by Monica James
The rest of the trip home is traveled in silence and when we pull into the driveway of Whispering Willows, Saxon leaves the truck running, indicating he’s not getting out. His empty stare out the windshield also reveals he has no intention of telling me where he’s going.
Samuel opens the door, also getting the hint and offers me his hand as he jumps out. I accept. The moment my hand slips into his, I feel nothing. No fireworks, no butterflies, nothing. Unlike when I merely brushed against Saxon’s leg.
“You coming back for dinner?” Sam asks, looking at Saxon.
“No,” he replies, leaning over the seat and slamming the door shut. I shudder at the harsh sound.
He takes off down the drive, never looking back, and for once, neither do I. If I’m going to chase the chaos, then I have to embrace the silence first. And there’s only one way I know how.
* * * * *
Two weeks later
“What time is Sophia coming over?”
“Ten.” Samuel’s sigh is a common occurrence these days. But I suppose that’s better than hearing him yell. The past two weeks have been about me embracing the silence, much to the horror of Samuel, who has wanted to embrace the noise.
He’s trying, he really is, and sometimes when I see snippets of the old Sam shine through, I think that maybe today is the day I go back to loving him. But that day never arrives. And neither does Saxon.
I’ve seen Saxon no more than fifteen minutes over these past two weeks. He comes and goes as he pleases, and honestly, I’m surprised he’s still coming. I have no idea why he’s still here. I refuse to believe it’s got anything to do with Sophia. They barely know one another. It’s impossible they’re already attached. They’ve only known one another for a few weeks. But that’s all it took for me.
“Did you want to grab lunch after my session?”
“Maybe,” I reply, not raising my eyes from my iPad. I’m emailing work about something very important. Something which will hopefully help me see past the storm.
My detachment isn’t intentional. Sam and I have made peace. He’s apologized countless times for his behavior, and for the fact he still doesn’t remember me. He’s asked to watch our home movies, even begged I take him to all of our favorite places, and I have, but it’s just not the same.
I look back at these events, places with fond memories, but I have no desire to make new ones. All I can focus on is my future, but the question is, does that future include Sam?
The thought of leaving him tears out my heart, but so does the thought of staying. I want to support him, to help him remember who he once was, but in doing that, I have to remember who I was. And those are memories I wish to forget.
“Have you seen Saxon?” he asks, sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching me type out the email.
“Nope.” If he’s trying to make conversation, best he chooses another topic.
“I think it’s weird they’re dating.”
“They’re not dating.” I’m quick to jump in and contest his claims.
“I’m pretty sure I still remember what dating is, Lucy,” he says with a grin. “We can only assume he’s spending most of his time over there, and he doesn’t have time for his brother—they’re definitely dating.”
“Looks like he missed the memo then,” I mumble unhappily. When Sam waits for me to continue, I state, “Bros before hoes.”
He splutters up his coffee. “I don’t remember you being this funny.”
I don’t bother amending that he doesn’t remember me at all because his uncomfortable face reveals that he knows what I’m thinking.
“I still think it’s weird, and maybe a little unethical.” He has my attention. I place my iPad on the table, implying I’m listening. “Well, Sax is my identical twin. Does she find me attractive?”
I cock an eyebrow. Is he fishing for a reaction? Of jealousy, maybe? Is he testing to see if I go all medieval and beat her ass for looking at my man? The sad part is, I don’t know who my man is.
I’m saved by the bell, literally, as the doorbell sounds. Although the person seeking entrance is someone I’m not excited to see. I stand, leaving Sam’s question unanswered as I answer the door. Why can’t this woman have an ugly day? Every strand of hair sits perfectly straightened. Not a blemish or imperfection in sight.
“Good morning, Lucy.” She’s always in a good mood. Would it kill her to have a bad day once in a while? I don’t want to question why she looks overly chirpy this morning.
I open the door, begrudgingly welcoming her in. “Hi, Sophia.”
Usually, I would make small talk, but today, the only talk I would make is hounding her about Saxon’s whereabouts.
“It’s been two months since Samuel’s accident and I really think he’s making wonderful progress. Have you noticed he’s been more receptive of wanting to remember?” I stare at her ruby tinted lips, wondering if she left a mark on Saxon’s cheek when she kissed him goodbye.
Shaking my head to dislodge those thoughts, I reply, “Yes, definitely.” And that’s all she’s getting out of me.
I lead her down the hallway where Sam is happily waiting for her. It appears her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. I need to stop this cattiness…now. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
I make a new pot of coffee and idly scour the internet on my cell. Piper’s text is a grateful distraction.
Wanna catch up? Miss you.
I miss her, too. Since that night with Saxon, I’ve purposely been staying away. She has been busy studying and working double shifts, but every time she suggests we catch up, I’ve always made an excuse not to.
I need my best friend.
Yes! Come around for dinner? Around 7?
I’ll be there!
She doesn’t ask who will be there because she doesn’t have to. The few times we’ve spoken, I’ve let drop that Saxon is never around.
My thoughts bite me in the ass however when the backdoor swings open and in strolls the devil. The cell slips from my fingers and scuttles along the kitchen floor. Did he come here with Sophia? The cell only stops once it bounces off his dirty boot. He peers down at it, unimpressed.
His distaste, as always, hurts my feelings and I quickly drop to a squat to pick it up, hoping to hide my sadness. But he gets there first. When he offers me the phone, I look at it, and then up at him suspiciously. What’s the catch?
He waves it at me, a half a smile tugging at his lips. A sight I haven’t seen for a long time. The cell lights up with a text message. He looks down at it. “Piper wants to know if she should bring cake.” The casual mention of her irritates me, and I snatch the phone from his hand.
“So you’re having dinner. How nice.” And out comes the asshole Saxon I’ve come to dislike. I don’t bother answering him and stand.
Opening the fridge, I reach for the carton of milk, which thanks to Saxon being MIA, is full. I make myself another cup of coffee, but don’t bother asking if he’d like one. “What time is dinner?”
The coffee goes down the wrong pipe and I choke. Tears sting my eyes as I thump my chest, attempting to breathe. “You want to come?” I ask, my voice croaky and winded.
“Sure.” He steals my coffee.
“Why?” I don’t hide my surprise.
“Why not? It’ll give you a chance to get to know Sophia better.”
I see red. “I know Sophia just fine. And besides, Piper is coming.”
He shrugs, unruffled. “The more the merrier.”
That’s it. I’ve had it with his carefree, offensive behavior. “You’re unbelievable.”
“That’s what she said,” he has the gall to reply.
He’s looking for a fight. I can read his body language. But I’m all out of fight. This person standing before me is not the man I believed him to be, so fighting him would be pointless…because I don’t know who I’m fighting for anymore.
“Dinner is at seven. It’ll be vegetarian.”
My admission catc
hes him off guard. “You’re a vegetarian again?”
“Yes, there are a lot of things about me that’s changed,” I bite back confidently.
He’s speechless as I snatch back my cup of coffee from his hand and leave the room with my head held high.
It’s the first time in forever I’ve felt like me. And I like it.
* * * * *
At 6:59 p.m. I curse my confidence because there is no doubt in my mind that this dinner will be a complete disaster.
Needing to add a splash of color in my life, I decided to wear my favorite pastel green lace dress. It’s cut off at the sleeves with a high collared neckline. My makeup is minimal—nothing but powder on my cheeks, mascara, and peach ChapStick. As I slip on my cowboy boots, I hear the front door closing and the unmistakable bubbly voice of Piper.
I’ve missed her more than I thought possible.
I gave her a heads up about Saxon, thinking she’d cancel, but she didn’t seem concerned. I don’t know how she can remain so calm. But that’s Piper—-always the optimist.
My boots tap on the floorboards as I walk down the hallway, a sense of anticipation trailing behind me. I just want this dinner over with.
“Please tell me you made vegetarian lasagna?” Piper says, hands interlocked in front of her as I enter the kitchen.
I laugh. “Yes, I did.”
Her lips smack together. “Puts my store bought Key Lime to shame.” I look down at the pie, which looks delicious.
Sam opens a bottle of red, pouring us three glasses. When he fills my glass halfway, I indicate to fill it right up. He doesn’t argue, nor does he question my need to get wasted before dinner.
“How’s school, Pipe?” I ask, beginning to prepare the garden salad.
“It’s okay. Happy it’s my last year. Looking forward to earning some real cash.”
“What do you do?” Sam asks, genuinely curious.
“Interior design,” she replies. When she smirks, I know nothing good can come from this conversation. “I still think it’s so weird you don’t remember anything at all.”
“I remember some things,” he disputes.
“Just not the important things,” she counters.
Silence.
Well, this dinner has commenced just how I predicted it would. And when the backdoor swings open, it just goes from bad to worse.
“Hello my nearest and dearest,” Saxon quips, starting the night off on an uncomfortable note. I don’t bother turning around and busy myself with hacking into the tomatoes.
Sam plays the hospitable host, offering Sophia a drink, while I try not to imagine I’m slicing and dicing her head. “Smells delicious, Lucy,” she says, attempting to make conversation.
Putting on the bravest face I can muster, I turn and smile. But when I see a bunch of sunflowers sitting innocently in her hands, I wheeze.
“Saxon told me they were your favorite.” She unknowingly offers me the bunch, not realizing the memories these flowers hold—the memories of when I rode on the back of Saxon’s Harley, never feeling freer. But Saxon does. Why would he do that?
“Th-thanks,” I stutter, accepting the flowers. “Dinner is almost ready.” It’s a subtle hint to get out of the kitchen.
My eyes flick over to Saxon, who is standing by Sophia. They look so…perfect together, and it makes me sick. What also looks perfect is him. He’s in blue jeans and a light blue button down shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, exposing his taut forearms. His hair is styled with some product and he’s clipped his scruff, but he still looks edgy. And so very hot. She looks stunning as usual in a simple coral dress and gold gladiator sandals.
The biker and the doctor—somehow, a match made in heaven.
With that thought in mind, I turn back around and pretend to busy myself by looking for a vase before I burst into tears.
Sam leads them into the dining room, while Piper stays behind, watching me closely. “Are you okay, Luce?”
“I should be the one asking you that,” I reply, ignoring her question, as the answer would be no.
“It’s okay,” she says nonchalantly. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
“But it doesn’t bother you?” I ask.
“No, it’s cool. It’s not like I was in love with him or anything.” So it appears casual sex is all the craze this year.
Not wanting to think about this further, I give Piper the garlic bread and salad, while I dish up the lasagna. It looks like slop, as I take no care in serving it up. Presentation is the least of my concerns. I try not to slam Sophia and Saxon’s plates down in front of them, but when Saxon moves back to avoid flying projectiles of mozzarella and marinara, I know my efforts to remain civil are diminishing by the second. I take my seat near Sam, who is at the head of the table, facing opposite Saxon. What a way to ruin my appetite.
We eat in silence, the air surging with an undercurrent of uneasiness. I don’t fail to notice Saxon’s eyes on me, watching my every move. Annoyed, I meet his stare, silently questioning what his problem is. He responds with an egotistical smirk.
“So Saxon mentioned you’ve turned vegetarian,” Sophia says, breaking through the staleness. “I think that’s really great. I was vegan all through college. It really made a difference to my wellbeing.” Of course she was. If she told me the sun shined out of her ass, I’d believe it, because little Miss Perfect can do no wrong.
“Yeah, I have,” I reply when she waits for me to elaborate. “I guess I fell off the band wagon, but I’m back on.” I can’t help but direct my comment to Saxon, who sips his Budweiser.
“That’s fantastic. I really admire that you’re sticking to your beliefs.”
“Lucy is passionate about a lot of things,” Samuel kindly says, cutting into his meal. “She’s just been assigned to help in Syria for three months.”
All eyes swing my way, as I haven’t told anyone that I’ve offered to go on the three month aid tour of Syria and its surrounding cities. Taking my mom’s advice on board, this is the only way I can follow my heart. To see what true chaos is to appreciate the calm. I know the time away from both Saxon and Samuel will do me good and I’m hoping once I return, I’ll know what I want to do.
“I’ll miss her, but they need her more than I do,” Sam concludes. He’s been awfully supportive, but it’s not his choice. I’m going either way. I won’t let him stop me. Not again.
“When are you leaving?” I’m surprised when it’s Saxon’s saddened voice I hear.
“If all goes well, I leave in two weeks. I have my passport. That’s all I need,” I reply calmly.
He is anything but calm as he states, “It’s a warzone over there. Worse than it has been in years. What with air and land bombings, kidnappings, and unspeakable treatment of foreigners if captured, it’s not a place for—”
“For what?” I question, cocking my brow as I rest my fork against the side of my untouched plate.
“It’s just dangerous,” he amends, sensing I’m close to boiling over.
“I know what it is. But sometimes, the unseen dangers are far more hazardous than the seen,” I bite back, no longer talking about going overseas. Saxon reads my innuendo and clenches his jaw.
Sophia clears her throat. “That’s really commendable and brave.” Of course she’d say that—she just wants me gone.
“It’s not brave, it’s stupid,” Saxon snaps, still glaring at me. Piper shifts beside me, sensing an argument brewing.
Tossing my napkin onto the table, I snap, “Nice to know you think helping people in need is stupid. You really are your mother’s son.” Low blow, but his comment reminds me of Kellie’s bigotry. It also reminds me how not that long ago, he was all for me going over. What’s suddenly changed? I thought he’d be happy to see the back of me.
Sam stiffens up beside me, and I instantly feel remorseful for being so nasty to his mom. “Sorry, Sam.” I reach for his hand, squeezing lightly.
The table rattles and when I look to see what’s caused the commotio
n, I see Saxon white knuckling it. He’s scowling at mine and Sam’s connection. He’s…jealous? He’s a mixed bag of emotion, and I don’t know what comes next.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” he announces, kicking back his seat.
Sophia looks up at him mid-bite, while I defiantly match his stare. He can’t come in here and tell me what to do. It’s my life, and he’s made it clear he wants no part of it. The front door slams shut, ending all talks of me going overseas.
I pick at my food, a bystander to the conversation going on around me, as I have nothing I want to say. All I want to do is find Saxon and slap him. “I’ll just put on some coffee,” I say abruptly, interrupting Sam’s story of him trying to shoe Potter.
The table looks up at me, but no one comments on my crazy-eyed look. I collect my plate and make a mad dash for the kitchen. Once inside, I place my hands on the counter and bend low, taking three deep breaths.
“Luce, what’s going on?” Piper’s slow footsteps expose she’s worried I’m seconds away from losing it.
“How can you sit there and not want to…to…punch him in the face?” I exclaim, unable to hide my feelings any longer.
“Who?”
“Saxon,” I reply, standing tall and facing her. “How can you stand seeing them together after what happened between you two?” There, I said it, and it felt just as I thought it would—terrible.
Her brows draw in, confused by my comment. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
The walls begin closing in on me as I scrutinize her bewilderment. “I-I saw you go into Saxon’s room the night of the party.”
“Yeah, and?” But her brows lift, almost shooting up into her hairline. “Oh my god! You think we slept together?”
“You did,” I affirm, wanting to expose that I know. “Saxon told me you did.”
Her mouth parts and she shakes her head. “No, Lucy, we didn’t.”
“What?” I gasp, the word catching in my throat. “B-but Saxon said you did.”
“Well, I’m flattered, but he’s a liar.”
No.
This entire time I thought that he slept with her, and when I confronted him, he never set me straight. Why?
