Into the Tomorrows (Bleeding Hearts Book 1) (13 page)

I heard Jude open his mouth, but he said nothing to that, letting me have my memory without challenging me. “Your turn.”

“Mila.” He said it without hesitation. “Not just because we came into the world together, but because she knows me better than anyone.” He pulled a pocket knife from his pocket and flicked it open. I watched as he grabbed a loose thread on the hem of his tee and ran the knife over it, removing the thread and abruptly snapping the knife closed. “When someone knows you that well, you have to keep them close. To remind you, when you feel things spinning out of control, of who you are.”

Wondering what could possibly make him lose control, I asked, “And who are you?”

He smiled, ran his fingers over his four-days-past-five o’clock shadow and then he grabbed a mini flashlight out of his pocket.

He rotated his left arm and winced from the pain he obviously felt. He rested his arm on his leg and clicked the light, letting me see the script along his arm there. “Always do what you are afraid to do,” he said as my eyes traced each curve of the letters as he moved the flashlight across the words.

He turned off the light and I blinked, adjusting to the dark. “I’m a person who does the wrong thing, who says the wrong thing, because ultimately, no matter how afraid I am, I believe in being honest.” I lifted my face and a tingle flowed like cool water down my neck when our eyes locked and held. He looked only at me for several seconds and, for a moment, I forgot where I was.
Who
I was.

I thought of Colin, the person I should have been thinking about when I was staring into Jude’s eyes. I thought of how conflicted I felt for Colin. “What if the truth is dirty?” I followed it with a nervous swallow, watched as his gaze shifted for a second to my throat before meeting my eyes again.

“Then I appreciate it even more. Let me be stained with truth. I’ll take a dirty truth over a pretty lie any day.” His voice was low and whispered along an invisible string right to my chest. My lungs ached as I held my breath from being so close to him, from hearing how much he preferred the truth while he was sitting next to a liar.

I wanted to be stained with truth, but all I was stained with was Ellie.

“Tell me a lie,” he challenged me in that same low whisper.

I should move away, I thought. I should pull back. My heart was roaring and my brain was echoing ‘Colin,’ but I took the bait.

“I love Brussels sprouts.”

It took just a second for his lips to transform from their natural pout to a full blown smile and then a second later he was laughing so hard that I joined in too.

It was the relief I needed from the heavy, and I laughed so hard that my cheeks hurt. The movement of our laughter caused me to start sliding and I pushed my hands on the roof to keep me in place. But I wasn’t scared, and only laughed harder.

Jude laughed and said, “Don’t slide off the roof, Trista. I saved you once, but I’m out of commission now.”

“Is this a good time to tell you I’m a bit clumsy?”

“I think I figured that out when you damn near slipped off a five-hundred-foot mountain.”

“Five-hundred?” I pressed a hand to my chest.

“More of a hill, really.”

I laughed, pushed him gently. “Come on. I wouldn’t have been able to walk up that thing. It was not a hill.”

“I could’ve done it.” He raised an eyebrow, the side of his mouth lifted up.

“Yeah, well you’re ridiculous.”

“If you want to see a mountain, I should take you up Mount Sneffels. It’s a fourteener, but I’ve taken beginners up there before.”

The fact that he’d said he should take me up a mountain wasn’t lost on me, but I acted like I hadn’t noticed. “I’m afraid to ask what a fourteener is. Fourteen thousand feet?”

“Yup.” As I blanched, he smiled wider. “But it’s amazing. The road getting up there is crazy—carved right into the mountain, so you’re driving with rocks above your roof. And the road is only wide enough for one vehicle, because you’re right next to the ledge.”

He wasn’t selling me on this. “Sounds great.”

“You’re not a good liar.”

“I’m not trying to be a good liar.”

He narrowed his eyes, but continued. “There’s all kinds of wildflowers and old mines in the basin; it looks like something out of
The Sound of Music
. The scenery, it’s just out of this world. And the summit.” He smiled, fondly, as if he was lost in a memory. “I’ll just have to take you up there to see it. You’re surrounded by the mountain range, with the clouds closer than you can even imagine. And as far as you can see is all this beauty that’s been unaffected by humans for longer than we can fathom.” He paused. “Well. It’s special.”

It sounded special coming from him and I could see it in my mind’s eye. “But I barely made it out alive from our little backpack trip into the mountain. I don’t see how I could climb a fourteener.”

He shrugged. “Okay, sure. You need more practice. But it’s worth it for the view, trust me.”

“You wouldn’t lie.”

He shook his head solemnly. “No, I wouldn’t.”

He stared at me just a little too long and I turned away, finally feeling the chill of the evening air. “I should probably get back inside.”

“Me too,” he said. “Let me help you down.” He braced his good hand on the tile and scooted carefully until he slid off the lip of the roof and onto the porch.

I descended the roof much slower, scooting inches at a time until I could see the chair for me to stand on. When I looked over the edge of the roof at the ground below us, my stomach clenched.

“It’s only fifty feet, Trista. You handled five-hundred just fine, remember?” He extended his arm for me and I stared at it. “Grab it, and I’ll help you the rest of the way.”

I did, lacing my fingers with his as I stepped onto the seat of the chair. When it wobbled beneath me, I sucked in a breath. Hurrying, I practically jumped off the chair to the porch floor, still holding his hand.

He waited a moment longer than he should have, rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, and then let go. But in that moment, my indefinites transformed into something solid, real. Something I shouldn’t want, shouldn’t need. And yet ... I did.

“
D
o you need a new bra
?”

“What?” I didn’t have hearing problems, but considering she asked it so abruptly, interrupting our awkward silence, I stared at her.

Mila stopped in the mall, pointed to the giant pink lingerie store. “Bras. Y’know,” she cupped her hands under her breasts. “Boobie baskets.”

“Um.” I stared up at the silver lettering of the store. I didn’t own fancy lingerie because I wasn’t having sex all that often. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look.”

Practically dragging me into the store, Mila’s face was so lively that I couldn’t deny her anyway. “I’ve gained some weight,” she explained, “and most of it went to the ta-tas, so I need something to,” she curved her hands and gestured to her rack again—as if to remind me of just how ample her chest was, “keep these bad boys contained.”

“Ah.” We were two hours into shopping and I was still getting used to Mila’s personality. Not that she was unlikable or anything—she was just a firecracker. Where I moseyed, she marched. I fumbled over my words and she spoke so succinctly that it was as if she’d rehearsed anything she wanted to say. “Well, not that I knew what you looked like before, but you look thin.” I envied her for her height and the fact that she was thin all over.

“It’s the tan. Jude and I went to Hawaii last month and I lived on the beach the whole time.”

“Lucky you.” I gave everything on the rack we were looking at a cursory glance, because I just didn’t care.

“Jude worked really hard to have this as a paid gig,” Mila said, holding a bra up and fingering all the lace on the cups. “And as his sister, I get to reap the benefits.”

“Have you been to a lot of places with him?”

Mila didn’t break her concentration as she spoke, didn’t seem as guarded as I was at all. “Hawaii, New Zealand, Germany, Canada, and Portugal so far.”

It sounded so glamorous, jetting to foreign countries and lying on the beach. “I’ve only ever been to Wyoming and Colorado.” I felt frumpy and plain next to her, with her long and shiny black hair, tanned skin, tiny body. My hair was practically the texture of straw after my shady dye job.

“You should see more. There’s a lot of world out there.”

I only nodded, because what could I say? I didn’t have a job so the money my grandfather had given me would need to last a while.

“You like Jude, right?”

The question caught me off-guard and I paused for a moment, my fingers sliding down the silk of a camisole strap. Looking over at her, I felt an immediate relief in seeing that she wasn’t looking at me for a reaction. She held a bra up to her chest, pushing it against the milky white blouse she wore.

“He’s very easy to talk to,” I said, which didn’t really answer her question at all.

“You should go with him on his next trip.”

My hand fell on one side of the hanger, causing the camisole to fall to the ground. Embarrassed, I ducked down and snatched it up, fumbling as I tried to put it back on the hanger casually. “No way.”

“Yes way.” She put the bra back and grabbed another, holding it up to her chest like she could visualize herself wearing it. “He has to go to Yellowstone next week. I might have a commercial by then if I nail my audition this week.” She pursed her lips as she decided on the hot pink, silk bra.

“I can’t just go to Yellowstone with your brother,” I said, if only to tell the nerves lighting up my skin with little pops of heat to calm the hell down.

“Sure you can. He can’t go by himself, since he screwed up his shoulder. It’s as simple as me changing the name on the ticket.”

It sounded simple when she said it like that, which meant I absolutely could not do it. Nope. No fucking way.

“Have you been to Yellowstone?”

I shook my head, averted my eyes to the rack in front of us as I tugged on another camisole, testing its stretch. “I’ve lived in Wyoming, but I haven’t traveled that far north or west.”

“Perfect—you can babysit my clumsy big brother
and
see more of the world.”

I thought of Colin and despite feeling tempted to go along with Mila’s plan, I knew I couldn’t tell Colin and expect him to say yes. “I don’t know if Colin would be okay with that.”

At that moment, I met Mila’s eyes. There was something there, a flicker of something. It appeared and disappeared as quick as a flash of lightning; blink and you’ll miss it. But I hadn’t missed it, whatever
it
was. “Maybe you could ask him.” She looked away for a moment and put the bra back on the rack. “I don’t like the idea of Jude going alone with his shoulder how it is.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, because it was true—it was all I would think about.

“Great,” Mila said, whipping her hair over her shoulder before grabbing another bra.

I picked at my hair, running my finger over the ends. I envied her ease, her looks—it was all so natural to her. I struggled to figure my own self out and dyed my hair colors that looked cheap and everything about her was pure.

“You need a haircut?”

My automatic answer was no, but then I figured it was a small way I could treat myself, so I just nodded. “Probably a better dye job too.”

She nodded. “I know a girl. She does mine.” She set the bra down and looped an arm through mine as she steered me out of the store.

“Wait, if you want that bra, we can do my hair later,” I said, turning and pointing behind us.

She shook her head. “Nah. I didn’t want the bra.” Once we were outside of the mall and in the parking lot, she smiled kindly at me. “We wandered that place for two hours and I was waiting to find out what it was you wanted. I didn’t really need a bra—a little bra spillage won’t end me—but you? You’re … secret.” She nodded, as if she’d tested the word and liked it for me. “And if it’s hair you want, well, let’s do hair.”

I couldn’t argue with that, so I climbed into the passenger seat of her car and buckled up as she tore out of the parking lot. Mila drove her car like she stole it and it was another one of the things I was still getting used to.

“Think you’ll be here long term?” she asked as we whipped around a corner and she accelerated.

I gripped hard onto the armrest. “Not sure yet. I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Then I suppose here is as good as anywhere.” She glanced at me, gave me a smile. “Colin really loves you.”

The abrupt change of topic startled me a little. “We’ve been together a long time.”

“Mm-hm. I know what happened to your friend. I’m sorry.”

And the hits kept on coming. I was taken aback again by the sudden change of topic and I blinked rapidly. “I…” I didn’t know what to say. I always felt thanking someone for feeling sorry for you was strange, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. “Thank you.” It was an automatic response.

“I understand, to some extent.” She pulled into a turning lane and flipped a U-turn as soon as the light turned green. “I’ve lost people, too. Good people.” She sped up and took a turn down a small street. “It’s my biggest fear, to lose someone.”

Wasn’t that my fear too? Part of the complicated reason I was still with Colin was that I didn’t desire to lose him too. Colin was my last tie to Ellie. “Yeah. It sucks.” Nothing I would ever say about it would actually come close.

She nodded and pulled into a parking lot, slamming hard enough on her brakes that I rocked forward while she remained still. “Kelly is great,” Mila said as turned off the ignition and tossed her baseball keychain into her purse.

“Why do you have a baseball on your keys?” I asked as I followed her out of the car.

“It’s from my first Rockies game. Jude caught it and gave it to me, begrudgingly. So I carry it around as a memento of how I’m wrapped around his little finger.” She gave me a toothy grin. “It also serves as a weapon, should I need to swing at some douche who tries to get too grabby.”

“You’re close,” I said, opening the door of the salon for her. Growing up an only child had been all I’d known, but being with Jude and Mila showed me just how much I missed out on, especially growing up with a mom who was happy to have me out of her sight.

“He’s my twin. I don’t think anyone knows me better. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

I shook my head. “Just me.”

Mila waved to a woman in the back with shoulder-length red hair, cut asymmetrically, and turned to me. “You’re kind of a loner, huh?”

Instantly, my spine prickled on the defense. I wasn’t sure why I needed to feel defensive when she was just being honest. “I suppose I am,” I replied tightly, my palms suddenly sweaty. I wiped them on my jeans and when I looked up at her, she had a kind of sad smile on her face.

“I get it. Jude and me, we’re close. But I love people and Jude loves trees and mountains and creeks and grass.” Her sad smile stretched a little, like she wanted to smile wider but paused instead, thinking. The faraway look in her eyes was one that spoke to her confusion for Jude’s love for nature when she preferred people. “What are you going to have her do?” Mila asked, already moving onto the topic at hand.

I struggled to switch topics as fast as she had and looked over at the stylist she’d waved at. “That.” My hair was halfway down my back, but I wore it up so much that it might as well have been short. “But I don’t know what color to do.”

Mila touched my hair. “What do you want? I know you’re not asking my opinion, but this bleached look isn’t for you.”

I couldn’t disagree. “It was something I did a few months ago. I needed a change.”

“And you need another one; let’s make it a good one.”

Kelly joined us a minute later and led me back to a chair. Mila sat in the empty stylist chair to my left as Kelly assessed my hair.

“How do you feel about color? Like … bright color.”

I’d never done anything but bleach my hair, so I was ambivalent.

“Ooh!” Mila exclaimed, spinning the chair in a circle. “Like a pink!”

“Or purple?” Kelly asked.

I thought of the daisies I’d seen on the mountain. “Purple sounds fun. But I don’t want my whole head that way.”

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe a curtain of it, under the first couple inches of blonde? So it peeks out a little depending on how you wear your hair.”

I couldn’t imagine it, but gave Kelly the go-ahead anyway.

Two hours later, my hair was swinging around my shoulders, blonde and pale purple blending together so well that it had an instant effect on my mood.

“Colin’s going to love it,” Mila assured me as we drove back to the apartment. But the truth was that I didn’t care if he loved it or not, because I’d done it for me.

When we walked through the door, Colin was on the couch playing some video game that boomed with the sounds of gunshots and explosions. “Hey,” he said, looking over the couch at us. He turned back to the TV and I exchanged a look with Mila, embarrassed that he said nothing.

But then he turned around again and cocked his head to the side. “You look different.”

I touched my hair, thankful the stylist had managed to turn straw into silk.

“I like it,” Colin said, and a little bit of hope bloomed in me at that. “Want to join me on the couch?”

“And watch you play video games?” Mila scoffed. “No freaking way, dude. Come on,” she said to me. “Girls’ night in my room.” She grabbed two root beers out of the fridge and then pulled a tub of cookie dough ice cream from the freezer. “You afraid of germs?”

I shook my head and watched as she grabbed two spoons from the drawer and popped the lid off the cookie dough, jammed the spoons in it and handed me one of the root beers. “Let’s objectify some men.”

I followed her into her bedroom, which was all white apart from the dozen multi-colored throw pillows on her bed. Mila gestured for me to make myself comfortable and popped in a DVD.

“This is my favorite thing,” she said as she set the ice cream between us on the bed and dug a spoon in. “You pop a bite of this in your mouth and then immediately take a sip of root beer. It’s like a deconstructed root beer float, but with more ice cream.” I watched as she took a generous bite of ice cream and then brought the root beer to her mouth. “Mmm,” she said, giving me what I assumed was a smile with her full cheeks. “Your turn.”

Copying her, I took a sip of root beer as soon as I had a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth.

“See what I’m saying?” she asked, nodding encouragingly. “That’s some good shit.” She picked up the remote and started the movie she’d put in her DVD player.

“
No Country for Old Men
?” I asked.

“Sure. Josh Brolin is a babe, and Javier Bardem as the bad guy? Yes, please, I’ll take both.”

As the movie started, I was already nearly finished with my root beer. As I stared into the almost empty can Mila asked, “Need another?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Says who?” she asked, surprised.

“Says my stomach.” I poked at it and then felt self-conscious for drawing attention to it. I didn’t make a habit of drawing attention to my flaws—I didn’t need to frame the ugly parts of me.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. I used to have a lot of issues with my weight growing up, and until…” I paused, “until a few years ago, I hadn’t been able to lose the weight. I’ve lost a little bit, but I still need to lose more.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Mila said. “Do you even look at yourself in a mirror?”

“No.” I was afflicted with the constant need to compare. Compare myself to other women, compare men to other men. I always found myself lacking, and it wasn’t necessarily a self-esteem issue as much as it was an awareness thing. I wasn’t sad about how I looked—no. I was sad about Ellie and about Colin and about my grandfather who was living in assisted living, and all three of those things were more significant to me than my pointy chin and the extra roll of fat around my stomach.

“Come here,” she said, walking around the bed and grabbing my hand. “Look,” she said, yanking me in front of a mirror. She stood beside me so that we could see each other in the reflection. “Do you even see yourself?”

It didn’t hurt to look at myself in the mirror, but it was unproductive at its best. I wouldn’t change my mind. “Mila…” I started.