Poet (Avenues Ink Series Book 3)

by A. M. Johnson

I laughed. “Three… is that a yes?”

  She held out her hand. “Give me your phone.” I reached into my pocket and did as she asked, maybe a little too eager, but who gives a shit.

  I was intrigued, beguiled, and as her thumb swept over the keyboard, I might’ve allowed myself to see beyond my own fear, to entertain the possibility that Melissa could be the one who’d made all that waiting… worth it. She gave me the phone, and I let my fingers dust along the soft skin of her hand as she pulled away. Her dimples were out in full force, and I filled my lungs with jasmine, the scent of hope, as she explained, “Three means… call me, and we’ll see.”

  Win number three.

  The air was damp with the incoming storm, and the thin dress I’d worn to the party, not even the cardigan I had on, shielded me from the bite of wind as it whipped through the headstones stirring the masses of fallen leaves. There wasn’t a gravestone for him though, just a brass placard in the grass with Chance’s full name, date of birth, and date of death. My throat contracted painfully around that last word.

  Some people think it’s weird, creepy, to come to the cemetery at night, and I guess I was able to see their point, but seeing Chance’s name stamped in metal, in daylight, it never felt right. We’d belonged to midnight and the light of the moon had always made the earth less apparent below my feet. At night, it was easier to pretend he wasn’t really six feet under.

  I didn’t love Chance anymore. We hadn’t really loved each other for a long time before he’d died. It had been more about getting high and less about feelings. But I missed his company, his loyalty, even if it’d been a fucked-up chain, laced with poison that had kept us together all those years.

  “You still haunt me,” I whispered to the ground. My arms hugged my body as the first chilled drop of rain cut down my cheek.

  It was freezing, dark as hell, and way too late. It wouldn’t be honest if I’d said I didn’t really understand why I’d come here. It was the color of Kieran’s eyes that steered me here, and how that vibrant blue had faded along with his anticipation when I’d declined his offer to walk me to my car tonight. That same vibrant blue had been colored with expectation all night and, for a little while, I had relaxed in it. It had felt good to be wanted. But expectation came with hope, ideas, and when I’d decided to call it a night, his excitement drained from his irises. The only thing I could think of, at the time, was that I’d let him down already.

  Maria, as usual, had been right, and I’d let myself have fun. Even got his number. Kieran was a smart ass but not an asshole, he had confidence but wasn’t smug. He made me laugh more, smile more tonight than I had in a very long time. I’d watched him interact with his brother, Kelly, his friends from Avenues, and he’d never once left my side. He’d introduced me to everyone, and I’d felt like his. A perilous and fleeting thought, but I’d entertained it, nevertheless. I stayed at the party longer than I’d thought I would, longer than I should’ve, and it was precisely the reason I was now sitting in the rain in the middle of the city cemetery.

  “I like him,” I said to the dirt and worms, my past decaying in the soil below my heels. “And I shouldn’t.” The wind scooped my hair into tendrils, and the rain, more like a mist, seeped through the thin material of my dress. My lips began to tremble as I squeezed myself even tighter.

  “I don’t need your permission. But I think about how we were, before everything. Those precious six months when we loved each other more than the drugs. He looked at me tonight like you used to. Like I was the only one in the room, like I’m still worth something.” My heart started to swell inside my chest, and I dipped my head and closed my eyes as I inhaled. “How do I move on? How do I say yes to the guy with beautiful blue eyes when I know all I’ll do is disappoint him?”

  I opened my eyes and held out my hand, catching a small pool of moisture in my palm. I stood there silent for a few minutes until I couldn’t feel my fingers. “I wish so many things had happened differently, Chance. I wish Jordan could’ve known us before the pills, the heroin. We were so fucking selfish. I wish for so many wrongs to be turned right, but that shit isn’t ever going to change, and I have to move on.” My words shivered and swarmed my spine. “I like him, Chance, and I wanted to say yes when he asked me to dinner.” But I didn’t deserve to say yes.

  The wind curled its icy fingers around my body and, for a split second, I thought I heard someone whisper, “You do.” My stomach dropped and I turned around. Nothing but hovering trees and gravestones. A nervous laugh quietly bubbled past my lips. I was soaked to the bone, possibly giving myself fucking hypothermia, all because a guy asked me to dinner.

  He’s not just a guy.

  The butterflies in my stomach whirred their wings. He was a good guy. It was easy as hell to see there wasn’t a speck of dirt on his soul. I’d met the devil and danced for his children. I could see through the glamour and the false bravado of men. I’d used it to get what I needed, used it to make myself feel necessary but, Kieran, he was the real deal. Something innocent and unsure hid beneath his warm smile, and I wanted to know more.

  “I don’t know where you are, and I try not to think about it because I’m sure I’ll be there with you some day. We’ve both had too many wrongs to merit anything more than a silent spot alone somewhere between here and hell. I’ve been good. Five years sober, but I still can’t seem to shake that underlying beast, his claws dug deep the day I met you. I haven’t visited in a while, and I’m sorry for that, but leaving you behind was the only way I was able to move forward, and I needed to move. I needed to get clean.” As clean as I could. I couldn’t help what I’d already done. There were stains I’d never be able to wash away. “I need to say goodbye.”

  I should’ve done it sooner, but I hadn’t been able to brave it. The finality of Chance, my history, it suffocated me, but tonight I felt a spark of my former strength, and I wanted to keep it burning. The tips of my fingers had pruned under the weight of the rain. I leaned down and touched the carved metal plate as I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and murmured through the rain drops that trickled over my lips, “Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo, santificado sea tu Nombre; venga a nosotros tu reino;hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día;perdona nuestras ofensas, como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden;no nos dejes caer en la tentación, y líbranos del mal. Amén.”

  Chance didn’t deserve the Lord’s Prayer, he’d hurt me in ways that I’d never speak of but, then again, neither did I. Together, we’d made nightmares. All those foreign hands on my body still kept me up some nights, and even the thoughts of JoJo’s smile couldn’t chase away the black.

  I rose to my full height and left Chance to the beetles and loam. As I maneuvered around the gravesites on numb legs, I let myself think about Kieran’s smile, and how, for that sweet small moment, when he’d realized I was there to meet him, the blue of his eyes had illuminated into an ethereal flame. I let it warm my cold bones as I moved quickly to my car. Once I was safe inside, and the heat was turned up full blast, the image faded. I’d realized over the years, small doses of happiness are just as dangerous as my old vices.

  The notification light on my phone was blinking, and I reached across the console to grab it. My dress squeaked against the vinyl as I shifted, Maria was going to kill me. I’d just make sure to have it dry cleaned before I gave it back. A small giggle parted my lips when I opened my text messages.

  Cabrón: Feel free to wear that dress to church on Sunday.

  I laughed as I opened my contacts and started to replace the name he’d programmed, but then stopped. I liked the private joke, maybe too much. My front teeth pinned my lower lip into place as I replied.

  Me: I’m attending church with my folks, and I think my dad and Father Becker would have a heart attack if this dress came within a five-mile radius of the church. I think there’s a strict ‘No bra, No service’ policy.

  I hit send before I changed my mind. I
reread my message three times.

  Cabrón: What would the neighbors think?

  I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress my growing smile. I shouldn’t be smiling. Not here. I was still parked in a graveyard, in a soggy dress, saying goodbye to the man who had helped me destroy myself.

  Me: Good night, smart ass.

  I placed my phone inside the drink holder and pulled out of the parking spot. It was a fast twenty-minute drive to my apartment, and I ignored the blinking blue light on my phone as I placed it inside my purse. I grabbed the clutch Maria let me borrow and my own bag as I exited my car. The parking garage wasn’t much warmer, but at least there was no wind. The stairwell was dingy with brown rainwater inching past the cracks in the foundation. This place was a piece of shit. I’d rented my studio apartment after I’d gotten out of rehab, staying with my parents would’ve driven me back into drugs. The therapists had told me to lean on my mom and dad for support, but I couldn’t burden them any further. The shame in their eyes those first few months, they’d tried to hide it, but I’d been drug free and seeing clearly. There’d been no mistaking the fear and worry I’d caused them.

  I had to jiggle the handle and push up in order for the lock to click. My apartment door had never shut properly. I groaned as I shoved the door shut and turned on the lamp that sat on my bedside table. I tossed my things on the bed, and peeled the rain-laden sweater and dress from my body, laying it over the footboard. My skin puckered with goose bumps as I walked to the thermostat. I raised the heat well past what I could afford, threw my rain soaked underwear into my hamper, and jumped into the shower. The olive green tiles were chipped, and the tub floor had permanent streaks of gray that I couldn’t ever seem to get rid of no matter how much bleach I’d used.

  It didn’t take long for exhaustion to set in as the hot water turned my skin red. I hurried through the motions, not lingering too long. Once I was satisfied the ice had thoroughly thawed, I dried off, slipped into my favorite flannel pj bottoms, and old t-shirt, and sat on the edge of my bed. From this spot, I could see my whole apartment and all of its six hundred square feet. There was brown shag carpet, a galley kitchen, and sliding glass door that led to a small balcony—more like plank of wood and railing—with not even room for a chair. But hey, I could open the door when the weather was nice and it made the place feel less tiny. There was a small bookshelf filled with my favorites against the far wall. Scattered framed pictures of JoJo and my family hung just above it. I’d rather decorate with pictures of them than artwork from a stranger. My apartment was just like me, small and worn out.

  I stared at my purse, knowing there was a text from him waiting. I rifled through the bag and pulled out the phone. I exhaled a long breath as I took another glance around my apartment. I wanted to say yes to Kieran, dinner was nothing, it was food and conversation, and I told myself that little lie as I opened my lock screen.

  Cabrón: Good night she said, and I held onto the words hoping for a good morning.

  I read the text out loud a few more times, savoring the heat that covered my skin as I imagined his deep voice uttering each syllable. I didn’t reply. How could I reply to something like that? Instead, I set my things on the floor and got under the covers. I fell back into my pillows and let the butterflies loose in my belly as a huge grin plastered across my face.

  I read the text one more time before I placed my phone onto my bedside table.

  Good night she said, and I held onto the words hoping for a good morning.

  Tonight I wouldn’t dwell on things I couldn’t change. I’d close my eyes and pretend I deserved the words he’d sent, that I hadn’t deceived him, that maybe he’d still want me after he knew my sins. Tonight I’d close my eyes and dream about a man with blue eyes who smelled like incense and soap, that had lips that would taste as good as they looked, and that I never had to doubt that I belonged to someone.

  “The core of a man’s spirit comes from new experiences.”

  Jon Krakauer~

  “It won’t be easy,” Declan said for the third time since I’d arrived at his loft.

  “Stop worrying.” An impossible task for him. “Paige and I… we got this.” I leaned against the doorway to their master bedroom with my arms folded across my chest as he gathered a few articles of clothing and shoved them into his duffle bag.

  One of the babies cried, and from the high pitch of it, I knew it was Royal. Indie didn’t cry much, but when she did, it was usually soft and sad. Declan’s shoulders went rigid, and he dipped his head. He scrubbed his hand down his face and then slowly turned to me, anxiety etched around his furrowed brows.

  “We’ll be fine,” I repeated with a reassuring smile. His exhaled breath was a shot to my ego. I could handle two babies, besides, Paige was here to help. “It’s one night.”

  “The first night.” His light blue eyes, the ones that usually matched mine, went vacant, gray, and for a half second, I wondered if it was panic or his voices that had him wound so tight. “I’ve never left them for this long… overnight,” he whispered.

  “I’ll take care of them, this sale is huge. You guys need it.” I pushed off the frame of the door and took a few steps into the room. Declan watched me, his eyes gradually filling with life again.

  “I’ll be two hours away, if anything… if you need… if she—”

  “I’ll call you immediately.” I gripped his shoulder and chuckled. “It’s one night.”

  “You don’t get it.” Declan swallowed when he noticed the flash of hurt that shadowed my eyes.

  I got it. I always got it. Declan suffered. His depression, his voices, his life—his day to day was a damn roller coaster. And leaving his children, and Paige, even if it was just for one night to sell some of his paintings, even if the money would set them up for the next six months, they were his safety net, better than any psych medication he could ever take.

  “Paige has been really low lately, the doctor said it was normal for the first two weeks, but Indie and Royal are five months old. I don’t know what to do, Kieran. I love her so much, and it fucking hurts to watch her go through this. She says the painting helps, and I can tell she’s getting better, but some days are harder than others, and I—”

  “Maybe this is good, big brother. You need a break just as much as she does, and I’ll do everything I can to help her tonight. In the morning, Kelly is coming over with Liam, we’ll watch the kids so Paige can go to lunch with her friend, Lana, right?” He nodded. “She gets a break, too… You guys tend to isolate,” I said with humor. “We’re here to help, always have been, always will be.” I squeezed his shoulder and then dropped my hold with a smile.

  “Thanks. Just make sure you take the night-time feedings. I made sure there’re enough bottles in the fridge, and she showed you how to use the bottle warmer?” He cocked his brow when I hesitated.

  Shit. Bottle warmer. Couldn’t be that hard. “Yeah, like I said, I got this.”

  His laugh was more doubtful than anything. “Every three to four hours, so just two feedings, that’s if they both sleep through the night. Paige needs to sleep, okay, please... just make sure she sleeps.”

  “Bottle warmer, two feedings, sleeping… shit, Declan, I can handle it.”

  “Is he stressing out again?” Paige asked from the doorway with a smile.

  My lips stretched in response. “When isn’t he stressed?” Declan exhaled an annoyed breath at my statement.

  Paige’s laugh was light as she floated into the bedroom. She had on a loose-fitting, long-sleeved dress made of an army green t-shirt-looking material. Paige’s light blonde hair was down, the color of the dress made the strands almost glow. She looked thinner than the last time I saw her, but she was still beautiful. Both of my brothers hit the jackpot when it came to their women, and I wondered if I’d receive the same luck. An image of Melissa in that black dress flashed inside my brain and my smile widened.

  Paige stood in front of Declan and wrapped her arms around his
waist. He pulled her close and lowered his chin, leaning toward her. I felt a little uncomfortable. The way they watched each other was private, intimate, and, without being asked to leave, I took the hint and started for the door. Just as I was about to shut it, I heard Paige say, “I’m feeling better, Declan. I never wanted to make you worry, but I promise you, I’m almost myself again.” Declan sighed as if the relief of her words spilled from his lungs.

  Envy was a sin, but I coveted my brothers’ lives. The good times they had, the hard ones, and even the dark ones, I wanted it all. Every damn day, I coveted them, and I was tired of beating myself up about it.

  As I made my way to the open living area of the loft, I pulled my phone from my pocket. It was time for me to take a leap, take a step forward regardless of how afraid I was of the fall.

  Me: I never got a good morning…

  I pressed send and slid my phone into my pocket, refusing to stare at it like a damn junkie. I didn’t know Melissa, but hell, I wanted to. After she’d left the party the other night, Kelly had told me that Mel could be closed off. Kelly had said that she “knew there was a story there” and that I “needed to be patient.” Melissa was the first girl since high school to really pique my interest. Patience wasn’t hard for me. Being a twenty-seven-year-old virgin was like graduating from the University of Patience, and I was the valedictorian. I’d count as many breaths as I had to in order to get to know her better. I needed to believe that God doesn’t do anything by accident. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was meant to know her… in some capacity.

  The twins were in the living room lying on colorful mats with toys hanging over their heads. Indie was squeaking and Royal was crudely waving his little fists.

  “Hey there, my favorite peanut.” I kneeled down briefly to pick up Indie. I raised to my full height and held her up into the air with my hands. Her smile was small but bright as I dangled her a few inches above my head at an angle. She smiled down at me as I lowered her and sat on the couch curling her into my chest.