Perfectly Broken (25 page)

* * *

“How did we end up in the middle of this shit storm?” Bret asked, grabbing a beer out of Peyton’s refrigerator.

Quinn shrugged. “I don’t know. She refuses to talk to me. She’s a disaster.”

“She can’t be worse than Reed,” Bret said. “He’s a mess. He’s not getting shit done at work. Like today, he did nothing basically. I spent a bunch of my day today — and every day — trying to make him feel better. But I think it’s just pissing him off more.”

“Then maybe don’t do that.”

Bret popped open his beer, ignoring her suggestion. “And then you make me come over here, so I can watch Peyton mope around like a zombie.”

“What the hell are we going to do?” Quinn wondered aloud, pulling at her hair, before Peyton shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers. Quinn pulled out a stool for her. “Hey,” she said softly. Peyton didn’t respond other than to take a seat and twirl her locket. Bret slugged his beer. “Want to talk?” Quinn asked her.

“No,” Peyton said, her eyes cast down on the kitchen island.

Bret pitched his beer and motioned to the door. “I’ll just ....” He walked towards the den, bumping into the doorway on the way out.

“It might help to talk about it,” Quinn suggested.

Peyton looked at her with cold, hard eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about Reed’s dad?”

“I tried to warn you in the beginning.”

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Peyton snapped. “You didn’t try too hard. Guess you were too busy worrying about Bret.”

“I wasn’t
worried
about Bret. He asked me to be nice to Reed, not to judge him based on his father. I decided to trust his judgment.”

“Nice,” Peyton said and looked away. “At least I know where I stand with you.”

Quinn’s breath caught. “What are you talking about? You want to push me away, too?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Peyton cried. “Does everyone think I’m just too broken, too damaged to handle things?”

“No, of course not,” Quinn said, reaching for her hand. “No one thinks that.”

“I do.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“Reed does. He said he didn’t tell me because of my past.”

“Then I hate him again,” Quinn quipped. “What I know about Reed and his family, I’ve heard second, third, and fourth hand. Some things I heard from Griffin like 10 or 15 years ago, and I don’t know where he got his information. I hardly ever trust a word that comes out of my brother’s mouth.” Quinn squeezed her friend’s hand. “I thought about telling you, but it didn’t really have anything to do with Reed himself. And you were so happy. I missed seeing you happy, dating, having fun. I didn’t want to take that away.”

Peyton shook her head. “It’s gone now.”

“If I thought Reed would hurt you, I would have blabbed all the rumors. Hell, I would have made up some new ones.” Quinn’s eyes started to fill. “I’m sorry. I’m always letting you down.”

“Quinn?” Peyton gasped then reached for her friend, hugging her tightly. “Don’t ever say that.” They held each other for a few moments, crying together. “I love you, Quinn. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“I love you, too.”

Bret called out from the den. “Quinn, I don’t want to come in and bother you guys, so can you please bring me another beer when you’re done?”

The girls released each other and rolled their eyes. “You can get your own beer when we’re done, honey,” Quinn hollered back then looked at Peyton. “He can be such an embarrassment. I apologize.”

“Sounds like he needs more training.”

“He needs help!”

Peyton laughed. “That reminds me. I need
your
help.”

“Anything,” Quinn said, wiping her eyes.

“I need you to take me shopping.” Peyton winked at her. “Doctor’s orders.”

* * *

For weeks, Reed thought about Peyton day and night. He thought about her so much it hurt. He resisted the urge to storm her shop and camp out at a table. As much as he wanted to, and though it had worked to get her to dinner, he knew it wasn’t going to heal their relationship. In fact, it probably would just cause a fight and make things worse. And he didn’t want that. But after weeks of her returning pink flowers he occasionally sent and not returning a single phone message, he decided enough was enough. He’d given her as much space as his heart would allow. He just couldn’t take it anymore.

Reed pulled up under her magnolia tree and opened her front door like he lived there. He walked inside and searched the entire downstairs, calling out her name. The TV was on in the den, but no other evidence anyone was home. He looked into the backyard, seeing only the fountain and church pew; he saw the succulents, too, which didn’t look as pretty anymore. He started up the stairs and called for Peyton again. Then he opened the door to her bedroom. She wasn’t there. He ran his hand across the bedsheets, recalling the last day he was there, from her mouth on him to her bloody lip to the iPad flip. He remembered their last kiss, too, wishing he would’ve known it was the last. He was afraid he’d taken too many kisses for granted. His life with her seemed a lifetime ago, but the pain, the sting, was still so fresh, like it had happened only yesterday.

“She’s not home,” a snarky voice called from the doorway.

Reed clenched his fists on the bedsheets and turned to find Griffin, drying his hair with a towel. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m staying here now,” Griffin said, smiling. “Just moved back to New Orleans.”

Reed’s head started to pound. “Where’s Peyton?”

“Out.”

“Where’s Stephanie?”

“Don’t care. We broke up.”

“So you break up with your girlfriend and end up living in my girlfriend’s house?”

“Funny how things work out sometimes, isn’t it? And she’s not your girlfriend anymore.”

“If you touch her, I’ll fuck you up again.”

“When she comes home tonight,” Griffin said, leaning against the doorframe, “I’ll make sure to let Peyton know that.”

“And tell her I came by, too.”

“Absolutely,” Griffin said, the sarcasm dripping.

Reed pushed past him, starting down the hall, opening and closing the bedroom doors. If Griffin really was living in her house, he better have his own room. And Reed hated that Griffin’s prediction had seemingly come true — that he’d screw everything up, and Griffin would be there waiting.

Griffin chuckled. “Mine’s the last one on the left. Figured this was better than my parents’ place.”

Reed opened that door and found an unmade bed and boxes and other stuff spread everywhere. He breathed a momentary sigh of relief before his stomach churned again.

“An added bonus is that Peyton is the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing at night.” Griffin smiled. “It’s a good set-up for me. Trust me, I’m in no hurry to find my own place.”

Reed slammed the door and stared him down. “You’re an opportunistic cock.” Then he stormed downstairs, worried Peyton could actually fall for this asshole now living in her house. Reed didn’t think it was possible, but he also would’ve never thought she’d break up with him when things were going so well.

He now just wanted to forget — the good times and the bad — but didn’t think he could do it alone. He needed something or someone, perhaps alcohol or a warm body, to help him.
Maybe both?
His father was probably right: he just needed to resign himself to uncomplicated sex with Heather. He decided not to call Peyton anymore. If she was going to move on, so was he.

AS THE LITTLE
bell in her shop jingled like Santa’s sleigh, Peyton removed her apron covering her caramel-colored top and skinny jeans. Quinn was floating towards her in full glow, extending her left hand to show a brilliant new sparkle.

“I’m getting married! I’m getting married!”

Peyton shrieked and rushed around the counter, grabbing Quinn’s hands in joy, both of them jumping up and down in a circle like little girls. When they finally stopped, Peyton threw her arms around Quinn and squeezed with all her might. It was the first time she felt true happiness in weeks. She grabbed Quinn’s hand again and marveled over the three carat round diamond in a Tiffany setting.

The door jingled again when Bret walked in, a smile plastered across his face like he’d won the lottery. “She made me bring her right over,” he said. “She wouldn’t even let me park the car before hopping out.” Peyton squeezed him, too.

“And there’s more?” Quinn squealed.

“You got knocked up?” Peyton said.

“Of course not.” Quinn swatted Peyton’s hand then nudged Bret in the side. “We’d
never
have sex before marriage, good Catholics like us.”

Peyton tried not to think about Bugs Bunny. “Well?”

A twinkle in her eye, Quinn paused for the moment to build. “There’s a house!”

“What?” Peyton started another round of jumping with Quinn.

“A house,” Quinn said dreamily then began to speak and move her hands quickly. “But it’s in rough shape — a total disaster right now. It somehow has a good foundation, though. It needs a lot of work – a lot. I’m thinking about an open floor plan. I haven’t really decided yet. And I want it to have at least four bedrooms for kids one day. We may actually have to add on. I still need to pick colors, and Reed is redesigning it, and....” Quinn stopped, suddenly realizing what she’d said.

Peyton gave a tight smile then briefly dropped her head. But she caught herself, not about to let any sadness trample on her friends’ joy — or her own. Plus, looking down at her cute top and skinny jeans provided an immediate jolt. She raised her head and smiled. “Reed will do a great job. I’m so happy for you both!”

* * *

Reed stumbled into the hotel room. He’d consumed, at minimum, half of the alcohol on Bourbon Street. It had taken its toll — he rarely drank — so he was thankful to have Heather tightly coiled around him, keeping him upright.

She got him inside, closed the door, and quickly took charge, pushing up against his body, pinning him against the wall, her breasts swelling upon his chest. Then she changed directions, turning herself around to slither her tight ass against him, moving her hips in a circular motion. He ran his hands down her spine. “Let me take care of you,” she hissed.

Reed nodded his foggy head, and she turned around again, running her hands through his messy hair, wrapping a leg around his waist. She rammed her tongue into his mouth, lapping hers against his, then led him over to the bed. She pushed him down and straddled him with her thighs. “I’ll do all the work, baby,” she said, shedding her shirt and ripping off his, then striking quickly and devouring his neck.

Reed wasn’t sure where he was, but the place somehow seemed familiar. He thought maybe he’d been in this room before, perhaps with Heather or someone else, or maybe it was another hotel room. He couldn’t quite remember. They all looked the same after awhile. In fact, everything about them was the same — the bed, the TV, the bathroom, the nightstand, the ceiling fan. The girls were usually the same, too. He tried not to think about all that and instead told himself to enjoy just how easy and uncomplicated things finally seemed to be — without any sappy emotions or dark pasts, or having to wait until the time was right, or holding out for some trip to the doctor for birth control.

Heather journeyed down his stomach, trailing kisses along the way, knowing that’s what Reed liked. He always liked her mouth close. It excited him. It turned him on. She unhooked his belt buckle and took it off slowly, one loop at a time. She lowered her head to the button on his jeans, flicking it open, then using her teeth to unzip. She reached her hand inside to caress him but quickly darted away, as if she’d been bitten by a poisonous snake. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped.

Reed stared up at the ceiling fan — unsure if it was moving, or if it was the room that was moving, or if maybe he was just imagining things. “Huh?” he slurred.

“Why aren’t you hard?”

Reed grabbed the back of his neck. He tried to think of a reason, but nothing came to mind, still focused on the ceiling fan. He shrugged his shoulders, as Heather stood up from the bed, shedding her skirt, then slid out of her black bra and thong. “No pearls?” he asked.

Heather groaned and took his hand to sit him up. “What the hell are you talking about?” He didn’t answer. She looked down at his dick, still limp. “I’m going to start a shower. We’re going to sober you up. I want to make sure you remember how great we are together.”

Reed nodded, as she disappeared into the bathroom. Sober sounded good. He could use some actual sex for a change.

* * *

“Shit, I should call Reed,” Bret said. “He’s practically held my hand through all this.” Quinn shot him a look while he dialed.

Peyton grabbed Quinn’s hand to re-focus her. “So tell me more. What colors are you thinking?” Quinn started rambling off some ideas, but Peyton was hardly listening, keeping her ears on the call.

“Thanks!” Bret said, “I can’t believe it, either.”

Peyton couldn’t believe it had been a month since she talked to Reed. As hard as she tried, she still thought about him all the time, wondering what he was doing, what projects he was working on, whether he’d done anything interesting with Jeremiah. Keeping herself busy and in a simple routine only helped so much. So, too, did stylish clothes.

Bret scrunched his face. “You sound weird, dude. Are you OK?”

Peyton’s heart jumped.
Because he misses me?
She knew she wasn’t OK. She hadn’t been for a month. She missed everything about Reed — sharing her day with him, the way he gently touched her and erased her past, the way their bodies moved together while dancing under the stars in Audubon Park or making waves in the bathtub in Seaside. All of that was gone now. And so was he. She tried to hold fast to her convictions — that he wasn’t honest with her and she couldn’t trust him anymore. But the tighter she held, the worse she felt.

Peyton looked over at the table where Reed sat — for weeks on end — enduring Julia, begging to go to dinner, waiting until she was ready. She noticed a pink rose petal on the table. She hadn’t seen it all day, blending in perfectly with the pink and green decor of her shop. She had no idea how it got there.