Beautifully Shattered (The Beautifully Series Book 1) (37 page)

After work, I leave my
door unlocked so Harper can walk in when she arrives. After changing
out of my work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank, I wash
my make-up off my face and put my hair into a messy bun. I head into
the living room to put on girl music. I love listening to music while
I cook. I reach the kitchen right when I hear the door opening.

“HERE!”

“In the kitchen!” I
set two wine glasses on the counter.

She comes wearing a
smirk grasping a wine bottle in each hand. That smirk I know all too
well. “No! I will not be hungover at work tomorrow!”

She laughs while she
plucks the corkscrew off the counter and opens a bottle.

“I’m serious!”

She hands me a glass.
“Relax, we probably won’t even polish one off. The other one is
for next time.”

I hold my glass up to
toast. “To many more next times.”

“To many more
everything.”

I already have
everything laid out on the table for pesto pasta and a wedge salad.
I’m making the pesto from scratch and she’s cooking everything
else. I can tell that she’s making an effort for small talk,
anything to keep the conversation away from the elephant in the room.
I wait until we’re both two glasses in as I have a feeling we’ll
both need it.

“So . . . about the
other day . . .”

She finishes the last
touches on our meals, hands me my plate and gulps a long drink of her
wine.

“Just so you know, I
thought you were going to wait until after dinner to bring that up. I
should have known better, though. You don’t have the patience for
that.” She sets her plate on the marble bar countertop.

I roll my eyes, but
don’t disagree. She digs into her pasta and spins the barstool
around so that she faces me. I follow her lead.

“Keep in mind it’s
not that big of a deal. What did he tell you guys yesterday?”

She doesn’t deny
anything as I retell her the colorful story Connor told yesterday.
Once I’m finished, I sip the merlot and wait for her to share her
side.

She looks anywhere but
at me. And in this moment I see the scared woman Connor painted a
picture of yesterday. She chews on her bottom lip, and her hands
tremble. Her green eyes are vacant. The lively person that I’ve
come to love is gone, replaced by a stranger. I squeeze her shoulder
reassuringly.

“It’s okay,
Tinkerbell, you don’t have to tell me.” I use my nickname in
hopes to lighten her mood. It works, barely.

“No, it’s okay. It
isn’t that big of a deal, honestly. Okay, so that night something
happened that, putting it mildly, scared the shit out of me. I
shouldn’t have been driving.”

Her hands shake
violently, so I clutch them in mine. After a minute or two they stop.

“When I looked in my
rearview mirror, I thought I saw someone from my past. I didn’t see
Connor’s car, I saw somebody else’s. I panicked and reversed into
him and fled.”

She plays with her food
in an attempt to gather her thoughts. I have that habit too! This
story is like a nightmare. I possess my own demons so I understand
seeing something that isn’t really there. I have a gut feeling her
demons are more real than mine.

“I sped away as fast
as I could. I drove for miles without a destination until I was
almost out gas. Surprise, surprise, Connor pulls up behind me. I
almost maced him. Thankfully, right before I did, his face registered
just in time.”

Man, if she maced
Connor that would have made my year! Connor being maced by a chick is
something nobody would ever think would happen, and a spectacle that
everyone would want to see. Maybe I can persuade her to do it if the
chance ever comes again?

Harper continues in a
rush, getting her words out so quickly that they jumble together.

“My face was covered
in dry tears and mascara. I felt horrible that I slammed into
someone’s car and left. Who does that?”

I don’t answer her. I
think she’s asking more for herself than for me to answer her.

“I was so scared, I
needed to leave, to be by myself. For some unknown reason I knew I
could trust him and that he would protect me. Which made me panic
even more because I’ve never felt like that before. Stupid, I
know.”

“No, not stupid. I
know exactly what you mean.”

I can’t fight the
sick feeling in my gut that she was in serious shit that night and
still is.

“I didn’t want to
tell him my real name in case he was working for . . . I mean if he
wanted to tell the police. So I threw money at him, the money I was
going to use to get a . . . to use for my new place. Yeah, for my new
place.”

Okay, so she happens to
be the worst liar in the history of the world. There are worse traits
than being a lousy liar. It would be cute if I wasn’t dying to know
why she had a wad of cash. I also know that she has lived in the same
apartment since she’s moved here. I want to ask who she was running
from, but I don’t. It’s hard to open up to someone so I won’t
push it. Not yet anyways.

I can tell that she is
reliving that night instead of sitting at my bar eating dinner. I’ve
been forced to relive my past so many times, it’s easy to recognize
the signs.

“We haven’t known
each other long, but I’m here for you, okay? For whatever you need.
You can tell me anything and I will never judge you. Trust me, I am
the last person to pass judgement on someone.”

She rises and dumps her
still full plate of food in the trash before rinsing it. I finish my
last bite and follow her lead of cleaning up.

“I know and thanks! I
mean it, I haven’t had a girlfriend since I moved here. Everyone
seems so fake here, but that’s kind of the appeal of the city. You
can be whoever you want to be here.”

Yeah, I know exactly
what she’s talking about. The allure of the city is hard to miss.

“Same here. So
friend, are you going to tell me what that money was really for, or
what? I mean, come on, let’s be honest, you’re a horrible liar.
The worst actually.”

Her hands tremble
again. I squeeze them, feeling guiltier and guiltier for pushing her
as they continue to shake.

“A gun,” she says
simply as if buying a gun is everyday conversation. “An untraceable
gun.”

My head whips around to
face her so quickly I actually kink my neck. “What?”

She doesn’t look
guilty anymore, she looks darker, scary, a complete stranger from the
happy-go-lucky Tinkerbell I know and love. “I had to have a gun
that couldn’t be traced. Don’t worry, though, everything is fine
now.”

Yeah, that sounds
convincing.

I’m busy at work
again, but unlike my usual multi-tasking self, I’m finding it
exceptionally hard to concentrate. I’m still baffled by Harper’s
revelation last night. She wanted to buy a gun. As in, she wanted to
shoot someone. Okay, okay she didn’t tell me why she wanted a gun,
she changed the subject as quickly as humanly possible, but why else
would she need a gun? An untraceable gun to be exact. Did she buy it?
I’m losing my mind! I can’t stop seeing her face when she
uttered, “a gun.” Out of all the times she couldn’t keep her
mouth shut, she chose that time to be quiet. Really? Once again I’m
distracted. Hence the reason why I’m skipping lunch the second day
in a row.

Shaking my head, I get
back to work. Three more hours and I can meet Harper for dinner. I’m
excited for a low-key girls’ night. Who knew there was such a
thing? I need to get her advice on the whole Kohen-loves-me thing. I
could always talk to Liv, but it’s different talking to a friend
compared to my therapist. Plus, I know she’s itching for more
information on the Lover and Boyfriend front as she likes to call
them.

I love how close we’re
getting in the short time we’ve known each other. It’s hard to
explain, but I feel like I’ve been waiting for a friend like her my
whole life. I’ve always been friends with guys, that’s why I’ve
never really been able to have many girlfriends.

After work, Harper and
I head towards the subway to go to this little pub. We could have
taken a cab, but when she found out that I’ve never been on the
subway, she was dragging me behind her. It’s not that I have
anything against the it, I just hate being confined and in dark
places, since the accident.

I
will not freak out. I can do this. People ride the subway every day.
I notice my hands are quivering. My mantra isn’t working
as well as I thought.

As we get closer, she
keeps glancing back and asking if I’m okay. Am I okay? That’s
gonna be a hard no. I resemble a scared kitten right about now. I’m
sweating and I can’t focus on one thing. I’m trying really hard
to control my breathing, but even performing that simple task seems
impossible.

She links her arm with
mine. “Hey, it’s okay, we can take a cab or even walk if you want
to get fresh air. We don’t have to do this.”

I try to give her a
reassuring smile, but I think it comes out more as a grimace. I go
for nonchalance. “No, really, I’m fine. I need to ride the subway
eventually.” I didn’t pull it off from the expression on her
face.

“I’m sorry, Addie,
I didn’t realize you were claustrophobic.”

If only she knew the
extent of it.

“No, really, it’s
fine. Besides, you can buy me a drink if I make it through this.”

We board the subway
without incident. The trip is over before it even started. Way faster
than taking a cab at this hour. I wish I wasn’t having a minor
heart attack the entire time so that I could’ve enjoyed it. I’ve
always wanted to ride it.

At least I didn’t
black out from fear, there’s that. I also didn’t get trapped
inside my head. That’s both refreshing and sad when I think about
it. It’s refreshing to know that I can do something as simple as
riding a subway, and sad that this won’t be the last time I have to
fear whether I can handle something.

As we saunter into the
Irish pub, I can feel waves of energy bouncing off of everyone. Live
music flows through the speakers.

“This is amazing!”

She steers me to a
nearby table in the center of the action. “I can’t believe you’ve
never been here! How have you survived?”

Survived? Interesting
choice of words. I focus on the band on the stage in front of us and
sway my hips to the uplifting beat.

“I haven’t.” I
meant it as a joke, but it rings with more truth than I wanted to
give.

Harper has an amazing
instinct on when to push for more information. Now is not the time
and she doesn’t ask. I’m thankful. She orders for us since she’s
a regular. She knows what is best and I’m not that picky. As long
as it’s edible, I’ll usually eat it. Besides, when I peer around
at the other tables, the food looks mouthwatering. I don’t think
there’s a wrong choice here.

After she returns from
the bar with a pitcher of beer and two glasses, she asks, “Okay
dish, what’s going on with you and that unbelievably hot doctor?”
Her southern accent rings heavy in her voice as she fans herself,
making me choke on the sip of beer I just drank.

Luckily me coughing up
a lung, maybe even both, buys me enough time to ponder what to say.
“Eh, he loves me?”

Her smile slips. “And
I’m taking this is a bad thing because?”

I down another swig of
beer. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just . . . I don’t know . . .
Wrong somehow? I don’t know how I feel. I don’t love him, but
maybe in time I can? It’s complicated.”

“Said every girl on
earth.” She brushes red bangs out of her face and stares at me for
a second as if trying to figure out what to say. “Complicated by
the lover, perhaps?”

I glare at my
“supposed” friend. “Jax isn’t my lover!”

She gives me a look
that is only best described as I’m-so-not-buying-what-you’re-selling.
“Yes, and I don’t have red hair or fantastic tits!” she says at
the same time our food arrives.

The poor guy. His face
reddens. I focus on the plate he sets in front of me. I bite into the
sandwich and moan. The thing melts in my mouth. Yum! I take another
bite before I even finish my first one. Classy, I know. I could lick
my plate, it’s that good.

“So you’ve been
seeing the doctor for a few months now. How’s the sex? Obviously
decent if you’re keeping him around . . . Wait! Who’s better, him
or the lover?”

I choke on my sandwich.
I have no idea how to respond. I scan the room in hopes that I will
somehow find the answer. Before I can say anything though, she beats
me to it.

“Wait, you two
haven’t had sex yet?”

“No,” I say hoping
she drops it. She doesn’t.

“No? Why not? It’s
not like you’re a virgin.”

I blush. I may not be a
virgin, but I don’t have much experience since I’ve only slept
with one person.

Her mouth falls open.
“You’re a virgin!” she says too loudly, right when the band
decides to end the song. Making everyone in close proximity able to
hear her. Fantastic! Kill me now, please.

I cover my face in my
hands and shake my head. “No, I’m not a virgin.” I drop my
hands and stare past her while I admit for the first time to anyone
besides Liv, “Jax and I used to sleep together.”

“Wait, you’ve only
fucked Jax?”

God, she’s crude. I
nod while I chew on my lower lip.

She wiggles her
eyebrows. “Recently?”

I shrug. “A few
months ago.”

“Wow.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

I resume eating while
Harper thinks about my sex life, no doubt. Hopefully she drops it,
but I doubt I’ll be able to escape without telling her more. Her
smile confirms my suspicions. I sigh as I wipe my mouth on a napkin.

“When did you two
start dating?”

So we’re still on the
Jax thing. I can’t blame her, if I was in her shoes I would be
wondering the same thing. I bring the Heineken to my dry lips. I
swallow a long pull of beer to help with the sudden desert forming in
my throat.