RECKLESS - Part 5 (The RECKLESS Series) Read online

  Again, this wasn’t the job I’d wanted, but at least it was something. Only, I’d soon be reminded that sometimes, things really do work out for the best. That fate sometimes hands you exactly what you need, even if you don’t see it that way at first.

  ***

  Nearly a month after I’d returned home, Cole was released from the hospital. I’d gone to see him several times since I’d arrived—almost as many times as I’d received packages and letters in the mail from Jace (all unopened, of course). But I was nervous about Cole coming home, nonetheless. I wondered how different would things be with him there, how much more stressed would mom and dad be, taking over his care full time.

  I tried, really hard, not to stress too much about it that day at work, just like I tried not to think about the letters and packages piling up on my bedroom floor. I needed to focus. This was my first solo piece, a short article on an upcoming event—nothing major, but I still wanted to impress Amy.

  She’d turned out to be a complete Godsend, exactly the person I’d needed in my life right then, almost like a second mother, which was good, since my own mother had been so distracted that she hadn’t even broached the subject of my love life, or the lack thereof, since my return home.

  I completely understood, but it still had made it hard to move on with my life, to not feel like a walking zombie with my heart and brains still left in Texas somewhere. Amy had been the one person to give me that back . . . sort of.

  It had all started one afternoon over lunch. We were still in the middle of my training, so she had brought me along with her to a nearby restaurant. She’d wanted to brief me on some of the rules of conduct and what I needed to know before I could start writing my own articles.

  We had already discussed formatting, what she expected out of a story, where I could look to find new talent, and what I needed to do to make sure my articles resounded with the right audience when she dropped the bomb. “Don’t fall in love with the bands,” she said, sipping her glass of iced green tea. “It’ll ruin your career.”

  I damn near choked on my chicken salad sandwich. “What?” I asked, still coughing and sputtering, bringing a napkin to my lips so I didn’t spit food all over her red blouse.

  She released a heavy sigh and then set her cup down on the table. “These men, they’ll use you and then toss you aside like you never existed,” she said.

  For a moment, she looked a little lost. I could tell she was trying to hide it from me, but it was all right there, in plain sight. She’d been me once, which seemed like such a strange thing for a woman who seemed to be so strong, independent and put-together as Amy. Not that I hadn’t assumed that there was more to this high-powered business woman than nice suits and people skills . . . but I guess I’d never considered a broken heart to be a part of it.

  I had to know.

  “Can you tell me?” I asked, folding my napkin and then setting it on the table.

  Brow creased, Amy rubbed tight lips together, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to share personal information of that magnitude with me. “It was a long time ago,” she finally said, picking up her tea again.

  “Mine wasn’t,” I said, softly. I hated the regret, the pain, the sadness in my voice. But I couldn’t really do anything about it. I’d moved on in some aspects, gotten a job, had settled back into my Seattle life for the most part. But there was still a piece of me missing.

  Amy reached across the table and squeezed my hand, which had taken on a mind of its own, tapping away at the table to a non-rhythmic tune. I glanced up to look at her and found those golden eyes of hers watery with tears. How long had it been for her? Weeks? Years?

  Please tell me that won’t be me.

  “I’m so sorry, Andy,” she said, that crease in her brow deeper, more defined. “I wish I had some kind of answer for you, a way that you could get over it, forget that it happened. But I just don’t. These men, they do more than just sing or play an instrument. It’s like they own a part of your soul. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  She handed me her napkin, and, at first, I was confused as to why. It wasn’t until she gave a small, sad smile and said, “Why don’t you go clean up,” to me that I realized I’d started crying. The tears that I hadn’t shed, the ones that I’d buried deep so that I wasn’t a burden on my family, were falling down my cheeks in hot, heavy streams. I tried to stop them as I politely excused myself and made my way to the restroom, but they just kept coming.

  I must have left Amy out in the restaurant for a good thirty minutes before she finally made her way to the restroom. She probably hadn’t wanted to pry or get overly involved in my relationship drama; she was my boss, after all. But the second she knocked on the stall door, she let me know that she was willing to be a friend, too, if I needed it.

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked, speaking through the door. “I know a thing or two about broken hearts. We could work out our groupie frustrations over the rest of our lunch, if you want. If not, then at least we have food. But I’ll always be here.”

  I muttered a quiet “thanks” from inside the stall, but the door to the restroom had already shut behind her. I was left to my mess, my emotions, and the overwhelming feelings that had taken over at the drop of a hat.

  I still loved Jace, but none of that really mattered when he was halfway across the country with his perfect wife, perfect child, and perfect life. I was the one that didn’t fit. But maybe, with this job, with my new life, I’d figure out where I did belong.

  ***

  Over the next several weeks, Amy and I shared lunch together. At first, we talked about work-related topics, but as each day passed, we each shared a little piece of who we were, who we had been, and the men that had brought us to that place.

  Amy had fallen in love as an intern, fresh out of college, while doing a piece on the summer concerts in Seattle. She’d met the drummer from one of the bands and had fallen in love almost instantly. A quick summer romance with love made under the stars, a handful parties where she felt like a part of the band, and several rehearsals later, he’d dumped her. Right after the band signed a record deal. He’d used her to gain leverage with the media.

  What an ass!

  My story was quite different. Jace had never asked for anything in return, but the loss didn’t feel any less painful. Amy sat in silence, listening intently, tears in her eyes, the day that I’d told her the whole story. When I got to the end, the day that I’d left Texas, I leaned back in my seat and let out a heavy breath. She sat across from me, her lip held firmly between her teeth, tears welling in her eyes.

  “I just feel so naïve and stupid,” I said, dropping my gaze to the table in front of us. “I mean, how could I not know that he had a family? A wife? A kid? All that time we spent together . . . I should have picked up on something, right?”

  “Oh, honey, married men are the most deceptive of all,” she said, dabbing her smoky eyes with a napkin. “They’re fully aware of what they’re doing, and in my honest opinion, I don’t think they give a damn who they hurt.”

  Silence filled the space between us as we both tried to reel in our emotions. Our lunch had been finished off quite some time ago and it was time to pay the bill, but there was one last thing that I wanted to ask her before our conversation ended.

  “Amy?”

  She lifted her eyebrows, giving me permission to continue.

  “Does it stop hurting? Or get better, at least?”

  She shook her head slightly. “I don’t think you want me to answer that, honey.”

  She was right. I really, really didn’t.

  “I will say this though,” she continued, a faint smile barely touching the edges of her lips. “Not even I would have seen that one coming. He—he seems different somehow. Not like Dax, or any of the other musicians I’ve met in my time. It seems strange to me, I guess, that he would be so night and day and still end up being a complete jerk.”

  “Yeah,” I said, dismissing an
y further conversation by piling my plates onto one another. I didn’t want to talk about how different he was. Or the possibility that I might have been wrong because, even if I had made a mistake, he had probably moved on by then, found some other foolish girl willing to give her heart over.

  Only, the letters that came like clockwork, all with his return address neatly printed in the upper corner, indicated otherwise. It didn’t matter. I knew the truth now, and someday, I would throw each and every letter and package away in their unopened state.

  CHAPTER THREE

  About a month after Cole’s homecoming, shortly after I’d returned home from work, I heard a knock on my bedroom door. The very first one I’d heard since settling back into my old room. Was I ready for this? Ready for the talk that I was sure my mother wanted to have? Could I get through all the details without falling apart?

  She’d want to know.

  Deciding that there was only one way to find out, I inhaled a deep breath and then opened the door. As I’d suspected, it was my mother, standing outside my bedroom, looking a little nervous and extremely worn out. She gave me a smile anyway.

  “Can I come in?” she asked, glancing at the room behind me, as if someone else might be in there with me. In all honesty, though, I appreciated her respect of my privacy.

  “Sure,” I said, stepping to the side, granting her entrance.

  Mom took a seat on my bed and then patted the spot next to her, indicating that I should sit with her. As soon as I did, she took my hands in hers. “I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy lately, sweetie,” she said, her blue eyes already filled with tears.

  “It’s okay, mom,” I said, squeezing her hands. “I understand. After everything with Cole, you haven’t really had time to help me clean up my mess. Which is fine. I’m an adult. It’s my job to do it anyway.”

  Mom nodded. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, for getting yourself a job, putting your life back together after everything that’s happened.” Pulling her lips into a frown, mom paused for a moment and took a heavy breath, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to continue. “I—I was just so sure about him. I don’t know what happened, but you wouldn’t be here if things had worked out like I’d thought they would.”

  “No, they didn’t,” I said, chewing at the inside of my cheek. “He—he had a wife. And a kid, a little girl.”

  My mother’s brow creased. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  I released a sigh, one that puffed out my lips and sent my bangs flying. “I’m sure, mom. He never came to see me when I got back on campus after leaving here. When he finally decided he wanted something to do with me, I was so angry. I refused to answer his calls, avoided him. And then I was walking back to the dorms and I saw them.”

  “They were together? On campus?”

  “Yeah, he was laughing and the little girl was hanging on his leg. And then he kissed her cheek, told her—“ A sob caught in my throat and I took a moment to rein it in. “He told her that he loved her.”

  Mom’s lips pursed tightly for a moment as she mulled over everything I’d just told her. “Did you talk to him about it? Have you heard his side of the story?” she finally asked, eyes flitting over to the pile in the corner of my room, as if she knew exactly what those envelopes and packages contained.

  “Why? So he could lie about it? Feed me a line about who the woman and child were?” I couldn’t help the anger in my voice but I still felt bad for directing at her.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, squeezing my hands inside of hers. “You’re a strong, smart girl. I just—I can’t help but wonder if there might have been another answer.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I turned my gaze away from her and focused on the Nirvana poster on my wall. It was left over from my days before college, but I didn’t have the heart to take it down. “I’ve moved on with my life, and I’m sure he has, too.”

  “Why haven’t you talked to Becca?” mom asked, a slight lilt in her voice.

  I turned my gaze back to my mother’s face. “How did you know?” I asked, narrowing my eyes a bit, trying to gauge her. She’d always been so upfront and supportive of me and I couldn’t imagine her hiding something from me, but something about her tone had made me suspect that maybe she knew more than she was letting on.

  But she couldn’t, could she?

  My mother shrugged, almost noncommittally, as if she hadn’t meant anything by the question. “I just figured I’d hear you talking on the phone with her. You two seemed pretty inseparable in college.”

  Still not sure I believed her completely, I shrugged and blew it off. “I’ve just been busy, I guess.”

  “I know, honey,” she said, giving me a weak but understanding smile. “We all have. But you should give her a call. Try to piece the other parts of your life back together. I’m happy for you and how well you’re doing, but it might be time to find out how your friends are holding up.”

  “You mean friend, as in singular, right?” I asked, chuckling a little. Becca had been the only real friend I’d made in my entire four years, probably because no one else could handle my overdramatic narcissism.

  “Right,” mom said, patting my knee as she stood. “Well, I’ll let you get cleaned up. We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

  After my mother left the room, as I undressed and stepped into the shower—the shower that I’d shared with Jace—I thought about what she’d said. Why hadn’t I talked to Becca? It certainly didn’t seem fair that I’d abandoned my best friend over a guy, even if she was married to one of the band members of Jace’s band. Surely she wouldn’t try to talk me into getting back with Jace, not when she probably knew all the sordid details by now. He had to have come out with it already; she had probably beaten it out of him, knowing her.

  Smiling to myself over that thought, I hopped out of the warm water and dried off. As I got dressed and reapplied my makeup for a night out with my family, I thought that maybe it was time I reconnected with her and apologized for being such an ass. Not like it was her fault that my ex-boyfriend was a lying, cheating asshole.

  ***

  My stomach clenched the second we turned the corner to our favorite pizzeria. I should have guessed this would be the dinner choice for the night, yet I was somehow oddly unprepared. I wondered if Sean still worked there, or if he’d moved on and found himself a new job. I wondered if my parents knew.

  The unease settled a little as we took our table near the long counter. It almost disappeared completely when our food had arrived and there was still no sign of Sean. I knew I was over him, that I’d moved on and that there wasn’t a shred of hope that we’d ever get back together again, but that didn’t mean I was ready to face him just yet. If ever. I’d broken his heart, just like Jace had broken mine and I wasn’t ready to deal with the guilt that came with shoving a guy’s heart in the blender.

  Unfortunately, I would have to.

  As my mother paid the bill, Sean walked in through the front door. He froze, mid-step, the second he laid eyes on me. Even in his delivery boy garb, he looked amazing. My heart thundered away against my rib cage, reminding me of all the reasons I’d fallen in love with him in the first place. But that was then. This was now. And by the look on his face, I was the last person on the planet he’d wanted to see.

  At least the feeling was mutual.

  “Sean,” I said, casually, as he moved toward me.

  “Andy, you’re back?” He’d phrased it as a question, even though it was quite clear that I was, in fact, back. I wouldn’t have been standing there in front of him otherwise.

  “Yeah, just got back a couple months ago.”

  “A couple months ago?” His head shot back in shock and confusion. “But . . . didn’t you finish out the semester? That only just ended a few weeks ago.”

  “Personal stuff,” I said, shrugging. “I’ll just repeat here next fall.”

  “I see,” he said, glancing behind me and then smiling, but not directly at
me. “Well, it was nice seeing you. If you—ah—if you want to hang out sometime or something, call me.”

  “Sure,” I said, stepping to the side to let him pass, a little flabbergasted by his reaction to seeing me.

  No talks of him waiting for me. No insinuations that he wanted to get back together. I’d known it was over, and I hadn’t wanted anything more with him, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. But not even half as much as when he stepped behind the counter.

  I was still standing there, staring with my mouth wide open as he leaned in to whisper in the ear of the girl behind the counter—a short, petite thing with dark hair and almond eyes. She giggled at whatever it was he said and then he ducked his head, quickly darting off to the back of the store, out of view.

  He’d moved on.

  Not that I hadn’t expected him to, eventually. I’d done the exact same thing, and before our relationship had even ended. It didn’t make seeing it right in front of me any less painful, though. In fact, it felt more like a slap to the face than anything. But I didn’t have a right to feel that way. If anything, I should have felt happy for him; I was happy for him. It was me that I felt sorry for.

  I’d thrown everything away, lost everything. And now I had no one. Not Sean. Not Jace. Not even my parents because they were too busy taking care of my brother who, quite honestly, deserved the attention more than me at the moment. I’d done all of this to myself. Sure, I’d pieced my life together, but what would it all amount to in the end? Where would I end up? Would I ever be able to love again? To trust someone with my heart?

  There was only one way to find out, and it certainly wasn’t standing in the middle of a pizzeria feeling sorry for myself.

  ***

  Sitting in a corner booth at one of the hipster bars downtown, I played with my soup and took in the dark, grungy—almost to the point of grimy—setting. It looked like a play on an underground city, or the subway, maybe. Interesting, but definitely not my first choice in atmosphere. At least the food and drinks were good.