8. Lennox
8
LENNOX
T his morning was weird. Nice, but weird. I felt like I was interrupting a family moment, though Connor told me multiple times he was glad I was there.
Those Christmas pajamas, though admittedly cute, made me feel like I was way out of my depth. But it was obvious they care about each other. They were thrilled their friends were having a baby, as thrilled as if they were the ones having it.
A picture of Anne in her cutesy onesie, her eyes shimmering with happy tears, pops into my head. Her freckled cheeks were pink and her nose runny, but the happiness she held was pure and so fucking sweet.
The door to the bar swings open, and for a second, I think I’m seeing things. The girl I was just thinking about stands in front of me in a sparkly long cherry gown, her face stained with runny mascara.
Her tear-soaked face scrunches up noticing me.
“Oh, it’s you.” Her shaky voice is laced with disappointment.
“Sorry, were you expecting Santa?” I can’t help but chuckle.
“No, but why do you always have to see me at my worst?” She groans and drops down into the booth next to me. Stealing my beer, she downs it before motioning to the bartender to bring us two more.
“Want to talk about it?” I raise my eyebrows at her.
“Want to hear about it?”
I snort at her frankness. “Matter of fact, I do.” And it’s the truth. Her glossy eyes are even brighter than usual, unsure if I’m telling the truth.
I guess she decides I am, because she takes a big sigh before continuing, “My family’s the worst.”
I doubt it , I think to myself, but I’d never underestimate her pain.
“What happened?”
“They blame me for the breakup.” She points a finger at her chest. “That I wasn’t ladylike enough or something like that, so no wonder Bryce got tired of me.” She scoffs, but a fresh set of tears appears.
Ice travels my veins, freezing me in place. “You know it had nothing to do with you.” It’s such a poor fucking comfort, but I’m not good with this.
“How do you know? You barely know me.” She takes a swig of her beer. I don’t touch mine since I’m driving.
“I know enough to know that any man lucky to have you and then lose you is a fucking idiot.”
“I know you’re just saying that, but it helps, thank you. Much more than what my family did.” She offers a small smile.
I meant what I said, but I don’t know what else to add. I’m horrible at these things. So, I just nod.
“Are you driving tonight? Could you please drive me home?” Her gorgeous eyes stare at me hopefully, and I almost drown in them.
“Sure, I have an extra helmet. But you’ll probably freeze in this outfit.”
“You’re with the bike again? Isn’t it too cold to be driving around on a motorcycle?” Her shoulders shiver and my lips turn up into a smile.
“It’s the only ride I got.” I shrug.
“You don’t own a car? Who the hell doesn’t own a car?” she says, more to herself. “Well, I don’t, but it’s different,” she argues with herself, which is adorable.
“I can give you my jacket if you want?” I begin taking it off, and her breath hitches.
“Nope. Deathly terrified of motorcycles, I’m afraid.” She stops me from taking the jacket all the way off.
“OK. I’ll help you into an Uber, then.” She nods and orders the car.
She seems lost in thought, so I don’t interfere. I escort her to the Uber, slipping another bill to the driver.
I need to know she got home safe.
Fuck her family for making her feel worthless. I know a thing or two about that, and let me tell you, it doesn’t feel great.
“Merry Christmas, man. How’s it going? I haven’t heard from you for too long.” My cousin’s voice travels through the phone while I’m lying in my bed, barely awake.
“Merry Christmas, Jace. I’ve been good, a lot of work on fixing up the house.”
“It seemed like quite the dump in the photos you’ve sent me. Had any success with it?”
“I’m doing room by room. So far, I’ve redone the living room and bedroom. I’m tearing up the upstairs bathroom currently, and it’ll probably take a while.” I look around my brand-new bedroom.
The faint scent of the adhesive I’ve used for the dark hardwood flooring still lingers in the room. I don’t have a lot of furniture, just a massive bed, two nightstands, and a dresser. The walls are painted in specialty cement paint, which I love the roughness of. Perfect white walls give me the ick.
“Sounds cool. I’ll have to visit you when you finish.” Jason is the only person in my family I still talk to. The only one who knows where I’m living. We’re roughly the same age, and we used to hang out at Grandpa’s all the time.
“How’s home?” I ask, though ‘home’ couldn’t be further from the truth. That place hasn’t felt like home ever since Grandpa died.
“You know.” His voice turns from joking to apprehensive. “Same old.”
“How is she?” I ask, a knot forming in my stomach.
“She’s good. Now.” He pauses. “Had a nasty encounter with a door frame a few weeks ago.”
“Shit.” The knot in my stomach turns to a boulder.
“I wanted to call you, but you told me not to do it.”
“It’s fine, man. It’s not your fault.” There’s nothing he could have done. Just like me. No matter how much I tried.
The first time my father slapped my mother—instead of his usual litany of disgusting words—I was eleven. Her trembling chin and quiet whimper made my palms turn sweaty and my body freeze in place. When I managed to get enough air in my lungs, I rushed to call the cops. Mom acted like I was silly, denying anything happened, and it’s not like they care enough to dig deeper. I’ll never forget how my mind raced when she denied it. She explained that the police would take Dad away, but that would’ve been a good thing. They wouldn’t let him hurt her again.
The second time, I was big enough to fight back. Somehow, my mom seemed more terrified of me hurting my dad than she was of him hurting her.
“Stop!” she screamed, getting in between us. “You can’t do that. He’s your father!”
“I won’t let him hurt you anymore,” I bit back.
“You’re hurting me now! Stop it!” Her face was a crying mess. “Please, I can’t take this,” she pleaded. “If you hurt him, I will hurt myself. I won’t be able to live with this.”
Her words stopped me in my tracks. My body turned numb even though my heart was beating out of my chest. Even while he was hurting her, she was taking his side.
I tried to get her to leave a hundred times, before and after leaving home for hockey, but with no fucking success. It’s something I had to come to terms with after years of guilt eating me alive. No matter what I offered, a house, money, taking care of her, she refused to leave him.
“What would people say?” she’d ask, like it’s more important than her fucking life. The bruises would fade, my father would apologize, and the cycle would start again.
That was her priority. Being the perfect family on the outside. With disgusting secrets safely hidden under the layers of carefully coated makeup and fake smiles.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I broke off any contact with them and told Jason not to call me about it unless it was life and death. I couldn’t stand there and do nothing, and I was terrified of what would happen if I intervened. My mom knows my number, not that she’d use it. I also opened an account in her name with enough money to get away and start over, but so far, there’s no sign she touched it.
“Look, Len. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s fine. Really. How you’ve been?” We talk a little longer, and when we’re done, I glance at the clock on my bedside table.
Shit, it’s not even 10:00 a.m. and the day is already ruined.
The knot in my stomach shows no sign of unclenching, so I get up, take a quick shower in the dated garage bathroom, and go for a ride.
My Ducati 916 is one of my proudest possessions. The bright red beast saw many of my breakdowns. I zip up my winter leather jacket, put on my helmet, and hop onto it.
The pure horsepower underneath me grounds me in the best possible way. I get out of my driveway and onto the open road. I haven’t explored Seattle on my bike much, but the scenery is gorgeous.
I drive along Lake Washington before coming to a secluded place with breathtaking views. Taking a deep breath, my lungs freeze with the cool air, but the coldness is soothing. Showing me I’m alive. Showing me I’m choosing to be alive.
It’s why I came here. Hoping for a new beginning. For a new life.
After probably an hour and a half of driving, my thoughts start to clear, my shoulders relaxing.
Some people meditate, some drink, I drive my bike until I outrun the demons chasing me.