Almost Broken (23 page)

“I haven’t second guessed us since the moment you said yes,” he says with certainty.

“You see something good in me. You look at me like I’m not a problem or a villain,” he says, rubbing the skin on her back, and she looks troubled.

“Who would look at you like that? The people who work for you?” she guesses.

“No, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is
you
don’t,” he says with a shrug.

“I could never look at you like that,” she promises with a smile so wide both her dimples are showcased by it. “What do you see when you look at me?” she asks quietly.

“Someone kind, loyal, affectionate, who wants to give as much love as she gets,” he says looking her in the eye.

“So my looks don’t matter at all?” she jokes.

“Oh no, they do. You’re hot has hell,” he replies, giving her butt a squeeze, and she laughs.

“I’ll never look at you like that,” she says quietly. “You’ll never be my villain. You’ll always be my prince charming,” she says reassuringly, exactly how she just did, sitting on my lap in the midst of a panic attack.

“You promise?” he asks her, his tone almost vulnerable.

“I promise,” she says before kissing him.

HHH

They say near-death experiences tend to wake you up and make you see things in a different light. I wouldn’t necessarily call a panic attack as a near-death experience, but it woke me up. I felt like I was sleepwalking for the past week and a half, breathing but not living, hearing but not listening, and now I want to see, I want to listen, I want to feel.

I never would willingly want a panic attack, but I’ll take that over a blackout any day. I wonder where he is, if Cal has given up. I’d think a panic attack would be his opening to slip through at the sign of trouble, but he didn’t…and my body nearly shut down because he didn’t, but I’m ignoring that fact. I came back from it.
I
came back from it because of Lauren. Her smile woke me up out of the emotional dessert I was in. Her touch brought me back, her calming voice let me know everything would be okay. She was what was missing, not the shell of her, but the real her.

I
missed her and missing her made me feel like a part of me was missing. The thing is the part of me that was missing could be the part of me that I want gone… The moment after I felt her open up to me again, not even minutes later, I had another memory come full force. I know now she’s a trigger. That’s one thing my dad is right about, but I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing. What I need to know now is what to do about it.

She’s strong, but fragile. She puts up a hard shell around herself but she’s vulnerable, and I know my actions affect her more than anyone. Well almost anyone, and that’s the problem. What scares me more than anything is that the memories that make me feel closer to her makes me seem closer to him. This bond that I see between them is between her and him. Cal.

She loves him, and I think besides Caylen, more than anyone. How can I compete with that? How could she ever look at me and not wish that I was him, but today, I’m not going to worry about that. If they had memories, then we need to make our own. That’s what I’ve been telling myself as I stand outside her door with this box in my hand. I feel like a creep. I set the box down, my nerves getting the best of me. If she shoots me down, it’s going to take me a few days to recover, but then again maybe I need to be shot down. I haven’t talked to Jenna today, and I know that I need to, but right now I’m trying to take one thing at a time. I decide to just do it. I knock on her door, then I think why I didn’t just send her a text. It’s quiet in her room, no sound of music or talking. It’s 9:30 so she could be sleep. Before I can overanalyze any further, she opens the door and looks at me curiously. The funny thing is, she has on a white tank and sweats just like in the last memory I had of her, but this time a white sweater is covering it.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, looking at me and not staring past me. I can’t explain how good that feels.

“I’m good, really good actually,” I say honestly, and a smile spreads across her face. “I—I got you something to say thanks,” I say, and she looks at me curiously.

“Really?” she asks, excitement creeping into her voice. She’s excited.

“Yeah,” I say, my own excitement growing.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, almost reminding herself she shouldn’t be.

“I wanted to,” I say sincerely.

“If you want to throw on a jacket. I want to show you outside. I’ll tell my mom to listen in on Caylen,” I explain. She looks at me suspiciously, a glint in her eye.

“Uhm. Okay. Just give me a minute.” She says, and I nod. I head upstairs and tell my mom to listen in on Caylen, and she agrees. I grab the box and meet Lauren back at her room.

“For me?” she guesses, her eyes gleaming, and I nod. I gesture for her to come with me. Once we make it outside, I can tell she’s anxious. The box is pretty big so I hold it for her.

“Can I open it now?” she asks enthusiastically. I nod, and she quickly lifts the top off revealing a pair of brand new white roller skates and she starts to laugh.

“You shouldn’t have,” she says, picking one up and examining it closely.

“You don’t like them?” I say, trying to hide my disappointment, and she quickly shakes her head.

“No, they’re beautiful. It’s just, well, you saw me back at the rink. The only thing I’m worse at is cooking.” She chuckles.

“My mom says you’re getting better at it,” I assure her, and she shrugs.

“Are you going to try them on?” I ask her, and she looks a little skeptical.

“I was just so bad at it last time,” she says nervously, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“Aidan just sucked as a teacher,” I tease her.

She looks at me skeptically, but then concedes. She sits down on the porch, takes off her shoes, and carefully puts on both skates.

“Okay, give me your hands,” I say, and she slowly puts them out. I take them and pull her towards me. Except it’s a little too fast, and her chest crashes into mine. She looks up at me apologetically.

“Sorry, I told you I suck,” she says quietly. Looking down at her, I have to fight the urge to kiss her. It’s hard, but I do. I show her how to stop with the break on the skates, and how it’s better if she tries to slide her feet than walk choppily how she was with Aidan. After about a half an hour she’s confident enough to try without holding my hand, and when she skates a few feet by herself, you’d think she won the lottery.

“I can’t believe it!” she squeals as she carefully turns around and starts to skate towards me. She doesn’t go that fast, but her movements are much more fluid than before.

“You’re a much better teacher than Aidan was,” she quips once she makes her way to me.

“In his defense, I think he liked you falling all over him,” I tell her, and she looks away from me bashfully. She clears her throat and runs her hand through her hair.

“Can you help me over to the stairs.” She giggles, sticking out her hand. I laugh and take it. Her hand feels so small in mine but we fit. She sits on the stairs and starts to untie her skates.

“About that night,” she says quietly, and I feel my stomach drop. “I’m sorry that I did that,” she says glancing at her skates.

“You don’t owe me an apology,” I tell her.

“No. I should. I wasn’t thinking,” she says quietly. “I was but not with my brain.” She giggles.

“It’s just this is a lot harder for me than I thought it would be,” she continues. “I think I’m doing pretty well. God, if this would have been three years ago.” She laughs, shaking her head. “It still wasn’t an excuse for the position I put you in. I know that you want us to be friends and I didn’t think at first I could be okay with that,” she says, glancing up at me. “But today, when you had your panic attack, it occurred to me how much I need you. And, even though it was not
life-threatening, I realized that I need you in my life,” she says, her eyes on mine, the sincerity in her voice sends a chill up my spine. “And not just for Caylen,” she says quickly. “So if it has to be as a friend. I can learn to do that. There may be times here and there where I’ll need a little space to remind myself that I’m your friend.” She chuckles. “But I can do that. I don’t want to lose this. I like getting to know you. It’s just hard sometimes for me because the more I get to know you, the more I…” She stops herself and gives me a weak smile.

“What?” I ask her, walking closer to her. I just need her to say it. I look her in the eye, my heart beating rapidly, and she looks up at me like she’s contemplating. If she would just say it.

“Chris.” We turn to see my dad approaching us.

“Thank you for the skates it was really nice of you,” Lauren says quietly before glancing at my Dad.

“Mr. Scott,” she says, acknowledging him before going into the house. Once she’s inside, my dad’s hard glare turns to me.

“What was that about?” he asks and shrugs.

“We went skating, and Lauren didn’t know how so I thought I’d show her,” I say simply.

“You think that’s a smart idea?” he asks sarcastically.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it, and that’s what matters,” I say before heading up the stairs.

“Chris….” My vision starts to blur again, and I see myself storming down the stairs of my house. My face is red, there are tears in my eyes, and I look furious. My dad flies out of the house behind me.

“Chris. Just let me explain. Please,” he yells trying to catch up with me.

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You stay the hell away from me!” I shout back at him.

“All of these years, all lies. Your moral code, your rules and lectures, and you’re a liar. A fucking hypocrite,” I continue to shout at him. My dad looks like he’s seen a ghost as I look at him.

“I hate you!” I growl at him.

“You don’t mean that, son. You’re angry. You’re upset,” my dad stutters, and I turn to walk away but stop and turn around. In a split second my anger dissipates and a smug grin spreads across my face.

“I should thank you.
Dad.
You’ve just created the biggest problem of your life,” I say with a wicked grin on my face.
It’s him.

My dad stares back at me, slack-jawed. He’s frozen in place. I don’t think he realizes I’ve jumped in his truck until I’ve pulled off. He’s calling after me, running behind the truck, and I flip him off outside the window.

“Christopher!” my dad says, and I realize I’m back to the present. I try to shake what just happened from my thoughts. That had to have been years ago from the hair cut I had, and the way my dad looked, I was still in high school. I think at the beginning of the memory, I was me but by the end, it was Cal.

“What’s wrong, son?” he asks, looking at me carefully.

“I—I think I just remembered something about us. Do you remember us having a big fight out here?” I ask him, and he flinches a bit then frowns.

“We’ve had a few disagreements,” he says flatly.

“This one was really bad, and I took your truck,” I say, my tone sharpening.

“Was that it?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I don’t know. I just remembered it. Standing right here. Do you remember that happening?” I ask him again.

“I don’t remember anything like that,” he says stoically.

“You don’t?” I ask him again.

“No. Nothing like that with you,” he says again.

“I think we both need to get some sleep,” he says, patting me on the shoulder before turning to go in the house.

This is the first memory I had that didn’t involve Lauren, and the one person I can confirm it with, who I used to trust, has just flat out lied to me.

Why?

Secret one. Think, think, think dumb ass. Don’t take too long. There’s so much more to come…

I try to ignore the snide voice in my head and the condescending laugh that accompanies it.

I think things have just gotten a whole lot worse and a hell of a lot more complicated.

I
wanted to tell him that I like
him,
as juvenile as it sounds. I felt like it needed to be said. If there was a time to do so, it was then, but obviously me gauging when the right time with Chris has been completely off. His signals are so mixed, it drives me crazy. I think he’s just as confused as I am. Then other times it’s as if he knows exactly what he wants.

The way he looks at me has changed, and I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not. When he used to look at me, he seemed curious, confused, and nervous. Now when he looks at me, the nervousness is pretty much gone, the confusion is still there, but there’s an interest, and something else I can’t put my finger on.

I’m only going to be here another week, and time has seemed to go by so fast. Caylen has grown so close to Chris and his family I’m almost wondering how she’s going to do when she doesn’t wake up and see him and Mrs. Scott every day. Even Mr. Scott, although he still hasn’t grown any warmer towards me. In fact, I think he may even be colder. I don’t know why he hates me so much. At first, I thought he was just irritated and annoyed by me. My presence reminded him that his family wasn’t perfect. But sometimes when I catch him glaring at me, I think he hates me. The thing is, he’s not like that with anyone else. Not Aiden, not Lisa, or even the telemarketers that call the house, and if he hates me just because of my association with Cal, I can imagine how he treated him.

He’s one of the only reservations I’ve had about what I’ve been planning—or contemplating. Contemplating is probably the better word. Actually that’s a misstatement. Jenna’s the other. I haven’t had to deal with her since the disastrous skating rink night but she’s like a dormant virus you know will pop up at any time. I remind myself that my decisions can’t focus on what Jenna will think or how it will affect her, but what’s best for
Caylen
because that’s my job, to see to the health and wellbeing of my child. Jenna isn’t worried about that.

The thing is, if the shoe was on the other foot, and I was engaged to Cal all those years ago and she popped up saying she was in love with Chris and had a daughter with him, I would have stepped aside. I wouldn’t hold on and ask him to abandon his child and keep the life we had, but without having a child, maybe I wouldn’t have understood, and play the game she’s playing. Well none of this is a game, but sometimes I feel like everyone is on a chess board, moving pieces with their own agenda. We all have them, even Chris. I just can’t quite figure out what his is.