The Unlucky Ones, page 18
My teeth sawed together, my head bobbing. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
Silence stretched between us, both of us realizing there could be no win, no happy ending here.
“Listen, it’ll be better if we go back to employee and employer. I think it’s best for both of us if we pretend the other night didn’t happen.”
“Impossible.” His low, rough voice sent a craving down my legs.
My lids shut, squeezing out the sorrow I felt building up behind my ribs, knowing my next words.
“I’ll look for a new job next week.” I couldn’t stay around him. He was too much temptation and torture to be around.
“Devon—”
I held up my hand, cutting him off. “My relatives make it dangerous for me to stay around. The connection is too risky for you. We both know this is for the best.”
He opened his mouth again, but I jumped in. “I’m putting in my two weeks’ notice. That’s the last of this discussion.” I couldn’t look at him, stepping back to the door. “I better get back out there, or you’ll be down two servers instead of one.”
When I left his office, all my anger with him earlier was gone, replaced with deep sorrow.
I stopped at the end of the hall, sucked in my willpower, and forced a smile onto my lips before I stepped back into the merriment. I felt none of the jubilant mood which sang and danced around me.
Only heartache.
Chapter Twenty
Life had a funny way of continuing to run your ass over without stopping, even though you wanted no part of it. Besides being required to work next to Lincoln for the next two weeks, my sister couldn’t stop talking about him. “I can’t decide if he’s gay, or if I’m not being obvious enough.”
“Oh, I think he got it, Amelia.” I unloaded our laundry from the washer. “The whole bar knows you want him.”
It was Wednesday, my first night back after New Year’s Eve, and I had spent the morning at the laundromat, doing Ikea bags full of our built-up pile. I don’t think Amelia went once while I was gone, and the mound took me two trips.
Amelia sipped her iced tea, the remnants of her takeout lunch beside her on the dryer where she sat. The salon where she worked was only a few blocks down, so she came to join me on her break. Of course, she didn’t help with any of the actual laundry.
“Did he say something to you?”
Oh, he’s been saying a whole lot of things to me, but I doubted Amelia would want to hear it. “No. But you are not sly, Mel. And you’ve been stalking him for months now.”
“I’m not stalking.” She jolted with hurt pride. “And you need to spell it out for men. They’re not as in tune as women are. You can’t be subtle.”
“Nothing about you is being subtle.”
“What is his problem? I don’t understand. He’s the only guy who has been this obtuse. Hello!” She threw up her arms. “I’m a hot, sexy woman who wants to screw him. So what the hell is wrong? This should be a no-brainer.”
I shoved the clothes in the dryer, slamming the lid shut.
“Can you talk to him? See if he’s dating someone else? Oh god, the thought of another girl getting to fuck him… No. He’s mine.”
“He’s not yours, Amelia!” I shrieked, something snapping in my brain. “He’s not into you! Get it through your thick head. He doesn’t want to sleep with you.”
Amelia jerked back; her shocked expression transformed from hurt to anger. She thrust out her chest and shook her head in disbelief.
“Amelia…”
She pushed off the dryer, seizing her bag, and stomped out of the laundromat, fury riding on her shoulders, her heels slamming violently against the pavement.
“Shit.” I slumped onto the dryer, palming my face. I didn’t mean to be so harsh, but my patience for my sister was shrinking, especially when it came to Lincoln. Ever since Skylar visited, I had been feeling less willing to be Amelia’s bitch. Or anyone’s. It was time to start saying no.
She needed to hear it from me. I should have told her a long time ago, but I could have been kinder about it. I always stayed quiet, letting things build up, then I exploded. It took people back because they had no idea I was so upset.
“Don’t ever be sorry for standing up for yourself. Sometimes you will be the only person who will.” Lincoln’s words came into my head. He was right. I needed to stop being a doormat.
I blew out my breath, returning to the loads of wash. I would let Amelia cool down, and tonight when I got home I would apologize, not for my words, but my delivery.
The weight of visiting Mom before work also sat heavy in my stomach. I dreaded the thought of going there today. Seeing the skeleton of the woman I knew, void of personality which used to light her eyes.
For once, do what you want, Devon. It doesn’t make you a bad person. I could visit her tomorrow. Sadly, she wouldn’t know. She didn’t understand time anymore. Minutes felt like days to her and days felt like minutes. She didn’t know me anymore either.
Unfortunately, doing what I wanted didn’t include avoiding work. I would have to face Lincoln.
Money would always override the desire to toss responsibility to the side, get on a plane, and never look back.
January was notoriously known as a dead month in the restaurant business, and this evening lived up to its reputation.
Nat chatted with a couple at the bar when I stepped onto the floor. I waved at Kyle and Rick, who filled their normal stools at the other end. Rick gave me a secretive wink. He had made a few jokes to suggest they had heard us or at least knew what had happened in Lincoln’s office Christmas night. It didn’t embarrass me more than make me sad because it would never happen again.
A couple of women who just got off work filled the sofa, already complaining about being back at work, cheering their wineglasses with each other. Besides them, I puttered around cleaning, my stomach in knots as I sensed Lincoln close by.
A buzz vibrated inside my apron, and I dug out my cell, glancing at the screen. Between Mom and Uncle Gavin’s injury, I kept it on me at all times now. The facility’s number scrolled over the screen, glowing against my face.
Probably Bethany, wondering why I didn’t show up today.
Glancing around and not spotting anyone who needed me, I turned my back to the bar and put the phone to my ear, an apology already crawling over my tongue.
“I’m sorry, I know I was supposed to come today,” I spewed out in a hoarse whisper. “Tell her I’ll be in tomorrow.
“Devon.”
“I got so busy today. I feel awful. Was she aware I wasn’t there?”
“Devon!”
The force with which she said my name made me shut my mouth.
“Devon…” Bethany repeated my name. Heavy sorrow sank into my eardrum, trickling down to my soul. “I’m so sorry.”
No. No. This wasn’t happening.
“Your mother stopped breathing and because of the DNR…we let her go in peace. She passed away about fifteen minutes ago.”
Time stopped.
My world stopped.
Everything went hazy around me, numbing me of anything except the anguish filling my stomach with bile.
“No.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, shaking my head, not wanting to accept her declaration.
“I am so, so sorry, Devon.” Bethany continued to talk, but I heard nothing after that, the phone dropping from my hand, tumbling loudly onto the wood floor.
I was supposed to visit her today. Be there. But I selfishly chose not to…
There would be no tomorrow. No visit to make up.
“Devon?” I heard Nat shouting my name as I dropped to the floor. Nothing felt real. It was all far away as though I were at the end of a very long tunnel. I didn’t even feel I was in my own body. Producing no connection to the choked wail, bleating like a lamb, deriving from my body.
“Devon!” My name didn’t even belong to me, simply some consonants and vowels put together. I saw a blurred figure bound around me, trying to obtain my attention, but I continued to stare ahead, my mind and body floating off into another realm. “Lincoln! Lincoln, get out here now!”
Vague awareness of drumming vibrated the ground under me, legs and feet moving into my vision, a large form dropping in front of me.
“Hey.” Strong, warm hands cupped my face, forcing me to look up. “Devon, look at me.”
I took in the man speaking. His face was so familiar I felt as if I’d known him most of my life. Safety. Happiness.
Anchor. My heart thrummed, my gaze locking onto his, feeling his thumbs rub over my cheeks in a soothing rhythm. As if I were a balloon floating away, he grabbed for me, bringing me back down to earth. But with it came reality, turning Bethany’s words over and over in my head. My mom was gone.
“She’s dead.” My voice sounded like a little girl, the last bit of innocence and purity being ripped from her. “She’s gone…” Pain forced loud damp gasps from my chest. My mind fought back the crippling grief, switching into the girl who needed to handle things. Be the adult. The role I was good at.
“I need to call Amelia…and Uncle Gavin. Skylar. I have to get down to the facility. They probably need me.”
“Devon.” Lincoln gripped my face firmer, tipping my head to look at him. “It will all be taken care of. I am here. Whatever you need. I’ll drive you down there.”
“No…it’s okay…taxi… I need to go.” I shook from his grip, standing up, my attention fluttering superficially over everything but what was next. “Is it okay if I leave early?”
“Is it okay?” Lincoln bolted up, grasping my arms, pinning me in place. He shuffled his feet out, getting more in my eyeline, running his hands down my hair, trailing to my chin. “Stop! I am driving you down there. It’s okay to ask for help, to let someone be there for you.” His brown eyes lasered on mine. All I wanted was to see his real blue eyes. To peer into his soul without the barrier.
He didn’t give me a chance to respond, whirling around to Nat. “You got this?”
“Yeah, go.” She nodded, her expression pinched with heartache.
Lincoln pressed a hand to my lower back, moving me numbly toward the back door. Nat hugged me briefly, whispering to Linc to call her later. He nodded, ignoring the gaping silence coming from the customers while we crossed the space. I could feel their stares, but I wouldn’t look at anyone, knowing I’d see pity and sadness in their expressions. Seeing myself in their eyes would break me.
The ride over was silent. I stared out the window. I had tried to call my sister, but she didn’t answer. It was her night out with the girls at the salon, and the cell probably lay at the bottom of her bag as she giggled and drank with her friends. I didn’t leave a message…just texted her call me now.
“Give me your phone.” Lincoln held out his hand as we walked up to the facility, staying close to me, his hand comforting. “I will keep trying your sister.”
I handed it over without argument. Normally I fought outside help, always saying “I got it,” but right now I had no energy to get anything done. I let him take the lead when I wanted to crumble under the weight.
“Devon.” Bethany greeted me the instant I stepped in, jogging over, wrapping me in her arms, whispering how sorry she was. She stepped back, taking in Lincoln. “Hello, I’m Bethany.”
“Lincoln.” He shook her hand.
“Thank you for coming.” She patted the top of his hand, darting a look at me. “I’m so glad someone is here with her. As strong as she is…no one should be alone at this time.” She tilted her head. “Devon is a remarkable girl.”
“Yes, she is.” His palm pressed into my back.
“Amelia?”
“Still trying to get a hold of her,” he answered for me.
Bethany nodded, lips pressed together in understanding. “Would you like to see her?” Bethany reached out for my hand. “Say goodbye?”
You mean the goodbye I didn’t say earlier when I ditched her for a day to myself? My guilty mind thought. I nodded, my throat constricting.
“Okay. This way.” Bethany motioned for me to follow. I took one step when Lincoln grabbed my hand.
“Do you want me to go with you?” His willingness to be at my side during this brought another surge of emotion to my throat.
“No. It’s okay.” I squeezed his fingers then I turned to follow Bethany.
Bethany went down the hall, stopping at the closed door. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”
My lips bowed in an agonizing smile. “It’s not the first parent I’ve had to lay to rest.”
“Oh, my girl.” Bethany pressed a hand to her heart. “What you have gone through for one so young.”
Youth had been wasted on me. How long had it been since I was young and carefree?
“This might not help now, but know your mother is finally at peace.” Bethany opened the door and stepped to the side. “I’ll be down the hall.”
I stepped past her and crossed the threshold which held the last of my innocence.
Chapter Twenty-One
There were no tubes attached like when I saw my father for the last time nor beeping machines as with Uncle Gavin. My mother lay on the bed, her eyes shut as if she were sleeping, her expression serene. I couldn’t help hoping she’d wake up, look over, and smile.
My shoes squeaked loudly over the linoleum floor, making me painfully aware of the utter silence in the room. As if I could still wake her, I tiptoed to the side of her bed, staring down at her face.
My mom. My friend. My world.
Gone.
“I am so sorry, Mom.” My breath hitched, the truth sinking in, burning tears filled the back of my lids and throat. “I should have been here earlier…”
She looked at peace and younger than she had for a while. With trembling fingers, I gently reached out, brushing my fingers over her cheek. Her skin was cool to the touch. It was then it really hit me—I would never talk or be with my mother again. A hiccupped sob gushed from the hole in my heart.
“Did you do it on purpose? Is this punishment because I was selfish?” A string of anger belted out as if a monster was taking over. “I didn’t come to see you this one time since coming back from Uncle Gavin’s and that’s when you decided to die? Leave me like it’s a big ‘damn you, Devon.’ Penance for the rest of my life?” I wailed, gripping the bars, tears gushing down my face. “You got me, Mom. The guilt I feel will be with me forever. Hanging over my head and calling me selfish and cruel. I wasn’t there for you. I left you alone and scared here. How could I do that to you? How could you do this to me?”
Crushing grief bowed my legs, my body sagging down the side of her bed to the floor, wretched sobs howling through the room. Anger, fear, and sorrow heaved from my chest, pouring out over the tile, emptying my own soul. Time and the world didn’t matter, my heart breaking into pieces.
I didn’t hear him come in, but suddenly arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his warmth. Safety. Lincoln pulled me between his legs on the ground and held me tightly against him, as I fell apart, howls of agony shattering from my chest.
Time had no meaning. We could have been there minutes or hours. I curled into him, rocking gently. The world around me vanished and gradually the tears did too. I still couldn’t leave his embrace; for once I felt completely safe. That someone had my back.
“I-I was supposed to visit her today. Should have been with her.”
Lincoln didn’t say a word. His lips brushed my temple, and he sighed heavily, as though he could relate to my pain.
“How do I live with this?” I pressed my cheek deeper into the soft cotton of his shirt, most of it soaked with my tears.
“I can give you all the advice in the world, but you know your mother loved you. She didn’t die to hurt you or cause you more guilt. If anything, she picked this time to let go when you weren’t here, so you wouldn’t have to see her pass. It was her time to let go, Dev…” His hand stroked the back of my head. “But I know what it’s like to fight guilt and grief. It’s a hard devil to get off your conscience, which is accusing you of the worst things you’ve ever thought of yourself or what you could have done differently. The road of what-ifs and wishes. You step down that road, and you may never get off it. Your mother would not have wanted that for you.”
I twisted my head to look up at him, my gaze fixed on his. I felt this went a lot deeper than he let on, a penetrating sorrow underneath the walls as though he knew the road well. My hand went to his face, feeling the tickle of his beard.
“Step off with me,” I whispered.
“Too late.” Despondency dropped his voice low.
In that moment I could feel the deep pain he carried, see through the barricades, comforting me in the fact I wasn’t alone. We both knew grief and carried it every day.
I moved closer to him, my gaze on his mouth, my heartache wanting to relieve his, even for a moment.
“Your sister is on her way,” he said, not moving a hair. He would not take advantage of me in grief.
It only made me want him more.
“Thank you,” I muttered, brushing my lips over his. He stayed still, but a sharp breath hitched in his throat. My teeth tugged gently at his bottom lip before my mouth covered his. He inhaled through his nose, his hand sliding behind my head, responding to my kiss with his own.
Raw. Pain. Heartache. Grief.
Our mouths begged each other to take it all away. Desperate and needy to feel more than crushing sorrow. I straddled his lap, deepening the kiss, needing to be ever closer. I ground into him, yearning for release of the heartache or a tiny speck of pleasure in my sea of pain. My hands went up his shirt, strumming down his abs until I reached his pants. I needed him. Now.
“Devon.” He tried to break away, but my desperation to keep feeling the tiny bit of relief he gave me drove me forward, my mouth hungry and urgent. “Devon. Stop.” He clutched my head, pulling me back.
Annoyance flared like a punch inside me, hurt and despair on the fringes. I needed this. I wouldn’t survive the moment otherwise.
