Love and Relativity (15 page)

“Hey, that’s low, even for you, Emma Pierce. You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. Besides, I don’t respond to bribes,
thank you very much
.”

I peddled harder, picking up the pace, enjoying the sea breeze. It licked at my cheeks and sent my hair into a wild flurry. “Oh no? What about last year when Caleb snuck in and slept over, and you paid me fifty bucks to keep mom away from your bedroom the next morning so you could shoo him out before breakfast?”

“That’s different, smartass.”

“Yeah, this time you’re on the good end of the bribe, and it’s a much better bribe.”

A defeated sigh filled the receiver and I smiled into the phone, knowing I had her hooked.

“You’re going to pay for me to fly to Paris and attend Fashion Week.”

“Well, I
am
kinda broke. Okay, so maybe not a
fully
paid trip, but—”

She laughed. “You’re lucky I’m being forgiving tonight. I’m going to let you off easy. How’s this. If you promise me you’ll go to Paris with me after I graduate, that’s good enough for me. It’s my present to myself and we can do the whole sisterly-bonding thing. Deal?”

“Deal!”

“Okay, be there in ten.”

I ended the call with a triumphant smile and stuffed my cell into my pocket. Five minutes later, I made it to the end of the bridge and turned onto Prescott Lane. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled to the far end of the sidewalk and came to a full stop to answer it.

“Jen?” I said, struggling to hear. There were too many ambulance sirens in the distance, their cries drowning out the call. I placed a finger to my free ear and strained to hear. “Hey Jen, I can’t hear you, it’s really loud—”

“Emma?” My mom’s voice cracked on the end of the line. “Emma, it’s me. Honey, there’s been an accident. You need to get over here right now. It’s Jen, she’s...” Her voice cracked again, emotion thick in her throat, “she’s asking for you, honey. You need to come say goodbye.” She started to tell me which street she was on, but all I could hear was my heavy breathing and the breaking of the call, her voice cutting in and out.

And the sirens.

“Goodbye?” I said, my voice breathless. I started to zone out, my gaze falling into a trance, the ambulance siren light calling me deep into a hazy hole. The light illuminated the other end of the bridge, peeking through the trees. My head shifted a hair in its direction, eyes catching their flashing colors and the commotion surrounding them. Suddenly the activity made me dizzy. Cop cars, passers-by, and people on foot were gathering around the trees. I couldn’t make out their faces, only their movement. The sky was too dark.

My mother’s voice disappeared and my hands began to shake. I tried to grip the bike handlebars tighter, but my knuckles felt like jelly. I dropped the phone and lifelessly threw my legs over the seat, lifting my feet to the pedals. My throat was tight and I no longer felt the breeze. I felt cold—cold all over, my fingers nearly numb from the sensation. I managed to roll myself a few feet down the sidewalk, toward the devilish light through the trees, but my zombie state of mind told my body to hit the brakes and turn around.

Turn the bike around. Just turn the bike around. Turn. Now.

Adrenaline spiked again, charging my limp limbs, pushing me into motion. I yanked the bike to the left and flipped it around, back toward Pete’s Tavern. My legs started to move, the rest of my body tuning into the rush. I pedaled harder, faster and faster until my lungs began to ache.

Faster, faster, faster,
my mind continued to chant. My lungs finally said
no more
, and I slowed to a stop, dragging my body off the seat to stand. The trance had consumed me, throwing me into tunnel vision. The bike rolled next to me as I walked it, and somewhere in the abyss of its trance, my brain registered that the sirens had faded.

I stilled.

The soft breeze tickled my skin from the east, and slowly, my head pivoted, my tunnel-vision sight settling past the roadside shops and on the beach shoreline. My arms fell to my sides and the sound of my bike crashing at my feet directed my body to fall with it. My bottom hit the sidewalk pavement and I curled up, drawing in a deep, ragged breath. My gaze lifted slightly to the full moon above, and my mind emptied, whispers spilling from my lips into the dark—something about the moon. Then,
goodbye
. Jackson’s voice broke through the darkness, and then I was warm and in his truck, head rested on the passenger door window. “I’ve got you,” he said. “I promise, it’s all going to be okay.”

I’d lost Jen that night, all because I couldn’t wait. Because I was selfish.

“Emma? Emma, look at me.” Jackson’s voice permeated my thoughts and launched me back into reality. I was no longer wrapped up warm in his truck. I stood in front of him, cold and broken in Pete’s parking lot.

I found my words again, and my voice was shouting all on its own. “Your selfishness really knows no bounds, does it, Jackson? That’s all you care about!” My body was possessed. I caught a reflection of myself in the side of my car’s driver window, a woman I didn’t recognize, her body shaking in rage. I didn’t know where this level of anger had been hidden, but it exploded and there was no taming it. “Partying, taking girl after girl home, getting what you want, when you want it. And you’re out the door before breakfast is served!” I let out an erratic laugh. “God
forbid
I need a little time to think things through before I throw myself into your arms, before I entrust everything to you. No, that’s too much to ask, I guess, right?” The next thing I knew, I was pounding him in the shoulder with my purse, the vehemence pouring from my pores so hard, my body was sure to collapse from the weight. Sobs wracked my frame and I fell against him, my face buried into his chest. “You couldn’t wait before sleeping with someone else? I just needed more time!”

His arms encased me, firm and consoling, his mouth touching the top of my hair as he worked to sooth me. “Sssshhh, it’s okay, Em. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Let it out, baby. Let it out.”

I rocked against him, my arms and legs going limp, and I sank to the ground, taking him with me. We landed in the dirt, small pieces of rock scraping at my knees, and I tried to squirm away, but he wouldn’t let me go. His arms tightened around me and he crushed me to his chest.

“It’s not your fault, Emma. I’m so sorry. Sorry for everything.”

His words were overwhelming waves, rolling over and battering me until I couldn’t breathe. He and Jen were one and the same, leaving me and moving on to newer, better things before I could catch up, before I could witness the full potential of what could be between us. A whirlpool of agony had sneaked up on me and churned at my insides, and as it forced its way out of me, I realized there was a name for this monster clawing itself from my ribs, this merciless beast that demanded my mind and body’s full attention, refusing to be ignored any longer.

Grief.

“I just needed more time,” I whispered, the heaving sobs slowly subsiding. As soon as I was able to catch my breath, I pushed against Jackson’s chest and staggered to my feet, steadying myself against the side of my car. He rose next to me, blocking the car door handle.

“Emma, I can’t let you drive right now. If you want to leave, I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”

My gaze frozen on the door handle, I brushed his fingers away. “I loved you, Jackson. That’s what I wanted to tell you tonight.” I opened the car door.

Still as stone, he didn’t try to stop me again.

The smell of smoke wafted around me as I stepped into the car, and a cautious voice appeared. “Excuse me,” it said, “I don’t mean to intrude, but I don’t mind giving you ride if you don’t want Jackson to take you.”

My head pivoted in the guy’s direction, eyes landing on his warm, sincere eyes. They were accented by square, black-framed glasses.
Mr. New Guy.
He put out his cigarette and moved closer. “Thanks, but I’ll be—”

“Please stay out of this, Carter.” Jackson finally moved, shifting into a protective stance in front of me.

“Jackson, look man, I’m not trying to come between...whatever’s happening here, I just don’t think she should be driving. And I couldn’t help but overhear. It sounds like she’d rather not be around you right now.”

“This is really
none
of your business.”

“Keeping someone who’s clearly distraught off the road is my business. I can’t turn the other cheek, man, I’m sorry.” Carter shifted his nervous gaze from Jackson to me. “The name’s Emma, is it?”

I nodded my head.

“Would it be alright if I drive you home, Emma? Or I can call a friend or family member if you’d rather that.”

My first thought was Whitney, but she was inside with Casey and the others, and the last thing I wanted was to ignite a spectacle in Pete’s parking lot. I was already humiliated. I briefly glanced down at my shaky hands as they held the keys to the ignition, letting them fall to my lap.

“Yes, you can drive me. Thank you.”

“Please, Emma, don’t take off like this,” Jackson spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes glistening with wetness. He glared at Carter as I stepped out of the car, but moved aside to let me by, his body language as conflicted as the hurt in his eyes. Caught in limbo, his hands were extended to reach for me, while his arms were rigid at his sides. Stepping past him, I moved toward Carter and let him lead the way across the lot to his car.

We reversed to pull away, and Whitney’s face appeared on the porch and flickered in the passenger side mirror, her eyes bouncing to me in the car, and then in Jackson’s direction. Jackson joined her, and their lips were moving, arguing, but I couldn’t make the words out.

“Where to?” Carter asked gently as he pulled out of the parking lot.

I paused, hesitating, my head throbbing with exhaustion. “Seaside Apartments, off Olympia. Take Prescott Lane.” The words felt sluggish on my tongue, and at the moment they escaped my lips, I saw a mirage of ambulance lights flashing before my eyes.

“It’s not your fault, Emma,” Jackson’s voice echoed in my mind. “I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.”

Chapter 8

The smell of eggs and bacon woke me, a voice humming in the kitchen. My eyes fluttered open, then squinted from the sunlight. I was in my room, buried beneath my comforter. Sitting up, I looked around at my unnaturally untidy surroundings, at the clothing items and shoes strewn about, and caught my reflection in the dresser mirror.

Oh my.

My hair was tangled and jutting out in a million different directions, and black mascara marks were tracked down my cheeks, my eyes swollen and red.
Rough night
, I guessed. Good thing I didn’t remember much of it.

I stretched my toes and stood to my feet, then attempted to comb the knots from my hair and scrub the black marks from my face before stepping out into the hallway. “Whit, you should see my hair this morning. It looks like a damn rat’s nest,” I called out, as I neared the kitchen.

I turned the corner to find Carter, standing over the stove, flipping bacon.“Oh, good morning, Carter!” I said with surprise as he handed me a cup of coffee. “Where’s Whit?”

“You just missed her. She ran up the road to pick you up some more aspirin and some orange juice.”

It had been a week since he’d driven me home from Pete’s Tavern. A week since I’d seen Jackson. A week since I remembered what it was like to wake up without a massive headache. Whitney had stayed the night all week long, and had kept me away from Pete’s, along with any and all reminders of Jackson. She drove me to and from class in the evenings, even missing two of her nighttime waitress shifts at the diner to make sure I got there on time. Whatever she couldn’t do, Carter took over and filled the gap, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for their willingness to put up with the train wreck that had become my life.

“I’m sorry about last night.
Again
,” I said.

“Shit happens. It’s okay. You were doing good for a few days there.”

He was being nice, something I learned Carter possessed a lot of—the nice gene. Maybe too much for his own good. No matter how well he and Whitney played babysitter, though, I’d managed to accomplish a few destructive feats of sheer stupidity over the past seven days. Monday was the chocolate ice cream binge. Wednesday was the run in with Miss Stein at the drugstore. She made a snippy comment about my sweatpants and chocolate ice cream stained t-shirt, and I flipped her the bird.

It did not go over well.

Then, last night, I went certifiably insane and snuck out of the house while Whitney was passed out on the couch, catching some sleep between jobs, and went line dancing. The whiskey was not kind to me, but it sure as hell made me brave on the dance floor. A few hours later, and after one drunken phone call, my best friend came to safely tote me home. But she was due at the diner for a shift, so she called Carter to make sure I wouldn’t have to spend the night alone. Now it was Friday, and here was Carter, Mr. New Guy, flipping my damn bacon. The guy was a saint or something.