“Hey,” he says, pulling back just enough so he can see my face. “You don’t need to be sorry. This has all been kind of crazy. I don’t just pick up girls in parks in the middle of the night.” Yeah, and this is probably why. I can’t make it through a day without breaking down. “But after running into you a few times, I kind of got the gist that I was being drawn to you. Like it or not, everything in life happens for a reason. Or at least that’s what I believe.” What does that mean for Blake? What was the reason for his death? Am I supposed to suffer from guilt and pain forever? I should have known he was home. I should have saved him. I’d rather be dead than live the rest of my life feeling this way.
“Hayes,” I croak. “This was probably a very bad idea. You don’t want this.” I gesture to myself. “I mean, I’m broken—the ripped to pieces, ugly crying every night, can’t sleep, can’t think straight, kind of broken. You may be biting off more than you can chew with me.” For every word I say, I’d expect him to back away and run from the crazy chick he found in the park. Part of me wishes he would just run so I can salvage the tiny bit of dignity I have left. Instead, his face twists with this look of compassion and understanding like he gets me. Like he gets it.
He lifts my hand, threading his fingers with mine. “If you’re broken, it’s a beautiful kind of broken.” His thumb sweeps over my knuckles before he lifts my hand to his cool lips. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through.”
I pull my hand out of his, needing space and air. Even though I’m outside, welcome to all the fresh air my lungs can handle, it still doesn’t feel like enough. “Everything is so different now. I’m trying to find a new normal through all of this, but I’m scared I won’t.”
He stands up, pulling me with him. “Come on.”
He’s probably taking me back to his truck. I‘m disappointed, but I completely understand how dumb this was. It’s like running a marathon a week after knee surgery. I set up myself up for disaster.
I follow him back to the truck, my hand gripped within his, my toes nearly on his heels.
While the car ride is eerily quiet, the second we pull into a small lot in front of the park, it’s like we’ve spoken a thousand words. He hasn’t taken me back to my car.
I look at him in the dim light, his eyes kind and full of understanding. “The park?”
“It’s your spot.”
It is.
We both step out of the truck and meet on the grass where I’ve been laying the last couple of nights. Without thinking, I lie down in my spot, folding my arms beneath my head, allowing my lungs to open and my chest to loosen.
“What’s up there?” he asks, lying down beside me.
“The stars. I think everyone we’ve lost is up there. So I feel closest to them when I’m here. But lately, I see fire in the sky, a red glow that illuminates behind the stars. It’s like the image of the fire has been burnt into my mind. Red nights; that’s what I’m left with now.” I look over at him, watching as his focus traces lines between the stars.
“I don’t see the red, but I get it.” Minutes pass as he watches the stars. I watch him. “I’ve lost someone…people too.” He rolls onto his side to face me. “I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through, but it will get easier to accept. The pain may never go away, but you’ll become so used to it that you learn how to live with it.” He sweeps a strand of hair off of my face. “I’m not trying to sound like a know-it-all, especially since I’m still dealing with my own demons, but I’m just sharing what I’ve been told and what I’m learning. I know you’ll eventually find peace, but it may take a while. The red will eventually fade away, too.” I wish he’d tell me about his pain and why he sounds so knowledgeable on the subject. Whatever it is, it’s becoming clearer by the minute that he understands for unfortunate reasons.
“I hope so,” I say.
“I’m really glad I ran into you the other night,” he says, his voice almost getting lost in a breeze.
“And I’m sort of glad you’re not a creep,” I reply, rolling onto my side to face him.
“Only sort of glad?” Quiet laughter fills the space between us. “Are you into that sort of thing? Finding creeps in the park, then making them fall for you and those pretty blue eyes of yours.”
If he’s the creep, then yes…I’m definitely into that sort of thing.
“I don’t know. I’ve gotten kind of good at it, so maybe it is my thing.” A small smile tugs at my lips. He’s definitely making my heart ache just a little bit less; in this moment, we lock eyes—his are soft, clear, understanding—okay, maybe a lot less. His eyes have this power over me. They make it feel like the world all around me is fading away.
“Maybe it is.” His hand reaches for my face, the touch of his fingertips feathering across my cheek force chills down my spine, all the way to my toes. There’s no sound or wind between the trees now, just the whispers of his breath tickling my ears.
He leans in and I want to skip to the good part, crash my lips into his and wrap my arms around him until it’s hard to breathe. But slow is good. “Is this okay?” he asks.
I bite the corner of my lip and close my eyes. “Yes,” I whisper.
I feel him move in closer as his breath teases my mouth. “What about this?” he asks, making me ache for contact.
“Ye—” The word doesn’t have a chance to escape before his lips connect with mine, the fullness of his mouth taking in mine entirely. Everything is soft and easy at first—gentle, to test the waters. But I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself into him, needing every bit of his struggling breaths to mix with mine, to help me to feel whole and alive again. His hand cups the nape of my neck, the force between us intensifying as his tongue sweeps across my parting lips. The flutters in my stomach become explosive. A forgotten sensation rips through my insides, making me dizzy with emotion. My mouth welcomes his, our tongues twisting and curling together, mine exploring his mouth as his explores mine. As if we’ve discovered new life in an unexplored territory.
I liquefy against him, fitting myself between his arms, forgetting everything that has brought me to this moment and relishing in the desire of being lost here forever.
He makes me forget.
Everything.
CHAPTER SIX
I WANT TO SHUT everything off and focus on nothing but his lips, but the sun is creeping in between the blinds, bringing along a day I’m not sure I want to start. Between facing Aspen, dealing with Tanner’s dozens of texts and missed calls, and going back to work, I can already feel the panic ripping through me.
With lazy movements, I feel around for my phone on the nightstand, clicking the display, feeling my heart speed up as I scroll through the missed texts from Tanner. Each one filled with more concern than the last. Do I seem like such a flight-risk that everyone needs to keep checking up on me? It’s the last text message though that makes my heart pound. Everything I do seems like a bad decision.
Tanner: Heard you went on a date tonight. I’m happy for you, Liss.
I’m sure Aspen told him, now that I know they’ve been chatting about me. I wonder if he really cares about me dating. I know he’s been out with several women over the past year. I’ve heard him talking about it with Blake. I guess it could have been for my sake, to make me jealous for breaking up with him, but he didn’t always know I was in the next room listening. I know he moved on, which he should. But why can’t I?
Me: Aspen told you?
I toss the phone down into my lap and lie back against my pillow, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t want to be judged any more. Can’t anyone see how much I’m hurting? How hard this is for me? Why add to it with guilt? It’s not fair. In the midst of more self-pity, my phone buzzes. Please, just let it go.
I pick it up again.
Tanner: She mentioned something about it. I’m just glad to hear you found a distraction from everything.
A distraction. Is that all Hayes is? He’s definitely given me something else t
o focus on, but I’m not sure I can be distracted that easily. It’s not like I’m sleeping comfortably at night¸ knowing Blake is dead because of some careless mistake I must have made.
Me: I guess.
It feels uncomfortable and wrong talking about this with him. Not that I can find the right in going on a date so soon after Blake’s death. But I shouldn’t have to talk about it with Tanner.
Tanner: I want to swing by Aspen’s for a few. Just need to get something off my chest. Will you be there in twenty?
This is a bad idea. I still have to deal with Aspen…and now, Tanner too. I decide not to respond, hoping that will serve as an answer. But I know he’ll still be here in twenty minutes because I didn’t say no. That’s Tanner, one who never wavers from his plans. If he’s put his mind to it, it’s going to happen.
I pull myself up on the bed, feeling a haze of warmth from last night mixing with the frigid air of the morning dragging in through the old windows. I slip my sweatshirt on and grab a cigarette from my bag. I didn’t smoke last night; I was high on Hayes when I got home. But I can feel the panic rising faster than usual now. This is getting worse. I need to make a better effort to stop this. I’ll start after I smoke this one. I’ve always taken pride in not having an addictive personality. But the truth is, I’m now considering that you don’t know whether or not you have an addictive personality until you’ve become addicted to something.
I jog down the stairs and burst out into a cool spring morning. The wind has picked up and the clouds are low bearing, promising rain at some point today. I huddle in a corner against the building, lighting up. It only takes a couple of drags for my heart rate to slow and my hands to steady. It’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket. The heat presses through my veins. But the warmth disappears when a hand drops over my shoulder.
Aspen steps in front of me, “What are you doing?” She looks perplexed, and I know why. I’ve done an incredible job of hiding this little unknown fact about myself. I only started smoking last year when I got promoted to head chef—and broke up with Tanner. Between that and having a team working below me, I had so much anxiety and stress that I didn’t know how to deal with it.
Most of the other cooks at the restaurant smoke regularly. I didn’t get what’s so great about destroying your lungs, but they are all incredibly calm people. I was the exception.
One night, though, Grant told us a food critic from the Phantom Gourmet was coming in to evaluate a couple of our dishes. This was totally on me. The responsibility was overwhelming to the point where I had my first anxiety attack. I was sweating, shaking, and nearly in tears when Raul, my sous chef at the time, took me out back. He handed me a beautiful white stick and told me to take a few pulls. I hesitated at first. I’ve always been totally and utterly against smoking in any capacity. I was a straight edge goody-two-shoes. Smoking wasn’t on my agenda. But neither was freaking out in front of a critic. I took the cigarette and placed it between my lips. He lit it and showed me how to inhale without coughing up everything in my stomach.
It was magical. It brought instant relaxation and comfort. It cleared my mind and gave me the ability to focus. When I came back into the kitchen, the guys were applauding me. Probably because they couldn’t deal with my freak-outs, which happened often. Whatever the case, our food was perfect, the critic was impressed, and we got an amazing write-up in the Phantom Gourmet. It was that night that I decided one cigarette a day would keep the nerves away. I just couldn’t let anyone else know I was doing it. It could tarnish the reputation I worked heard to create.
Now I realize my reputation was all in my head. To everyone else, I was just Felicity. To me, though, I was the top chef who couldn’t make any mistakes or show any weakness. I thought people looked up to me and expected me to be a leader. But the kitchen survived without me while I was in the hospital. Some leader I turned out to be.
“We’ve been friends for an entire year and I haven’t seen you smoke anything,” Aspen says. “When did you…?”
“Last year, before I met you. It’s not something I’m proud of.” I just need to come to terms with it. It’s a nasty habit, but one I’ve come to rely on, especially now. Maybe thinking I’ve been doing something wrong has kept me to one a day. But doing something wrong that only I know about…it does give me a rush.
“Wow. Well, I’m kind of shocked. You know that shit will kill you, right?” She sounds like Blake. He caught me smoking on our back porch one night.
And he sort of flipped his shit.
Our uncle died of lung cancer when we were young. He lived with us up until he died, so it was almost like losing a parent, in a way. He stayed with us when Mom and Dad worked, took Blake to sports and me to dance class. He was a cool live-in babysitter-slash-big brother. The cancer came on so fast, but it wasn’t at all surprisingly. He was a pack a day smoker for twenty years. Mom and Dad tried to get him to quit so many times but never had any luck.
When Blake found out I was smoking, he threw my pack away and took all of my lighters, but it was too late. I was already hooked. I needed that one little stick a day. After a while, he gave up the battle, but he made it clear he didn’t want to see it or smell it. So I kept it hidden as best I could. I knew I was upsetting him, but I needed it too much.
“I know. It’s just something I need right now.”
“You don’t need to smoke, Felicity, not to mention that you were just released from the hospital for smoke inhalation. What are you thinking? Go get some anxiety meds from your doctor or something.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I pull in another drag and blow it over my shoulder, away from her. “What’s in there?” I point to the paper bag hanging out of her hand.
“I grabbed breakfast for us—and Tanner.” It isn’t a shock any more that she’s talking to him. However, it’s really bugging me that they’re talking about me behind my back and that she clearly knew he intended to come over this morning.
“Why did you tell him I was on a date last night?” I toss the butt to the ground and drop my hands into my sweatshirt pocket. I’m dying to know how it came up, considering the two of them only met last week. I didn’t even know they’d exchanged phone numbers.
“Shouldn’t you put that out?” she points to the cigarette lying beside my foot.
“Oh, yeah.” I almost forgot. I step on it and sweep it into the corner. “So, why did you tell him?”
She looks around, almost like she’s distracting herself from my question. “We’re worried about you, sweetie. That’s all this is.”
“Well don’t.”
I have a million things I feel like saying to her right now, but I see Tanner making his way down the street. It’s hardly been ten minutes since I got his last text.
“What are you ladies doing outside? It’s cold out today.”
Aspen crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head to the side. “Did you know she smokes? Because it’s news to me.”
Tanner’s focus swings to me with shock and obvious disgust. “Liss, since when do you smoke? That shit will kill you.” I close my eyes briefly, trying to block them out and suppress the urge to run upstairs and grab another cigarette. When I open my eyes, they’re both still throwing judgmental gazes in my direction.
“Since last year. It’s only one a day, and it’s to calm my nerves,” I say, offering an explanation I don’t feel like they deserve. I’m an adult, and I shouldn’t have to answer to anyone.
“Well, if you’re done killing yourself, can we go talk somewhere?” Nice choice of words.
“What is this, some kind of intervention? Or do you two just want to roast me all day?” This rage and anger has been building up for the past couple of days, and maybe it’s aimed at them because they’re the only ones taking an interest in my life right now. But I don’t want to be babied or handled with kid gloves.
“No, I want to talk to you alone.” If this was intended to be an intervention, Aspen didn’t know about it.
Sh
e looks back and forth between Tanner and me and clutches the bag of breakfast against her chest. “I’ll be upstairs. With the food.” She turns on her heels and hurries through the door. I can’t help but wonder if she already knows what Tanner wants to talk about.
“I’m just going to come right out and say this, Liss.” Tanner places his hands on my shoulders and peers down at me, his eyes sad but full of some kind of hope. It’s hard to comprehend hope still existing right now. “I’m worried about you. I know how much this is hurting me, so I can only imagine what it’s doing to you.” He closes his eyes briefly, releasing a heavy sigh. “I want to help in any way I can. I know we’ve had our ups and downs this past year, but I need you to know I’m here for you.” His hands are trembling over my shoulders, a weakness I’ve never seen with him. “Can I do anything to help you?”
I want to tell him I don’t want or need his help. He and Aspen don’t have to look after me like I’m some kind of head case. I think the best thing everyone can do for me is to leave me alone for a little while. “I don’t need anything,” I say.
“What would Blake tell you right now?” he asks.
Blake had a way with words, and every serious situation was always turned into a joke. It bugged me more often than not, especially since I tend to be more practical and mature than most. I was always able to think through situations logically, with a clear mind, while he would try to find a way to spin every crappy thing into gold. “He’d tell me, ‘suck it up buttercup’.” I laugh at the thought of hearing him say that to me right now.
Tanner chokes on a loud, hearty laugh. “He would totally say that to you right now.” Blake was never unhappy. I wish I knew how he ignored the bad in life. He didn’t care when he lost a job or his apartment. He wouldn’t have cared if I didn’t take him in. He’d figure it out. God, he said that all of the time. It was like there was always an answer and a solution to everything, and a good one, at that. He was pretty good at just making things work without breaking a sweat. “Look, you’re going to have your ups and downs right now, and for the foreseeable future. But when you’re feeling off or out of it, just ask yourself what Blake would say to you. I have a strong feeling his answers are already in your heart.”
Red Nights Page 7
