by R. C. Martin
“Buy into the lie that you’d ever have to compete for me.” I breathe a sigh of relief, my insides going squishy as I pull him closer. He touches his forehead to mine as he continues to speak, his voice low and rumbly. “I make my own choices, babe. You might have both met me that night, but I met both of you, too. Get me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good. So, are you gonna tell her?”
Gripping his hair in my fists, I force a nod, his head moving with mine.
He squeezes my hips before he murmurs, “Rigs gets into town Friday. Party Saturday. You can tell her with me at your back if you want.”
“Really?” I breathe, feeling even more relieved.
“Babe—you need me at your back, all you’ve got to do is ask.”
Yup. I’m definitely falling in love with this man.
I feel a blush crawl into my cheeks as I tilt my head back slightly, causing my lips to brush against his before I whisper, “That means a lot to me, honey.”
He grunts, pulling me toward him until my hips kiss his as he mutters, “I like that.”
“Like what?”
“Hearing you call me honey.”
A shy smile pulls at my lips, my belly tingling in excitement as I whisper, “Honey?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Mouth.”
He chuckles, which makes me giggle, and then he silences me with his tongue. He kisses me long and hard, taking ownership of my mouth. I let him have it, enjoying the taste of him. When I lift my legs around his hips, locking my ankles at his back, he groans and pulls me closer.
“Here’s a tip for you.”
Startled, I jump in Coder’s arms, pulling away from him before we both look over his shoulder and spot Trevor in the doorway.
“Lock the door, turn the music up, keep your woman quiet, and no one’ll know.”
I can hear the smile in Coder’s voice when he asks, “What if I don’t want her quiet?”
My cheeks warm as Trevor laughs, lifting up his backwards ball cap before shoving it back over his hair. As he starts to turn away, he tells us, “Your food is here. Come pay the man.”
Without a word, Coder claps his hand against my thigh lightly, signaling me to let him go. I drop my legs and he smashes a kiss against my lips before he turns away from me. I totally check him out as he leaves to fetch our food.
“Kenz! You home?” calls out Brooke before she even shuts the front door behind her.
I laugh, looking over at her from where I sit on the couch as I say, “Yup.”
“Oh, shit,” she giggles, closing out the cold before she drops all of her things and comes to sit next to me on the couch. “Guess what we’re doing this weekend?”
I force a smile, knowing two things to be true. First, that I’m spending my entire weekend with Coder. Saturday, after I hang out with the kids at the hospital, I work a short shift at the drug store, and then I’ll be headed to Coder’s house for the party. Then on Sunday, he told me he wanted me to come to family dinner with him again. It means so much to me that he wants me there. I get goose pimples every time I think about it.
The second thing I know is that Coder and his roommates sent out a bunch of texts today, informing people that the party is on. I’m pretty sure I know what Brooke is about to tell me, but that’s not what makes me nervous. It’s the fact that in two days, I’m going to be telling her the truth about Coder and me—a truth that I’m still not sure how she’ll take.
“Um, are you talking about Coder’s party?” I ask, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear.
“Oh, yeah. So you got the text, too. We’re going,” she insists, fixing me with a look that clearly states this is not negotiable. “And you’re drinking. It’s been a month since you’ve partied, and I have not pushed you. This time, I totally am. So, say it with me—Yes, Brooke, I’m going to the party.”
I cough out a laugh as I tell her, “Yes, Brooke, I’m going to the party.”
“Fantastic!” she cheers with a grin. “I’ll get Owen to take us.”
My smile falls as I offer her a lame nod, thinking back to the last time I spoke with Owen. We haven’t spoken since, and I know it’s because of what I said to him. We never talk about his feelings for Brooke. It’s an unspoken rule, one that I broke.
“Kenz, do you know what this means?!” she exclaims, pulling me from my thoughts.
I feign my excitement as I ask, “What’s that?”
Throwing herself back on the couch, she gushes, “I finally get to make my play for Coder. God—I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Did you know that when I went to the shop to have Pete look at my piercing, Coder wasn’t even there? I was so bummed.”
My stomach drops, and I suddenly don’t feel so well. It bothers me, listening to her talk about Coder like that. I know that it’s my fault, but still. It makes me want to tell her everything right now—but then I remember that Coder said that he would have my back on Saturday. I want him with me when I tell her. I want her to see how happy I am; how happy he makes me. Nevertheless, to say nothing right now—I just can’t. So instead of the truth, I simply ask, “Brooke, what if he’s taken?”
Propping herself up on her elbows, she knits her eyebrows together and mutters, “Taken?”
“Yeah, as in, what if he’s already seeing someone else?”
“Oh, Kenzie,” she sighs, laying back down as she stares up at the ceiling. “That’s an obstacle I’ll face when I get there.” I frown, wishing her answer was different. Then she goes on to say, “I know his kind, babe. I’ve played this game before.”
“And what kind is he?”
“Oh, come on, Kenz—you can tell just by looking at him. He doesn’t play by the rules—which means he hangs on until something better comes along, and then he moves on—no qualms about it. If he’s taken, I’ll just have to prove that I’m better. Simple as that.”
I bite my lip as I shake my head and then start to gather my things. I can’t do this right now. I’ve got homework to finish, and I can’t focus with her sitting next to me plotting how she intends to steal Coder from me.
“Where are you going?” she asks, looking up at me as I stand.
Feeling just irritated enough to say something about it, I tell her, “You know, there are plenty of guys out there that would love to have you. You don’t have to go stealing someone else’s.”
“What? Kenz, come back!” she pleads as I start to walk away.
“I’ve got homework.”
“Hon—wait, did something happen?” She gasps before she asks, “Oh, my gosh—are you into someone? Did we switch topics without me knowing it? Kenz! Come back.”
“Not now, Brooke,” I mumble.
“Fine. But I’m going to find out who he is! Mark my words.”
Oh, Lord, help me.
I’m halfway through my morning when I arrive at Lena’s room. Just as I’m making my way in, Maribel is taking her leave.
“Hey, sweetie—sorry I won’t get to stay for your hour today. George and I are juggling a lot this weekend. It’s like a zoo at home. It’s Josie’s birthday tomorrow, and Noelle has a cold, which makes it hard to include Lena, so we’re trying to figure it out.”
“Wow. Yeah. I mean, get out of here,” I say with an encouraging smile, pushing her out of the room. “Lena and I will be fine. Right, Lena?” I look over my shoulder just in time to see her nod in agreement, and then I grin at Maribel. “Go be supermom.”
She laughs, shaking her head at me. “I should be here next weekend. You can give me an update on Coder. He’s still update worthy, right?”
“Yeah. Totally.”
“Just what I want to hear,” she declares with a nod and a wink. Looking around me, she calls to Lena, “I love you, baby. Mommy will be back in just a few hours, okay?” She nods again. Maribel sighs before she whispers, “She’s been pretty quiet all morning. If you’ve got any new tricks in that bag, I’d give them a shot.”
“I’ll see
what I can do.”
We say our goodbyes, and then I take my seat at Lena’s bedside. “Hey, pretty girl! I went to the library yesterday, brought some new books. Do you want to see?”
She offers me another nod, and I pick out the books I think she might like. She points out the one that she’d like me to read first, and we dive right in. We read the first one twice, upon her insistence, and then move on to book two. When we get to book three, I hear it when her breathing starts to change.
“Lena? Lena, are you okay?” I ask, pressing the back of my hand against her cheek.
Her skin is clammy, and when she shakes her head in response to my question, I try and think of what Maribel would do if she were here. Before I’m even close to forming an idea, Lena starts coughing. I suck in a startled breath when I see blood at her lips, and then shoot to my feet when she starts vomiting blood.
“Oh, my god, Lena!” I’m quick to grab the bedpan, holding it to catch the vomit as I scream, “Nurse! We need a doctor! Help—somebody, please!” Feeling frantic, I look for Lena’s call button, and I press it over and over with my shaky fingers. My heart races and my whole body trembles in fear when I realize that Lena hasn’t stopped. Blood is pouring from her mouth, and I don’t know what to do.
“Somebody, help us!” I shriek.
“Kenzie, dear—we’ve got her.” I recognize that voice, but I can’t identify it, my attention glued to Lena.
Hands grab hold of my arms, giving me a gentle squeeze before I’m moved out of the way, a swarm of doctors and nurses crowding around the bed. In a matter of seconds, the lead doctor comes in, she does a quick exam, and then they’re wheeling Lena out of the room. Everything happens so fast, it’s like a blur. There’s a bunch of shouting, but I don’t understand any of it. I can barely hear anything other than the sound of my pounding pulse.
“Wait—where is she going? What’s happening?”
“She’s being rushed into surgery, Kenzie. Where’s Maribel? Or George?”
“They aren’t here! Shit—they’re not here!” I’m shaking so hard I can’t even think straight. What I just witnessed was terrifying. There was so much blood. She’s so little, and there was so much blood. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Kenzie. Kenzie, listen to me!” Pamela—that’s her name. She’s the head nurse on the floor. Pamela snaps her fingers in front of my face, finally earning my full attention. “I think it’s best if you take a seat in the waiting room.” I start to shake my head no, but she fixes me with a look—the look (the kind only a mother can master)—and I think better of it. “You’re a quivering mess, dear. You’re in no state to be a calming voice to the other children, and you certainly do not belong behind the wheel of a car right now. So you’ll sit until you feel calm.”
Not bothering to acknowledge her instruction, I repeat, “Is she going to be okay?”
With a sigh she admits, “I don’t know, dear. I do not know.”
I don’t sit in the waiting room. I can’t sit at all. I pace. I walk up and down the room, wringing my fingers, waiting anxiously for Lena’s parents to show up. I told Maribel that we would be fine. I didn’t know—I didn’t mean for this to happen.
It takes them an hour to show up. As soon as I see Maribel, I burst into tears. She rushes toward me, pulling me into her arms, and I blubber my apologies into her shoulder. I don’t even know if she can understand what I’m saying. I’m not even sure I can understand what I’m saying, but I keep apologizing anyway.
“It’s okay. Shhh, sweetie—it’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay. She has to be. She has to be.”
I cry until I have no tears left, and then we sit together and wait—Maribel, George, Josie, and Noelle. Lena is in surgery for hours. The doctors come out and update Maribel and George, who try and explain to me what’s going on, but I’m too freaked out to comprehend any of it. All the words go into one ear and immediately fall out the other. It isn’t until I get a call from work that I realize I’m supposed to be there. I tell them that I can’t come in—that I’ve had an emergency, and they’ll need to find someone else to cover my shift. My boss isn’t happy, but I can’t find it in me to care.
It’s after five by the time Lena is back in her room. I should feel relieved, but I don’t. I’m grateful that she’s still alive, that she’s still here to keep on fighting, but she was already weak to begin with. Whatever happened, this surgery did her no favors. It may have saved her life, but I’ve never seen her look as fragile as she did when they wheeled her into her room.
Deciding to stick around until she’s had a chance to shake off the anesthesia and wake up, I hang out in the waiting room with Noelle. I listen to her read to me until she falls asleep in my lap. Brooke starts blowing my phone up at a quarter to nine. Remembering tonight’s party, I sigh in defeat. The last thing I want to do tonight is go to a party. I send a text, telling her that I’m stuck at the hospital and that she should go without me. When she asks if I’m sure, I insist upon it, and then I tuck my phone into my purse and ignore it for a while.
Forty-five minutes later, Lena wakes up.
My apartment is dark and empty when I walk inside. I’m not surprised. It’s almost eleven, and Brooke must have left over an hour ago. Heading back to my room, I dig my phone out of my purse and find that I’ve got three missed calls, all from Coder. My chest aches, my longing for him hitting me harder than it ever has before. It’s been a really crappy day, and all I want is to curl up in his arms and stay there for a while.
I try calling him back, but he doesn’t answer. I imagine, with the party in full swing, his phone is nearly impossible to hear. I come to the conclusion that if I want to see him, I’m going to have to go to that party, no matter how much I don’t want to. Deciding that enduring the party is worth seeing Coder, I gather my hair up and hop in the shower.
I stand under the water for ten minutes before I wash, reliving this morning’s nightmare. When my eyes start to fill with tears, I shake my head clear, scrub my body, rinse, and then shut off the water. Wrapped in a towel, I make quick work of my face, applying just enough make-up to look human, and then I hurry to my closet. Not particularly concerned with what I look like, I wiggle into a pair of olive green, skinny jeans, I throw on a plain white, oversized t-shirt, and shove my arms into my denim jacket. I leave my hair up in a knotted bun on top of my head, slip on my black, high top Converse sneakers, grab my leather jacket, and head for the door.
Twenty minutes later, as I’m walking up the driveway to the guys’ house, I’m greeted by Rigs.
“Mackenzie!” he calls out teasingly, his cigarette dangling from his lips. He’s sitting on one of the upside-down milk crates, along with a couple of other people I don’t know—also smokers—and Piper. She barely acknowledges my presence, let alone offers me a greeting.
“Hey, Rigs,” I manage, forcing the best smile I can scrounge up. “Welcome back.”
“Good to be home.” Nodding toward the door, he tells me, “Your boy’s in the kitchen, last I saw. Grab yourself a beer while you’re in there.”
“Thanks, Rigs.”
Not in the mood to figure out Piper’s deal, I don’t say a word to her before I make my way inside. The music is loud, and the front room is crowded. It looks more packed then the last party I attended, most of the faces I see not familiar to me at all. Not paying attention, I walk right into a cloud of marijuana smoke. I stifle a groan as I try blowing out the smell from my nose, waving my hand in front of my face. Continuing my journey to the kitchen, I ignore the laughter I’m sure comes at my expense, too focused on my hunt for Coder.
I hear Brooke before I see her. Then, when I reach the mouth of the kitchen, I find her laughing hysterically, her body curled up against Coder’s chest, as if he’s keeping her upright. He’s laughing too, and it’s like watching my fears come to life. Except, it doesn’t hurt like I thought it would. It’s worse. I feel my insides freezing over, going numb, as if my body just can’t take an
ymore emotional assault today.
I take one step back, and then another, and then Coder sees me. His gorgeous smile disappears immediately, and he shakes his head at me, as if he’s trying to tell me something, but it’s too late. I was too late. Brooke was here—and, as always, she got what she wanted.
Spinning on my heel, I waste no time getting out of there. I run to my car, regretting ever having stepped foot into that house.
As if all my body needed to thaw was a twenty-minute car ride with the heat blasting through the vents, I’m sobbing by the time I get home. My vision is so impaired, I can barely see the keyhole to unlock my door. Once inside, I drop my purse next to the coat closet, the bag still heavy and filled with children’s books. Knowing the reason behind the thud, and remembering little Lena and how completely and utterly useless I felt with her today, I cry harder.
Once in my room, I shed both of my jackets, letting them fall to the floor, too busy worrying about other things to care. When I’ve reached my bed, I sit on the edge, burying my face in my hands as I let the tears come in wave after wave of hurt feelings, frustration, fear, and sadness. I cry out every emotion I’ve felt all day, like I’m living each one all over again. I’m so distraught that I don’t hear the front door open and close. I don’t hear his boots as he stomps down the hall. I don’t even feel his presence as he fills my doorway. It isn’t until he flips on the light switch and speaks that I’m startled out of my thoughts.
“Babe…”
My head jerks up, my hands falling into my lap as I look at him. My heart pounds loud and fast inside of my chest. I’m so surprised to see him, it takes all of my concentration to ask, “What are you doing here?”
“Chasing after you. What does it look like? By the way, don’t leave that fuckin’ door unlocked, got me?”
All the air rushes from my lungs as I huff out a sigh of irritation, annoyed that he has the nerve to walk into my room and tell me what to do. “Just—go back to your party. Leave me alone.”
