99. Dusted in Fuzz and Crumbs
DUSTED IN FUZZ AND CRUMBS
LIVY
My yoga practice is the best I’ve had for as long as I can remember. It’s intentional, calming, and strong, and the waves roll in, keeping the pace for me in the movements and transitions.
Kyle relaxes on the beach. Nothing sets him on edge. In fact, he’s asleep on a blanket in the sand. His gentle snores lull me into an even deeper calm.
When I’m done, I fold into the sand beside him and do some breathwork exercises my therapist recommended when Tommy and I split. The split was insult added to injury. The lowest point in my life became a dark pit that I didn’t know how to climb out of.
Figuring out how to deal with never being enough and having the person who promised me forever say, in essence, I wasn’t worth standing by through thick and thin… Well, that required a professional.
She recommended several things, but the ones I could implement immediately and consistently at any point were breathwork and grounding.
I use it in my personal practice and even sneak it into my client’s therapy sessions. It never misses.
I’m not stressed today, but I won’t argue with extra calm.
By the time I’m done, I’m ready to take on the day.
In fact, I’m ready to take on Tally.
I try her when I get back to the beach house only to get that ridiculous voicemail. I don’t leave one. I’m not a client or her project. I’m her sister, and if I need to justify my call, it’s not worth the explanation.
Before I have my tea made, though, she calls me back.
“Olivia.” Tally has always been formal, but I can’t help but think of Layton switching to calling me the same when he was taking control in bed.
Focus, Livy! “Hey, Tally. How are you?”
“You called?”
“Obviously, I didn’t get to congratulate you when we spoke on Monday. So proud of you, sis. You’re crushing it.”
“Thank you. It was a hell of a lot of work. Still is.” There’s an awkward pause, but I can hear papers ruffling in the background. “Was that all?”
“I guess. And thank you for checking on me on Monday. It’s been stressful, and I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Another pause. “Have a good day, Olivia.”
Click.
I’m great. Thanks for asking. It’s been a challenging time, but I’m happy too.
Florida agrees with me. The sun, the wind, the waves.
It’s a magic cocktail for me. I’m seeing great progress with some patients and getting kudos for my work.
Yes, Kyle is good. The rascal still thinks I can’t tell when he eats off the counters, but I know.
Yeah, I’ll probably be home in July for Mom and Dad’s fortieth anniversary.
I’d love to see you. A whole day? I’d kill for that.
Yes, let’s do it. Miss you too. Love you, Tally. So glad we got to catch up.
I pull my phone away from my face and stare down. Forty-nine seconds. That’s what it comes down to – less than a minute of conversation fifteen times a year.
I hit the power button and slide my phone into my purse.
I don’t want to think of the relationship I don’t have with my sister.
I don’t want to consider Gerald Tustin or his weird fixation on me. Or maybe his obsession is with Layton. That’s curious, actually. Which of us is he more interested in?
I can’t spend my energy on Layton, either. I would love to burn off all kinds of energy with that man, but right is right, and I have a contract.
I’m great at my job and I want to keep it. I may not be hitting Tally’s levels of success, but for me, I’m happy, accomplishing my dreams, and getting kudos for doing so. That’s enough.
I throw some cash and a credit card in my pocket and grab Kyle’s leash that’s still attached. “You ready for a walk, big boy?”
His ears perk, and his tail knocks into a barstool, sending it two inches farther under the island.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
We head off to the farmers’ market and to wander the tourist shops of this little coastal beach town.
Three days later, I pack the car to head home.
It’s time to get back into routine. Time to get the laundry done, the groceries prepped, and to be ready to tackle the week.
I plug my phone into the car charger, and it lights up as it boots back to life. I expect a missed call or two. Maybe a text from Sabine, but the notifications just won’t stop. Emails. Texts. News alerts. Phone calls.
It’s Sabine’s that scares me most.
Bean: CALL ME IMMEDIATELY
Three days ago. Oh my gosh. What happened?
“Livy!”
“Hey, love. What’s up? I’ve been—”
“You’re okay?”
“Yes?” I answer like a question. Of course, I’m okay. Why would she assume otherwise?
“You promised to call.”
“I know. I’m a bad friend. It was just—”
“How is he?”
“Who?”
“Hold on.” All the sound in the background behind her stops. “You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what, Bean? You’re scaring me.”
“Layton Ranger was in an accident.” She keeps talking, but my blood runs cold. I drop the phone and fumble as I try to catch it.
“Wait. Wait. Wait,” I scream as I feel the floor mat for it.
I find it, dusted in fuzz and crumbs and press it to my face, feeling the debris press into my skin.
“Start over.” I take a deep breath. “Start over, Bean.”
I hear words, but their meaning eludes me. Guardrail. Airborne. Tuesday night. Jaws of life. Life flighted. Intensive care. Coma.
My vision goes white.
My hearing tunnels.
And I’m gone.
Moments slip by. I wake in the driveway of Dr. Silverberg’s beach house driveway, car still in park, to Kyle’s whimpers, and to Bean’s screams from my phone. It’s on the floor again, and I leave it there.
“I’m here, Bean. Hang on.” I yell as I push buttons on the steering wheel willing the Bluetooth to connect. After a couple of tries, I hear her through the speakers. “You there?”
Kyle’s head pokes through the seats, and he stares at me.
“I’m here. What happened?”
“I think I passed out.”
“Why?”
“Shock?” I scratch Kyle’s chin from my slouched position in the driver’s seat.
“Are you asking me?”
“I slept with him, Bean.” I close my eyes and palm my clammy forehead. “Tuesday night. Well, day. And night…”
“What? Is that why you went radio silent?”
“No.”
“You need to talk to me, Livy. What the hell is going on?”
I tell her about the meeting where I was ambushed and his reaction, what followed on Monday night, and finally about Tuesday. Not in detail, but enough.
“And he left here and—”
“And shit. I’m sorry, Liv. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I— Where is he?”
“Memorial Hospital.”
“Where was the accident?”
“Way south. More than an hour from his house.”
I say nothing, spending my energy keeping the contents of my stomach down.
“We both assume if this is outed, I’ll lose my job.”
“And?”
“And my boss’s beach house where I’ve been for a week is ninety minutes south of the field.”
“Would he say anything?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?” she presses.
“As sure as I can be.”
“Can you drive? Want me to stay on the phone with you for a bit?”
“Yes and yes, please.” I put the car in reverse and look at Kyle in the rearview. He takes the whole mirror. “Who’s a good boy?” I ask him.
“I’m assuming Layton Ranger was…”
“Oh yeah.”
“Are you going to tell me more?”
“Maybe. Eventually. For now, tell me about your week.”
“Well, it hasn’t been as eventful as yours,” she starts before launching into a captain’s log of Sabine life. It’s mundane and perfect for keeping my mind busy as I drive.
I do fine until I see the black burn marks on the interstate highway.
“Where did you say Layton’s accident was?” I interrupt.
She pulls up a news article and tells me. I feel the crushing weight of fear all around me.
My brain heard the words but didn’t get it. The charred concrete is evidence of a fire.
Fire!
I sanitize the image in my mind as she reads the article.
It can’t be. The difference in a matter of seconds would mean death. And Layton Ranger is too full of life to be gone.
Layton
It’s like waking from a dream but into a nightmare.
Everything is fuzzy.
I need my phone.
Where’s my phone?
I need it, but I can’t remember why.
I want to scream. My throat is open. It hurts, and I can’t make a sound.
What’s on my chest? Why can’t I breathe?
Shrill beeps screech and wail.
The shadow of a man.
“Layton?”
The edges of my mind close in.
I dissolve into blackness.