Saving Each Other (Saving Series Book 1)

by S. A. Terrence

  LOL! First, I’m glad that you made it safely! Second, not too much information. My mom’s name is Heather, my dad’s name is Jerry, and I have a younger sister named Riley, so now we’re even. Don’t stress! Seriously, Dee, you have enough on your plate, as it is.

  Thank God! I don’t want to lose you. I promise I’ll keep a tighter lid on my words—

  Wait a minute! Did he just spell Dee instead of just using the letter? I have to know, so before he can text me back, I ask:

  Did you just call me Dee?

  We’re friends, yeah?

  Absolutely!

  So you just got a nickname!

  I burst out in a laugh so loud it surprises even me. He’s just what I needed.

  You just gave the first letter of my first name a nickname?

  Yep!

  That’s absolutely hilarious. I really like it!

  I really do.

  Well, I like you and you are never going to lose me! So please don’t guard everything you say. I kinda like that we’ve become comfortable enough around one another to be a bit freer about what we say.

  Thank you, E.

  No problem, Dee…

  I should know E well enough by now to know he’d be okay with speaking more freely and what he said was exactly what I needed to hear.

  BTW, I’m leaving too!

  He’s…WHAT?!

  WAIT… You’re…what?!

  Deeeeee, I’m both following your lead and listening to my advice. I found a house to rent not far from where I currently live. The place I’m moving to will be close to the beach so I’m also going to start running again.

  I’m really proud of you.

  Seriously, Dee, thanks to you, I now sleep on the couch and I’m showering and eating on my own. I also started volunteering again at Austin House. So, like you, I think this will be a good change for me.

  Isn’t Austin House a home for victims of domestic abuse?

  Yep! My best friend and his mother were severely abused when he was a kid and he’s dedicated his life to helping other victims. My friends and family all help out there and so did I until…

  He doesn’t need to finish the text. I know what he was going to say. We stopped doing everything we ever loved after the accident, the memories were just too painful. We’ve come so far and I want us to keep moving forward. I start to text that but another text comes through before I hit send.

  I’m also thinking about buying a sketch book and drawing up ideas for new outdoor furniture.

  Look at us growing!

  Baby steps, and yeah, I’m proud of myself, too. This is big.

  I’m so happy I’m able to keep him out of the dark hole he falls into so regularly. Humor usually does the trick, and so does changing the subject. So that’s what I do.

  You go, girl! Exercise is important. Wouldn’t want those love handles of yours getting in the way of all that brilliant texting!

  I love the banter that flows between us. The more we get to know each other, the more we joke around.

  Dee, Dee, Dee, Dee, Dee… I think that we’ve already established the fact that A: I am indeed not a girl! And B: I am going to make this point very clear, young lady, so you better listen. I have already had other body parts get in the way while texting you and it hasn’t affected my brilliant texting in the least. So don’t start getting your panties in a bunch about any love handles, you.

  Hah! And OOOOO! We haven’t crossed that line yet but what the hell. I go with it.

  Very funny, “Mr. Big.” Glad your assets aren’t getting in the way!

  I hear my name being called so before he gets a chance, I text:

  GTG, big boy, It’s five o’clock somewhere.

  Text me back soon, Dee, and let me know how everything’s going.

  We say our goodbyes after I promise to keep him in the loop. These days I’ll take a laugh where I can get it because I know it won’t last long.

  E makes me laugh and I love how well he knows me.

  “JUSTIN!” WE GREET EACH OTHER with a “bro hug” as I enter Austin House, a shelter located in the industrial section of Santa Monica. It’s a refuge for victims of domestic abuse and wayward teens. A safe haven for them to get back on their feet. Austin House provides job training, skills, and assistance with finding employment. They also provide in-house schooling for the kids, along with extracurricular activities to keep them busy and out of trouble.

  Both Justin and his mother, Mary, got involved with this shelter after she killed his father. She shot him in self-defense, to protect Justin from being beaten to death when he was a teenager. His dad was a very successful, well-respected criminal defense lawyer who people consistently cowed down to. He always had a very commanding presence but, in reality, he was really just a bully.

  Justin was his greatest victim for the simple reason that he was his kid.

  I still remember the day I found out my best friend was being abused by his father. It was after football practice. We’d been assigned that day to stay late to put away the equipment and clean up. When we finished, Justin started pulling off his sweaty jersey to throw into his locker. I don’t think he even realized what he was doing until I gasped. He was covered in welts. Not bruises…welts! I couldn’t breathe. I’ll never forget that argument; his body language screamed back off but his eyes were filled with fear.

  “Justin! Shit, man. What happened to you? You look like you got the shit kicked out of you. What the fuck?!”

  He froze mid-action and started pulling his shirt back down again. He looked so embarrassed but all he said was, “Nothing, man.”

  I knew that was complete bullshit! My best friend’s body was completely black and blue and I was going to get answers. I was on my feet and in his face, before I even realized I was moving.

  How in the hell is he covered in bruises?

  I grabbed his shirt and started yanking it back up his body but I couldn’t get too far. He pushed me away as he pulled his shirt back down and then became furious. “I said it’s nothing!” he shouted.

  I got back in his face and screamed, “BULLSHIT! I’ve known you since we were two fucking years old and I’ve never seen a goddamned bruise that looks like that on you before!”

  Justin just looked at me. He didn’t say a word. All I got was silence but there was no way in hell I was going to let it go, so I sat back down and waited.

  The time we sat in silence helped me to calm down. I needed him to talk, so in the calmest voice I could muster, I said, “Jus, there’s no one else here, man, and you know damn well I’m not letting you leave here until you tell me what happened. And don’t say you got that way playing football because I know that’s a complete lie.”

  He had no choice and he knew it. He just sighed and looked at me. He then slid his ass to the floor and put his head down between his legs. He couldn’t even look at me when he said, “My dad.”

  His dad got away with abusing both Justin and his mom for years and would have continued if she didn’t kill him. Nobody saw the abuse; he was very careful as to where he hit Justin and demanded the world perceive them as the perfect “Manhattan Beach” family. I was sworn to secrecy but knowing what was happening and being powerless to stop it nearly killed me.

  My best friend tugs on my beard, bringing me back to the present. “You need to shave, bro,” he says as he lightly pats me on the cheek.

  I swat his hand away. “Fuck off, asshat,” I say and turn toward the gym but not before finishing with, “And I’m not putting out, no matter how much you sweet talk me.”

  And now he’s laughing. So without turning around, I give him the one-finger salute and add, “And I’m not polishing your toenails either. We have some b-ball to play.”

  I’ve missed him. We’ve always been so close, more like brothers than friends, and it feels really great to be around him again.

  “Ean!” Justin shouts to get my attention just as I’m opening the gym doors. I stop and turn around as he jogs to catch up.
“I’m serious, man. You’re going to want to look your best for what I have planned.” I know that mischievous look in his gray eyes; whatever he has planned…cannot be good. Groaning, I say just that.

  With a chuckle, he pulls out his phone, brings the screen to life, and turns it so I can read the opened email. I see the name on the screen and notice it’s from Shannon, Justin’s cousin, who lives in New York.

  Shannon is less than a year younger than us. Growing up, she was always the light to Justin’s dark. She’s spontaneous, funny, and incredibly full of life. She’s always taken his serious nature as a challenge and spent our childhood forcing him out of his shell; she was always good for him. Shannon, Justin, Riley, and I were all inseparable when we were kids and since Justin never wanted to be at home, he practically lived with Shannon’s family and she always stayed by his side.

  Like the rest of the world, Shannon and her family knew nothing about his father’s abuse. The discovery of what Justin and his mom had suffered through devastated Shannon’s parents so much that escape was the only option. They packed up and moved to New York when Shannon was just a teenager. I couldn’t blame them. I would have left too if it was possible.

  “Aaand…” I say sarcastically, dragging out the word.

  “Read it,” he says, shoving his phone in my face.

  My eyes bug out as I read their exchange. “We’re going to New York?” I look up at him. “What the hell, man? I’m not fucking leaving.”

  I’ve only recently been able to leave the house. There’s no way I have the strength to travel across the country.

  “We’re spending Christmas in New York, bud,” he says using his, “you’re not going to win this one so don’t even try” voice and I know I’m not getting out of it, especially when he says, “I know what both Halloween and Thanksgiving were like for you and I’ll be damned if Christmas is going to be like that too.”

  “We have a basketball game waiting for us,” I repeat, not wanting to get into it right now. I take a deep breath, pull the door open and when I enter the state-of-the-art gym, I put on my game face and walk calmly and confidently onto the full-sized court with only one thought in mind…We’re here for these kids.

  The shelter was founded by Jayden Jaymes. Jay’s a wall of a man, who’s six-and-a-half-feet tall with a body made of iron. He has dark skin and even darker eyes. He can take a grown man down with just one look but is all sponge cake and fluff on the inside. Next to my dad, he’s the greatest man I’ve ever known.

  Jay believes in giving these kids all the outlets they need to get their frustration and anger out in a healthy way and has spared no expense in achieving that. He doesn’t allow drugs in here or kids who are hooked on them. He does random drug screenings and has kicked out kids who were high. Everybody knows this and have grown to respect both him and Austin House.

  Like all the residents here, his childhood was a nightmare. He never knew his dad. He grew up with a drug-addicted mother who would smack him around while telling him how worthless he was. He came home one day to his run-down apartment in South Central LA, to find all the money he had saved and his mother gone. With nothing but the clothes on his back, he turned to drugs; both selling and using them. He was on a one-way road to hell when fate, in the form of a police detective, stepped in and saved him. Jim Austin was working on the drug task force in his area when Jay was arrested in a sting operation. He saw something in Jay. Took him under his wing, got him cleaned up, and with Jay’s help, Jim was able to shut down and arrest several key leaders of one of the toughest street gangs in Los Angeles.

  Thanks to Jim, Jay graduated high school and was accepted into the police academy. He worked his way up through the ranks and has been dedicating his life to the war against drugs ever since. He also opened Austin House, named in honor of the man who saved his life and the difference he’s made in the lives of the kids who live here is unparalleled.

  Justin and I split the kids up into two teams and after a very spirited game, with a ton of smack talk, my team ends up kicking Justin’s team’s ass! Sweet, sweet victory, I can’t wait to rub it in.

  I love being here. It gets me out of my head and makes it easier to breathe.

  I ended up going to New York and it was amazing! It always is but there’s nothing like Christmas in Manhattan. Justin’s always been there for me when I’ve needed him the most. He has a sixth sense for what I need and when I need it, and our trip to New York was a testament to that.

  Seeing Dee leave made me restless and lonely and even though I really didn’t want to be here over Christmas, the thought of leaving had me paralyzed. I texted her when I got home from the basketball game because I knew she’d be there for me and give me the push I needed. And she was. She calmed my nerves with her humor and guided me with her wisdom. I’m so grateful for having Dee in my life because she’s given me back the strength I lost and that strength got me on the plane to New York.

  We did the whole touristy thing. Ice-skating in Rockefeller Center followed by frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity 3. We hung out in Times Square, saw Finding Neverland, and ate dinner at Ellen’s Stardust Diner, one of my favorite restaurants in the city. All of the servers there are aspiring actors and take turns singing. You cannot be in there and not smile. Our last night was spent at the Pegu Club. Some of the best mixologists in Manhattan came together to create this amazing “cocktail joint” that serves the most amazing and unusual drinks. Shannon got the Earl Grey MarTEAni while Justin and I worked our way through the menu.

  Flying home with a massive hangover wasn’t pretty but it was well worth it.

  I REALIZE I DON’T WANT to stay with my mother anymore, things aren’t going well. We’ve only been here a short time but she’s never home and I wonder why we even came. I know what she’s like, I grew up with it, but this time it’s hurting Chloe and that’s not okay.

  My best friend, Sandi, has agreed to take Chloe for the weekend so I can talk to my mother and figure out what I’m going to do. Her daughter, Kara, is Chloe’s age and the two of them are as thick as thieves, so I know my daughter will love hanging out there.

  Sandi and I have been friends since the first grade. I still remember the day we met, like it was yesterday.

  “He’s so mean!”

  Sandi was sitting on the ground in the playground at recess crying, her knee scraped up. She was pushed off the swing set by Matthew, the class bully. Her curly red hair was mussed and her green eyes were red from tears.

  “I HATE HIM!” she cried.

  “I hate him too,” I said.

  She looked up at me through her tear-covered lashes. “My knee hurts.” I didn’t know her but I sat down beside her and hugged her.

  We’ve been best friends ever since. We suffered through first dates, first kisses, first loves, and first heartbreaks. I practically lived at her house after my dad died. We shared a dorm room in college. She was the first one I told when I met Scott and was my maid of honor. She was there for me when Scott died, listening to me sob through the phone and I really appreciated the fact that she was supportive when I asked her not to come up for the funeral. Aside from E, she was the only other person who encouraged me to move back down here.

  After dropping Chloe off, I head home to speak to my mother. I’ve always hated any type of confrontation but seeing her sitting on the couch, in the middle of the day, with a gin and tonic in her hand makes what’s about to happen a lot easier to stomach. And when I see her bloodshot eyes? I snap.

  “Mom, Chloe and I are leaving.”

  “Danielle, you just got here and you’re having such a lovely visit. I can’t see why you’d want to leave?” A lovely visit?

  I thought about lying, but since the accident, I just can’t bring myself to do that anymore. She also doesn’t deserve it.

  “No, Mom,” I seethe. “We’re not having a lovely visit. You’re never home and when you are…you’re drunk.” I can hear the volume of my voice rising but I honestly don�
�t have it in me to care. “You were too drunk to come up for the funeral and now you’re too drunk to even spend any time with Chloe!”

  I know I’m being incredibly blunt and hurtful but it’s the truth and she needs to hear it.

  “Whoa, how dare you talk to me that way in my own home, young lady.” My mom huffs while taking a swig of her gin and tonic. Really?

  “I’m not going to apologize for stating the truth, Mom, so we’ll just be going.”

  Regret flashes in her eyes. It’s just a second and she quickly recovers but I notice. As quickly as the emotion appears, it disappears, and her eyes then become filled with…righteous indignation?

  “I never get any chance to spend time with my granddaughter!” she hollers.

  This makes my blood boil! We drove down here. We’ve been here. She hasn’t. She can’t be bothered to be away from her “boyfriends” or her alcohol long enough to spend time with us and it’s my fault?

  I tell her all that and I really want to say more. I want to call her a whore and an alcoholic. I want to lash out at her for all the hurt I’ve built up over the years. Not only from my childhood but also from her not being there for me when I lost Scott. Instead, I say, “We’ve been here.”

  I take her silence as a cue to continue and again find myself, getting angrier with every word I tell her. “Chloe was excited to see her nana and she’s been sad she hasn’t been able to. We’re alone most of the time, and if I wanted that, I could have stayed at home!”

  She lowers her head and actually sets her glass down on the coffee table. I know I should have stopped there. I really should have, but I’m on a roll and it feels so good to finally be getting this off my chest.

  “Look, Mom, I get it,” I say in a now calmer voice. “I raised myself and stayed local for college in case you needed me. But the second I needed you…” I emphasize the word, you, with a pointed stare. “You weren’t there and now you’re not even here. So don’t go and tell me this is even remotely my fault.”