For Her (Broken Promises #2) (4 page)

“Well your mom… she’s definitely uh… something else.” he shakes his head and sighs again, looking at the TV, but not really paying attention to what’s on the screen.

“What? She’s my mom, she’s supposed to fuss, Bray.” I laugh it off because I don’t have the energy to be mad at this point. It’s all been drained; I’m to the point of just rolling with the punches.

“I know… but… Al you’re not really gonna leave, are you?” Those words make me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, I don’t know why. Why does he want me to stay so bad… why do I feel guilty for thinking about leaving?

“I… I don’t know what I’m going to do, Bray,” I whisper, looking down at my sheets. “I can’t exactly live on my own right now.”
He huffs and curses under his breath, running his hands down his face. The minute the nurse walks in the door it looks like he’s about to say something else to me, but he doesn’t. Instead, we eat in silence, watching the kids channel on TV, because it’s the only safe channel where we won’t see images of the horrific night.

Braydon

She’s the toughest chick I’ve ever met; I think I’m turning into the biggest asshole around for wanting her to move in with me. Lane told me to, I promised, but I’m not certain that ‘taking care of her’ means falling in love with her.

She’s been up and walking around as best as she can this last day with the crutches they’ve provided her.

I’ve learned a shit ton about amputees in the past forty-eight hours. She has what’s called a transtibial amputation, lying right below the knee. I’ve never thought about the science behind it, but from the sounds of it she’s going to be going through many different prosthetic fittings and limbs before the right once is finalized. She’s been screened, it sounds like her K-Level is at a 4 right now being that she’s been so healthy and active all her life, but I’d hate for it to drop if she becomes less motivated to move. She needs it to stay high so she can get a good prosthetic, have it covered by insurance, and be successful in moving on wither new lifestyle.

Tomorrow afternoon she starts physical therapy and meets with a therapist to make sure she’s mentally stable after going through what she went through. There’s been talk of her going home, but she always passes it over and changes the subject. I haven’t pushed it, but her parents live hours from here… I can’t have her moving that far away. She’s been my life this last week, and before that she was half of my life. She’s one of the very few people I call a ‘best’ friend. Even the band members don’t get that title. I can’t be pussy whipped since it’s not that type of relationship, but I’m damn near close… I’m not sure what my life would be like without her here.

“You sure you don’t have anything else you need to be doing tonight, Bray?” she asks from the chair. She’s been trying to get me to leave for a few days, stating that she’s not that important, but I know her better than that. Every time she tells me to leave her eyes get dull, but each time I decline and stay, she brightens up. I know she likes having me here; I hope it’s me that she likes being here and not just the company.

“You are my ‘anything else’, Al. Deal with it.” Grabbing a deck of cards, I slide the table over to where she’s sitting and start dealing out a game of gin.

“When was the last time you were home, Braydon?” She’s whispering, probably because she’s bringing up a subject we just don’t talk about. There’s nothing to talk about anymore. He’s not coming back. We need to move on.

“I started last time,” I answer, completely ignoring her question. “Your turn.”

“Braydon, have you been home at all since then?” Her beautiful green eyes hit mine, I feel so much right now I have to clear my throat and look away. No I fucking haven’t walked back into that place, but she doesn’t need to know that. I’ve been crashing here every fucking night, showering at Gabe’s and not doing anything else.

I can’t go back there yet.

“I’m good, Al.”

“You haven’t, have you?” Her whisper turns to a tight voiced whimper as her hand goes to her face. “Shit, Bray, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I can’t turn these off for good,” she sniffles. “I mean, his funeral is tomorrow and I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to go to it.”

“Don’t,” I groan.
Fuck.
“Don’t say that, Alexis. You’re going, and I’ll be right there with you the entire time.”

I almost skipped out on my mom’s, but my grandma forced me to go. I don’t know what I would’ve done had I not went. I wouldn’t have gotten any closure. I wouldn’t have gotten to say my final goodbyes. She has to go, because she needs it more than any of us.

“I don’t think I can, though,” she whispers, her fingers playing with the cards in her hand.

“You can. I have faith.” I smile at her and take her hand in mine. “You’re the strong bitch that threw that girl off stage during my show at the college. You’re the one that got us out of the ticket when we were clearly speeding. Hell, you have no fear, Al. We got this. Together, okay?”

She smiles weakly at me, my heart breaks for her. Is she ever going to be that girl again, or is this what she’s left with? I need to help her find… her… again.

“Okay,” she whispers, setting the cards on the table. “I’m tired, Bray. I think I’m going to take a nap.”

Using the chair to help her up, I hop up immediately to help her back to the table. At first she pauses and looks at me. It’s possible she’s tired of feeling helpless, but I’m not backing down. As my hand wraps around her cold fingers and my arm goes around her to steady her, a slew of emotions start rolling through me.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I should leave the nurses to help her.

I should get home. I should call my band mates back. I should get to the bar.

Should. But I’m not. She needs me and I need her. I need to make sure the last person in this world that I hold close to my heart is safe. Always.

That night her parents stop in to spend some time with her so I slip out, get in my car, unsure where I’m headed I start to drive. I need to call the band. I need to talk to the bar to make sure shit’s been running right. I need to start to live again, but I feel so damn guilty for not being with her.

Deciding on skipping the apartment, I head straight to the bar and park in back. Letting myself in through the kitchen, I notice they’re pretty dead for a Monday night.

“Hey,” I say to Gabe who’s manning the bar.

“Wow.” He raises his eyebrows at me as I sit on a stool and crosses his arms, leaning on the back of the way. “Holy shit man you look terrible.” He’s not joking, either. I look like shit, I feel like shit, and I can’t do anything about it. “Here,” he says, sliding me a glass with two fingers of scotch and a lone ice cube.

“Thanks man.” Shooting it down I let the burn initiate any type of feeling, but all I come up with is emptiness.

“How ya doin?” Gabe watches me as he refills the glass.

“I just… Tomorrow’s finally the funeral. Alexis actually reminded me today. Can you believe I forgot? I forgot about my best fucking friend’s funeral, because I haven’t had a real sleep in weeks and all I can think about is getting his fucking girl out of the hospital and home safe.” I take a sip on the drink, hissing when I feel it this time. Gabe’s watching me with thoughtful eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows better. “I just can’t, Gabe. She’s counting on me, and I have to be the bigger man here, but fuck,” I huff, looking around the empty bar. “The fuck is everyone?”

“Shit’s been slow lately since the band stopped playing regularly.” He sighs and tosses his rag on the bar. “Need to get back into that shit, man.”

“Fuck, I know,” I groan, staring at the stage. Something comes over me, for the first time since the accident I want to get up there and actually feel something. Music’s always done it for me. It’s allowed me to share, to feel, to course through the day with a way of expressing myself. I’ve been writing shit lately, doodles and scratched chicken notes on fucking hospital paper because I refuse to go home to get my notebook. Lyrics that touch the core of myself lately. Shit that, if I ever shared it, they’d probably institutionalize me.

“After tomorrow. We’ll get back into the swing of it after tomorrow.” He chose his words carefully and I fucking hate it. I don’t want these assholes to act any different around me.

Looking at him, noticing that he isn’t sporting the best face tonight either, we’re all fucking falling apart over this. Something has to change. Without words, I stand and head over to the stage, grabbing my guitar from the rack; it takes me a second to move from my spot. I have a strange connection to my guitar… maybe it’s because this is what helped me get through my mom’s death. I’m not certain, but I know I’ve missed it. Without looking at Gabe, knowing he’s watching me, but needing to get this out so fucking bad, I take the stool. My fingers start to play the chords I’ve been playing through my head the last few days. I haven’t picked up an instrument in a long ass time, but it feels so natural, the way the roughness of the strings swipes across my fingertips. The reverberations of the speakers when the low notes hold on longer than they want to hit my core. Music alone can calm me, but I’m a storyteller. I always have been. Music can only tell half a story, it’s the lyrics that make it whole. Closing my eyes, I bring myself back to that night, I summon the lyrics that have etched their way into my soul this last week. Unwritten and unplanned, I strum and sing until the words stop flowing. Eyes closed, shutting out the entire world around me, I finally get out some of the hell coursing through me lately, it feels so fucking right.

I’m wasting my time, I know it’s true

They all said there’s nothing I could do

Nothing to bring you back, nothing to make me whole

When the lights fade, nothing stays the same

We’re not in this together anymore

Not together, worlds apart, you left

Left me here to hang on by a thread

A thread you loved so dear

And she’s frayed and breaking with every passing second

I let the music flow through me and when I stop, I pause, not wanting to open my eyes to the reality that is my life. With a dead best friend and another best friend that I’m certain I’m falling in love with, because what type of asshole does that make me? I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to have these fucking feelings.

“Damn.” I hear Gabe’s voice from the bar and shake my head, setting the guitar down before hopping off the stage. I still haven’t looked at him. I can’t.

He knows.

“I’m out,” I grumble as I pass by him. Chancing a glance at him, he’s giving me a look that tells me exactly what I thought. It’s the look of surprise. I pause and look at him, eyebrows raised, lips pursed together, he nods slowly.

“You good, man?” His eyes narrow at me as I shake my head at him.

“Nah,” I say. “I’m working on it, though.”

Before he can say anything else, I’m out the door and in my car, staring at the keys on my passenger seat. Keys to the apartment I haven’t been to in over a week. Keys I ripped off my main keychain, because I’m fucking tired of being reminded it’s never going to be the same. I loved my life before this loss struck and blew up any form of happiness I had. Going back there? Going back there… I’m not ready for that yet.

So I head back to the hospital, ready to spend another night sleeping on a cot next to the only thing in my life I hold dear anymore.

***

The funeral is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to endure. Alexis is able to join me after pulling some strings at the hospital, but there was no way I was going to let her not come to it. We sit up front, directly next to Lane’s parents and brother. The rage running through me wants to punch his entire family in the mother fucking face for being here. They don’t deserve to be here. They didn’t know him. They thought they did, but they didn’t.

I can’t look at the casket. I can’t listen to the service. My ears are buzzing, the only thing I can hear are Alexis’s hiccups as she cries into her tissue as quietly as she can. My hand squeezes hers when they start to lower the steel black and silver casket into the ground, I feel her heavy breaths trying to calm her tears.

There goes part of my life. This is it. This makes it real. I’m fucking dumb as shit, because it should have been real that night, or every night since, but it hasn’t. This is it, though. He’s gone and… and… and he’s gone… Shit.

“Help me, Bray,” she whispers to me, her eyes full of tears, she starts to stand so I do as I’m asked and stand with her, supporting her as she stands strong and makes the move towards the casket, fully lowered into the ground. I still can’t honestly believe this is my life right now.

Fuck.

Taking the red rose from her bag, she grips it, a tear slipping down her face, and tosses it down into the hole.

“I love you, Lane Sheridan.” Her whisper does me in. Jesus fucking Christ I’m such a goddamned tool. Letting a tear slip down my cheek, I have no fucking cares anymore if anyone in this entire crowd sees me crying. Here I am, the man who’s supposed to be here for her, and she’s being so much stronger than I am.

“I’m ready to go.” Gently, her hand squeezes mine as her eyes hit mine. Fuck she’s so beautiful; I want to vomit from all these feelings. I don’t do feelings. I do sex, I do friendships, but I’ve never been good about expressing my feelings so I just haven’t. Holy shit.

We make it back to the hospital just in time for her first physical therapy session, so while she goes in to that I grab food for us. Italian was always one of her favorites so I pick up almost one of everything on the menu and head back to the hospital to wait for her. A nurse comes in, smiles gently at me while she remakes her bed. They don’t try to make small talk with me anymore. I’ve been nothing short of a beast since Al got here,  though they’re warming up to me now that she’s awake, there was a time when I thought I’d never get a smile out of them.