Chapter 40
Scarlet
“Where’s the sofa?” I ask, tracing the mingling lines of ink on his chest next to where my cheek rests. I want to know what each one means—in time.
“You don’t like my leather recliner?”
I laugh. “It’s great for watching a TV you don’t own, and I loved it on rainy days when I read my books.”
“I sold most of the furniture, except for a few things that were Nolan’s. He had them put in storage already.”
We declared some sort of love to each other, but we were nothing for so long I don’t know what this love really means. It’s impossible to articulate this feeling but it’s like he loves me, but he still doesn’t want to love me. It’s a sad love.
“Nolan said you’re moving to Nashville.”
He doesn’t say anything. I look up at him.
“Did you hear me?”
He nods, peering down at me.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
I sigh.
He smirks. “You have a habit of making statements and expecting a response. If you really want a response, you need to ask an actual question.”
Pushing against his chest, I maneuver my body so I straddle his lap, facing him. I look down between our naked bodies. “You’re … awake.” My eyes shift to his.
Theo chuckles. “Again, not a question. But yes, it’s at your service. Feel free to insert it into any hole in your body, lick it, suck it—”
“Stop!” I grab my button-less dress that’s barely holding on to the side of the chair and drape it over his eager knob.
He quirks a brow, looking at the dress.
“I do have a question and sex isn’t the answer so—”
“Are you sure?” He narrows his eyes at me.
No. I’m not sure. Ninety percent of the time, sex is a brilliant answer. I’m stuck in the ten percent right now.
“Are you moving?”
He nods.
I frown.
“When?”
“Three days.”
“Where?”
He stares at me.
“It was a question, not a statement.”
“Nashville.”
Why is this so hard? Once again, I feel it—sad love. Does “I love you” not mean I want to be with you? My heart clenches. It doesn’t. I still love Daniel, but I no longer want to be with him.
“Is that where your tour begins?”
Theo’s eyes avert to the side for a few moments. “Sure.”
With each breath … one … two … three … I feel this deep pain, a slow carving of a Theo-shaped hole in my heart.
“Are you leaving me?”
He shifts his gaze to me again as he expels a grunt. Theo has many grunts and they don’t all mean the same thing. This grunt sounds like a sarcastic grunt.
“I have some things I need to do.”
“Want some help?”
His glare hardens a fraction. The lines at the corners of his eyes deepen. “No.”
“Is it tour stuff?”
The muscles in his jaw tense. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what? Wonder why you said you loved me but now you’re leaving?
I know, I have no right to ask it. I did the same thing to Daniel.
Karma’s usually my friend but not today.
I need to know. What is the life expectancy of us?
Three days? Is that what you’re implying?
I do better when I can prepare for things, which is crazy because I prepared to be dead by now, but I’m not and that’s really, really a spectacular surprise, but—”
“Three days,” he says with a firm finality.
I pinch my lips between my teeth and nod slowly for a few seconds. “Okay then. We have three days.” I climb off his lap and kneel on the floor between his legs, dropping the dress to the floor. “I was wrong. Today … sex is the answer.”
He spreads his legs wider and scoots down a little in the chair as I lean forward, grab his erection, and bring it to my mouth.
I’m on my knees—naked. My tongue is giving his cock some special attention.
I have no gag reflex. Yet … when I look up, all I see is a hint of a grimace, flared nostrils, and glassy eyes.
Pain.
Theo is in pain.
*
Theo drives me home and stays the night in my one-bedroom flat with a cheap double mattress on the floor and gaudy paisley yellow and pink sheets that were in the sale. We answer every question with sex. Then we pass out a few hours before my alarm goes off.
“I have to get to work.”
Theo makes some undecipherable noise, facedown on my bed, as I shove my feet into my trainers. I ache in places that I had no idea could ever ache. I will have to ride my bike to Nolan’s house, standing up the entire way. There’s no way I’ll be able to sit on that seat—for weeks.
“And your job is what again?” he mumbles, turning his head to the side and peeling open his eyes. His body engulfs the bed.
I may not walk right or sit on my bike seat for weeks, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss the hell out of this man for the rest of my life. Swallowing back that lump of regret, I smile. “I assist Nellie.”
“Assist her how?”
“Well, we shopped and ate lunch together the other day.”
“That sounds really helpful.”
In the past twenty-four hours, Theo has found it rather fun to say everything with a British accent. He’s such a cheeky bastard and his accent is total shit.
I wrinkle my nose and stick out my tongue as I grab my rucksack from the floor. “It’s quite helpful. Not that you would understand.” I lean over the bed to give him a quick kiss. “Bye.”
*
I didn’t think there could be an upside to Theo leaving me but until I can afford a car, I need to be able to sit down on my bike seat. It’s not possible to ride a Schwinn mere hours after riding Theodore Reed.
During the time I thought I was dying, I never once prayed to live.
I never once thought I’d actually live. I meditated and gave thanks for every day I’d been granted, the people who shared the moments that had given my life great meaning, and the chance to experience so much love.
However, right now, on the front steps of the Moore’s southern mansion, I’m praying—begging—for Nolan to be already gone.
The door opens. No such luck.
I smile, feeling the heat reach the tip of my ears as I shove my hands in my pockets, pull them out, fidget with the hem of my shirt, then shove them back into my pockets again.
“Good morning.” Nolan’s greeting seems a little too suggestive, like his smile.
Without a doubt, I’d be embarrassed if I were in his position. That’s the natural reaction when you witness something so personal. Isn’t it?
I move up the steps like an inmate making their way to the execution room.
“You’re walking kind of funny. Something happen?”
Oh bugger! My head bows, the first step toward my whole body collapsing in on itself. Death from utter humiliation is my likely fate.
“Your southern charm is slipping, Mr. Moore.” I survey the foyer like I’m seeing it for the first time. Anything requires more attention than Nolan.
“I was just showing concern for your health. Very gentlemanly of me.”
I roll my eyes as I make my way up the stairs, trying to ignore the pain and not look like I’ve been straddling a horse for days.
“Has Theo decided to stay?”
“No.”
“So, I should expect your resignation soon?”
“No.” I turn when I get to the top of the stairs.
Nolan frowns.
I shrug, fighting back the pain, which is hard to do because everything right down to my soul aches at the moment. But … I’m alive and I will never take that minor little detail for granted. At least … I hope not.
“He’s complicated.” Nolan’s explanation is not news to me. “Besides, you’re not cancer-free, yet.”
I nod. “I know.” When I notice Nellie’s door is still shut, I sit on the landing and rest my elbows on my knees.
“Theo is not the only reason I didn’t go back to London.
Something in my life shifted over the past six months and that something has reversed the progression of my cancer.
I gave up my profession, electronics, bad eating habits, late nights and early mornings leaving me in a constant state of sleep deprivation.
I really don’t think one thing caused my cancer but rather a culmination of many things that eventually pushed my health past a tipping point.
So I won’t go back—not to my job, my old habits, or my life in general that seemed to turn on me. ”
“You’re afraid if you do, the cancer will come back.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask Theo to stay?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because when I left London, I didn’t want anyone to ask me to stay. I wanted everyone to respect my need to leave—respect my decision to not go through the cancer treatment. I didn’t want to explain myself. I wanted … I needed to leave. It didn’t mean I’d stopped loving Daniel or my dad.”
“You think Theo has cancer?”
I laugh a little. “No. Well … I don’t know. But he knows I love him, and I know he loves me, so if there’s something greater than our love that’s taking him away, then …”
Nolan nods. “Then you have to let him go. No questions.”
“No questions,” I whisper.
Nolan crosses his arms on the spiraled top to the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.
“Was he in a band?” I ask because it’s been burning a hole in my curiosity for too long.
Nolan squints at me for a second. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“He mentioned it, but it was when we were living a lie. At the time it was easier for me to tell him my dreams instead of my reality. I guess … I don’t know … I think he did the same.”
“He told you he was in a band?”
“Yes. He said the reason he was leaving Tybee was to go on tour. I know it’s not true, but part of his story felt real.”
“He studied music theory and composition in college. His parents, particularly his mother, imagined him doing something more sophisticated than forming a band.”
Theo as a music theory graduate brings a smile to my face. It’s not fair to stereotype, but really … he looks nothing like a music theory graduate.
“He hasn’t always looked so … unkempt.”
My eyes dart to Nolan’s. How did he read my mind? “I don’t mind his unkemptness”
He raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”
My ears heat again as I clear my throat. “So this band … did they tour?”
“They headlined for a few bigger acts over the course of nine months, then…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head.
“Then his parents died?”
Nolan’s eyes open wide as his head snaps up. “He told you?”
“No. I accidentally came across some stuff of his. It included newspaper articles about his parents.” And a few other very disturbing articles along with knives and guns.
I’m not sure Nolan needs to know that. Then again, maybe someone needs to know.
“Was Theo in the military or some type of law enforcement before or after university?”
Nolan shakes his head. “No. Why?”
“Just curious. He’s very built and then there are those tattoos. I don’t know. It seemed like a possibility … or me just being really stereotypical.”
“Well, since I’ve known him he’s never been a small guy, but after his parents died, he bulked up—a lot. Grew his hair out, the beard, and seemed to have a new tattoo every month or so for quite some time. The only tattoo he had before his parents died was the name of his band on his back.”
“Really? I’ve never noticed it.”
Nolan shrugs. “It’s there, but I think it’s camouflaged by all his other tattoos now. Probably symbolic of how his life sort of got lost after they died.”
“So the band broke up?”
“Yup.”
“What was the name of it?”
He chuckles. “He didn’t tell you?”
I shrug. “I never asked. It was all supposed to be a lie.”
“The Derby.”
“The Derby?”
“Yes.” Nolan laughs. “The first two members, Theo and Brodie, drove with some other friends to the Kentucky Derby in Louisville. Theo and Brodie weren’t really in to fancy hats, mint juleps, and in Theo’s words ‘tiny men beating horses around a track,’ so they walked back to the car where Theo had his guitar.
The guy never traveled anywhere without it.
I don’t even know if he still owns one.” Nolan frowns.
“Anyway, a couple hours later, their friends found them sitting on the trunk of the car, too drunk to drive, Theo riffing on his guitar and Brodie singing some song he just made up. That day was the official birth of the band called The Derby.”
I’m broken. The man I’ve come to love and equate with my new life—my new happiness—is leaving soon.
Yet I can’t stop smiling. Theodore Reed was a rock star.
Why couldn’t our paths have crossed before cancer wormed its way into my life, before I said yes to Daniel, and before Theo filled a metal trunk with weapons and clippings of his dead family?
“I heard him singing once. He didn’t know I was home, but man … I could have listened to him all day.”
“You should search them up on YouTube. I’m certain there’s still some videos up of them performing.”
That would require the internet, a computer, a smart phone … none of which I have because I chose to unplug from the toxic things in my life.
“Sure.” My smile slips.
“Here.” Nolan pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times while he walks up the stairs. “This was their last concert.”
My hand trembles as I take the phone. I know what’s on the screen will multiply my pain. The roots of Theodore Reed are about to grow deeper into my soul, somehow I just know it.
Theo … I stare at the video. He’s hunched over a bit, pressing the guitar to his body as his fingers move with effortless precision along the strings.
His hair is short, his beard just a few days of stubble.
There’s not a single tattoo on his arms. A hot pink bra lands on the stage a few feet from him.
He doesn’t look up but his lips curl into a devilish grin.
Four other blokes dance and sing on the stage, but I can’t tear my eyes from him.
“Scarlet,” Nellie says.
I didn’t hear her door open. “Good morning!” Jumping to my feet, I hand Nolan’s phone back to him. It takes every bit of strength I have to not run out the door, find the nearest place to buy a mobile, then crawl in bed and spend the day … or the rest of my life … watching videos of The Derby.
“I’m so happy you need company again.” Nellie smiles her usual lipstick-covered-teeth smile.
My gaze stays on her teeth. What happened to Nellie Moore?
She has bright eyes and pretty teeth—although smeared in a red-orange hue.
The sprouted ponytail of thick hair on the top of her head could be beautiful with a little bit of help.
An equally lovely and heartbreaking innocence exudes from her like one day her family gave up on her, stamped her head with “crazy,” and set her on a shelf to collect dust.
“You have some lipstick on your teeth, let’s—”
“Scarlet?” Nolan gives a barely detectable head shake.
I narrow my eyes at him. She may be confused, but she’s still his mum, she’s still human, and she’s definitely deserving of compassion not pity.
My name is Scarlet Stone, and I’ve always believed compassion is not earned, it’s given.
“Let’s get you fixed up a bit.” My glare continues to challenge Nolan as I lead Nellie back to her bedroom.
“Oh … thank you, dear.” She pats my hand that rests on her shoulder.