Not Meant To Be Broken (6 page)

I didn't know what to say and she didn’t seem to expect a reaction. I drummed the beat of the song on the steering wheel and she rewarded me with her smile. I wanted to see that look on her face again. I’d do anything for it.

Amber

I felt horrible for bailing on therapy yesterday. Brian had been disappointed when I’d told him. He couldn’t understand that talking to Olivia had actually helped and had brought me a tiny step closer to normalcy. I kept my eyes fixed on my plate and took another bite from the stew that I'd prepared for us.

The bell rang, startling me. Zach rose from his chair and walked out of the kitchen to get the door. I didn’t even flinch anymore when he or Brian moved around me. Being in their company 24/7 was obviously helping in some strange way. Reagan's voice sounded in the living room, then steps rang out and she and Zach appeared in the kitchen. Kevin hovered in the doorway, his gaze flitting over to me then back to Reagan. I lowered my head, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“Hi Amber, Hi Brian,” she said as she plopped down on the free chair next to me. Her red hair hung in waves down her back.

“Your hair is gorgeous,” I said without thinking. She grinned. “Kevin keeps telling me too, but I hate the color.” She held up the DVD ‘The Devil wears Prada’. “I thought we could have a movie night. It's been too long since we had one.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “So what do you say?”

Brian lowered his fork, his expression uncertain. I knew why. He avoided my gaze as he said, “I don't know.”

“That sounds great,” I said before Brian could say anything else. Reagan flashed me a grin, clapping her hands. “Then let’s get on with it!”

“We won't watch a chick-flick,” Zach said with a smirk, pointing his fork at the DVD Reagan was still holding up. Reagan rolled her eyes and I had to stifle a laugh. “Whatever,” she muttered, though she had difficulties keeping a straight face. “What would you suggest? Rambo the complete edition?”

“No, that one’s reserved for Valentine’s day.”

I choked on my water, which made Zach’s smile widen.

“I’m sure we can compromise on something,” Reagan said.

“We're still eating,” Brian reminded her, pointing with his fork at his plate.

Reagan pouted. “Well, then eat faster!”

I shook my head with a smile. I was already done eating and put my plate into the sink. Kevin and Reagan walked into the living room and I followed a few feet behind them. They sat down on one of the loveseats and I chose the one across from them, pulling my legs up and rested my chin on my knees. Brian and Zach entered the room and I could tell that my brother was worried again. I wished he would stop looking at me like I was a porcelain doll that would shatter any moment. I knew that my mental state was very questionable but his worry kept reminding me of that fact and made acting normal even more difficult. He plopped down on the sofa and chanced another look at me while Zach browsed their DVD cabinet.

He straightened. “Crank!” He lifted a DVD with a man in a business suit and a gun in his hand. I'd never heard of that movie. Reagan seemed to know it though, and she wasn't too enthusiastic about watching it. I nodded my agreement anyway. It was better than watching a love story. I relaxed into the lovechair and turned my gaze to the TV as the opening credits started to run.

Some time in the middle of the movie, my eyes landed on Reagan and Kevin. They were snuggled against one another on the loveseat, looking like two people in love. Kevin kept running his hands up and down Reagan's back, occasionally planting a kiss on her temple, or throat, or cheek until she turned her head and captured his lips with her mouth. Usually, displays of affection brought back memories but what I witnessed between Reagan and Kevin was far more than physical closeness. It was a display of love, of trust, of tenderness.

My heart clenched. This was something I would never have. Tears brimmed in my eyes and it was getting harder to breathe. I swallowed and pushed all the longing, all the despair, all the wistfulness down where it belonged – buried in the depth of my mind with the dying embers of my hope.
You better get used to the hell that's your life, Amber, and stop longing for something you'll never have,
a cruel voice in my head said and somehow it sounded like one of the men that had ruined my life.

My throat tightened painfully and bile rose in my throat, but I fought against it. Another break down would freak Brian out. I didn't want him to worry more.

“I'll get some popcorn,” I announced and was relieved to hear that my voice wasn't shaking. I felt everyone's eyes on me when I rose from the loveseat and walked out of the room. I closed the kitchen door behind me and drew in a deep breath as I closed my eyes briefly.  After I'd calmed down, I searched the cupboards for microwave popcorn. With shaky hands I put it into the microwave and leaned against the counter.

Reagan stepped into the room and closed the door. I tensed. She looked uncomfortable and hesitant while she hovered next to me, not the expression I was used to seeing on her face.

“Amber, I'm sorry. I didn't think about it. That was completely inconsiderate of me,” she said. I turned away from the microwave to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“Kevin and I, we shouldn't have...not in front of you,” she whispered, pressing a hand against her forehead, covering her red eyebrows.

Please don't apologize for that. It's all I ever wanted.
I shook my head, horrified. “No, Reagan. No. Please, don't act different around me.”

“But it bothered you,” Reagan said, her brows drawing together. “I don't want to bring up memories for you.”

I swallowed, ignoring the tears prickling in my eyes. The mentioning of memories brought up images that I didn't want to see – not ever again. I gripped the counter tightly in an attempt to keep it together.
Be strong, Amber.

“Amber?” Reagan's voice was gentle and full of concern.

I drew in a deep breath before I faced her with new resolution. “When I saw you and Kevin, it didn't bring up memories because I've never experienced anything even close to that. I've never been in love. I've never been so close to someone. I've never wrapped my arms around someone and thought this is home. I've never looked into someone's eyes and felt butterflies in my stomach. I've never made love to someone and I won't – ever. I feel like I've come to an impasse, like my future is a blind alley. I will never know how it feels to lie in someone's arms, to be in love, to kiss someone. Never.” My voice broke and I had to turn my back to Reagan or she would have seen the tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt pathetic and guilty for burdening Reagan with my problems. I'd buried my fears, worries and longings for so long but with my new life they'd resurfaced and I wasn't able to push them away.

I wanted to live a normal life. I wanted to experience love and trust. I wanted happiness. I wanted them so desperately and knowing that I could never have them killed me.

Reagan touched my shoulder, turning me toward her. “Amber, whatever happened doesn’t define who you are forever. You are in control of your life and you can be happy and in love, if you only give life a chance.” Without warning she wrapped her arms around me. I froze at first but then I melted into her touch. I hugged her back and buried my face in her shoulder and then I wasn't able to stop the sobs. Reagan's arms around me tightened and for the first time in years I found comfort in someone's touch. It was so overwhelming that all my walls seemed to tumble and I cried like I hadn't ever cried in front of someone. “I want to give life a chance, but I’m broken.” After a moment I pulled back, feeling embarrassed and guilty. “I'm sorry, Reagan. I didn't...”

She shook her head, her expression determined. “No. Don’t apologize for your tears,” she said. “And you're wrong, Amber.”

I was startled by her words.

“You aren’t broken. You will experience love. I know you will. You've been strong enough to move in with Brian and Zach, and you will be strong enough to find your happiness.”

The microwave beeped, glad for the distraction. I opened the door, took the popcorn out and turned to head back to the living room.

“Wait,” Reagan said. She raised a tissue to my face and dried the remains of my tears. I did the same for her and after checking our reflection in the window, we returned into the living room. After our conversation, I actually felt better. Reagan met my eyes across the room before she sat down on Kevin's lap. I put the popcorn into a bowl on the table and sat down on the loveseat, my legs pulled against my chest. I rested my chin on my knees and focused on the TV. I felt eyes on me and tilted my head to the side to find Zach staring at me. He smiled and I couldn’t help but smile back.

Zachary

I buried my face into my pillow. I felt like shit – as if my body had been overrun by a truck repeatedly. For once this wasn't the effect of a night spent partying with the guys. My stomach constricted. With a hoarse groan I rolled over onto my back and stared at the white ceiling. The motion sent a new wave of sickness through my body. “Fuck.” My stomach’s contents wanted to see daylight and I'd be damned if I'd let that happen in my room. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and my hand shot to my head when dizziness set in. “Fuck,” I groaned as I stumbled to my feet and out of my room. My vision turned blurry for a moment but I managed to find the bathroom. Once there, I emptied my stomach into the toilet bowl. The last time I’d hurled like that was in my freshman year at college after doing two kegstands in a row. A hang-over, that I could deal with, especially if it entailed a fucking great night of fun, but this shit? I couldn’t even remember the last time I had the flu.

I dragged my sorry ass back to my room and flopped down on the bed, not bothering to cover myself with the blanket. I was drenched in sweat. The boxers and t-shirt stuck to my skin but I couldn't even bring myself to change clothes right now. A knock at the door caused me to lift my head a few inches, though I let it plop down on the pillow almost instantly because it was taking too much effort.

“Zach?”

I replied with an unintelligible grunt. The door opened and Brian entered, dressed and groomed for college, not one hair out of place as usual.  He let his gaze wander over my sprawled-out form.

“You look like shit.”

I grimaced. “Hadn't noticed.”

“I take it that you won't attend classes today,” he said with a smirk.

I flipped him the bird, then snatched up a book from the floor and chucked it at him.

“Have fun,” he called as he dashed out of the room and slammed the door shut before the book could hit him in the head. Instead it banged against the door and fell to the ground. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the turning of my stomach.

Some time later, another knock disturbed my silent suffering but it was softer than the one before.

Amber?
I sat up slightly and straightened my clothes. “Come in.”

The door opened and Amber poked her head in, hair still damp and curling at the tips. I gave her a smile and she stepped into the room, her foot bumping against the book that I'd thrown at Brian. Amber stared down at it with a little frown. “Is this supposed to lie there?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I aimed it at Brian, but he was too fast.”

One corner of her mouth pulled up into an almost smile as she picked it up and lay it on a cupboard. I didn't want to ask, worried about unsettling her, but I was starting to wonder what she was doing in my room. Her eyes wandered around my room, taking in my trophies and the posters of Patagonia on the walls, and eventually returned to my face. “I made chicken soup for you and I wondered if you'd like to eat some now.”

I sat up fully. “You cooked for me?”

Amber nodded, biting her lip, and her cheeks turned a soft pink.
Holy shit,
she was fucking beautiful.

“Brian told me that you aren't feeling well and that you're staying at home. He said I should order pizza but with an upset stomach that would be stupid, so I made soup. It will soothe your stomach.”

The only person who’d ever made soup for me was Theresa, the nanny my parents hired so my father could jet around the world and work while my mother drowned her loneliness in alcohol. Misunderstanding my silence and my frown, her face flushed an even deeper shade of red. “I mean...you don't have to eat my soup. If you'd rather have pizza, I can order –”

“No!” I half screamed. She jumped. “Sorry.” I paused. “I want your soup. I don't think my stomach could handle pizza right now.”

Her eyes lit up. “I'll get it for you.” She hurried out of the room and returned with a tray.

“Where did you find a tray?” I asked as she set it down on my nightstand. I sent a silent thanks to the powers above that the packet with condoms was stored in my top drawer and not in plain sight.

“It was at the back of the kitchen cupboard.”

“I didn’t even know we had one. Must be a leftover from the previous owner.”

“It has its uses,” Amber said, leaning against my desk. I chanced a look at the tray.  A plate with steaming chicken soup was positioned in the middle. But that wasn’t all. There was a mug with a pale liquid. I took a whiff. Chamomile tea. I scrunched up my nose.

“It will help your stomach,” Amber said sternly as she noticed my expression.

“I hate the taste.”

She smiled slightly. “You will get used to it.”