20. Abigail – “The only truth is music.”-Jack Kerouac
20
Abigail
“The only truth is music.”-Jack Kerouac
My legs felt heavy as I walked across the cement to the coffee shop entrance. I wondered if Colt thought about today as much as I did last night. Probably. Then I wondered if Colt pictured the same image I did each time I saw him - balls deep in Heidi.
There was no chance whatsoever. I knew that no matter how hostile my feelings were towards Colt, he deserved answers about Blake. It was time to face the music.
Guilt and rage swarmed inside me as I waited. Guilt because I’ve never forgiven myself for not contacting him after Blake died. I figured he and his dad would have found it comforting that he had one friend who cared. One friend who saw Blake battle his demons and tried the best he could. But I never could bring myself to contact Colt, because I was furious, which brought me to rage. I was angry with him and his dad. Angry at them for how they made Blake feel. How they praised football over their own blood. When I walked in on Colt the other day, it was like he validated everything Blake had said. No one cared about him, they were too busy chasing money and dreams while Blake’s dreams were dying inside of him.
Five minutes later, Colt walks through the door. His hair is brushed neatly to the side, and he’s wearing a simple polo shirt with jeans, but somehow, he makes it look so much fancier in his perfect-cut body.
The waitress was right by my table when she spotted Colt heading in my direction, like she was waiting for him.
“Black coffee, light on the cream and sugar.” Colt sits down, his knees brushing mine. I’m sure we look ridiculous sitting across from each other. Colt was 6 2”, and his legs took up all the space under the table. Dominating over my 5 3” frame. Well, I was five two and three quarters to be exact, but I always rounded up. It was easier, and in elementary school, they always told us to round up if the decimal number was greater than .5, so I did.
“Coming right up,” the waitress said with a smile as wide as the moon. Josh was supposed to join us, but he texted me late last night, letting me know he wouldn’t be able to make it. I knew he was taking advantage of the summer break, enjoying no burden of morning classes and routine. I couldn’t blame him. If my parents were paying for all my shit and welcomed me home with cooked meals, smiles, and recognition, I would milk that cow as long as I could too.
“Are you hungry?”
That question felt so loaded. I was always hungry. Having an eating disorder wasn’t like any other disease. It’s a mental illness more than anything. Humans had to eat so every thought could be surrounded by food. And to ensure I kept the black sloth at bay, I had to eat stuff I knew wouldn’t make me feel guilty.
If I did, then I would torture myself by adding on an extra hour of cardio at the gym or my head in the toilet.
“Toast with scrambled eggs is fine.”
“I’ll order when the waitress comes back.” He’s short with me, and it only pissed me off more since this was his idea.
I nod. Fidgeting with my napkin. I didn’t know exactly what he wanted to ask me, so I waited for him to speak first.
“Let’s just cut to the chase. Obviously, you guys met at the hospital, but how did you and Blake become friends?”
Shit, I knew Josh would have spilled the beans sooner than later.
“What else did Josh tell you since I do not need to be here, apparently.”
“Nothing. Josh didn’t know Blake; he had just heard the story years ago about how he died, and he knew he had a drug problem. Josh never knew you two went to high school together. ”
“And you did?” My eyebrows pinch together
“No, but it’s not that hard to figure out. Blake was emotional and wrote a lot of his feelings down.”
“How do you know?” I say quickly, trying not to appear weak, not even in the slightest, so Colt doesn’t think he can intimidate me easily.
“I get to ask the questions, sweetheart.” His lips curl into a devilish grin, and for the first time, I notice a faint dimple on the left side of his cheek. A vision of Blake's smile comes to the forefront of my mind, sending a bullet straight to my heart. Even hearing him say, sweetheart, was like throwing acid in my ears. That’s how much it hurt hearing a voice so similar say a word that brought back so many memories.
I roll my eyes in annoyance. “Yes, we went to high school together. It’s how we became friends.”
“Were you ever going to come forward and tell me you were there the night he died if we never met through your cousin’s Baby shower?”
“Probably not,” I said honestly, getting the notion he enjoys a little rebellious streak in a girl.
“He wasn’t your biggest fan. I didn’t think you deserved it.”
He nods, surprisingly accepting of this fact.
“What about my dad, or who I like to refer to as, the sperm donor. Was Blake not fond of him either?”
“He was, until he started catching on that he was a narcissistic asshole too.”
He almost smiled, it was a ghost of one, hiding behind that beautiful face of his. But I saw it.
“Let us start from the beginning. When did you guys start hanging out?”
“We met in the hospital around our birthdays. We were in the ninth grade. He had the same lunch hour as me, so sometimes he would join me for lunch to make sure I was eating since…”
I trail off.
He nodded again, understanding where I was going with that sentence. I decided last night I would be truthful with Colt. It didn’t matter that he was an egotistical prick. If anything, yesterday proved that he cared for Blake. The man damn near held me hostage in my own car, demanding this meeting and answers. But at the same time, it’s not like I could ask Blake if he was okay with this, so I needed to be choosy in my words and share the least amount possible while giving his brother closure.
“How bad was it? His drug addiction.” Colt asked. The pain marrying his face was so raw it sucked the breath out of me.
“He wasn’t happy, not really anyway.” I took a sip of my coffee to swallow down the lodge in my throat.
“Ever since the hospital, and the first time he found me outside at lunch, we became friends. He put his number in my phone, and we started texting each other soon after that.”
“About?” Colt leans in, a bit more intrigued.
“Nothing serious, mainly just music and things we wished for.”
“Wished for?” He gave me a look that said, how old are you?
“Yes, 11:11 is wish time—our birthdays. Blake didn’t know that until I told him the day we met, so we would text each other at that time and tell each other what we wished for. Sometimes, he would send me tunes or beats he came up with, and sometimes whole songs. He was a magnificent guitarist.”
“He hated my guts,” Colt said as a statement, not a question. I shrugged. It was not untrue. Colt sat back, running a hand over his chiseled jaw. There was something very dark and decadent about him. If I unzipped his beautiful exterior, impossible light blue eyes, kissable mouth, and body, one could tell he had built that masterpiece with years of training. Underneath, all I would find is ice.
“Was he…Did he want to commit suicide?”
And there it was, the question we all have been asking ourselves. Was his death intentional? After years of asking myself the same question, I told Colt what I believed.
“No, I don’t believe so. But we stopped hanging out around the time that all happened, and I never knew for sure if he started using again, b-”
“You guys met up outside of school? “ Colt says, interrupting me. “I just thought you talked at school?”
“No, we hung out a few times outside of school, but not much. Our main interactions were at school and through text. We weren’t as close as you think.”
“The fact Blake had a friend at all means you were close. Blake hated everyone, especially me.”
“That’s because he told me you and his dad were forcing him to play football and go pro.”
“That was just my dad. We even got into fights about it. But my dad wanted to ensure both his sons pursued the American dream. But it was my dad’s dream, and he was living off all the good memories the NFL brought him. Cliff lived in the past, and he still does. Even though I know Blake hated my advice, I told him that if he goes along with it for a while until he graduates, it will all be behind him. So I gave him pointers. It was either that or let Blake suffer with Cliff, our sperm donor. Cliff was not set out to be a father, and even though Blake and I weren’t close, I knew he was hurting because of what had happened with his mom. On top of finding out his dad was not this prestigious NFL player that the media made him out to believe all those years. Spoiler alert, Cliff had been broke for a while when he asked me to help care for Blake.”
His words cut me into ribbons of hurt as my body folded. “I had a feeling, but the football part is not how Blake made it sound. He acted like you both were forcing him to be someone he wasn’t. And that’s when he started taking steroids, which is what I think led him to take drugs again.”
“Ya, and I’m sure my dad talked him into that bullshit too. My dad took testosterone back in the day. Bet Blake didn’t tell you about that.”
“Does your dad know the act of sticking needles in your arm, no matter what’s in the needle, can trigger a drug addict to want to use? I mean, that’s like handing a heroin addict a needle or an alcoholic a bottle of liquor and seeing what he’ll do with it.”
“Like I said, Cliff had no interest in raising Blake, and Dad is the definition of a narcissist asshole, as you said.”
“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” I mutter. I’m not sure if Colt heard me, but if he did, he decided to ignore my jab and continue.
“Did you know why Blake really went to the hospital?”
“Ya, he said he got addicted to pills. He didn’t mean to but he had to take them for his jaw surgery, so he ended up getting addicted, which is pretty common when people get prescribed narcotics.”
“Ya, that’s the lie he told everyone. He got hooked on drugs because Cliff pushed steroids on him at fourteen. He couldn’t take him to a doctor since no doctor in their rightful mind would prescribe a healthy kid with high testosterone more testosterone. He convinced Blake it was okay. Nothing would happen to him, and little did my dad know, Blake loved that high of feeling invincible to the point he started chasing that high in everything he did. So when he got a taste of cocaine and heroin, working out was pushed to the side and he was a full-blown addict within months.”
The waitress sets our coffee down. I did not know if Colt was making his dad seem worse than he was or if he was telling the truth to squeeze more information out of me. I know Blake wasn’t a liar, but I also know Blake was a hurt teenager who saw life through broken glasses. He was smeared by the consequences of being the child of two messed-up famous stars since his real mom was a singer.
“Blake said his father didn’t even know he existed until he started playing football. He said you loved the attention your dad gave you because it made you feel superior.”
“That’s what Blake wanted to believe. I tried to help Blake. I wanted him to chase his dreams. Because if he followed my footsteps, Dad would end up sucking him dry too. My dad did nothing but take and take. Why do you think my dad was the one who encouraged him to become a pro athlete instead of pursuing education or his dream of being a famous musician? My dad believed his genes were so superior to all others and all his boys would become pro-athletes. It’s why he had four kids. That we know of anyway.”
I press my lips together, but my resentment towards Colt starts to resolve like smoke. Everything he says makes sense. Why would a soon-to-be pro football player be so hell-bent on making his brother's life a living hell when he barely knows him? It makes no sense.
“Blake said you started monitoring everything he was doing,” I say.
“Ya, because I was worried.”
I lower my head before lifting it back up. “He was hanging out with a different crowd, and rumors were going around school that he was using drugs. But I didn’t confront him about it. He was so moody those days; I knew he would cage in on me, and I didn’t want to lose him as a friend.”
“He got high frequently. The first thing I did when I came home from college was raid his room and give him drug tests. I’d monitor his phone with apps, but he was so damn smart and much more tech-savvy than me that he would know I did that somehow and disable them. But the more I tried to help Blake, the more he pushed me away.”
I hadn’t expected any of this. Learning how much Colt cared. How it wasn’t his fault at all. I can see why Blake wanted to pin this on him. Being rejected by your only parent was a tougher pill to swallow than hating your controlling, perfectionist brother you barely knew.
“You dated a woman that hated him.” I snapped, finally finding a hole in his version of things. “He hated Hannah.”
“I broke up with Hannah shortly after I went pro. The main reason I kept her around was because I planned on taking care of Blake when he graduated from high school and would have him live with us.” Colt bared his teeth, jerking forward as if I physically hurt him. “She seemed like a good idea at the time. Sweet, caring, came from a good family, all about matching outfits for pictures. Hannah was not perfect, but I thought she could replace Blake’s good-for-nothing mother who O.D’ed. Did you know he was the one who found her?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Everyone failed Blake, the same way I felt about my family, but unlike me, he gave up.
“For a while, Hannah tried, and I think she thought we all could make it work, with Blake living with us and all, but the only thing permanent that came out of that relationship was my son. Which I don’t regret one bit, but if I knew my perfect plan wouldn’t have worked, I would have never made my relationship with Hannah so serious.”
Colt even dated Hannah for Blake, too.
“His version of things was different. He made it seem like Hannah hated him and wanted him out of the picture. Just so she could have you all to herself. Especially once she knew you were going pro.”
“She was definitely feeling the heat. I was growing impatient with Blake, my dad, and her. I was young, just signed a contract with the Dallas Cowboys that had more zeros on it than I ever saw in my life, and it went straight to my head along with my priorities. When Hannah realized Blake wasn’t going to warm up to her, and I wasn’t in love with her, she changed.”
I had to stop my leg from shaking. I remember how much I hated Hannah for Blake.
Colt’s jaw ticked. “So I guess Blake talked to you about Hannah, too, huh?”
I nodded. “He was upset. I just wish he knew how much you cared. That’s why I thought it would be a good idea not to do all this.” I motioned with my hand between him and me. “And that’s why I said what I said when you were, ya know.” I could feel my cheeks flush at the memory of walking in on him. “I thought it would be like your punishment.”
“Is that what that was?” A half-mooned grin grazes his lips. It marks the first time I have seen him truly smile, and momentarily, I lose my breath.
“I wanted to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Ditto.”
“Mission accomplished,” I remember how he stared defiantly at me inside Heidi. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“Sorry for-” He trailed off. I knew what he was sorry for—holding my gaze while he was inside her.
“Truce?” I hold out my hand, and he takes it.
At that exact moment, the waitress comes by, and Colt looks up at her.
“Can we get two orders of toast, eggs, and bacon?”
“I don’t-”
“Bacon is good for you,” Colt says. “Don’t tell me Cali has made you into one of those vegan, yoga tree huggers.”
I try to hold back a smile. Was Colt joking with me?
“He never told you he wanted to kill himself or end his life, right?” Colt didn’t ask. He pleaded. He wanted to believe this came out of left field that none of us saw this coming. None of them could have known. That he didn’t ignore the blaring signs.
I shook my head. “No, I think he was just numbing the pain. We were our worst enemies.”
“We?”
“Ya, Scorpios. We both had-”
“The same birthday,” Colt says, cutting me off. Demons is what I was going to say but I didn’t bother to correct him.
“Ya, I remember,” he mutters, staring off into space as if a memory is coming back to him.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” He says.
“I guess.” I start to fidget with my hands to help calm my nerves.
“I know you and Josh said you never dated, but did you and Blake, or were you just friends?”
“Just friends.” I lied. This one I counted as half a lie. The only thing we did was kiss, but I would rather Colt not know that. I didn’t want Colt to look at me as another person who put a knife to Blake's heart.
“Thanks for your time.” He slapped his legs.
“Wait, what about your breakfast?”
“I need to head out. Don’t worry, you can have my plate of food.” He winks, and if he only knew how hard it was for me to eat a regular serving of restaurant food, let alone two.
“I hope this doesn’t make you feel you owe me anything. I’m happy to find a place that-”
“Nonsense. I know I don’t owe you anything.” He gives a strained, slight smile, and my heart drops. I didn’t know if I enjoyed this or I’m dreading going to his lake house, because I still didn’t know if I could go through with all this.
He takes a couple of steps before turning around. “Thanks again, Abigail Asher.”
For the first time I heard a slight southern drawl from his voice. I don’t know why my heart fluttered, but panic set in as he walked away. I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t done talking about Blake or if I didn’t want Colt to leave. All I know is I had to think of something quick to get him to stay a little longer.
“Why are you playing my cousin?”
He stops abruptly, and it’s as if he had to think about it before turning around since he’s hesitant. I stare at his ripped back as he turns to face me and then walks back toward the table. A slight sense of satisfaction ripples through me the closer he gets.
“I’m not. I meant what I said, Naomi and I aren’t together. So, therefore, I’m not cheating or as you say, playing her.”
“Then why were you at Jenna’s braby shower with Naomi?”
“First off, can we just call it a baby shower? That Braby word irks me.”
I shrink slightly in my seat as his bright blue eyes burn into me. “Ok, baby shower.”
“Troy and I are friends and Naomi and I happen to have kept a civil relationship after we broke up.”
“Do you still have sex?” Oh my God, Abigail, shut up. Why would you ask that? Just stop talking.
His lips run into a thin line before one of his ends curls slightly at the end.
“That’s really none of your business. I can ask the same of you and my cousin.”
“You know we aren’t. I just told you that.”
“How do I know that you never have, though? Besides, you're a grown woman just like Naomi. And if she and I end up fucking it’s because she wants to, not because I made her, or I’m trying to manipulate her.”
“That means you guys have,” I say as a statement not a question.
He doesn’t say anything.
He just continues to look at me like he wants to strangle me.
“Don’t you think that will give her the wrong message?” I press on anyway.
“This is not why I wanted to talk with you today. But if you must know, yes, we have hooked up since our break up. We both cum, and she gets her brains fucked out by someone familiar. We both go home happy. So if you’re done asking me where I put my dick, then I would like to be on my way and take my dick to the shower since I promised my son I would take him to the ranch today.”
My thighs clenched together as a vision of Colt fucking the shit out of my cousin pops in my head. My core tightens as my clit throbs.
“No, uh, sorry. I don’t mean to hold you up.” I shift in my seat, grabbing my silverware, trying to do something to distract the problem I have going on in between my legs.
The waitress places the food on the table, smiling at Colt the whole time.
“Enjoy your breakfast.” And at that, he turns around and starts walking towards the door.
As I bit into my toast and chewed slowly, I couldn’t help but feel relief when I knew I was going to a house without Colt Killian.