Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Cormac
Caleb and Remi had to get home to their families, but I lingered at the bar, having nowhere to be. It wasn’t long before Zara approached, taking the stool next to mine.
I spun my lukewarm beer between my palms. I’d been nursing it for a while. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Her shoulder brushed mine as she settled onto her seat. She was wobbly and unbalanced, so it took her some time. “I was waiting for you to come say hi to me, but you never did.”
“You looked like you were having fun. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Pfft.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she blew away my concern with a puff of vodka-scented air. “Why would you think I’d stop having fun if you came over? You could’ve joined in the fun, Maccie. You seem like you need to have fun.”
I chuckled, but it was only surface-level amusement. “You’re probably right.”
She leaned toward me again, her midnight eyes rounding dangerously. “You know, in all the years we knew each other, we never once danced. I’ve only known Henrik a few weeks, and he danced with me all night.”
“I’m not sure if what you two were doing counts as dancing.”
“Ah!” She held up a finger. “You were watching us like a little creeper, but stayed away. Why’s that?”
Despite myself, I laughed. Drunk Zara was as cute as she was confrontational.
I’d only seen her drunk once, when her mom was sick and she stole a bottle of rum from her parents’ liquor cabinet. I’d stayed sober while she’d drunk herself numb. When I’d brought her home and carried her inside, her dad had been there. Waiting.
Amir’s glare pinned me right where I stood. “Did you drink?”
I shook my head. “Not a sip.”
“Did you touch her?”
“Never. I would never.”
He raised a hand. “I know. Had to ask anyway.”
“I know.”
His gaze softened as he looked her over, passed out and curled in my arms.
“Oh, baby girl,” he whispered, brushing her hair from her face. “You’re going to be okay.”
“She is,” I promised. “I think she just really needed to take a break.”
His jaw rippled, and he jerked a nod. “If it gets to be too much for her—for you—I need you to tell me. No matter what.”
It had never been too much, though. Not for me.
“We never had a chance to dance,” I said.
“No, I guess we didn’t. We should’ve made the chance. That was a real missed opportunity.” Her head fell heavy on my shoulder as she sighed. “I’m sorry for calling you a creeper. That wasn’t nice of me. I’m feeling a little mean tonight.”
“Directed at me?”
“Pretty much. A little at Jackson too. He never took me dancing either. Or even out to bars. He always went drinking with his brothers while I stayed home watching reruns. What kind of life is that, Maccie? I was twenty-three and twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my stupid husband to come home. Why’d I let that happen? ”
This was the most I’d ever heard about her life with Jackson, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to keep talking or never hear her utter his name again.
“It sounds like you’re more than a little mad at him.”
“It sounds like that, doesn’t it?” She picked up my hand and brought it close to her face. Her brow puckered as she studied it. “You have the longest fingers I’ve ever seen. Did you know that? They’re like ten inches long each.”
“Maybe not quite that long.”
“No, I think they are. We should measure them.” She slid her fingertip along my index finger. “Do you have a ruler?”
“Can’t say I carry one on me.”
“That’s a shame.” She let out a huff. “Oh well. We’ll just have to agree they’re ten inches.”
“If that makes you happy.”
Her head shot up from my shoulder so fast her eyes went fuzzy and unfocused. “I’m not really mad at Jackson anymore. I was for a long time, but now…I’m just mad at myself. I can’t even remember why I loved him. He wasn’t who I was looking for. Not really.”
“Who were you looking for?”
Why’d I ask that? I didn’t want to know. The answer would never be what I wanted. Even if it was, even if, by some chance, she’d ever wanted me, she’d married someone else. Had built a life with someone else and cast me out of it.
That fact remained.
And yet…
I couldn’t stop being curious about her.
She wouldn’t leave my mind. My memories. She was entrenched in my past, stuck deep in my heart, woven into the core of what made me who I was. Impossible to shake off when she was a thousand miles away. Even worse when she was on the stool beside me, her small fingers wrapped around mine.
And she didn’t even know. Not any of it.
“Someone like my dad. I don’t mean that in a weird way—I mean the way he’d lay down his life for my mom.
” She made a claw with her free hand, right over her heart.
“A lot of people think he’s scary, but he’s so soft with her.
Zane and I too. His love is a flannel blanket, and the way he cares for us is like Bubble Wrap.
Jackson’s love was like…he stuck me in a too-big cardboard box, taped it up, and sent me off, hoping for the best. If things were smooth, I was fine, but if anything went slightly off course, I was bouncing around, flipping upside down, ping-ponging off the sides with the tiniest layer of protection. ”
I nodded. “He was careless.”
“Yes.” She slapped her hand down on the bar. “Yes. What I can’t figure out is why I thought that cardboard box would ever be enough.”
“Maybe it was—until it wasn’t.”
Her lashes brushed the apples of her cheeks as she blinked at me. Green neon reflected off the deep, shiny pools of her eyes. They were hazy but fathomless. And her sadness was there, right at the surface, diluted only by all the alcohol swimming in her blood.
“You’re so smart,” she said softly. Sadly. “I wish you hadn’t stopped speaking to me.”
“I didn’t stop on purpose. It wasn’t a decision I made. We just…burned out.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed. “I was swept up and didn’t see it coming. One day, you just weren’t there anymore.”
“Kinda how I felt about you, Zara. You were there, then you were gone.” With him. Always, always with him.
“Then you hated me.”
“No.” I curled my fingers tighter around hers. “That isn’t true. I’ve never hated you. Not even for a second.”
Furious. Lost. Heartbroken. But hate?
Never.
Not Zara.
Her eyes snapped open. “Then why—”
Heavy arms fell across our shoulders, cutting off whatever she was going to say, and Henrik’s face appeared between us.
“Hello, my friends. Enough serious talk. It’s time for spinning.”
Zara’s laugh tinkled. “I don’t know. If I start spinning, I might not stop.”
“What’s the problem?” Henrik pulled her hand from mine. “Come on. I promise to catch you. Or maybe Mr. Kelly will do that job.”
She let him pull her off her stool, but reached for me, tugging on my sleeve. “Come on, you. We’re long overdue for that dance. No time like the present to make it happen.”
We were long overdue for a lot of things.
“Where are we?” Zara murmured against my chest, her eyes cracking the slightest bit.
“Home.” I shifted her in my arms and punched in the code on the front door. “You can go back to sleep.”
She nuzzled against me, broke through my sternum, and gnawed at my heart. Or maybe it only felt like I’d been flayed open.
“Okay, Mac. I’m pretty tired.”
I closed and locked the door behind me. “I know, Zara. I’m tired too.” I kicked off my boots and headed up the stairs, her limp body heavy and perfect in my arms.
She’d bounced between Henrik and the other guides, singing to country music and throwing darts like confetti.
She’d danced and laughed and drank more while I’d mostly sat and watched.
Seeing her happy and free had unraveled some of the knots I’d carried for a long time.
And even though I hadn’t been the one to make her feel that way, for now, it didn’t matter.
We’d danced too—in the loosest definition of the word. By the time she’d grabbed my hands and pulled me toward the jukebox, she was stumbling more than keeping any sort of rhythm.
Still, she’d made me smile. I’d found glimpses of my friend.
The way she’d reached for me, and reached for me, and reached for me whenever we parted.
Poking me. Slapping her hands right over my heart.
Showing me to all her new friends, telling them I was her first best friend.
The air under her feet, the galaxies in her eyes. Light, light, light.
Knowing those parts of her were still there soothed me. Sweetened the bitterness I’d had too long on my tongue.
And at the end of the night, when Zara proclaimed she could dance no more, it had been nothing less than natural for me to scoop her up and carry her to my car.
This was why I’d stayed stone-cold sober, so I could be the one to watch over her and make sure she got home safe. Only in the darkness of my guest bedroom, with Zara tucked under the covers, sighing in her sleep, could I admit that to myself.
I took one last look at her, shadows dancing over her peaceful face, hair like an oil spill across her pillow, then I backed away, quietly closing the door.
In my dark room, under my warm blankets, I blinked at the ceiling. No matter how tired I was, sleep wouldn’t come. The deep, visceral ache in my chest was too present. Impossible to breathe through or ignore. It kept me up. Kept me staring at the ceiling.
I rubbed the words carved in ink on my collarbone—a memory attached to my skin—and wondered if this would ever end.
Would it hurt forever?
Tears welled and spilled over, no matter how many times I blinked them back. Streaming along my temples onto my pillow. Silent trails of grief as I lay frozen, unable to move on.
Why the fuck couldn’t I move on?
My fingers curled into my sheets, gripping them so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were shredded by morning. I was angry at myself, the situation and, if I were honest, her.
For existing. For being here, in my home, where I’d brought her. For falling for a man who never deserved her. How easily she moved through the world. Through life. Even when she failed and things weren’t going her way, she still laughed, danced, and touched.
This was my problem, and I hated myself for my anger.
I had no right to it. I was the one who couldn’t shake these feelings.
I’d tried. Had even thought they were fading.
Then something would remind me of her—a wedding invitation in the mail.
Christmas card from her parents. A song, a meal, the earth, the wind, my home—and she’d be there.
I’d remember everything and be right back where I’d started.
She’s just a girl, I told myself.
My girl, I argued.
But she wasn’t. Not my girl. Never my girl.
Frustration sat heavy in my chest, making my breath short. I was panting, close to clawing off my skin. Was the ceiling falling? Had it moved?
I turned my head, finding the moon out my window. Big and bright, so full, it was nearly bursting. Close enough to touch, but always out of reach.
I sucked in a breath. Sweat beaded along my hairline, and my heart thudded in my ears.
Broad, endless sky. Pinpricks of light scattered through. So many stars, they’d never be counted. In the distance, cattle wandered, their faint and familiar sounds never being anything other than home.
Another breath, this one easier.
Across the hall, she slept. Safe and free from all her troubles. My grandparents were downstairs, tucked away in their bed. My parents down the road one way, my brother and his family the other. Everyone was in their place. Even me.
I closed my eyes, and they stayed that way, even as more tears trickled out.
The weight lifted gradually until I stopped thinking about my next breath.
Not all at once. Not merciful. It was slow. One notch at a time.
I pressed my palm flat against my sternum, over the place she’d smacked earlier, laughing. My heart was still beating too hard, but it was no longer trying to escape.
Just knocking.
Just alive.
You’re here.
The moonlight cut a pale rectangle across my floorboards. I traced it with my eyes. The worn knot in the wood near the dresser. The shadow of the oak outside, branches swaying steadily in the summer wind.
The world was not ending.
My lungs figured that out before my head could.
Another breath. Deeper this time. I held it until my lungs stretched uncomfortably then let it go. The tight band around my ribs loosened. The buzzing in my fingertips dulled.
I dragged a hand over my face and rolled to my side, turning fully toward the window. I didn’t have to solve anything tonight. I just had to make it to morning.
Life would keep moving, the way it always did. And I would move with it.
Like I always did.