Read Where Words Fail Online

Authors: Katheryn Kiden,Kathy Krick,Melissa Gill,Kelsey Keeton

Where Words Fail (29 page)

BOOK: Where Words Fail
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“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Everyone leaves. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

He backed away. His face growing cold as he tried to hide how much I had just hurt him without knowing. I heard the sound of glass shattering before it registered in my head why. He pulled his arm from the now shattered passenger side window of his truck. Blood streaked down his tanned and tattooed forearm and onto his flexed fist.

He made his way around the hood before he spoke again. “You know... You think you don’t remember me. Look real hard at the things around you. Look at the things you did tonight. The shit you were drinking... You’d figure out who I was.”

“You think I like not knowing! It’s a fucking medical condition!”

“Bullshit Abby! I’d give it to you anytime until tonight. The second you left the house it stopped being medical. It’s a fucking coping mechanism. Figure it out.” He dropped his head, so I couldn’t see his eyes, and he reached for the handle to the door. “I’ll go... It’ll fucking kill me but I’ll leave. As soon you figure it out it’ll fucking kill you too. I love you, Abby.”

The truck started. Filling the suddenly too silent air around me with the sound of the motor. I watched as he backed out and left. Never making eye contact with me again. I watched until I couldn’t see his tail lights anymore. It wasn’t until I was confined in the cab of my truck that I started crying again.

It felt like he took my heart and ran over it when he drove off.

 

 

Jameson

I drove too fast. I ran stop signs and when I pulled up the driveway, the gravel was filling the darkness with dust behind me. Slamming the shifter in park, I jumped from the truck and headed straight towards the barn to retrieve my stuff from the apartment.

I slung three bags over my shoulders and made my way back to the truck. It’s pretty bad I’m leaving here with more possessions after a few months than I owned when I had my apartment for two years.

I sent Evan a text saying I was crashing on his couch. Whether or not he agrees is a totally different story, but I doubt he’ll tell me no. I looked up when I hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Tuesday and Alex were waiting for me. Staring at the vacant hole where the window should be in my door.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Alex started. I half expected him to shank me or pull a gun... Something. I mean, he did promise to kill me if I hurt his sister.

“She told me to leave. To get the hell off the property... So I am. I’m not going to sit here and hurt her more.”

Tuesday touched my arm, trying to assess the damage I had done but I just pulled it away. I didn’t care if my arm fell off at this point. “She’s going to remember you Jameson.”

“She already did... She just doesn’t know it. When she figures her shit out, I’ll be there.”

“What do you mean she already did?” Alex asked hesitantly.

“She ran off. She tried sleazing it up with some random guy and she bought a bottle of
Jameson NOT Jack...
She remembers somewhere in her head.” I tossed my bags into the bed of the truck and turned back to them. They both had the same expression on their face. Pissed off and hurt. “I’ll fulfill any band shit I need to that’s written in my contract, just let me know. I’ll be at Evan’s until everything gets figured out. Oh... Give her this.” I handed Alex a folded up piece of paper and climbed into my truck and left.

Chris Young’s
Goodbye
was the only thing written on the paper. Hopefully something about all this will start clicking because I’m going to go crazy without her.
 

 

Jameson

Evan glared at me from across the room. We’d had this same conversation every day for the past week. He would stand in the doorway leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. I’d sit on the couch with my legs stretched out over the coffee table with a fifth of something in my hands. It didn’t really matter what it was, as long as it kept me drunk.

“Drinkin’ again?”

“God, you’re so smart. I never would have noticed...”

“Don’t get smart with me boy... You best remember whose couch you’re crashing on.”

I snorted. “Yeah... Okay, Dad.”

“Don’t you dare! I’m not the one drinking myself into a coma. If anyone is like Dad in this situation, it’s YOU!” This was the first time Evan had ever said anything like that to me, and it hit home really hard.

He was right though. Since Abby told me to leave last week, I drank every day, only stopping because I passed out. I’m pretty sure that’s more than I’ve drank in my entire life. I haven’t shaved. My clothes were dirty, and I reeked of alcohol and sweat. Put me on a street and I could probably pass as homeless. It was bad, and I didn’t realize it till he called me out on it.

“He’s right, you know. You’ve been drunk every time I’ve stopped by.”

“Did I ask you for your opinion, Hillary?”

She glared at me from her spot on the other side of the couch. “It’s Hailey, you jackass.” I just shrugged. I gave up trying to remember Evan’s girl’s names a long time ago. By the time I did remember them, they were gone, and I would meet a different one. It was a process I couldn’t keep up with.

“Will you two please stop bickering?” Evan walked back out of the bedroom in just a pair of jeans. “Hailey, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

She pouted but got up and grabbed her bag and headed over to him, kissed him and left without another word. Thank fucking God. She squealed all night behind that damn bedroom door, even burying my head under a pillow didn’t block it out.

My phone vibrated loudly against the glass coffee table. I just stared at it. I didn’t want to answer it because every other time I got my hopes up hoping it was Abby, and it wasn’t. When Evan realized I wasn’t going to reach for it, he did. He slid his finger across the screen, and his eyebrows drew together.

“What?” I asked, scrubbing my hands over my face. I really did need to shave. I felt like a bum. He turned around and took my phone into the other room with him. Fuck it, I don’t have the energy to follow him.

When he returned he was smirking. “Who’s Tuesday?”

“Abby’s best friend... Why?” Did I really want to know? She did threaten to hurt me if I hurt Abby.

“She sent you a video.” I lunged off the couch. My head swam and I felt like I was going to fall, so I stopped and rested my hands on my knees. He laughed at me and shoved the phone in my face.

Tuesday: I’d tell you the name and artist like you do with Abby, but you won’t find this song anywhere... yet... So I’m sending it to you instead. She doesn’t know. Enjoy.

I pressed play and my heart instantly started aching. The video was of Abby sitting at the piano playing a haunting melody and singing. I didn’t even know Abby played piano. Her hair fell in her face. The bags under her eyes were ridiculous, and she looked as broken as I felt.

Please don’t let my heart break

Please don’t let me fall from grace

Maybe you’re my missing link

Maybe we were meant to be

But I’m a little too young

To be lonely like me

I watched the video three times before responding to Tuesday’s message.

Jameson: I’m falling apart here Tuesday... I miss her so fucking much...

Tuesday: She does too... She’s not the same without you. It’s crazy. Everyone misses you... Plz come home.

Jameson: Not coming home till she says so...

Tuesday: Well... I’m coming to you, where are you?

Jameson: Tuesday... no...

Tuesday: It wasn’t a fucking question of if I was or not... Where. Are. You? Tell me, or else.

I ignored the message and decided to take a shower. I put my phone next to the sink and pressed repeat on the video of Abby. Her voice was calming as the hot water pelted my skin. I got out, toweled myself dry and shaved. Evan banged on the door telling me to hurry the hell up.

I ignored him too. The shower had sobered me up a bit, and I was in no mood to deal with him sober. Muffled voices came through the door, but I couldn’t make out the voices, other than the second one was female. I just figured it was Hillary... Shit, Hailey... Again.

Sliding my jeans on and opening the door, I ran head first into Tuesday. The air was knocked out of my lungs from the force, and she fell backwards into Evan. His arms wrapped around her to keep her from hitting the ground. I watched her eyes widen in panic as she pushed herself away from him.

She struggled to calm herself down and deep inside I knew something was off about how she reacted to Evan touching her. Once her breathing evened out she lifted her eyes to mine. Rage burned behind her deep brown eyes. A sinister smile graced her lips, and I saw Evan take a small step back. How the hell did she find me?

“I don’t take being ignored lightly, Jameson.”

“I-” She cut me off.

“Don’t you dare tell me you weren’t ignoring me. I’m not stupid. I have a few things I want to tell you and telling you over a fucking text message was not an option.” She folded her arms over her chest. Her eyes flickering over to Evan, who was blatantly staring at the skin now exposed between her shirt and jeans. I watched as her eyes wandered over his chest and arms, over all the tattoos on his skin before she spoke again. She cleared her throat. “Can you, umm, put a shirt on or something?”

Evan’s hand rubbed across his abs. His flirty self coming out after noticing the effect he had on her. That was something we would definitely be chatting about later. “You want me to cover up?” She nodded. He chuckled and padded off to the bedroom coming back only when he had on a tattered white tank. “Better?”

She shook her head and took a deep breath. “You guys sure are covered in tattoos.”

I leaned against the wall, crossing my left leg over my right. Evan continued talking to her. “Well, since you pushed your way in and I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself.” He reached out to shake her hand. Hesitantly she gripped his. “I’m Evan Williams, I own Jarhead Ink.”

“Mal-Tuesday Weston.” I wondered what she had begun to say before her name. She closed her eyes, maybe hoping that nobody would pick up on the slip up. Evan brushed it off and told her it was nice to meet her. She turned back to me, her eyes filled with promise of bodily harm if I didn’t listen. When she told me to sit I immediately listened. My body sinking into the couch that’s been my home for the last week.

“My best friend is broken.” She started talking and pinched the bridge of her nose. “When I met her a few years ago, she was bad. She didn’t trust anyone. She had gotten the shit beat out of her repeatedly. She was working on herself to get better... But no matter how much she worked she could never outrun her past. It took her months to open up about anything in her life, even in the meeting where we met.

“She never told me the whole story. Just that some guy had broken her heart and then Matt came along and then I met her and she hired me. I watched her get better and better but randomly something would get in her head and she would run off and do what she does. It was just how she dealt. The night you started on tour, yeah... She ran off, but after that I watched as she got better and better. Until she found out who you were.

“That night in the dressing room, I saw Paul treat her like a daughter. I watched her break and I didn’t like what I saw. But after we got home and you guys talked and got back together-she was whole. Happy. The night she told you to leave because she didn’t remember you, I honestly thought she would just do the usual shit she does, remember you and call you to come home.

“But she didn’t. She didn’t even drink that night. She came home with the bottle and it’s been sitting on the piano all week. The same fucking piano that she has spent every second of her day at. She doesn’t talk to us. She’s not eating. She just sits there and lets her fingers sit on the keys as she stares off into space or she plays that song I sent you. It’s crazy.” She stopped and took a breath, wiping tears from her eyes. Evan stood with his hands in his pockets, jaw slack and eyebrows raised. I never told him anything about Matt. He was against beating women too. “She started mumbling this morning about fucking everything up as usual. I think she remembers but she’s too scared to say anything... Like she thinks you’re mad at her.”

BOOK: Where Words Fail
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