Sweat beaded on my forehead. “Y-Yes sir.”
“It’s about time.” He moved out of the doorway so I could come in. “She’s been in her room since the funeral. I can’t get her to come down.” Irritation and sadness colored his voice.
He watched me stand there, unsure what to do or say next. “Well, go on, kid.”
“Um. Yes sir. Um. Where is her room?” I glanced around the massive house and spotted Raif Hilliard picking up abandoned plates in the living room. How was it possible that this was her normal?
Ricky’s laughter brought me out of my star-struck haze. “That’s right. Donnie was a strict old cat. Upstairs. Second door on the left. Clothes better stay on.” His laser-focused stare could have split an apple in two.
I bolted, taking the stairs two at a time. My heart pounded louder than my footsteps.
Her door was shut. I knocked. No answer.
Turning the knob, I gave the door a little push until a small crack allowed me to see her curled up on her bed, still dressed in black. Music played in the background. A song I’d never heard before, but the voice was unmistakable. Her father’s.
“Skylar?” I pushed the door open further, my words just louder than a whisper. I felt like an intruder, but I couldn’t pull away from the broken girl in front of me. The girl who’d pushed me to face my fears, who’d given me strength and courage when I needed it most.
She didn’t move except to tighten around a small stuffed animal clutched to her chest.
I shut the door behind me and moved to sit on the small patch of space between her knees and the edge of the bed.
She blinked. “Cody?”
I moved closer and pulled away the chunk of hair that covered her eye. “Hey.” I let my hand linger where my fingers had brushed her cheek.
“Will you lay here with me?” Her voice was weak with heartache. She scooted back, giving me space to join her.
I kicked off my shoes.
Her pillow was soft, and her bed like a mass of feathers. We faced each other, side by side. I didn’t know what she wanted. What boundaries to cross or stand behind.
I stretched out my arm, offering.
She slid over, buried her head in my chest and cried. I cried too.
For her pain. For her loss. For the fact that I couldn’t do anything to take it away.
Tucking her tightly against me, I prayed for God to heal her broken heart. I caressed the soft hair by her temple. “I’m so sorry about your dad. I’d give anything to bring him back to you.”
“All I could think about was black sand. During the funeral and the burial. I just kept picturing black sand running though my fingers.”
I rested my cheek against her, inhaled. “Why black sand?”
“It was our last family trip. To a set of islands off Portugal. Volcanoes formed them, so they all had this strange black sand. It’s funny the things you remember. I remember the way the sand felt rough between my toes, how it didn’t stick and form like the sand in Florida.” Her breath caught as if the memory caused her physical pain. “But I can’t remember my mom’s laugh anymore. Can’t remember if it was high or low. If it came out in giggles or was one continuous sound. I’ve tried for days to remember, but all I think about is black sand.” She squeezed my arm, choked on a sob. Then, with the last of her strength, she whispered, “I don’t want to forget him.”
I cradled her face in my hand, littered light kisses on her trail of tears. “I’ll help you remember. Tell me all about them. Every moment, and I’ll make sure you don’t forget.”
Minutes passed without out a word. Then suddenly Skylar let out a soft chuckle. “My dad didn’t think you were good enough for me.”
“Your dad was right. I wasn’t. But I will be.” My hand trailed down her back. We were already locked together, but I needed more. I needed her to understand the depth of my feelings. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
Skylar picked invisible lint off my shirt, then smoothed out the material before starting the process again. “I’m sorry too. I wanted you to make life normal and perfect, to chase away the doom I felt every day. That wasn’t really fair.”
I slid my hand into her nervous one, laced our fingers. “I should have told you about my past months ago. Should have turned in what was happening to Lindsay instead of trying to be Superman. There’re so many things I wish I could do over.”
Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t awkward or strained. Just a moment where two people ponder how different things might have been under other circumstances.
“So, did you win Saturday?” Her head was still pressed against my chest, slightly muffling the sound.
“I did. Got a call from the coach at Georgia Tech, too.”
Her head tilted up, those remarkable eyes meeting mine. “Really? Oh Cody, that’s wonderful.”
“He didn’t make any promises, but he said he’d come watch me again after the new year.”
“I’m really happy for you.”
I leaned in, brushed my lips over the delicate skin on her forehead. “Thank you.”
Skylar’s door swung open, slamming against the doorstop on the wall. We both jumped, our grip getting tighter when I should have bolted off the bed.
Ricky stood in the entry, hands on his hips. “Darn. I really wanted to use Donnie’s shotgun.”
I let her go and stood quicker than was probably necessary. I mean, he’d already seen me next to her.
Ricky’s voice lowered. “Skylar.” She sat up, her almost bare legs still stretched out on the bed. “It’s time to come downstairs. There are people here who want to see you. Talk to you. It’s not okay for you to hide.”
“I know,” she said, pulling her feet over the edge. “I’ll come down.”
Ricky’s eyes flashed to mine. “Well, I guess you’re not a total waste of space. That’s the first word I’ve gotten from her all day. Next time, don’t wait so long.” He spun on his heel and walked away.
Skylar shook her head. “Meet dad number two. The annoying one. Three and four are downstairs.”
She stood and pushed away the wrinkles in her dress. “I hate this thing. Had to buy it right off the rack.” Color infused her cheeks and the dullness in her eyes faded a little.
“So change. You’re dad wouldn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”
She eyed her closet and a small smile appeared. “You’re right. Will you wait for me?”
My heart exploded. She was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I stepped closer, and leaned down to kiss the softest lips given to womankind. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”
SKYLAR
The house was finally silent.
Ricky and the rest of the band said their goodbyes moments ago and, with one final click, the house went back to its familiar calm. Only it wasn’t the same.
My stomach growled with persistence as it had for the last two days. Food wasn’t appealing when everything on my tongue felt as bitter as the loss I’d suffered. But now, the leftover smells of the reception drifted up the stairs and rattled my overly empty middle.
I took each step slowly, hoping the dread I felt earlier wouldn’t return. Even with Cody by my side, the string of condolences did more to scrape at the wound than heal my heart.
The sound of water running stopped my descent. My Aunt Josephine was washing and loading dishes. She still looked completely put together. Hair in a tight bun, her sleek black jacket buttoned with only a white collar showing.
Glasses clattered as she loaded dish after dish, her rhythm never stopping.
Then a slip.
The tumbler fell from her soapy hands and shattered on the floor.
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch or jump out of the way as shards of glass flung across the kitchen tile. Then she did something I never thought possible. She covered her face and began to sob.
It’s a strange feeling when you see someone break. Especially someone who always appear
ed so solid, so unmovable. It was then I saw what my dad had been saying all along. Josie and I shared the same pain, felt the same loss. We just coped differently.
She was do, do, do. And I was hide, hide, hide.
The woman in front of me wasn’t my enemy. She was my family, and that list was becoming frighteningly small.
Shuffling into the kitchen as quietly as possible, I felt an odd sense of strength. She needed me.
At the sound of my entry, Aunt Josephine looked up. Her posture suddenly stiffened as she worked to get herself back into the poised professional she was used to being. “Skylar. I’m sorry. I thought you were upstairs.” She walked to the pantry, pulled out the broom and began to sweep. “There’s a lot of food left if you’re hungry.”
As much as she tried to sound in control, tears still streamed down her checks onto her collar. She swept furiously, pushing together the glass as if doing so would piece back together our now broken life.
My feet moved before I knew what I was doing, and soon I had Aunt Josephine in my embrace. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
The broom clattered on the floor, and her arms were around me, too. Her head pressed into the curve of my neck. I’d never noticed before, but we were the same height.
We held on, mourning, sharing, comforting until neither of us could shed another tear. She released me and stood straight, smiled through her smeared mascara. “I’m guessing Donnie’s giving himself a high-five right now.”
She started laughing right after those words, a sound I’d never heard before. Her laugh was his. Low and solid, coming deep from the gut.
“You laugh like him,” I said, still reeling from the sound.
She straightened her jacket and took a long draw of breath. “You laugh like your mother.”
An ache curled around my heart. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. Mom never called you a spinster.”
Josie laughed again. “Oh, I’m sure she did. Your mom and I used to fight like street cats on a bad day. But I loved her. And I loved your dad.” She reached out, took my hand. “I love you too.”
I squeezed back. “I guess that’s good. We’re all that’s left.”
She let go of my hand and picked up the abandoned broom, soon sweeping the rest of the glass into a tight pile.
I leaned over, held the dustpan as she filled it.
“There are lots of papers to be signed. Now that you’re eighteen, your father’s assets are yours. There’s also a trust, music rights and property.” She trailed off and I wanted to cringe.
Ten minutes. That’s the most she could go without thinking logistics. Oh, well, one moment of bonding was not going to erase her personality.
“Can we discuss it later?” I stood, walked the broken pieces over to the trashcan and dumped them in.
She leaned against the counter, pushed down the stray hairs around her head. “We can. I just need to know one thing. Are you leaving?”
I paused, never considering that not only was I now an adult, but there was no longer anyone here to direct my path.
“Ricky talked to me about you going to stay with him. At least until college starts in the fall. I can handle the sale of the house. If that’s what you want.” She hesitated, obviously trying to be careful not to push too hard.
I thought of Cody and knew I didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to join Ricky in some bachelor pad in southern California where he’d parade women in and out and tell me what to do. “Can I stay here until I figure out what I want?”
Somehow the idea of Josie being right down the street gave me peace. It was like my father knew when he moved us here that this moment would happen, and I would need her.
Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away. “I’d like that very much.”
CODY
The anticipation of tonight led to a frenzied dressing session. Sheesh, I was practically primping like a girl. But I wanted our date to be perfect. It would be the first Friday night without her dad and the beginning of our Christmas break together.
Mouthwash, cologne, deodorant, keys. Phone.
I looked around for the last thing I needed before heading out. It sat on my nightstand charging but was lit up with a flood of texts continuing to come in. I slid the lock and stared at the group message that had a response every few seconds.
Scrolling up, there was a one-minute video from an unknown number.
Dread pulsing in my veins, I hit play.
Lindsay. Naked. On a bed. A shadow pressed over her.
I fumbled to stop the sounds and the actions. The man’s face was hidden, but I knew who it was. Blake.
You have no idea what I’m capable of.
His words landed on me like a two-ton rock. My hand trembled as I read the comments popping up in real time:
OMG. She’s so fat. Did you see that cottage cheese?
Her boobs are totally fake. Like the rest of her.
What a ho. She should just kill herself.
Who’s the guy?
Cody James.
The letters in my name blurred and my knees buckled. Blake hadn’t just fired a bullet. No. He managed a lethal shot, right between the eyes.
I gripped the phone and dialed Skylar. Her number was unlisted. Maybe…
My hopes were dashed when I heard the catch in her throat. “Cody?”
“It’s not me. I swear to you.” I sucked in a breath. She had to believe me. She had to.
“I know.” The softness in her voice calmed the storm, pushed aside the panic that had all but overtaken me. “Have you checked on Lindsay?”
“No, I called you first.” I found control despite the continued banner of text notifications, each escalating in their cruelty. “It’s Friday night, Skylar. I don’t want you to be alone.” Everything changed that day in Skylar’s room. I made promises I had no intention of breaking.
“I appreciate that, but you need to check on her. It’s the right thing to do. Those comments are…”
“I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut, but the images were still branded in my brain. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” There was no pretension in her voice. It was etched with the same concern I had for Lindsay.
“I’ll be one hour, tops.”
“I’ll be waiting. Text me when you know she’s okay.”
I ended the call and immediately tried Lindsay’s new cell. No answer.
Now that I knew Skylar wasn’t upset, I had time to process what this final blow would do to my friend. I thought of how many days she’d skipped the past two weeks. I thought of the sadness in her eyes, the hopelessness that showed when her parents didn’t validate her confession.
I dialed again, panic and fury growing with each ring. The stairs felt too long, the distance to my car too far.
Voicemail.
“Lindsay, pick up your phone. I need to know you’re okay.”
Fumbling with buttons while I unlocked my car, I tried to text.
Me: Call me. Now.
She didn’t call the entire ten-minute drive to her house. Didn’t answer the door when I pounded.
“Lindsay,” I banged against the wood, trying to peek though the blinds next to the door. The ache in my chest was enough to kill me.
Her car was out front. I knew she was home.
“Lindsay!” I pounded some more, pulled and jerked on the locked front door.
A stinging fear ripped through my heart. And I knew. Somehow, I knew if I didn’t get in there, it would be too late.
Hadn’t I faced this same decision? Hadn’t I even planned it? Found the rope, decided on the date? Wasn’t I just as ready to make all the pain go away?
Ringing filled my head as I continue to scream her name. I knew she was in there. Knew she needed me, but I couldn’t get to her.
“God, please,” I whispered.
Back door.
The thought hit like a punch to the chest.
My heart pounding, I ran around to the rear of the house, shoving
open the gate. The screen door was locked, but I managed to rip out the mesh and flick up the metal latch.
“NO!” I tugged on the knob, desperate. The door was secure, but the lock, flimsy. Like the one at the back of my house, it rattled as I jerked, giving me hope. I pulled out my wallet, dropping it twice before I managed to find my driver’s license.
I jammed the card between the lock and frame and pushed with so much adrenaline the wood gave way. I stumbled on the tile, but found my footing and began to search.
“Lindsay!”
The house was painfully silent, my frantic footsteps the only sound echoing off the walls. I took the stairs two at a time. “Lindsay!”
Room after room I hunted until the last corner revealed my worst nightmare.
I froze in the hall. All I could see was the bottle. The empty bottle.
The room seemed to be floating away. I tried to lift my legs, but they resisted, like feet trudging through wet clay.
She wasn’t moving; she didn’t even flinch when I called her name from the hall. She lay flat on her stomach, one arm draped over the side of the bed. Her blond hair cascaded like a blanket over the white t-shirt she wore. A fallen angel.
My knees hit the ground before I ever realized I’d dropped. The thud cleared my head. The room coming back from its distance in the tunnel. Adrenaline rushed though me like nitro in a drag race.
She can’t be dead. She can’t!
Instantly I was at her side. “Lindsay.” I said her name calmly.
Nothing. Not a groan or a whimper.
I shook her limp body. “Please, Lindsay, answer me.” She moved against my hands, but only from the force I exerted. I willed myself to settle down. To react like a man and not a scared little boy.
Two fingers against her neck brought a flood of hope. A pulse barely detectible, but it was there.
Though only seconds, the time it took to dial 911 felt like decades.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“My friend, she took pills.” I reached out, gripped the prescription bottle with my free hand. “Z-O-L-P-I-D-E-M. They’re for sleeping. 1520 Mayberry.” The rush in my voice, the ache of each word made speaking almost impossible.
Sell Out Page 25
