The Color of a Promise (The Color of Heaven Series Book 11)

by Julianne MacLean

  He stared into my eyes with the same inebriated, dazed expression, as if he didn’t understand what I had just said. For a moment, I thought he might get angry, then his shoulders slumped with relief. “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course,” I replied. “But if we’re going to work things out, I need you to understand and respect that I need these hours to hit the books. Please, Kyle. You understand, right?”

  His speech was slurred. “That’s why I love you, babe. Because you’re such a brainiac. I respect that.”

  I laughed dutifully and tried to speak with a note of humor. “Well…if that’s why you love me, then you have to let me study. I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

  He nodded and staggered backwards until he fell onto my bed, then he started laughing and couldn’t stop.

  I was breathing heavily by now, angry yet apprehensive, because I had no idea what he might do next. There was something so unpredictable about him.

  Maybe it was selfish, but all I wanted was for him to leave me alone so I could get back to work. I would have said anything to make him go.

  “What a klutz,” Kyle said, fighting his way off the bed, then falling to the side and knocking over the lamp on my bedside table.

  I grabbed hold of him and tried to help him to the door. “Will you be able to get home okay?” I asked. “And will you promise you’ll study when you get back to your room? Make some coffee.”

  Of course I knew that such a suggestion was hopeless. He was far too drunk to retain any information, much less stay awake. He’d probably pass out the minute he fell onto his bed, if he even made it up the stairs.

  It didn’t matter. Failing exams was his problem. I just wanted him to leave.

  Thank God, he did—but only after I let him kiss me good-bye in the hall.

  As soon as I shut the door behind him, I used my sleeve to wipe his drunken kiss from my mouth, and picked my lamp up off the floor. I flicked the switch to make sure it still worked. Then I sat down on my bed for a long moment and rested my forehead on the heels of my hands, working hard to quell the anxiety that had risen in me during that encounter.

  Finally, I got up and decided to pour another cup of coffee to make up for lost time.

  I stayed up all night studying, catching only a few hours of sleep between 6 and 9 a.m. Then I left my room and found a quiet corner in the library to study all day—in a place where no one would find me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kyle texted me that afternoon and asked: Are we good?

  Seated at a table in the library, I covered my face with both hands and shook my head. No, we weren’t good, but I couldn’t deal with him in that moment. I still had a lot of material left to cover, and I didn’t want to mess up his game when he needed to be studying, too, so I quickly typed a reply: Yes, we’re good. I am studying the fundamentals of fluid power. You?

  He immediately replied: Boring economics stuff.

  I didn’t know what to say after that, but I knew it had to be something that would end the conversation, because I didn’t want my phone to continue buzzing every five minutes that day.

  Good luck! I texted. Study hard!

  He replied with a smiling face icon, and I set my phone down on the table.

  The rest of the day passed with no more texts from Kyle, nor did he show up at my door in another drunken stupor that night. I was relieved. And I hoped, for his own sake, that he was getting his act together and focusing on the books.

  Just after I shut off the light in my room at 2:00 a.m., he sent me another text.

  Good luck in the morning. I know you’ll do great.

  I decided not to reply. As far as Kyle knew, I was already asleep.

  Shutting off my phone, I set it on the floor and pulled the covers up to my ears.

  When I woke the following morning, I had only one thing on my mind—one single, vital goal: to write my exam and show my prof that I did deserve a place in his class, and that I was a strong enough candidate to be considered for the master’s program.

  Because when it came to mechanical engineering, I couldn’t seem to get enough. I wanted to know everything there was to know about the field and reclaim my place at the top of my class.

  As difficult as it had been lately, at least lessons were learned. It was time for me to focus on my future and stop trying to be something I was not.

  I knew my purpose now.

  And there was no place in my life for Kyle.

  o0o

  Unfortunately, Kyle didn’t see it that way.

  On the day I wrote my last exam, Kyle also wrote his. We both finished at noon, and he wasted no time before texting me from the frat house.

  How’d you do?

  A terrible feeling of dread washed over me because I knew I would have to break up with him all over again, after lying to him for the past week. I felt badly about that—honestly I did. It brought me no pleasure to hurt him, but I also believed I had done the right thing by helping him to stay focused on school and encouraging him to study for his exams. Heaven knew where he might be right now if I’d insisted on a clean break the night he came to my room. He might still be drunk.

  I texted him back. It was rough. How about you?

  It was okay. Glad to be done. Time to celebrate. Want to meet me for lunch at the pub?

  I took a deep breath and thought about it for a few seconds, and couldn’t see any way around it. I would have to see him and put an end to our relationship—today—before I boarded my flight home at 7:00 p.m.

  At least my departure would force a physical separation between us over the summer. Our relationship would simply die a slow, gradual death and Kyle would have time to get over me and hook up with some other girl—as I was certain he would. He was incredibly good looking and he knew how to pour on the charm. As soon as he hit the beaches in South Carolina, he’d be snatched up within a week by a girl who would most likely be a much better match.

  But still… I had an unpleasant task before me and had to get over that hurdle. I had to explain to Kyle how I really felt, and make it clear that I didn’t want to maintain a long-distance relationship over the summer.

  As I texted him back and suggested that we meet in the cafeteria—because I didn’t have much time; I still had to pack up my room and sign out of residence—I felt almost sick to my stomach. I couldn’t imagine any day more stressful than this one. Not only had it started out with an exam I wasn’t ready for, but now I had to break up with my unpredictable boyfriend. For the second time.

  I just hoped nothing would cause me to miss my flight, because there was nothing I wanted more than to get on that plane, buckle in, and get that nightmare over with, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I hate to admit this, after everything I just revealed about myself, but when I got off the plane in Boise, after surviving the break-up in the cafeteria, I was completely bombed. Blitzed, sozzled, tanked-up, and every other word you can think of to describe a young woman of diminutive size who had consumed too much alcohol at high altitudes.

  You see…not only had I just made it through one of the most stressful days of my life, but I always had a terrible fear of flying. Just getting seated on any airplane was enough to give me a coronary.

  As soon as I boarded, I quietly explained my nervousness to the flight attendant, who was kind enough to discreetly spot me a couple of tiny bottles of vodka, which I guzzled in front of the overweight businessman who sat next to me in the window seat.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” I said to him, after I sucked down the first bottle and grimaced at the scalding sensation in my throat. “I hate flying.”

  “That should take the edge off,” he replied with a chuckle. “But really, you have nothing to worry about. Air travel is safer than driving.”

  I nodded my head and unscrewed the tiny cap on the second bottle. “Believe me, I know all the stats. I’ve studied them from top to bottom. But it doesn’t make me feel any less relaxed during takeoff. Do
n’t even get me started about the landing.”

  I paused for a few seconds, then tipped up the second bottle and drank half of it. I forced myself to keep the rest for when we began taxiing toward the runway.

  “Normally, I’m a very rational person,” I told him. “I’m an engineering student, so I’m totally into science and stats, but for some reason, none of my self-talk or any empirical evidence makes a lick of difference when I step on one of these giant death machines. All I can think about is the terror of rapid descent. Sorry,” I said, realizing I probably wasn’t helping his mood any.

  “No worries,” he replied, sitting forward and speaking calmly. “I’ve been a frequent flier for twenty years. Nothing scares me now.”

  “Knock on wood when you say that,” I warned him, “because if you’ve been that lucky for that long, the odds could be stacked against you.” I shut my eyes and slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Geez, just tell me to shut up. That was a stupid thing to say. It’s been a rough day.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said, leaning back. “And don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  I knew he was just trying to be helpful, but I hated when people said that to me on flights, because how could they know everything was going to be fine? No one had a crystal ball.

  o0o

  Happily, the plane didn’t crash, and by the time the pilot announced that we were beginning the descent, I was half in the bag, sound asleep with earplugs in. The man beside me had the sense not to wake me, and my eyes flew open only when the wheels touched down.

  At least, by that point, there was no time in advance for my anxiety to get a foothold. I just clutched the seat in front of me, grit my teeth, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when we slowed down a few seconds later and began to taxi toward the gate.

  The alcohol had helped. It had knocked me out like a sledgehammer. It was a good thing I didn’t fly very often, or I might have a drinking problem.

  A short while later, as I approached the baggage carousel and spotted my brother who had come to pick me up, I spread my arms wide and grinned. “I’m alive!”

  He laughed and strode forward to hug me. “And self-medicated, I see.” He held me tight for a long moment, then drew back. “You look great, even if you can’t count how many fingers I’m holding up.” He held up two.

  “Peace,” I said, returning the gesture. “And you don’t know the half of it.” I was very aware that I was slurring my consonants, but it was past midnight, and Wayne loved me unconditionally, so I didn’t worry about it. “You wouldn’t believe the day I had.”

  “Tell me all about it.” He took me by the arm and led me toward the baggage carousel.

  o0o

  Interestingly enough, my half-brother Wayne was a pilot with a major commercial airline. He was ten years older than me, and had always been my hero, because he’d been taking care of me since before I could walk. My parents had both worked. It was a second marriage for them, and I was the only child from their second kick at the can, which turned out to be more successful than the first. At least that’s what the evidence suggests, because there they were, still together after twenty-two years, and very much in love.

  But back in those early years, Wayne had often been charged with the duty of babysitting, which, as far as I know, he never complained about.

  I loved him more than anyone on the planet.

  “So what happened with Kyle?” he asked, because I had already told him about the break-up that hadn’t stuck the first time.

  “It was ugly,” I replied. “He wanted to go to a pub for lunch to celebrate being done exams, but I convinced him to meet me at the cafeteria because I wanted to be in a public place, on campus.”

  Wayne frowned. “Were you worried he’d get violent?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  The other passengers from my flight were all crowded around the carousel, waiting for the bags to come down. I made eye contact with the businessman who had sat next to me, and he gave me a nod from the opposite side of the carousel. I smiled and waved.

  I turned back to Wayne. “So we got our lunches at the counter, and I waited until we were done eating before I dropped the bomb. Then it was brutal.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I tried to be gentle about it. I said it wasn’t him, it was me, and that I just wanted to take a break over the summer and see how we both felt in the fall.”

  “So he still has hope.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, because he didn’t take it too well. He got angry and accused me of being a tease over the past week, stringing him along when I knew full well that I wasn’t going to give it a second chance. He called me selfish and shallow. Then he called me the B word and a bunch of other profanities before he shoved his plate across the table, spilling my water all over my lap.”

  Wayne shook his head and regarded me intensely. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. No one does. You’re better off without him.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  The baggage carousel came on just then, and bags started sliding down the conveyor belt. All the passengers perked up and began to pay attention.

  “I’d love to get my hands on that turkey head,” Wayne said. “If I had been there, I would have kicked him in the you-know-what.”

  I watched for my suitcases. “That would have been fun to see, but I had it covered. I wasn’t going to back down. After he spilled the water on me, I said, ‘So I guess we’re done now,’ and he said, ‘I guess we are.’ Then he got up and walked out on me, and I haven’t heard a word from him since. He drives home to South Carolina with a couple of guys tomorrow morning, so I’m sure they’ll be partying and picking up women the whole way. He’ll forget about me soon enough.”

  “I hope so,” Wayne said, pointing toward one of my suitcases. “Is that yours?”

  A short while later, we were seated in his truck with all my bags, heading home. I couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed.

  We barely made it two miles beyond the airport when my cell phone buzzed and a long text came in.

  “Ah, shoot,” I said to Wayne as I read it.

  He glanced at me from behind the wheel. “What is it?”

  “It’s Kyle.” I let out a deep breath, feeling completely sober all of a sudden. “I guess he doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘done.’”

  Scrolling through the message, I felt my heart begin to pound.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kyle must have been drunk and talking trash about me with his friends all night. They had probably worked him up into a tizzy, because the text was a series of insults and expletives, calling me every name in the book, and because Kyle knew about my fear of flying, he said he hoped my plane crashed. He even described all the things that could go wrong, and told me to imagine how it would feel when the plane hit the ground like a speeding bullet and burst into flames.

  My stomach clenched tight and I asked Wayne to pull over. He was quick to respond, and within seconds, I was spilling out of the car and retching onto the shoulder of the road.

  Wayne shut off the engine, got out, and hurried to my side to hold my hair back. “You’ll be all right,” he said, rubbing my back. “Except that you’ll be a little hungover tomorrow, that’s all.”

  I was aware of cars speeding past on the road and the smell of new asphalt. After a moment, I collected myself, straightened, and wiped at my burning, watery eyes.

  “It’s not just that,” I replied. “It was the text he wrote. You should read it.”

  Wayne shook his head with annoyance and leaned into the truck to reach for my phone. He read the whole message and turned to me. “Mind if I reply?”

  I waved a hand through the air and leaned back against the side of his truck. “Knock yourself out.”

  Wayne typed a message, pressed send, and showed it to me.

  Hey Kyle. This is Meg’s brother, Wayne. You’re a dic
k. Stop texting my sister and see if it’s possible for you to act like a grown-up.

  I read it and chuckled. “You’re my superhero. Thank you.”

  “He really is a dick. What did you ever see in him?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. It was temporary insanity, I suppose, because he was so good looking. He’s just the kind of guy I’ve always found attractive… Dark hair, blue eyes.”

  “Beauty is only skin deep,” Wayne said, handing back my phone. “It’s the soul that matters. And if he texts you back, don’t reply. Just ignore him. Do not engage. He’ll eventually get tired of badgering you and move on.”

  Wayne ushered me into the truck and shut the door. Then he returned to the driver’s seat, started the engine, checked the side mirror and steered us back onto the road.

  Another text came in, and it said only thing: F.U.

  “Nice,” I said. “I sure can pick ’em.”

  o0o

  Kyle continued to try and contact me over the next few days, but it wasn’t what I expected. The following morning, he actually called my cell phone, but I chose not to answer it. He then had no choice but to send a string of texts where he apologized profusely for the things he had said, and begged me to talk to him. He promised it would never happen again. He promised he would never hurt me or say anything so stupid or mean.

  But I remembered his false promises on the night he came to my dorm room. It was obvious that he wasn’t someone I could ever trust or depend on, and his volatile behavior was not something I wanted in my life.

  I wanted to follow Wayne’s advice and not respond, but after about twenty messages, I felt it would be best to put Kyle out of his misery and accept his apology, but be firm about my decision. All I wanted was for him to move on. I wanted to be free of him.

  I accept your apology, Kyle. Thank you. I appreciate that. But I’m sorry… I don’t want to get back together. We’re not right for each other. You know it as well as I do. Take the summer to forget about us and move on. Please don’t text me anymore. It’s over.