I Wish... (23 page)

He nodded sadly. “Yeah, I can see how it would be. Now shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s a school night.”

I threw him a mock salute before I headed to the stairs. “Night, Jack.”

I saw him sigh and lay down on his makeshift bed. I felt pity for him and realized that forgiveness might not be as far off as I had originally thought.

The day of Julia Carter's funeral was gorgeous. The temperature was perfect and I felt a little over heated as the sun baked into my black dress.

By then my cuts and bruises were nearly totally healed and I almost felt like a human again. The damage to my soul wasn't healing nearly as quickly.

At some point during the days skipped school, they found Coach Carter's body on the path. As Ben predicted, there was no investigation. Her death was reported as an accident in the town's tiny newspaper and if anyone suspected anything else, they hadn't mentioned it publicly.

Things at home remained chaotic. Marla wasn't talking to Ramona or my mother and Jack was still sleeping on the couch. He'd tried initiating conversation on a couple of occasions, and although it was awkward, we were making slow progress toward forming a tentative relationship. Darcy was nastier than before if that was even possible. Krista, however, was thrilled to find out that we were sisters. Her enthusiasm was one of the few things that kept me going through the days leading up to the funeral.

Nearly the entire town showed up for her funeral. Even though she was a Second Daughter, she'd been, on the surface at least, a model citizen and a beloved coach.

I saw Ben across the sea of faces and we locked eyes for a moment before he deliberately looked away. We hadn’t spoken since he saw me kiss Evan in the park, but this time I expected it. It might have hurt me, but I found that these days I didn't care deeply about much of anything.

I didn't hear the words being said over Julia's casket. I was focused, instead, on the scene I'd been replaying over and over again in my head for the last week. Or, to be more accurate, the two scenes. I kept remembering throwing her when she landed safely and she would have been fine and then the new reality in which I ended a life.

The ceremony ended and people started filing out of the cemetery. Evan was waiting for me at the edge of the crowd. We’d talked on the phone a few times and met once secretively for another make out session. When he asked me if I wanted to go on a real date after the funeral, I was hesitant at first, but then I realized that this was an act of rebellion on his part. At that point I couldn’t say no when I realized the sacrifice he was willing to make for me. I also appreciated that he apparently couldn't see that I was damaged goods and anything that got me out of the house with all its complex tensions was welcome.

Cora Spencer walked past us and stopped long enough to size me up. "I suppose I'll have to learn to put up with you. But we will be talking about this soon." She walked away with her head high and her shoulders back, a proud woman who had not lost this round, but manipulated it to suit her needs.

Evan took my hand and escorted me out of the cemetery. Movement in the distance caught my eye. I looked up and saw the man who'd I saw the night Julia Carter pushed me down the hill and almost killed me staring at me from the edge of the forest that marked the end of the grounds.

"Evan!" I grabbed his arm and once I got his attention I pointed towards the man. "Do you see that man over there?"

He squinted for a moment and questioned, "No, why?"

I looked myself and realized nobody was there. I thought briefly about going to look. To see if there were any clues about who the man was or if he even existed outside of my muddled mind, but in the end I decided I didn't really care if he did.

I forced a laugh and told Evan, "I must be seeing things. Now how about you show a girl a good time?"

He led me out of the cemetery and he did just that.

Excerpt from Every Last Kiss

book one of the bloodstone saga

by courtney cole

Chapter One

 Pasadena, California

Present Day

T
he country music singer’s spunky voice ripped through the silence in my room as she began singing loudly from my nightstand, causing my phone to vibrate against the espresso colored wood.  I smiled.  The lyrics about demolishing a cheating ex-boyfriend’s car with a baseball bat was tempting.  Too tempting.  I answered my phone before I got any more ideas. 

“Stop obsessing.”

Jessa’s voice was authoritative and bossy.  And so on the money that it was ridiculous, not that she needed to know that.  Even as she spoke, my eyes were glued to my computer screen where Derek’s face grinned at me.  His perfectly mussed blonde hair draped just-so over his green eyes, and I shuddered. 
Cheater.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I sniffed, trying my best to sound both innocent and offended at the same time. 

I could practically hear my best friend roll her eyes through the phone.

“Macy.”  One word, perfectly conveyed disbelief.  I sighed.

“Okay, fine.  There might be a small amount of obsessive behavior going on.  How did you know?”

“Because I’ve known you since kindergarten, that’s how.  Mace, seriously.  Anyone who would do what he did isn’t worth the time that it takes to obsess over him.  Instead of wasting your time going over every detail, and yes, I know that’s what you are doing, you should be plotting your revenge.  And I mean, in a big way.” 

Apparently, she hadn’t heard my new ringtone.   I was way ahead of her on that one.

“Yeah, I should totally get on that.”  I tried to sound innocent again.

“Have you showered yet?” 

I looked down at my unwashed body clad in old sweats and nodded.

            “Yep. Why?”

Loud sigh, long pause.

“Macy, jump in the shower.  I’ll be over in two.” 

And she was gone.  And since she only lived two streets over, I knew that I literally only had two minutes to shower before she arrived and saw for herself that I had lied.  I dropped the phone and ran for the bathroom.  

2.5 minutes later, I was still rinsing the conditioning balm out of my hair when her smug voice drifted through the steam.

            “So, how’s that shower coming along?” 

Did I mention that my BFF is a total snot?

 “Does the word ‘annoying’ mean anything to you?” I shot over the shower wall.

“Yeah, um, I would think that after taking a pumice stone to yourself last night, that that hot water probably feels pretty
annoying
, doesn’t it?”

She was right again.  Yesterday, after someone had ‘mistakenly’ texted me a video of my boyfriend Derek doing the nasty with Tara Wilson at Haley Beckman’s party last weekend, I had felt the urgent need to vigorously  (and I mean vigorously!)  wash every place that Derek had ever touched me. 

It had taken a while.

   I had stayed in the shower with my loofah, scrubbing myself until the water turned cold and my skin was bright pink, until I was certain that I had scrubbed away any memory of his touch.  And Jess was right.  My skin was a little sensitive (and still pink) today.  The hot water was annoying right now, to say the least. 

I turned it off and took the thick blue towel that Jess handed to me.  

Toweling off, I stepped into a clean bra and undies and pivoted on the stone tile to face my friend. She tucked her light brown bob behind her ear as she watched me contemplatively with her lips pursed.  

“Why are you here, anyway?  I was perfectly happy obsessing alone. And don’t roll your eyes.  They’re going to get stuck one of these days.”  I tossed my wet towel in her face as I walked back into my room to get dressed. 

            “I came to plot revenge.  I already told you that,” she reminded me as I dug through my drawers for a pair of jeans and my favorite comfy tee-- the light purple one that said MAN EATER across the boobs. It was perfect for my mood. 

“What makes you think I need help with that?  Trust me, that part’s coming pretty easily right now.  I need
you
to reign me in.” 

            She grinned her ornery Jessa grin at me, the one that lit up her entire face and made me instantly nervous about the fate of mankind, with an emphasis on the
man.
  Women probably didn’t have much to worry about, well, except for maybe Tara Wilson.

“Yeah, don’t count on me for that part.  I already have plans.” 

As she spoke, she dug through my closet, pulling out Derek’s favorite red hoodie that I had borrowed after our last swim meet, his letter jacket that I wore to make him feel good even when it was too warm outside, the oversized stuffed bunny that he won for me at a carnival, the pink hoodie that he bought for my birthday… and threw it all promptly into a pile in the middle of my room.

As she moved to my dresser to continue her search, I stared at her in confusion. 

“What the hell are you doing, Jess?  Have you lost your mind?  I’m going to have to clean all that up!” 

In answer, she tossed the lacy black bra that had also been a birthday gift from my lying ex-boyfriend onto the pile.  I was beginning to sense a pattern.

“Hey, I like that one...” I stepped forward to rescue it, but she silenced me with a stare and I stopped in my tracks. 

“The
asshole
bought it for you, Mace.  We’re not keeping it.  We’ll get you another one.”  

 I stepped back silently, marveling at the way she said
we’ll
, as if it was
her
bra that she was throwing out.  As I moved, my attention was snagged by the lovenotes taped to my mirror.  His sprawling, bold script mocked me now. 

I love you today.

You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.

You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.

My heart is the property of Macy Lockhart.

Lies.  All of it. 

I suddenly saw red, something that has never happened to me in my entire life.  I was literally so pissed off that my vision blurred together in a swirl of inky red shades and I couldn’t think straight.  In my mind, all I could see were his lips; the luscious, soft lips that had kissed me so many times, kissing a trail down Tara Wilson’s neck right after whispering obscene dirty-talk into her ear.  And I was seeing red again.

            In my underwear and bra, I furiously ripped every single note off the mirror one-by-one and threw them violently onto the big pile on the floor.  Jessa watched with a satisfied grin as I got further into the spirit and added his favorite CD to the top of the heap and then another.  A few minutes later, I gazed at the large mound in satisfaction.  I felt a tiny bit better seeing his things littering my floor like unwanted garbage. 

Staring at the pitiful pile of bad memories, I realized that I desperately wanted to set fire to it.  But, obviously, that would be crazy.  And probably against some sort of city ordinance.  Plus, it would also burn my house down.  So, I settled for pulling on a pair of boots and stomping on it instead…like an insane Italian woman making wine. After the very last cd had been adequately smashed and my legs were literally shaking from the effort, I finally turned to Jessa. 

            “Okay, now I’m ready to go,” I announced, slightly out of breath from the exertion and still almost naked…except for my boots, of course.

            She stared at me wide-eyed and then burst into laughter.  I couldn’t help but giggle too, as I imagined what I must look like…face flushed and half-naked and insane. 

“Go where?” she gasped as she laughed.

“To Derek’s house, of course,” I answered matter-of-factly.  “I need to drop a few of his things off.”

I stared pointedly at the broken pile of his belongings and then cracked up again in a high-pitched giggle that bordered on hysterical.   I should feel guilty for ruining his things, but I SO didn’t.  It almost seemed like Poetic Justice since he had broken my heart.  I really just hoped he wasn’t home when we got there.  In the mood I was in, I might be tempted to slash his tires.

            I quickly pulled on my MAN EATER shirt and we piled into Jessa’s little blue Volkswagen bug because she didn’t think I was up to driving, even the short distance to Derek’s house.  She was probably right.  Two minutes and three streets later, we pulled up onto his driveway right behind his little black Ford Ranger with the dent in the fender.

He was home. I fought the itch in my fingers to dig a tire iron out of Jessa’s trunk and give it a matching dent on the other side.  It was so very tempting.  But I resisted, using an extraordinary amount of self-restraint.

We climbed out and I reached into the backseat to pull out the trash bag filled with his broken belongings as Jess watched me in anticipation. 

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked curiously, her light blue eyes developing a sadistic gleam.

Without hesitation, I marched straight to the bed of his truck, emptying his things out over the side.  Everything tumbled out, small pieces of his CDs scattering onto his bed liner like the trash that it was. My battered black bra settled to a rest on the top of the pile, a garish reminder of the intimacy we used to share.  Grabbing it, I looped it around his antenna, letting it hang as a limp banner for everyone to see.  I could only imagine his mother’s face when she saw it.

            I smiled in grim satisfaction as Jess started laughing again.  And then I remembered his class ring.  Pulling it off of my middle finger, I tossed it in as well, listening to the metallic clink as it bounced along the truck bed.  It tumbled to a stop, the blue stone glittering in the light.

And then his front door creaked open.  I froze in panic as he stepped onto the porch, bare-chested and in a pair of running shorts. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might actually come face to face with him.  Now what?