Pieces of Us

Chapter 28 All My Friends Are Dead

Lincoln

‘Jas. Tell me one more time. Amity’s message specifically said that it was okay for me to tag along?’ I beat my hands on the steering wheel as if they’re a drum, agitated by all this pent up energy.

I haven’t seen Amity since I fucked her. We’ve exchanged a few amicable texts, but I’ve been conscious not to push her. I know she must be feeling all sorts of turmoil. Plus, she’s getting ready for Jagger.

‘Want me to forward you the fucking text?’ she snipes.

Why the hell didn’t I just go with Dad when he offered me a lift earlier?

‘No,’ I bite back.

‘Just chill. Look, I didn’t want to bring this up, but I know things escalated between you and her.’ She makes a gagging sound, and I don’t blame her. Siblings sharing their sex lives is gross. ‘I think you need to cool it until she sorts out what she wants. You’ve practically told her the ball is in her court, so let her take it from here.’

‘Fine,’ I mutter.

I didn’t technically beg for an invite. I just subtly suggested Jas text, asking if I can come.

Either way, I was invited—or given the go ahead to show up. I am ecstatic to be seeing Hart again. My mood is only slightly soured at the thought of seeing her with fuckface Jagger, who eclipses me in every category as a man.

‘Look, for what it’s worth, at least you’ve…connected again,’ she says with a grimace.

Fiddling with the air conditioning, I can’t wrap my head around the past few days. Connecting would imply we’re on our way to being together again. To be fair, she hasn’t outrightly ignored me. She’s entertained my morning and good night texts, as well as hearted some of the memories I’ve reminded her of, but she hasn’t gone beyond that. I’m half afraid that reminding her of the good times will inevitably lead to the bad times.

‘Linc?’ Jas places her hand affectionately on my knee.

‘Yeah?’ I sound like a deflated balloon.

‘I can still see a spark between the two of you.’

I half smile at her as we pull into Uncle Mark’s driveway. As I unlatch my seatbelt and climb out, Jas yanks me back by the shirt, stopping me. She’s penetrating me with a steely glare.

‘Don’t fuck anything up tonight,’ is all she warns before she hops out herself, waiting to lock the car.

Blowing out a breath as I make my way to their door, I silently promise to be on my best behaviour. It still can’t stop the seething jealousy bubbling away in my chest at the thought of Mr I-run-two-minutes-then-have-to-stop-hot-shot-NFL-player sleeping under the same roof as her. I’ve never outwardly asked out of fear, but what if he has scratched her itches in the past, and they get it on over the next couple of weeks?

I still don’t know what the future holds for Amity and me, but I hope at least I’ll get more of a chance to woo her before she leaves. Chances will be limited if Mr NFL is cockblocking me.

Approaching the front door, we don’t even get a chance to open it and make ourselves at home like we had in the past. Instead, it swings open, revealing my heart.

Lust, adoration and love fills me as I observe her gorgeous, smiling face.

‘Hi!! Come in!’ she ushers us in. I know she’s more excited about Jas being here than me, but I’ll take any scrap of joy she gives me.

She’s in a pale blue mini dress, her legs and arms bare, highlighting her flawless, golden skin. She has no shoes on and looks more than casual in her own home. I hate how much skin she’s showing because it means if I can salivate over it, so can Jagger.

‘Everyone’s already here. I know we usually do a bigger thing for Dad, but he wanted to keep it relatively small this year with being injured and all, so really it’s just the core gang. Your dad, Lil’s fam, and Rome’s fam. Oh, and Ella,’ she rambles, trying to fill the awkwardness of me being here between the front door and backyard.

As she chats, I take in her achingly gorgeous face. With no make-up and hair carelessly plaited in two, you could mistake her for some sort of pornographic milk maid.

Rubbing at my chest to soothe the twinge I feel there, being in the presence of almost everyone who hates me, I miss that she’s slowed down to chat beside me. ‘Um, is being here still going to be okay?’ Her jade green eyes regard me as she grabs my arm.

‘It’ll be fine. I’m here for you, anyway.’ I smile down at her, seeing her nose crinkle adorably as she looks down. Her beauty really is arresting.

‘Sweetheart, Jas, go on ahead.’ I hear Uncle Mark’s voice nearing closer as he ambles towards us on crutches.

Amity’s grip tightens before she reluctantly obeys. Kissing her dad on the cheek, she links arms with Jas and walks out the back. He turns to make sure they’re out of sight.

I swallow in anticipation of what I know is about to be a warning. It stuns me when he puts his arm around my shoulder. I almost have to blink back tears at the familiar memories that asail me.

Uncle Mark has always been a second dad to me. After I fucked things up with Amity, he made it pretty clear how disappointed he was in me, and our relationship suffered massively. Over the years, we’ve steered clear of talking about her and focused more on me becoming an architect. I’ve stayed away as much as I can when he’s been over out of respect. I’ll never forget the look of disdain on his face when Billie and I came downstairs mid-footy game. After that unfortunate encounter, Dad and Jas tended to go to Uncle Mark’s instead. I hate that I lost his love and respect. It didn’t matter how much sucking up I did, his fierce loyalty to Hart trumped everything.

I understood every look of disgust and grimace, every time he ignored me. If I had a daughter whose heart had smashed to smithereens, I would want to erase him from our lives as well.

‘Something feels right, having you both here,’ he says, leaning on me as we walk slowly outside. ‘I just want you to know, man, you broke my heart when you broke hers. I lost a son…but if Amity can forgive you, then so can I.’

He squeezes my shoulder to let me know we’re good. ‘Now come on, let’s get you a drink.’ With the short, mushy shit over, we make our way to the esky.

Sausages, steak and rissoles hit my senses as we near the barbecue. It smells delicious, making my mouth water in anticipation. It also reminds me of the weekly barbecues we used to have together for years while growing up.

Rome and Lily are sitting at the patio table with Dad, Jas and their parents—parents who I also let down with my poor decisions. A thread of apprehension worms through me at the sight of my former best mate, Rome. Both he and Lily were steadfast in their loyalty to Amity, and I can’t fault them for that.

Neither of them has been overly polite over the years but were cordial nonetheless if they happened to pass me, which was less than a handful of times. Both have their own lives that don’t relate to mine.

I tip my chin in their direction, surprised when they both greet me with a smile and a wave. I’m giddy at the small step forward, even though I know it’s probably for the benefit of Amity and my sister.

I’m stuck with an awkward predicament as Uncle Mark sits down next to my dad, leaving me to wonder where I should park my ass. I’m saved from making the choice when I feel a brush of fingers along my shoulder blade.

‘Come meet Jagger,’ Amity says.

I school my features into a grim smile, replying, ‘Sure,’ as I follow her down the steps.

In the distance, I can see he’s handing out beers to who I assume are his security team, based on their beefcake statures.

‘Jag,’ Amity calls out as I draw a deep breath, bracing myself.

There he is.

Fucking Mr GQ himself.

Golden boy of the NFL.

He starts running over like he’s in some sort of fucking marathon, but even I can’t help to gawk at how athletically handsome the son of a bitch is. Tamping down my star-struck feelings, I observe him as he pulls up beside us.

He doesn’t look at me first, but rather down at Amity, where he gives her a heart-stopping smile, causing a small smile of her own to kick up at her mouth. Freezing, I know exactly that look splashed across his face. I see it in the mirror every day. He is awestruck, mesmerised by her.

It’s clear as day that he’s still hung up on her. Why the heck wouldn’t he be?

I should be commiserating with him over our communal feelings, but blind panic is all I feel.

What if they are endgame?

‘Linc?’ Amity’s soft voice pulls me from my dark thoughts.

Both she and this NFL noob are staring at me. The difference is, she has a concerned look on her face while he has a cocky-as-shit smirk.

Fuck, have I been death-staring him while she was introducing us?

Trying to recover quickly, I reach my hand out to shake his. Plastering my fake-as-hell smile on my face, I put every effort into meeting him.

‘Nice to meet a legend,’ I say begrudgingly.

He grins at me, taking my hand in his and forcing me into a manly hug and back slap. It’s way more friendly than what I was going for, but also a little rough, as if he’s sending me some sort of message.

I don’t usually have fanboy moments, but admittedly I am having one internally. Jagger has swagger. Even if he wasn’t famous with model-good looks, he’d turn heads on the street. There is this effervescent quality about him that commands your attention. He’s built with lickable abs and arms that are clearly defined behind his shirt, and he has effortlessly cool hair that would take anyone else half an hour to style. To top it off, he has fuckboy tattoos scattered down both arms that have to drive women crazy. He’s basically the David Beckham of the NFL.

‘Thanks, bro.’ Not that I can read men well, but although he seems friendly, I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.

‘Let’s sit,’ Amity suggests, leading us to the lounges away from the others. Her suggestion doesn’t cut the tension in the slightest. I feel it getting thicker by the minute.

With Amity in the middle, I can’t help to note she is the rose between two thorns—me and her dickhead ex. He’s just another prick in my way.

‘So, Linc.’ Linc? Who is this fucker who thinks he can call me by Hart’s nickname for me? ‘How has it been seeing Amity after all these years?’ He bares his teeth at me as if they are fangs. I don’t miss the warning look she gives him to simmer down.

It seems as if he thinks we’re on the field, the way he’s trying to wind me up.

I clear my throat. ‘Feels like she’s finally back where she belongs.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Amity is shifting in her spot. I’m trying to keep my promise of being civil, but it seems this jerkface has a distinct advantage over me by knowing just who I am to Amity. I can’t fault him for being a protective friend. I can only imagine what she’s told him about me.

Unbelievably, I know next to nothing about him and Amity, which is unsettling. I suspect that at one time they’ve been more than just friends, but I don’t know where their relationship stands now. Truthfully, I don’t know if I want to ask.

‘So, how did you two meet, anyway? I mean, it was like, poof, you were just pictured together one day in the papers.’ I immediately curse myself for sharing my stalker tendencies. My face feels like it’s on fire at my embarrassing admission.

‘Like looking us both up, do you, mate?’ He just had to twist the knife of shame, didn’t he? He chuckles as he stretches out his arm behind Amity, who seems to be turning her body every time one of us talks.

Why the fuck didn’t one of us just sit on the adjacent chair? We look as if we’re trying to vye for the world’s most uncomfortable school photo.

‘We met when I interviewed his NFL team, and then later randomly, at a party,’ Amity offers.

I’m taken aback slightly. The Amity I know—or knew—despises the party scene. She certainly wasn’t caught dead at any after she walked in on me at the last one. For the rest of our senior year, she avoided them like the plague.

‘We sure did, baby,’ he laughs. ‘We make our own parties now.’ What the fuck does that mean? ‘If we have to make an appearance somewhere, we do that and then bolt. Nothing worse than being stuck around pretentious people and precarious situations.’

Amity averts her gaze away from me as if she’s remembering the dark side of Hollywood’s glitz and glamour.

Before I can press either of them for more information, Jas plops herself down next to me, slapping my stomach hard.

‘Move, bro. I want to meet Mr Hotshot over here.’ She extends her hand across both me and Amity. ‘Jasmine.’

‘Hi.’ He gleefully takes her hand in his, returning her sparkling smile.

‘I watch all your games with Uncle Mark. Big fan,’ she gushes.

I stifle a roll of my eyes as she fangirls over him. It’s only when I see Amity staring at me that I can see she and I are having the same thoughts, which brings a secret smile to my lips.

‘I’m just going to start dressing some salads,’ Amity says, standing so she can give us all more space.

‘I’ll help.’ I jump at the opportunity to spend a little more time with her.

‘It’s fine. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

Slumping in disappointment as she walks away, I reluctantly hone back in on the conversation between Jas and Jagger. As he regales his time on the field, my gaze is laser-focused on Amity, who is flitting about the kitchen. I watch as she shakes the coleslaw dressing, taste tests the vinegar on the Greek salad and dips her spoon in the bean salad to see if there’s enough onion. Rome joins her and chats merrily as he sips his beer, sitting on the counter top.

I tune out to the flirty giggles my sister is tossing Jagger’s way, his stupid, all-American boy accent and the chatter of our friends and family behind us. All I want to hear and see is my Amity. My heart. My soul.

‘Jag, come check on your pie,’ the object of my affection sings as she bends to open the oven door. Billowing steam rises as she waves it away with a tea-towel.

‘Coming, baby.’ He needs to cut the shit with this ‘baby’ nonsense. It’s too familiar, and I’m irked because that’s one of my pet names for her—especially when we’re intimate.

‘Pie?’ Jas stares at him dreamily.

‘He makes the best sweet potato pie and insisted he make it for dessert today,’ Amity answers, wandering back over to us, waiting for Jagger. ‘Every time we see each other, I demand he make it for me.’

‘Only the best for my favourite girl.’ At this point, the fucker is playing with me. I can tell he’s trying to get a rise out of me. Amity shoots him another warning glance but lightens it with a playful smirk.

When they walk away, I sullenly lean back in the cushions, hoping they swallow me.

‘Cheer up, bro. Remember, you had sex with her a few days ago.’ I cough on my beer at my sister being so casual and candid.

‘Dinner’s ready!’ Amity calls, pulling everyone to the table.

There isn’t any awkwardness or temper tantrums. In fact, it’s fun to be together with the people who used to matter the most to me. I know I’m quieter than usual, marinating in my emotions over being here with everyone. If I hadn’t fucked up, I can’t help but wonder if we would have had a couple of little rugrats running around, or if Amity would be wearing a ring.

There is no point dwelling on the past, but I know with every fibre of my being that I want her to be in my future. She is my future.

Everyone makes an effort to include Jagger in the conversation, filling him in on Amity’s childhood. A lot of the stories include Lily and Rome, but even more include me, which makes me somewhat melancholy to think about. At some point, all the stories about us ended.

As much as I want to dislike Jagger because he is protective over Amity, he is actually a pretty cool guy. Nice. He makes sure to ask questions about our lives and is attentive in follow-up questions.

Someone tells him that I am obsessed with buffalo wings, and he happens to be the ambassador for one of my favourite sauces, so he says he’ll send me a hamper full of them. The conversation leads us to bond over spicy food, including our love for the YouTube show, Hot Ones, which he will be starring on shortly.

He isn’t arrogant, bored or acting like we are beneath him. He’s charismatic when he speaks about his life as an athlete and the sacrifices he’s made to get to where he is. He loves his family, and he is highly protective of his close circle of friends, which of course includes Amity.

It shouldn’t bother me, but even his damn pie is delicious. Uncle Mark even goes without birthday cake this year in favour of the sinful treat. Even I practically lick the plate clean. It has a crusty, flaky case, and the sweet potato filling is creamy and rich with depths of cinnamon and other spices. The flavour is almost enticing enough to ask for a second helping, but I don’t want to look like a fat shit with him in the room, looking like Adonis, carved from stone.

Throughout the meal, I make a habit of watching Amity. One thing that makes me frequently frown is the teeny tiny portions of food she pops on her plate. It’s mainly salad—without dressing—and a child's portion of protein. Even though she seemed like she couldn’t live without Jagger’s pie, she got the world’s tiniest slice and only ate the filling, not the crust.

Everyone heads in separate directions after dinner. The adults go to watch the footy game, Ella, Rome, Lily and Jas are washing up, and Jagger is on the phone to his manager. Even his security team are lounging around.

I know I should have offered to help clean up, but I wanted to steal a few extra moments with Amity.

‘You good, baby?’

She glances up, smiling. ‘It’s a perfect night.’ Not wanting to read into her words, I choose to believe it’s because I’m here andhas nothing to do with Jagger’s visit.

‘We need to eventually talk, you know.’

On a deep exhale, she nods. ‘I know. We will. The next week is a little chaotic. I’m pretty much off for a few days, and then I have that assignment to do with your sister when I get back.’

Although she gives me an apologetic look, my mood sours. ‘When you get back, then? After the Jas thing?’ I hear the desperation in my tone. Again, she nods.

‘Amity, your phone’s ringing!’ Lily shouts from the sink.

‘Be right there.’ With a last sympathetic look, she slides her chair back and goes to fetch her phone.

Frustrated and with silent irritation, I push my own chair back and go in search of a quiet place to sort my head out. Going inside, I’d be bombarded with people, so I opt to retreat further into the backyard, finding my way to the pool area. Slumping in one of the lounge chairs, I prop my hands behind my head and stare up at the starry sky. The stars don’t seem as bright this evening, but it could just be my mood projecting.

‘You look like you need a harder drink.’

I turn in surprise at the sound of Jagger’s voice. He’s holding a glass with amber liquid, filled a quarter of the way. A single block of ice stands proud above the liquid.

‘I need something.’ Amity. I need Amity.

He lays back on the opposite lounge, mimicking my pose.

‘You fucked up hard, man,’ he breathes out, getting what he really wants to say off his chest.

‘I know.’ Hearing some other fucker say it—who doesn’t even know me—cuts deep.

‘You don’t.’ There’s so much despair in his voice that I know he knows things I don’t.

I cough at his admission, stumbling to come up with a reply.

‘Tell me.’ I watch as he swallows a sip of whisky.

Handing me his glass, I take it from him. ‘You’ll need this.’

Taking a bigger gulp than I should, I instantly feel the burn slide down my throat, knowing that whatever he’s about to say will not be anywhere near the burn the drink leaves behind.

‘It’s not my story to tell, but I can say that when we met, she was in pieces. I didn’t know her before, but the Amity I met was fragments of a girl. Broke my fucking heart. Something inside me wanted to protect her. In the industry we’re in, someone like her—with her innocence—wouldn’t only get swallowed. She’d get buried, metaphorically and literally. I knew that if I didn’t step in, we’d be standing at her grave.’

My eyes go wide at his solemn confession. A complete numbness washes over me. I can’t feel my fingers or my toes as my head swims with visions of Amity’s gravestone. There’s a clinking sound coming from my shaking hands, holding the tumbler. Seconds later, the clinking stops as Jagger takes the glass from my hand.

‘How did you help her?’ Have I swallowed razor blades I didn’t know about? My voice is hoarse and my throat burns, clogged with guilt.

‘I loved her. Every part. I brought fun into her life. I sought the help she needed. I helped her navigate fame. But most of all, I was whatever she needed me to be.’ What fucking cryptic crap is that?

His confession gnaws at the part of me that knows I’m the reason she fell.

‘What help did she need?’

He shakes his head. ‘I can’t tell you that. Just know, what she’s battling every single day is lifelong.’

Both hands fly to my hair as I tear at the strands. I feel infuriated and helpless, and really, if I thought Jagger couldn’t flatten me to a pancake with one punch, I’d probably take my aggression out on him.

‘Can you at least tell me if Uncle Mark and Aunt Crystal knew the extent?’

He’s quiet for a moment. The night air is thick with humidity. The palm trees are swaying slightly, but not enough to slice the heat, and the only sounds permeating around us are the cicadas singing.

‘They do.’ That’s it. That’s all he has to say in response to my question.

‘Tell me how you met.’ I give up asking about whatever secrets she’s hiding.

‘She interviewed my team, but we didn’t really hit it off until I met her at some Hollywood party a month or so later. I don’t have to tell you how much I was captivated by her, but even when she interviewed us, I saw the switch in her when the cameras stopped rolling. She had such an exuberance about her when the red light was on but when the interview ended, she retreated back into herself, as if she was putting on a facade. A few of the guys tried to hit her up, but she shut them down pretty quickly.’ He chuckles at whatever memory he’s thinking of.

‘She told them she was a lesbian, which didn’t deter them in the slightest.’ Shaking his head, he looks up at the Southern Cross, continuing down memory lane. ‘Anyway, I saw her at a party, and I could see she wanted to be anywhere but there. She was with a group and everyone was chatting, but she just had this checked-out look on her face. Minutes later, I saw her bolting to the bathrooms and thought it might be my chance to see what was making such a pretty girl so sad.’

Hanging on every word, I turn to my side to watch him speak.

‘I wasn’t expecting her to be in the…state she was in.’

State? What fucking state? Was she naked, drunk, drugged, with someone, in a fight? My mind goes to the worst of the worst case scenarios. My sweet, darling Hart isn’t the partying type. I can only imagine how the partying probably exacerbated so many of the fears and insecurities she had about herself. She would have been the most introverted in the room. The one who was an outsider. The one who compared herself to everyone else, weight and looks wise. The one who would see a couple and be reminded that she was single and alone. It would have killed her to see everyone have fun while she was so broken, lost and dazed. While part of me had anguished how she seemed to just move on and pave this big, beautiful, glamorous life for herself, I didn’t think of the repercussions it would have had on her psyche.

Turning his eyes to me, he senses my panic. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that…but like I said, I can’t tell you her story. All I can say is that I knew she needed a true friend in the industry, and contrary to what you might think of me, I’m a pretty decent guy.’

I sigh because I know he isn’t a wanker. He’s just protective.

Like a rat chewing at my bones, I need to know the answer to a question that keeps gnawing at me. ‘Are you more than friends with my girl?’ I bite out.

‘Is she your girl?’ He cocks his eyebrow in question.

‘Just answer my question.’

‘Yes.’ A whoosh of air exhales from my lungs. I’m sucker-punched by that tiny three-letter word.

‘Yes,’ I repeat back.

‘If you’re asking if we’ve been…intimate. Yes.’ Hammer, meet skull. ‘But there are no feelings but mutual affection. We are each other’s release when we need one.’ He shrugs as if fucking my girl is no big deal. My stomach drops, plagued by sordid images of them having sex. Jesus, that would be the hottest porn of all time with the way they both look. I’m very much straight, but even I can appreciate a fine-looking specimen like Jagger.

Opening and closing my mouth, I feel like one of those laughing clown games you find at a carnival. No matter how much I want to stop, my mouth just opens and shuts.

‘She’s my best friend. I love her to pieces. We have fun. It’ll never be serious between us.’

‘Why?’ I’m baffled. I don’t think I’d turn the fucker down if he asked me out, truth be told.

‘Her heart will always belong to someone else. I’ve been her caretaker, her safe space for so long. I’m the one she has been able to lean on. I’ve been there to see her build herself back up. And make no mistake, I will never abandon her, screw her over or bring harm to her, but she doesn’t belong to me or with me.’ There’s a contented smile on his face as if he’s trying to tell me something.

I’m holding my breath to the point that my lungs are gasping for air.

‘I love Amity, but I’m not in love with her, and she isn’t in love with me.’

Wrapping my head around his confessions seems incomprehensible.

‘Do you hate me?’ I don’t know why it matters, but I need him to find me redeemable.

He furrows his brow at me. Thank heavens the light around us is dim and he can’t see my embarrassment at asking him that.

‘I don’t know you.’ It’s a simple but avoiding answer.

‘But you must know a lot about me, mine and Hart’s history, and the events that inevitably led her to you?’ I press.

‘I don’t hate anyone. I am disgusted by some of your actions and choices, but I can’t hold you accountable for them. Only you can. I’ve heard some gritty things, Lincoln, but I also understand people make mistakes. The thing is, someone like me is the safe bet for someone like Amity. You? You’re either the best thing for her or the worst. Be the best thing for her. Love her so hard that you elevate her to such a level that no amount of hurt will ever destroy her again.’

‘She’s mine.’ I don’t say it to be territorial, it’s just an admission I’ve always known and never had the balls to voice since I fucked up.

‘Yeah, mate. She’s yours.’

‘Will you get with her while you’re here?’

‘That’s not up to me. If you’re asking if I’ll gladly step out of the way, the answer is no. Whatever Amity needs, I’ll always give her.’ A bitterness coats my tongue at his words.

‘But you just said she’s mine.’

‘I didn’t say you were hers completely yet.’ I’m stunned.

‘But it makes it a hell of a lot easier for me to win her back if you’re not swinging your dick around,’ I splutter.

‘Who said I want to make it easy for you? This isn’t about you. It has been, is and always will be about Amity for me. Look, bro, I see us being friends in the future. Don’t make shit more complicated than it needs to be. Don’t worry about me. Worry about you and what you’re going to do from here on out. Don’t be the reason she self-destructs again.’

‘I slept with her a few days ago,’ I blurt, not knowing why I just revealed that.

‘I know, bro.’ With that, he gets up, pats me on the back and waltzes back to where the rest of the party is.

At this point, I’m not sure if he’s high, if I’m high, or if we’re both are. What the fuck just happened, and why do I feel like I just smoked an entire joint and landed in the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had?