Losing Track (31 page)

Besides Boone, really, she’s the last person I want to talk to right now. I already know I’m about to violate my probation, regardless what I ultimately choose. And I don’t need the heavy reminder that I’m about to be a hunted woman.

Okay, that’s quite an exaggeration. I’m not actually sure what the consequence is for a parole violation, but I’m sure it’s not a trip to Disney.

With a groan, I answer the call. “Hello, Jacquie.”

“Melody, I’m calling to check in and let you know I’ve moved our regularly scheduled appointment to Monday.”

Right to business. This woman doesn’t play. “Um, I don’t think I’ll be able to make that. I have to work.”
And get the hell out of here.

“Melody,” she says again, and I can hear the strain in her voice. “I’ve been given some alarming news, and I want to verify that it’s not true.”

I feel my face screw up. “What news? From who?”

“I can’t reveal that, but I can say this particular person is very concerned for you. They believe you’re considering leaving Florida. And you know this would be a violation of your probation. You’d be sent before the judge again, and possibly return to Stoney Creek, or worse, go to jail for some time.”

Shit. I sit back on the seat, my whole body deflated. As the realization of my sorry reality settles over me, what she said at the start breaks through my fear of being committed. “Wait, who said this?”

At her hesitation, I see red. Of course Boone and I would have the same damn PO. And of course she’d be one of his many Boone fangirls. I laugh out loud, not even hearing her reply. Oh, the fates. They are tricky little bitches.

“Jacquie, I’m not going to lie and say that it hasn’t crossed my mind to leave,” I say, cutting into her speech. “But please tell Boone it has nothing to do with him, okay? I’m just not settle down material.”

She’s silent for a second. Then, “You and Boone have very little chance, I’ll be the second to admit that after you. But it’s not impossible, Melody. He needs to tell you the truth, and yes, he probably should’ve done so by now, but you need to know, at least, that he didn’t kill his son.”

Shock is me. I am shock.

My mouth hangs agape, unable to form coherent words. I can’t believe my PO is telling me this about one of her cases. “I didn’t think he did…” I exhale, my chest too heavy. “Even if he had, that’s not the why, Jacquie. Look, he had a child. A
baby
. A little being. And he died. That’s the worst kind of torture to bear. That grief…it has to be hell for him.”

“It is,” she cuts in.

“Right. I can’t fix it for him. I can’t ever make it right. Hell, I have so much messed up going on in my own life, I’m the very worst thing that could happen to him. He’s a great guy, really. And he’ll find the girl who will be what he needs in this life. She’s just not me.” I shrug my shoulders to myself, my body wholly taxed.

“It’s solely your choice, Melody. That’s your right.”

I feel like I’m being played somehow, but I don’t see Jacquie as the sneaky type. My own emotions are befuddling me. “Thanks. Listen, I’m not leaving Florida,” I lie, but as far as she’ll know, it’s the truth. “I just can’t hang around here anymore. I’ll be back in time for our regular meeting.”

She sighs. “Be careful. I’ll see you next week. And, Melody, do try to do something different, like we talked about. At least let him know the reason. Don’t just disappear.”

The line clicks dead before I can work up a response. I stare down at the phone in my hand like it’s a grenade. Waiting to explode and decimate me with the next call. It could be from Boone, and I still don’t have the courage to hear his voice. To tell him anything.

“She’s all yours.”

Jesse’s voice pulls me out of the lost moment and I look up. He’s smiling that devilish, panty-dropping smile of his. It pangs me the deepest that, everything we were and had, is over.

And as difficult as that is to admit, there’s also some level of freedom in that knowledge. I have the right to choose my future.

“Jess, how much do I owe.” I reach into my tote, but he holds up his hand.

“I covered the remainder. Just hang on to the rest.”

My chest tightens. I don’t want to owe him anything. “I should really pay—”

“Mel, I’m not letting you. I know I screwed up…so much. Shit, I can’t ever make it right. None of it.” I hear my own thoughts about my situation with Boone in Jesse’s words. Do all addicts think we have control over people or events? That we’re all powerful?

It’s just not true.

But it’s even harder to make yourself believe the truth.

Jesse rests his hands on the handlebars, leaning over them, closer to me. “I fucked up that night.”

I shake my head, but he presses on. “Yes, I did. I fucked up big time. I wanted to make you mine so badly…I just couldn’t hear no, Mel. I was and am a desperate man for you.” He swallows, the hard knot of his throat moving up as if it’s going to choke him. “It’s just a pathetic excuse, really. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll damn sure work my ass off to earn it if you just give me that chance.”

Holding his gaze, in this moment, I can look into our future. For a split second, the world stops on its axis, and the fates open a portal just for me. I see us on the road, some days happy, some days miserable. I see myself holding Jesse’s hand in the ER, each time worrying that this time he won’t pull through.

I glimpse further still, to us arguing over ridiculous issues, me accusing him of spending the baby formula money on a bag of blow. The MC always there to remind me to be there for my man, he needs my support. And me, the junkie mom, barely making it to teacher/parent meetings, my kid giving me the same looks I gave my mom…

And I’m tunneling.

Back to the here and now, with Jesse offering me something that, had it not been for the past couple months, I might have accepted. But things did happen. Dar did die. Jesse did violate me, someone who I thought I trusted more than almost anyone else in this world.

Nothing in my life is sure anymore.

What control I thought I had, to stop people from leaving me, abandoning me, by me quitting them first—it’s pure deception.

The only control I have is over myself. My choices.

With a rock in my stomach, I place my hand over one of Jesse’s. Stare at our connected fingers. “I forgive you, Jess, and I love you, but it can’t ever be that way between us. It will break us.”

Finally, I look up, and I see the resolve in his eyes. He understands. “I’ll still see you on the road.”

It’s a question. A biker’s way of stating that we’ll remain friends. And I can’t picture my existence completely void of him. “Of course. I have some things I have to do first, but I’ll be around. We still have to celebrate you getting your full patch.”

A bright smile lights his face. He turns to show me, for the millionth time, the MC patch that sports the Lone Breed’s rocker. And now, the prospect is gone. In so many ways.

The message to Tank worked. My vote of confidence in Jesse’s innocence, my backing him, absolving him of any responsibility, is what the MC wanted more than Jesse and me to become an item. That was Tank’s wishful thinking.

And in return for my testimony, Tank swore that no retaliation would be carried out on Boone for the attack on Jesse.

It wasn’t an easy deal. But in the end, Tank wanted his prospect fully initiated more than he wanted revenge.

For me, I got to right two wrongs. My conscience not completely clear, but less troubled.

“All right, Mel. I’ll hold you to that.” He tosses me the bike keys with a tight smile. “I’m heading to Hazard for my official welcoming ceremony. Then…I don’t know. Just shout when you want to get up.”

I nod. “I’ll be back there again soon. I still have some unfinished business to take care of.”

I allow him to embrace me, maybe for the last time. His arms circle my waist, and I wrap mine around his shoulders. It’s not goodbye—but a chapter out.

I watch him walk toward Tank as I squeeze the clutch and slam down the kick starter, cranking the engine of my new Breakout. Tank stares at me long and hard before a small smile hikes his face. I salute him as I drive away, one path already mapped out, destination known.

Boone

No sacrifice too deep

DAY THREE.

Starting over with sobriety…you’d think each time would get easier. Having done the dance before, it should be memorized. But it’s just the opposite.

You have the tools, you know how to use them to make them work, to rebuild. But they feel a bit less effective each time you have to start the construction process all over. Like you’re dragging ass on the job. You plow through the motions, waiting for the moment everything springs into place.

Guilt, it’s there. Blame, self-loathing, isolation—all accounted for. But those aren’t the foundation. They're the walls you use to barricade yourself inside, away from the world.

My house has been doing a fine job of that since the day Hunter died. I got sober, I did the steps, I built the house, but I forgot about the doors and windows. And the foundation.

Forgiveness.

You have to be willing to forgive yourself in order to truly open yourself up to recovery.

I know this by heart, have heard it repeated time and again at meetings. It just never felt relevant to me. As if by some magical element I’d be able to get there without having to enforce this one fundamental step within myself.

It works for a reason—because it simply works.

Whatever I would’ve found with Melody, had she stuck around, wouldn’t have lasted in the long run. I was trying to skip the biggest step to get there.

With enough punishment, maybe I can find redemption. Then maybe I’ll be willing to forgive myself. Until then, it’s best to let her go and move on. At least I know what I want now, and that’s something. It’s more than I had before.

These thoughts swirl my head as I dive just a second too late, and the fist nails me in the temple. My world spins.

Black covers my vision.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll work on that foundation part. Or cutting some windows into the drywall. Or opening a door. And then maybe I’ll beg Jacquie mercilessly until she reveals Mel’s location. I’ll find her; but first I have to find myself.

The foot to my forehead finishes me off.

I’m thankful for the sleep.

Melody

Only when selfish hearts break

NEW YORK CITY IS not my first choice of destination on a soul-searching quest—but for this particular journey, there’s one person who may help.

Last I read in one of her emails, Sam moved into a brownstone in East Village near NYU. She made her wish of going to the college of her dreams come true. And I’m truly happy for her, but glad I took a minute out to skim through her letters before I tromped through the low country of South Carolina looking for her.

I about shit when I saw her words in bold:
New York City!
Holy hell, that’s a long bike ride.

Truth is, this visit is long overdue, so I summoned up the strength to make the ride. I left her hanging for too long, no word from me, no explanation for my sudden MIA, and that was a shitty thing to do.

Regardless if I had a reason or not.