Reckless Abandon (2 page)

Mrs. Roberts:

I’d like to sincerely thank you for maintaining contact with David Bryson during this trying time for my family. I want to express to you my hope that our two organizations can continue working toward collaboration. David will be taking over day-to-day operations at DROP as I step back to sort through my personal issues. I assure you that William Holder and Tristan MacMillian are no longer employed by DROP and never will be in the future.

Further, I’m writing to accept full responsibility for the situation that occurred between Ms. Harris and me. It was a complete lack of judgment and ethics on my part. As the person in a position of authority, it was my job to uphold the moral conduct I expect out of my own employees; I failed in that regard.

If there is anything I can do to assist in retaining Ms. Harris with your organization, should she put in a leave request, please contact me. I’ll give her a raise from my own funds, if necessary. She has a brilliant mind and would be an asset to any organization, but her heart is with Hope.

My sister, Rachel, and David will be in contact with you soon in regards to setting up a meeting to move forward with the collaboration, if you agree to continue.

Sincerely,

Spencer Cavanaugh

Founder, DROP

There it is. Everything that has to be said, with miles of subtext jammed between the lines. I’m not in the mood to translate subtext today. It’s just been a week since everything went to hell in Concord, and
this
is the first piece of present Bo that I’ve seen since then. During the day it all feels like so long ago, but my nightmares play it in real-time. I relive seeing the fight at the garage near my house a week before I met Bo and finding out a couple of weeks later that Bo was involved in that fight. Not only that, but it was related to the blackmail with his sister, and...he knew it was me at the garage after we’d hung out a few times.

Hung out...

Today, however, I’m a damn “situation” that should have been handled differently. I don’t know why that upsets me; I feel the same way about him—most of the time.

After staying at my place a few nights, and one half-sleepy conversation that we haven’t discussed since, Adrian had to get back to Boston. I lied on the phone two nights ago and told him I didn’t have a nightmare the night before. I repeated the same lie last night, telling Adrian I felt like my old self and that I’d see him after my first week back at work. I just need to be alone, and that’s not something I can explain to Adrian. I don’t speak Y-chromosome.

The truth is, the cuts on my face and body have mostly healed, but I’m beginning to wonder if the gashes to my heart will ever stop bleeding.

“Em?” Monica quietly leads me out of that dark place in my head.

I clear my throat. “Why didn’t you call me after you saw this?”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“No, I guess not. Why are you showing me now?” I try to keep my irritation to a minimum.

“I don’t know, honestly. When he first sent it, I thought you might really want to leave if you knew the collaboration was still on the table. Now...” She struggles for the right words.

“It’s OK, Mon. Thank you.”

“So, what does all of that mean?” Monica motions toward the letter. Guess she can see the subtext, too.

I shrug. “Don’t know. Looks like I was a
situatio
n
.
”

“Have you heard from him at all?”

He fills my thoughts, my dreams, and my nightmares. The memory of him, and his touch, pound on the door to my soul with such force that cracks are forming in the wood. I do my best to act like no one is home by keeping the door locked and the lights off.

“Not for the first couple of days. Then he’d call and I’d ignore it. When he started calling three and four times a day, I deleted his number from my phone. I got tired of seeing his name, and I don’t want to talk to him...I can’t.” My words throw Monica’s eyes to the floor.

“Are you ever going to talk to him? I mean, besides work?”

I want to. I don’t want to.

“I don’t know.” I take a deep breath and turn on my computer. Monica looks me over, seeming to study my body language.

“Are we done talking about this?” she asks.

“You got it.”

“So,” her voice brightens, “is Adrian in town this week?” The sound of his name steadies my heart. Funny, a week and a half ago it made me furious.

“He’s in Boston right now.” I allow a smile.

“That’s an interesting smile.”

“Monica,” I caution.

“Are you telling me he’s stayed at your house an
d
nothin
g
has happened?”

“Have we just met?” I chuckle sarcastically. “I just had my heart broken ...” I don’t finish the sentence because I can’t deny that Adrian does something to my insides. It’s confusing navigating tha
t
and
heartbreak at the same time. Like any other warm-blooded female, I want something, or someone, to heal my heart and make me forget.

“I still can’t believe he called you ‘Blue’ again, in front of Bo no less!” She sort of changes the subject.

“Ha, I know. If I’d held my poker face a little better, Bo might not have noticed that it meant something...or used to...whatever.” I chuckle.

“Have you talked to Adrian about that?”

“Once, but I fell asleep.” I shrug and offer nothing more. “I’m sure he’ll try to come down sometime this week, but I know he’s got meetings in Concord, too.”

“I guess we’ll be heading there soon, huh?”

I tell Monica that I’m looking forward to seeing Rachel. Carrie pokes her head in to tell us that DROP would like us there by the end of the week. Looking pointedly at me, she informs us that the legal team, David Bryson, and Rachel Cavanaugh will be the only members present. 
Message received
. Monica’s eyes comfort me as she heads out of the office just behind Carrie.

I lean back in my chair and stare at the in-box on my computer screen. Thankful for Monica’s suggestion that I have the IT guy delete all email conversations between Bo and me, I confidently sift through my messages and dive into work. I see an email from Adrian, discussing the intended Concord trip at the end of the week. He’s been great, if slightly manic, about telling me anything and everything he thinks I might need to know. He saw my nerves shorten after being left in the dark about a lot of things, both with hi
m
an
d
Bo. He wants to help heal that. Good luck.

By the end of the day I’m inordinately exhausted. I half-lie when I tell Monica I’m looking forward to quiet time when she suggests that she and Josh come over for dinner. I’m certainly looking forward to quiet, but only so I can fill it with the tears and screaming I’ve held in during the near-constant presence of Monica, Josh, and Adrian. Sometimes a girl just needs to cry and throw stuff.

Josh has been rather quiet with me. He looks painfully uncomfortable in my new, stone-like presence, as my mind replays everything about my time with Bo on a constant loop. Monica says it’s difficult for Josh to see me so muted, and errantly mentioned to me one day that Josh wondered how Bo must be faring, since he was the one who was walked out on. I’m not mad at Josh’s curiosity. I wonder, too. But only until tears threaten; then I scream...and throw stuff.

Chapter Two

       Bo

I didn’t know a look was something you’d never want to see again, until I saw that one. Fear, heartbreak, and anger shattered her beautiful eyes into a million pieces of despair and betrayal.

All hope drained from me as I dug my knees into the carpet of that hotel room, begging her understanding—her forgiveness. I don’t blame her for pushing me across the room, or beating my chest until her fists couldn’t take it anymore. In fact, I wish she’d done more. It’s the only thing I deserved after denying she was the girl I’d seen in the parking lot a few days before singing with her on stage. The only thing I deserved after letting her fall in love with me when I never gave her the whole truth. The only thing I deserved after falling in love with her when my focus was supposed to be elsewhere.

While the pieces of that horrible puzzle were scattered around us the entire time, inching their way into place one day, one moment at a time, the whole thing was completed too late—we’d promised forever. Ha, I actually thought “forever” would be enough as I stared at her in that hotel room. She’d already left, even though her body stood at broken attention in front of me. The “no vacancy” sign blinked painfully through her eyes until it popped, hissed, and went dark. I wasn’t welcome there any more.

My head presses against the pillow with the force of my regret behind it. I should have been honest with her from the beginning, but falling in love so quickly rendered me mute. Yes, in an instant I fell in love with her; the very instant I met her eyes when I was on stage for my first show at Finnegan’s. When I called out “Monica and Ember” that night and sa
w
sh
e
was one of them, I knew I was done for. My heart stopped at the sight of her, and started again when she sang her first note, leaving me no choice but to jump without a parachute into her emerald eyes.

I try to shake my thoughts free. When they don’t cooperate, I drown them in one long conversation with Jack Daniels. With one more swig, I’m transported outside my personal hell and can see myself from the outside.

Pathetic, worthless, fuck up
.

“Bo?” Rae’s voice drags me back into myself. I clear my throat and stash the bottle behind my pillow like a teenager.

“In my room, Rae.” I try to sound composed. I’m failing.

She opens the door and immediately crinkles her nose while rolling her eyes.

She crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Christ, Bowan, are you drunk again?”

I know I should feel something. Remorse? Rae’s spent the last few years cleaning up and playing by the rules. Yet, here I sit, a puddle of drunken regret. I can’t think of anyone but November. Just thinking her name tears the scab off the place in my heart she vacated just a week ago.

“Get your ass up!”

“Dammit Rae, that’s bright!” I have to shield my eyes as she opens the curtains.

“It’s called the Sun. Get some. You’ve got to get to the office today because the group from Hope will be here Friday, and I’m sure you’ll want to make yourself scarce.” Her condescension claws at me.

“I fund
the place. So do you. We don’t
have
to be anywhere.”

God, could I sound more petulant?

Without responding, she rips the covers from the bed and throws some clothes on top of me. As I swing my legs to the side of the bed, she focuses on something behind me. Rae reaches her hand behind my pillow, producing the nearly empty bottle of Jack.

“Nice.” She stares through me and my heart bleeds through a Rachel-sized hole.

“You know, Bo,” she continues, “
this
is why I’m not around a lot.” The tawny liquid sloshes against the sides of the bottle as she gestures with her hands.

She’s right. She’s right and it kills me. I hardly feel bad, though—I’m not sober enough for that. I dig my elbows into my knees and tear my fingers over my scalp. When I lift my head, she’s gone. I hear the shower running and a headache forms at the thought of having to be upright.

“Get a shower, get coffee, eat, and get your ass to the office. She’s gone, Bo, and I assure you Jack Daniels won’t campaign for you to get her back—if that’s even what you want.”

“What the hell do you mean if that’s what I want
? She’s
all
I want.” I stand too quickly, and Jack’s fists force my eyelids closed.

“So she’s ignoring your calls—what’s stopped you from driving like a maniac to Barnstable and looking her in the eyes? You’re just wallowing here in a sea of pity when she’s the one who got hurt, Bowan. She’s probably confused and scared.” Rae sighs and throws her hands up in disgust. “You’re so completely clueless, it’s p
ainful to watch. I liked her. I
like
her, and I haven’t been able to talk to her because
you’re
an asshole.”

Rae’s never spoken to me this way, and the shock is quickly tackled by my own anger. She sees the internal shift and heads for my bedroom door.

“What do you mean she’ll be here Friday?” My heart races with panic and a dash of hope.

“She didn’t run away from Hope on your account, she’s finishing what she started. Now, I’ll see her Friday. What am I supposed to tell her? ‘Hey Ember, my brother is a dickless coward who plans on drinking his transgressions away, but wanna get lunch?’”

Rae must see a thousand thoughts cross my face, because she shakes her head and leans against my doorframe for a second. “Get in the shower” is all she says before dramatically gonging the inside of my head with a slam of the door.