentially—the same people deep down.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I think about the art show tickets that I got from one of the board members this morning. As soon as I saw them, I knew that I was going to ask her if she wanted to go with me.
I take a deep breath and start typing out a message.
TRISTAN: So... I have two tickets to an art show. Would you like to come and teach me all about shapes and colors?
I pocket my cell as we pull up at the school and I push out of the back of the car and walk into the main office building.
“Hey.” I grin as soon as I see Clay sitting on a bench inside the office. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
I walk up to the main desk and sign him out, taking the slip from the secretary that says he has permission to be out of school before spinning around and holding my hand out for him.
He slips off the bench, shouldering his backpack and placing his hand in mine.
I can feel the nervous energy rolling off him in waves but there isn’t a thing that I can think of to say apart from, “I’m here.”
It must have done the trick because his shoulders relax, but as soon as we get into the car, he stares out of the window, effectively cutting himself off from me. He’s inside his own head, but instead of trying to get him to tell me what he’s thinking, I let him have some much needed space.
The silence is deafening and the ping of my cell seems ten times louder than it usually is. I pull it out, seeing Harmony’s name flash on the screen.
HARMONY: Well that depends…
*Harmony Changes The Chat Colors To Yellow*
I quickly shoot off another message as Edward pulls up outside the counselor’s office.
TRISTAN: On what?
“Ready?” I ask Clay as I silence my cell and push it back into my pocket.
He looks up at the building, his eyes wide as he bites his lip before he turns his gaze slowly back to me, his gray eyes apprehensive.
“I guess.”
I push the door open and step out, bending down to look back into the car. “We’ll be in and out in no time, and if you don’t like her then we can try someone else. Okay?”
“Okay.” He pushes his bag down behind Edward’s seat and slides across the back seat, clasping my outstretched hand.
“Good luck,” Edward says before I close the door.
We walk toward the building and both seem to take a breath before I pull the wooden, ornate, carved door open and we step into a warm hallway. The walls are painted a pale yellow, the floors carpeted with plush, beige carpet that springs back as you lift your foot. It’s not what I expected. I thought it’d be sterile and cold, not warm and homely.
We walk down the hallway and step into a room that has a wooden fireplace with fake wood burning that is surrounded by leather sofas and chairs.
A woman sitting behind a small wooden desk catches my attention and smiles at us, pushing her short, chocolate brown hair behind her ear. She pulls her glasses off her face and stands up, walking toward us and meeting us in the middle of the room. My gaze turns down to Clay as he stares wide-eyed at the bookcase that covers the entire wall to the right.
“Hello, and welcome.” She crouches down in front of Clay, pulling at the thighs of her navy blue pants. “I’m Leonie, it’s so nice to meet you.”
“I’m Clayton,” he replies, his shoulders pulling back and a small smile lifting up his lips. He already seems at ease with her.
They shake hands and then Leonie stands up, offering her hand to me before whispering, “Let’s get the boring paperwork done and then I can have a chat with Clayton.”
“Okay.” I look down at Clay. “Why don’t you go and sit for a couple of minutes? Once I’ve signed these, you can talk to Leonie.”
He practically sprints over to the bookcase, staring up at all of the books with wide eyes and an open mouth in awe.
“I need you to sign these consent forms, Mr. Carter.”
I take the papers she hands me and sit in the chair that she waves her hand toward. I skim over them quickly before signing and handing them back to her.
“Do you need me to fill you in—”
She holds her hand up in the air, a soft smile taking over her face. “With all due respect, Mr. Carter, I’d like to hear it from Clayton for the first few of our sessions and then maybe we could have a solo session afterward to discuss things.”
I clear my throat. “Sounds good.”
>
She stands up and pats my hand as she walks past me. “He’ll be fine, I promise.”
I swallow against my dry throat and watch as she gains Clay’s attention, the pair of them walking out of the room a couple of seconds later.
So many thoughts run through my head. Will he be okay? Will he break down? Is this too much for him? Should I have tried harder to get him to talk to me instead of palming him off on a total stranger?
Luckily, the vibration of my cell brings me out of my own head.
HARMONY: Whether you're going to give me a time and date, I'm a busy woman.
*Harmony Changes The Chat Colors To Green*
I shake my head at her response and the color change, yet again. She’s obsessed with changing the colors depending on what she’s doing or what mood she’s in.
TRISTAN: This Saturday? Pick you up at 8?
TRISTAN: And really, Harm? Changing the colors again?
HARMONY: Saturday night?
HARMONY: And yes, I'm outdoors so the green seemed fitting.
I chuckle and my cheeks start to hurt at the grin on my face. I haven’t smiled like this for so many years, at least not unless it involved the kids.
TRISTAN: Well... if you don't want to go then I guess I'll see this Oliver guy on my own.
HARMONY: Oliver? Oliver who?!
TRISTAN: Oliver Hunt? Do you know him?
I smirk as I watch the three dots that signal her writing a response flash on the screen. Of course, I already know that she knows him, even I’ve heard of him and I don’t follow the art scene at all.
HARMONY: Do I know him?!!!
HARMONY: He's one of my favorite artists!!!
TRISTAN: So... is that a yes?
My hands start to sweat as I wait for her response, my brain going into overdrive thinking that I may have acted too soon; been too forward.
Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 1) Page 30
