Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1) (33 page)

Standing on the pier that day, it dawned on me that she never talked about him being a part of our life here in Denson. She'd showed me the blueprints, pointed out where my room was going to be, and talked about all the fun she and I would have at the lake but she never once mentioned my father. We'd planted the willow there together one weekend. She said she could picture me getting married under its shade, building a life of my own on the land when I grew up and started a family. I groaned my displeasure, rolled my eyes at her sappy ramblings as teenagers are wont to do, but she had lovingly stroked the sapling's thin branches, telling me all the while that we could put up a tire swing so that my kids would someday be able to swing out into the water and swim.

She saw us there, she and I, She even saw me there with a family of my own, but nothing in her visions of the future indicated that my dad would be around. It was such a glorious thought I didn't even mind the sentimental bent to her plans as long as he stayed the hell away.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement and heard a splash just as I turned toward it. The water rippled outward, small ringlets of ever-widening movement. My mother's head broke the surface a moment later, so close to the pier that I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Come on in, the water's nice and cool." Her sweet voice beckoned me to join her as she blinked away the water in her eyes. "I'll hold you up, help you learn to float. I promise I won't let go."

Something about her words made my chest hurt, but I shook my head and backed away. "That's okay. Maybe next time. I didn't bring my trunks."

She watched me for a minute, deflated. "Okay, baby boy. We'll save the lesson for next time." She leaned back and brought her legs up, floating across the surface with a serene smile. "We have all the time in the world, you and me. As soon as the house is finished, we can come here every day. No noise, no arguing, just my baby boy and me."

I'd rolled my eyes at the pet name. I was turning thirteen soon, and I'd grown to resent being thought of as a baby. I had frigging chest hair, for Christ's sakes.

We left soon afterward, having only come for the day to check on how the house was progressing and I spent the entire ride back home trying to find a way to tell her I wasn't a baby anymore without making her mad.

The following Friday, I was on the phone with Spencer; he'd been my best friend for two whole years, and we were inseparable. Spencer talked excitedly about the race that was happening over the weekend, chattering on about his favorite cars. I wasn't as into it as he was, so I mostly tuned him out, sorting through my cassettes looking for something to listen to.

When he started laughing and telling me how his older sister had gotten grounded for missing curfew, all I could think was that meant she would be around all weekend. I hadn't told my mom yet that Spencer had invited me to stay over, but I was determined to go, even more so after I found out Stephanie would be there too.

Stephanie was fifteen; tall and athletic with a great smile and big boobs. Well, big by my standards anyway. I'd always avoided the pool in Spencer's backyard, but I was thinking that would change over the weekend if Stephanie decided to go for a dip. I'd never actually go in the water, but a well-placed lawn chair and my favorite sunglasses sounded like the perfect recipe for a great weekend.

Convincing my mother, however, had not been as easy as I'd anticipated. She reminded me of the swimming lesson I'd narrowly escaped for the fourth time the previous weekend, saying I had to keep my promises. I'd promised her at the beginning of the summer that I would at least try to learn, but I'd been too afraid to so much as dip one toe in the lake. After letting me slide all summer, she was choosing this weekend to dig in her heels? Really? I groveled, begged, and tried to barter my way to a 'yes', but she wouldn't budge.

"You'll feel so much better once you finally learn to swim, you'll see. The lake won't be so scary then." She promised as she ruffled my hair and started packing our cooler for the trip.

I was so angry at her for ruining my weekend, for treating me like a baby, for making me face my fears when all I wanted to do was be with my friends. She asked me to go get my trunks, sounding excited that she was finally getting me in the water. Instead of doing as she asked, I fumed. "I don't want the trunks. I don't want the lessons. I don't want the stupid lake, and I don't want to go anywhere with you. I just want you to leave me alone. You ruined my whole weekend, and I don't want to even be around you anymore."

I stomped off to my room and threw myself on the bed, anger pulsing through my entire body. Why did she have to smother me so much? Why couldn't she just leave me the hell alone?

A few minutes later, there was a tap on the door, and my mother stood in the doorway. I trained my eyes on the ceiling, refusing to look at her. Sighing in defeat, she said, "I called Spencer's mom. She's coming to pick you up in a few minutes." I sat up and stared at her, open-mouthed and disbelieving. She looked away, wet streaks on her face. "Your father mentioned wanting to see the house, so I'll just have him meet me up there after work. Maybe I'll go by and see your Aunt Vanessa on the way."

She sounded so small, so wounded by what I'd said. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, that I didn't mean what I'd said but I was afraid she'd change her mind about letting me go, so I kept quiet. She stood there for a minute, probably hoping I'd apologize, before nodding and walking back to the kitchen.

When Spencer's mom came to pick me up, I was so excited I could barely contain myself. I barreled out the door and down the steps before remembering to go back and tell my mother goodbye. I gave her a quick hug and muttered a distracted 'love you, too' when she told me goodbye, not looking back as I hopped into the back seat.

The call came in that night while I was out in Spencer's backyard catching lightning bugs with him and Stephanie. I was grinning from ear to ear, having just 'accidentally' brushed against Stephanie's left boob while helping her scoop a wayward firefly into her jar.

When Spencer's dad walked out onto the porch, I thought he'd seen what I did. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat when he called me over, preparing to be fussed at for touching the man's daughter. Instead, he looked down at me with watery eyes and told me to get my shoes on because we had to go to the hospital.

The rest of that night went by in a blur of sideways glances and whispers. I sat in the tattered chair in the hospital waiting room for hours, going mostly unnoticed as I stared at the ground and tried to understand why no one would look at me. The one time someone met my eye, I decided it was better to be invisible. I hated the look of pity I'd been given, so I snuck out of the waiting room and shuffled slowly down the corridor, paying little attention to my surroundings, just wanting to get away.

We're so sorry. There was nothing we could do.

The impact was just too much.

She's gone.

The words played over and over in my mind.

She's gone. She's gone. She's gone.

I kept trying to tell myself that they were wrong. She couldn't be gone. She didn't get to teach me how to swim. I didn't get to keep my promise. We didn't get to move into our house and away from my father. We didn't get to do anything she said we would do.

And she was gone.

I'd been pacing the halls for a while when my father's hushed voice filtered into my awareness. I crept closer to the sound, deciding I was tired of all the whispers, I was almost thirteen years old, dammit, and I deserved to know what happened to my mother. She died, that was all I knew, the empty void in my chest a constant awareness of her absence. I'd heard the doctor when he came out and spoke to the adults, could remember the ragged cry that ripped through my grandmother's throat, saw the look of devastation on her face.

But why? What happened? I reached the end of the corridor and spotted my father off to my right, huddled over the receiver of the payphone. "No, I didn't go after her. She stormed off, and I let her go." Silence while the other person spoke, then, "She had fucking pictures, threw them in my face and called me every name in the book." He twirled the metal phone cord in his fingers nervously. "Why deny it, the pictures showed us together plain as day."

He was quiet for a beat, glancing over his shoulder and nearly catching me snooping. "Look, I need to know whether there was enough time for bruises to show up." He glanced around quickly, dropping his voice further but not so much that I couldn't hear. "No, no. She got in my face, called me trash, and I popped her one. Just one and she stormed out of the house. So, would there have been time for it to show? I don't want these people thinking something shady happened here tonight. Rebecca was upset, and she lost control of the car. It shouldn't matter why she was upset, right?"

I watched the tension leave his shoulders as he rose to his full height. "Good. That's what I thought. Now, listen baby, we need to lay low for a while, Let all this die down and I'll give you a call, okay?"

I spun on my heel and ran back to the waiting room.

I had to find Gran.

I WOKE WITH A
start, drenched with sweat and reeking of cheap booze. Sunlight crept in from under the drapes and I realized I'd slept an entire day away. My damp skin suddenly chilled in the air-conditioned room as my dream came back to me in a rush. Not a dream, a memory. The one memory I'd carry with me all my life, like a thousand pound leg-iron that I dragged with me through every step of my existence.

I could still hear my mother's voice pleading with me to jump in the water and see the tears streaming down her face when my careless words hurt her. I could still feel her silky hair between my fingers as I'd slumped over her casket and begged her not to leave me, promising that I'd let her teach me to swim if she'd just come back.

I promise I won't let go.

I felt bile rising in my throat, dashing to the outdated bathroom and barely making it to the toilet in time. Once I'd emptied the bitter contents of my stomach, I rinsed my mouth and splashed my face with cool water. The haggard-looking man I saw in the mirror was a startling reminder of just how far I'd fallen. My eyes were red-rimmed and dull, my hair was no longer the carefree kind of messy, it was just a damn mess.

I needed a shave.

And a shower.

Yet, what I ended up doing was falling back into bed to wallow in my misery a while longer. Why did it matter if I looked like shit? At least the outside matched the inside, for once.

Maybe if I walked around like this all the time, people would have the sense to stay the fuck away from me. I was a walking, talking, wrecking ball; a destroyer of lives.

A coward.

I must have dozed off again because I was startled awake some time later by a pounding on my door. Not a tap or a knock, but a fierce, angry pounding. I jumped up from the bed, feeling dizzy, and stumbled over to the door. A look through the peephole revealed the blurry outline of my best friend, who rapped so sharply on the door I jumped. "Open the goddamn door, McGavran, or so help me God, I'll kick it in."

Fuck. I should have parked my truck behind the building.

I reluctantly unlocked the door and cracked it open, mid-afternoon light flooded in to blind me. Tilting my head down to keep it from exploding from the onslaught of light and noise, I told him, "Go home, Spencer. I don't want to hear it right now."

I tried to push the door closed, but he stuck his foot in, blocking me. I glanced down at the tip of his steel-toe boot and knew I was fighting a losing battle. Dropping my hand from the knob, I turned and shuffled over to the kitchenette, looking for one of the crappy packets of coffee that came free with the room. Maybe I'd just chew the shit instead of waiting for it to brew; it would save time.

I heard a derisive snort from behind me as Spencer slammed the door closed. I spun around to face him, hands to my head, praying my eyeballs didn't pop out of my skull from the pressure. "Jesus, Spence!"

He was unmoved by my pain. "Boo-fucking-hoo. Somebody got a headache this morning, or more accurately, this afternoon?" He walked over to the table and examined the empty bottles. "Well, this explains it. It's a wonder you're not permanently blind, drinking that shit." He none-too-gently tossed the empties in the trashcan and glared at me. "You trying to fucking pickle yourself or something?"

I said nothing as I struggled to open my packet of bargain basement coffee, getting more frustrated by the minute.

Spencer blew out an annoyed breath and stepped over to me, snatching the pouch from my hand. "Give me this shit. Go sit down before you fall over." He examined the coffee and snorted. "You fought all that time to open this, and it's fucking decaf. Idiot."

I slid into one of the dining chairs with a groan. "Figures. Decaf coffee and non-alcoholic beer should be outlawed." I groused.