45. Colson
FORTY-FIVE
COLSON
I park my car outside of the twenty-four hour grocery store on the other side of Harrison Heights after driving around for the last few hours and make my way inside. My nerves heighten when another car pulls in behind me and parks a few spaces down. I didn’t plan on stopping on the way home, but if I’m going to pack all my shit up in record timing, then I need fuel. I need something to eat and one of those natural energy drinks Sebastian got me hooked on. I toss a glance over my shoulder at the vehicle that trailed me for the last few blocks and head inside toward the deli where there are pre-portioned meals.
There’s this itchiness that covers my body, this weird knowing I can’t explain but can feel. Ever since Finn, I’ve been more aware of my surroundings than normal. Tonight is no different. My old paranoia hooks into me, trying to convince me that the other car out in the lot isn’t just nothing.
I’ve learned to trust my gut and lean into my instincts. Now is no different as I grab myself a platter that looks a lot like meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Protein and carbs are exactly what I need after this shit with Clyde.
Clutching it in my hand, I go an aisle over and grab a blackberry flavored drink that will hopefully give me more energy than I currently have. Physically, I’m still wrecked from the fight I threw. Mentally, I’m completely drained from Clyde’s mind games. My hand curls around the aluminum can that promises an energy high from all natural ingredients and some other shit I don’t have half a mind to care about right now.
The only two thoughts in my mind are that car and the fact that I have to get back to the house and pack up, my biggest lesson of the last week knowing I can’t trust the man whose DNA flows through my blood. I have no doubt that Clyde won’t move himself in and rip through my shit if I’m not out by when he said. There are a couple things I’d like to grab, including the cookie jar I’ve stashed my fighting money in.
My issue is that I don’t know where to go when I leave. I could stay in a hotel for a bit, but I’ll run through my money fast. There’s Aunt Bess and Uncle Thad. I could ask to stay with them until I figure out what it is I want to do with my life, but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.
Which points me back in the direction of Spring Meadows. I don’t want to go back to the apartment, but it’s starting to look like that’s my last resort. It wasn’t all bad there. It was quiet for the most part. Drama didn’t wrap itself around me every chance it could get.
And Violet is there.
Along with the possibility that I’ll bump into her.
And for the first time in a long time, I really, really want that.
God, I really fucking do. She’s who I want to be around. A person that doesn’t remind me of the pain of my past but the hope of my future. Violet is proof that I can have a lot more than I’ve been given. A promise that I’m more than what I was born into.
Hope flourishes inside of me, but still, it’s not loud enough to drown out the gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach. I hear a squeak at the other end of the aisle as I make it toward the registers. The sound matches that of wet rubber boots on tile, only when I scan the area, no one is there. It’s just me, the quiet elevator-type music playing, and my own sneakers squeaking against the hard floor.
I stop in my tracks and listen intently, keeping my gaze in the direction where the sound came from and wait. Nothing comes.
I swivel toward the front of the store and make it to the one lone open register where a kid younger than me is scrolling through his phone. He sets it down when he sees me. “Hey, man. Would you like to add on a brownie?” He points to the end of the conveyor belt where there’s a square container of baked goods individually wrapped. “Goes to a good cause,” he adds in a tone that tells me he has no clue what the cause is.
“No, thanks,” I mumble, twisting around and scanning the area once more. “Hey, did you see if anyone came in after me?”
He scans my food then looks over at the entrance about fifty feet away. He has a direct line of sight to it. He’d notice if someone came or went. “Uh…” His gaze drops to his phone sitting atop the register and uses a finger to keep the screen from dimming. “Not sure.”
“Forget it.” I shake it off, pulling a ten out of my wallet and grabbing my change.
“Need a bag?”
“No,” I answer in a clipped tone, peeved the fuck out. I heard someone behind me. I know I did, damnit.
It seems darker when I make it back outside. I don’t know how when it’s close to midnight, and the sun has been gone for a long while. My eyes track the parking lot, noting a beat-up Chevy in the employee parking section and my Ford Focus in the same spot I left it. My gaze snags on the now-empty spot where the other car parked, and a shiver works down my spine. Not because I’m scared but because I’m relieved.
My life has been a circus for months, and now I’m at the point where my paranoia wants to win out and convince me I’m being followed? I blame it on wondering what Tommy might do if he ever finds out about me throwing my match.
Fuck.
“No one is following you,” I mutter to myself as I get back into my car and toss my groceries on the passenger’s seat. I’ll eat as soon as I get back to the house, but first I rest back on the headrest and let out a sigh.
Finn’s and my business has been over for weeks, and while Clyde showed his true colors earlier, the reality is that he doesn’t want a thing to do with me. Once he gets Mom’s house in his hands, he’ll forget I even exist, having gotten the last thing he wanted from Janie Moore.
Which brings me right back to Tommy.
I threw his fight, but there’s no possible way he could have found out. The only people who know about it are me and Clyde. And Clyde wouldn’t go off and run his mouth when he hates the guy. Would he?
I run my tongue along my teeth and contemplate it for a minute.
For one fleeting second, this awful sensation trudges through my system. My neck breaks out in a sweat, and my hands turn clammy as I grip the steering wheel. I stretch my legs out and get comfortable enough to make the drive home.
“No,” I convince myself out loud in the space of my car. “It’s done and over with. He doesn’t know.” I scrub my hands over my face and try to relax my shoulders. “It’s all in my head. It has to be. Fuck . Why am I talking to myself about this?”
I jab my key into the ignition and twist it over, but then my phone vibrates from my back pocket. I manage to wiggle it free, seeing a call from some spam number. I tap ignore, but then my eyes snag on Violet’s name in my call log.
With a purple heart emoji before and after her name, I run my thumb over my screen. It's so simple yet causes a cacophony of emotion to swell in my chest.
Just fucking text her, the sorry-as-fuck version of myself taunts from inside my head. Tell her how much she means to you. Tell her you love her.
I balk at that four-letter word.
Do I love Violet?
How couldn’t I, is the better question.
Wrapped up in one glorious package, she’s everything I never thought I’d get in this lifetime. I don’t deserve her, and she deserves a man more than what I’m worth, but when I think about who I want to be, it’s her who I see standing beside me.
And if nothing else ever goes right in my life again, if I only had one wish left, I’d wish for her every goddamn time. Forever. Until the day I take my last waking breath.
I used to think I could get through this grief and all this bullshit on my own. That I’d be better for it. But I’m not. I’m nothing without her.
I spent weeks pushing her away, fighting, and ignoring the love I have in my heart and for what? To prove to myself that I can do something that most people can’t do on their own? I remember her saying that once, telling me how it’s normal to need support through the tough stuff. I didn’t want to hear it then, and I almost feel like a fool for coming to the same conclusion now on my own. One that she tried telling me, and I was too closed-off to hear.
I’ll never meet a girl as good as Violet. She’s my saving grace, my daisy in a field of sludge, my entire heart.
I don’t waste another second before tapping on her name and typing out a text. I need to make things right with her. I’ll get down on my knees and grovel if that’s what it takes to win her back. Because she’s worth it, and fuck, so am I.
Colson: Need to see you. Can we meet up?
My phone ends up on the seat with my food as this newfangled eagerness taps in rhythm with my heartbeat. I glance over at the screen, willing it to light up with a response as I back out of my spot and make it back on the road.
I roll to a stop at an intersection and make my way through, noting the giddiness that seems to be taking over that previous paranoia. Damn. I’ve felt too many emotions in such a short span of time, but this feels good. Like I’m finally finding myself again.
I look at the time on the dash, the blurry red numbers staring back at me.
12:37.
That buzz fades when it hits me that Violet is probably sleeping. She has classes and her gig at the daycare, so unless she’s up late studying, I won’t hear from her until morning. It takes everything in me to stay on the street leading back to my mom’s instead of making a right turn for the 401. Spring Meadows suddenly sounds like a better destination.
What would she do if I showed up, my fist knocking against her apartment door until she opened it for me? This overwhelming need to prove myself to her hits me. To prove that I’m not the asshole I’ve acted like. To prove that even if I’m not worthy of every ounce of her, I’ll work every goddamn day to show her how grateful I am for her. To prove that I can be what she needs, if only she’ll let me back into her life.
I come to a stop at a traffic light where the tri-colored lights sway in the cool midnight breeze.
I can’t believe I fucked it up this much with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to see me again, but no . I can’t give her that. She has to give me a second chance. I’ll show her I’ll never need another one. At least not to the extent of this one.
I smack my palm on the steering wheel when the light takes forever to change back to green. “Come the fuck on.” I got shit to do. Like pack up what I want at Mom’s house and go win my girl back.
When it finally blinks green, I ease my foot off the brake and reach over for my energy drink. I press down on the gas slowly and flick my can open, tilting it to my lips to get a head start on my energy high, but then headlights come out of nowhere from my left.
I turn my head to get a better look at the car in the distance, noting that it’s driving pretty fast for having a red light. My drink falls from my hand, the condensation making it slip and spill out over my lap. The cold liquid spanning out over my legs and groin steals my attention. I don’t press harder on the gas like I should.
I turn my attention away from the headlights coming at me like a bat out of hell.
By the time I look back over at them, it’s too late.
I’m too late.