What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  My eyes roll. “Please, Blue.”

  “Sorry,” he says. “I’m not leaving. There could be bears out here, or lions, or tigers.”

  “This isn’t a zoo.”

  “I think it’s best to stay on this side of caution.”

  I push my head back, against the tree. Maybe my silence will bore him.

  “I could stay here all night,” he muses out loud, and brushes leaves and twigs out from under him. “It’s comfortable, quiet, and a little too dark.”

  “Fine, you want to know what’s on my mind?”

  “Every scary detail.”

  “I miss being that smartass, life-loving girl I used to be. It’s only been a few days since my world was turned upside down, but I feel like an asteroid losing pieces with every minute that ticks by. I just want to be that girl again, and I have no idea how to get her back.”

  “The first step is to not worry about it.” I can see him look at me through the blackness. “The second step is to just wake up some random day—it’ll be the day you’re least expecting, but you’ll be okay.”

  “You seem to know a thing or two about it.”

  “I’ve been through loss. It sucks.” He brings himself to his feet and begins moving toward me, the light of the moon shining upon him. “I know what it’s like to want to scream so loud that astronauts can hear you. I know what it’s like to be stuck in quicksand, suffocating and drowning, because the world won’t let you stand up.”

  I stand up with the world’s permission, as he closes in on me, reaching into my heart while reading all the hurt. “You get it.”

  He shrugs. “Like you said, I know a thing or two.”

  This is the worst thing I could possibly say. “I need you to know something, and it’s not easy to say. It’s probably harder to hear, but I would do anything to have him back. Even if it meant rewinding time and changing everything.”

  His face goes blank as he processes what I’ve just said, knowing full well what I meant. I would leave him, even if it meant dooming myself to an ordinary life with Dylan. “I wouldn’t blame you,” he says.

  I shake my head. “How can you be so understanding of that?”

  “Because I told you that I love you, and despite my tendency to lie about the little things, I’d never lie about something so big. And it is big, because you’re my whole world now.”

  He really is something special.

  “And I know that I can’t be your whole world right now, but I’ve got enough patience to last a lifetime.”

  “Is that so?”

  His lips purse. “Well, maybe not that long.”

  I lean in, pushing my weight against him. Standing on my toes, I kiss him softly, but I want so much more. When I go back in, this time with more passion, he pulls back but holds me at the waist. “I don’t want a repeat of earlier.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If we’re going to have sex,” he says contemplatively, “I want it to be because you want me, not because you’re looking for anything else.”

  “Most guys would jump at the chance to bang a girl against a tree.”

  He snickers and brushes his hand through my hair. “I’m not like other guys, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” I smile, knowing that there’s a light at the end of this road.

  “Now, come on. Let’s get out of here before we’re mauled by a bear.”

  We exit the forest after what feels like hours to find a dying fire devoid of life surrounding it. The driveway is almost barren, which means there are a lot of drunk drivers on the road, or there were enough people here with the common sense to refrain from drinking. After what happened to Dylan, I must force myself to have faith that it’s the latter.

  “Charlie,” Tyson calls out. “Come help me.”

  I search for him and I spot him propping Joey up against the side of the house. Blue and I rush to them. Joey is too intoxicated to stay awake, or even stand. His eyes are heavier than a cloud before a thunderstorm. Blue’s stronger than me, obviously, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to assist Tyson in carrying Joey into the house, even if they are cousins.

  Tyson and I pick Joey up off the ground, each pulling an arm around our necks. We’re a little too efficient for our complete lack of experience as we quickly ascend the steps. Blue holds the door open as we stumble into the house.

  “I don’t want to carry him up the steps to his bedroom,” Tyson says with a light laugh. “I’m too drunk for that.”

  “Let’s just put him on the couch,” I reply.

  We move to the couch and lay him down gently. He jerks awake before folding his hands under his head and seemingly drifting back off.

  “Should we take off his boots?” Blue asks.

  I shake my head. “No, he’s weird. He likes sleeping in them when he’s drunk.”

  “You’re right,” he says quietly. “That is weird.”

  By itself, it means nothing, but for the first time, I realize that I know Joey better than his own cousin knows him. I don’t have any cousins myself, but I wonder how close we’d be if I did. I have a mom and that’s about it as far as family is concerned. Sure, technically, I have a dad too, but… yeah. I now understand why the loss of Dylan hurts so much, besides the obvious, because he was more than just an ex, more than just a friend—he was a part of our family.

  Tyson stumbles up the steps, and the real reason he didn’t want to carry Joey up there becomes clear. He wanted the bed to himself and I don’t blame him. Blue’s at the door, waiting for me, but I get lost watching Joey sleep. He’s survived the longest, toughest day of his life, and now, at day’s end, he’s able to find some peace.

  “Charlie,” he says, his eyes blinking open.

  “I’m going to bed, Joey. I’ll see you in the morning.” I turn to walk away.

  “Come here,” he mumbles.

  A part of me doesn’t want to while another part of me, the better part, knows I have to. I wave at Blue, who steps out onto the porch, shutting the screen door behind him.

  “What?” I ask Joey as I approach the couch, hoping for an apology but expecting the worst.

  “It’s about earlier.”

  “It’s okay.” I rub his shoulder. “We can talk about it later.”

  “I meant it.”

  No apology, then…

  “You can’t be with Blue.”

  Every time I wake up next to Blue, I feel something different. Like I’ve been a million different people since the day I met him. This time I have no choice but to run. I’ve been lying here awake for at least an hour, alternating between staring out the window, at the ceiling, and at him. There’s a darkness around his right eye that threatens to turn into a bruise before he awakes. Any second now, I’ll make my move. If I wait any longer than that, he’ll wake up, and I’ll never have this choice again.

  In many ways, Joey was right. I can’t be with Blue with this weight over me. In the brief time I’ve known him, less than thirty days, I’ve fallen for him in every way you can fall for someone. I’ve been to ecstasy and back, but like all the best things in the world, the timing couldn’t be worse.

  We went to bed in his apartment above his uncle’s garage in a quiet understanding. An agreement that we could work everything out if we’re just patient with it. Of course, he didn’t know what Joey had said to me or what it meant—the idea that my relationship is hurting those I care about.

  Gently, I push the white sheets off me and to the side. I grab my jacket off the floor and creep toward the edge of the room. The door is silent as I pull it open. I pass through the frame, and then turn my head over my shoulder. He’s so peaceful and happy as he sleeps. Either he’s in the midst of a great dream or he’s not dreaming at all. It feels like I’m running away from him. More than that, I feel as if I’m leaving him. And it’s not because I don’t love him. It’s because I love him too much. If I can force us to take a break, then maybe we can pick up again right where we left of
f when I’m able to be that girl that he fell in love with.

  I’m too lost, too angry, too bitter, too emotional, and too unstable to be with right now. He deserves better than a girl who changes her mind every other scene.

  The rain must have picked up again, and then promptly ended just a few short hours ago. Puddles are formed in the road. My mom, in her car, comes to a stop beside me. I open the door and hop in with no intention of saying a word.

  She steps on the gas, spinning rain against the asphalt. “I wish you would tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Why does anything have to be wrong?” I ask, staring blankly out the window.

  “Because I’m picking you up at seven in the morning after just getting home from a flight two hours ago.” There’s concern in her voice, like she senses the hell I’m going through. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone these past few days.”

  “Can you just drive?” I say deadpan.

  Her thumbs tap against the wheel. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

  “No.” It’s not like I don’t want to, because I do. But lying to myself is enough lying for the day. What the hell am I doing, anyway? I should have her drop me back off at Joey’s, but we’re already back on the main road, and I don’t have the energy to tell her to turn around. I’d just change my mind, anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I’m sitting on the kitchen counter, lost in a daze as I stare at pictures on the refrigerator. There’s one picture in particular that I can’t take my eyes away from. It was taken about ten years ago at the local park. There’s five of us in it—Summer, Tyson, Joey, Dylan, and me. We’re all smiling from ear to ear, and it’s an innocence that none of us will ever get back. The picture itself is comforting, but the happiness is hidden under layers of pain.

  My phone vibrates against the counter, and I don’t even need to see who is calling. I know it’s Blue. I turn the ringer off and contemplate tossing the phone into a glass of water. Seven missed calls and it’s only a quarter past noon. Compared to yesterday, when there were twenty, it’s a relief.

  Mom walks into the kitchen. “Your phone’s ringing,” she says as she grabs the coffeepot. She acts as if she’s out of the loop, but something tells me she knows what’s going on. “Why don’t you answer it?”

  I shrug. “It’s just a bill collector.”

  She turns to me, coffee in one hand. “You don’t have any bills.”

  Busted. My upper lip sinks into my lower lip and I nod. “Touché.”

  “I know you think I can’t or won’t understand,” she says and steps closer to me. “But give me a chance.” She takes another step, and I’m thinking that if she comes any closer, I might just run.

  “You know I don’t want to talk about it, so why keep trying?”

  “Because you’re hurting, and I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Nothing seems like a perfect alternative.”

  “I can’t do that. You’re my daughter, and it’s killing me to see you this way.”

  “Then don’t,” I say. The words come out angry and that’s become perfectly normal over the course of the past few days. I’ve lost control of my emotions and I’m within an inch of a temporary bipolar diagnosis. Maybe it’s just a fleeting bout of depression. If I wake up a year from now and still feel this way, I’ll seek some sort of help. But right now, I can’t help but believe my behavior is as normal as can be for an eighteen-year-old girl who just lost her best friend.

  “Being angry at the world won’t solve your problems.”

  “It’ll have to do for now,” I say and hop off the counter. My feet slam into the floor and I brush past her.

  “Charlie,” she calls to me.

  I ignore her, grab my hooded jacket, and rush out the front door.

  “Charlie!” Joey calls out to me. Just my fucking luck. I pivot and put my hand on the doorknob. I don’t want to talk to Joey and I don’t want sympathy from my mother. It’s a tough call.

  “What do you want, Joey?” I say with my head down.

  “I just wanna talk to you.”

  A sigh escapes my lips, and I turn around to face him. He has both hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Is that so?”

  He just nods his head.

  “Got something else you want to get off your chest?”

  “Kind of,” he says as he pulls his left hand out of his pocket and scratches his head. There’s a hesitation in his voice, so I take the lead.

  “What is it? Did you leave a few key words out of your drunken truth-bomb rant?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s exactly like that, Joey!” I yell as my voice breaks.

  “I just wanted to say—”

  “For you to question how much I loved him.” I jab a finger at him, scolding him like he’s a child. “And Blue, you attacked him!”

  “I really am sorry.”

  “That makes it all better. Erases everything. Really, what do you want? A hug?”

  He wipes his eye with the corner of his hand. It’s not something you see every day, but I’ve seen it a lot lately. Strong men showing emotion. My stomach turns. I can’t do this. I can’t be that person who lashes out, hurting others. There’s a moment of silence where neither of us says anything. “What happened to us?” I ask with a laugh, but I’m not being funny.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess we’re all just fucked up.”

  There’s another pause where neither of us says a word.

  “Do you think we’ll ever get things back to the way they used to be?” he asks. I’m not sure if he really expects an answer, or if it’s just some kind of deep thought that he’s posing as a question.

  I purse my lips. “I don’t know. Everything just feels so broken.”

  “If it makes it any better, I apologized to Blue. Bought him a bottle of whiskey.”

  Every time I hear his name, I think of him. More than that, I see him—that face, that smile, those beautiful fucking eyes.

  “How is he?” I scrape my shoe against the asphalt.

  “Blue?” he asks. “Haven’t seen him much. He hasn’t really been home.”

  I clench my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “You’re not ignoring him because of me, are you?”

  “No.” I open my eyes. “Maybe. I just need a little space and a little time.”

  “He really is a good guy.”

  I nod my head. “Yeah, he is.”

  He moves toward me and places his palm on my shoulder. “I’ve gotta go. It’s my first day back to work.” He pulls his hand back, readying himself to walk away.

  I practically lunge at him, wrapping both arms around him, and rest my head against his chest. It takes a moment, but his hands come down and embrace me. I want to cry, but my eyes are dry. Maybe I am crying, but inside… All I know is that these last seventy-two hours without physical affection have taken a toll on me, and there isn’t anywhere else in the world I’d rather be right now than here, being held.

  That’s a lie. There is one place I’d rather be–in Blue’s arms, but I’ve mucked that up.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he says under his breath.

  I pull back and his arms slide out from around me.

  “Take care,” I say.

  He nods, then turns to walk away. But I have one more thing to say. “Yes.”

  Curious, he turns back around, but still walks.

  “Yes. I think we’ll get things back to the way they were.” I force a smile. “Someday.”

  His eyes trail to the corner, then back toward me. “Yeah. Someday.”

  I watch him as he walks away. His hands fall back into his pockets.

  And then it hits me. He’s going back to work at the place he used to spend his days with his best friend. At the garage. I’m not sure how he’s going to do it. I know that I couldn’t. My eyes dampen and it brings me an odd sense of relief. I wipe away the tears and know that I’m going to be okay. Just not today.<
br />
  My life is turning into a Hallmark movie. That’s the only explanation I can think of as to why it rains every time I visit this place. Dylan’s grave is covered in flowers that are now drowning in a pool of mud. As a temporary headstone, a large toy tractor sits where the mound of dirt meets the grass. That was his favorite toy growing up.

  While most of my childhood is a blur, I have vivid memories of the day he brought that tractor in to class for show and tell. I was a childhood cliché and brought a collection of Barbies in to class that Friday afternoon. After class was over, we snuck out of school.

  Our parents found us outside on the playground. There’s a photo around somewhere to prove it, but it’s been long forgotten about by everyone but me. In my memory, and in that picture, we are both crawling on the ground. I hold my prized Barbie on top of his tractor while he pushes it through the grass. Our parents were worried sick about us and had every right to be angry. But they weren’t angry. At least we didn’t notice if they were. Maybe the childhood bliss that flashed across our faces made them forget our transgression.

  I’m soaked, but it’s warm enough out for me not to care. The sadness that I felt the last time I was here, the day of Dylan’s funeral, is gone. It’s been replaced with an odd sense of peace. I read online that some people experience a downtime of depression after taking Molly. For some people, it only lasts a few days, and for others, it can last weeks. I would guess that I’m one of those in the latter category, the after-effects of the drug pulling tight on my already broken heart.

  “Hey, Charlie,” Blue says quietly from behind me. I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him, but his finding me is just my luck.

  “Do I have a tracker in my arm or something?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen your medical transcripts lately.”

  That’s just the type of corny joke I love. The fact that I don’t laugh is troubling.

  “It’s just a bad joke.”

  I turn around. “Really? You mean you weren’t serious?”

  His hair is tousled and wet, looking like it’s grown at least an inch over the past few days. Now I know that’s not possible; he just looks different. His eyes are sunken like he hasn’t been sleeping. I guess that makes us twins. He’s wearing torn jeans, boots, and a tight-fitting plain white tee, the rain outlining every single line of his body. He’s starting to look like one of them. And by one of them, I mean Joey and Tyson. And Dylan. You know what they say about women who spend too much time together? That scientific discovery that their periods will actually sync? Well something like that seems to happen to the boys in this town.