Break You (6 page)

“See! Pink, white, gween, and wellow!” she said.

She’d used each of the colors she knew in the picture. It was from the
Dora the Explorer
coloring book I’d brought her the last time I came to visit.

“Pretty,” I said to her. “Is that for me?”

Tinley nodded and then concentrated on finishing the picture. Bonnie walked to the kitchen, just off the living room, and I followed. She stuck her hands into the sink filled with soapy water and continued washing the dishes in it.

“Don’t you use the dishwasher?” I asked. I leaned against the counter and took another sip of my frappuccino.

Bonnie looked at me like I was stupid. “Yeah, it’s full and running. This was what wouldn’t fit.”

“Jesus, you guys eat a lot, don’t you?”

“Well, when you cook three meals a day, plus one afternoon snack, the dishes tend to pile up.”

“I can see that.” I grinned.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “One day you’ll understand.”

“Not anytime soon.”

“That’s right, not if you aren’t dating anyone.” She shifted her eyes to look at me directly. “
Are
you dating anyone?”

My eyes fell to the floor. “No, I’ve been busy with finals and work lately.”

“Blaire, you’re at the perfect place to meet guys—college! No dating site in the world could compete with the selection and easy access you’ve got there.”

“Oh yeah, it’s some selection all right—of stoners, idiots, and future alcoholics,” I said with mock excitement.

Bonnie laughed. “They can’t all be bad… I  mean, they’ve got to be better than the selection at Cross Meadows, right?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Funny.”

For whatever reason, an image of Jason from last night popped into my head—his thick black hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and kissable lips. The urge to check my Facebook again and see if he’d said anything to me via private message or if he’d changed his status update in the last forty minutes or so blasted through me. Damn him. It was high school all over again, only this time he’d sent me a friend request and I’d accepted.

“So, how’s the sewing business going?” I asked. It was a plotted change of subject, but one I knew she would fall for.

Bonnie was a sewing extraordinaire. For the last year and a half she’d been crafting new ideas for things to sew up and sell. She’d sold a few odds and ends to people around town, but about eight months ago I’d talked her into creating an online platform and going from there. She’d set up her own shop on Etsy and created a blogger website for her stuff as well. She started selling things like hotcakes—chic potholders, aprons, throw pillowcases, even tote bags with pockets for markers or crayons built in. Everyone had been on board with her decision to pursue her handcrafted career choice; I even passed out her business cards at work, but then her sales slowed and the applause stopped from
some
people—mainly her husband.

“It’s going.” Bonnie shrugged. She placed the large bowl she’d been rinsing into the dish drainer.

I scrunched my nose. “Is Brice being supportive?”

Bonnie tensed.  “He’s… Well, he’s Brice about it all.”

“Which means?”

“When it’s making money it’s a real job, but when it’s not he acts like it’s a hobby.”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed loudly. Brice could be such a damn jerk sometimes, and especially to my sister. Why she put up with him half the time I had no clue. She was beautiful, anyone would agree with that, and yet she’d picked the one person in Coldcreek who didn’t see her for what she was worth.

“And do you tell him that’s not the case?” I asked.

“Every day,” she said. “He just doesn’t get it and he never will. It’s like a vicious cycle with us. I tell him sales are slow and he tells me to get a real job then, because we need the money. I say we can’t afford to put Tinley in daycare and he says well, what do you want me to do then. It’s always the same.”

I hated how broken and defeated she sounded. It tore at the edges of my heart and made me wish there was something I could do to help out her situation more, some magic button I could push that would instantly make a million people rush to her site and buy every damn thing she had available and then some. Unfortunately, my dream of doing just that was impossible. So, I settled for making my sister smile instead.

“And you wonder why I’m not dating anyone,” I said with a slight chuckle.

Bonnie burst out into a fit of laughter. I joined in, but part of me wondered if she was laughing because it was either that or cry about her current situation, and it made my laughing feel fake.

“Maybe you have it right and I don’t, little sis,” she said.

Finishing the last of my frappuccino, I smiled at her and nodded. “Maybe.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

JASON

I woke to the smell of coffee stinging my nose. It wasn’t just any regular old coffee; it was I-need-to-get-my-ass-moving-now coffee. The type I usually drank when I had a killer hangover and still had shit to do. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in my pillow. After a few minutes, I flipped back over and reached for my cell on the nightstand, where I’d last left it. I checked my email and then my Facebook, completing my daily wake-up ritual. Technology was addictive that way.

“Blaire Hayes accepted your Friend Request” was the first thing I saw.

An ear-to-ear grin broke out on my face. Normally something so simple wouldn’t have fazed me; today it did though. I stared at her little picture for way too long before finally setting my phone down and forcing my ass out of bed. Scooping up some sweats from the floor, I pulled them on and then made my way down the hall to the bathroom.

“Morning,” Mom muttered once I entered the kitchen after relieving my swollen bladder.

“Morning.” I glared at her. She looked like shit. Normally my mother was a gorgeous woman, but with her current hangover from hell that was definitely not the case this morning. She was still dressed in the clothes from last night, her hair frizzy and pulled over one shoulder.

“What time did you get in last night?” she asked. The large mug she held between her hands appeared too bulky for her delicate frame.

I went to the cabinet and grabbed the first mug I saw. “Around one, I guess.”

“Did you have fun?” she asked. She was trying desperately to hold a conversation, to not reveal how trashed she’d gotten all by herself last night.

“It was all right.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I ran into some people from high school, caught up a bit, and had a few drinks. That’s about it.”

She tapped the ring she still wore on her left hand against the mug she held. I frowned as I poured myself some coffee. It had been three years. Even though I’d loved Dad as much has she did, I knew she should have moved on a while ago. This house was supposed to be a way to do that, but it hadn’t worked.

Nothing had. Not for her.

“What did you do last night?” I asked, even though the clues to that had rested on the counter last night when I’d walked through the door.

Glancing around, I realized everything had been removed. There was no longer a burnt Stouffers lasagna on the stove or an empty bottle of her favorite red wine on the counter. The only remnants of her night were reflected in her features.

“Nothing,” she said. “Watched a little TV, attempted to cook a lasagna, and that’s about it.”

She didn’t mention the wine. I hadn’t thought she would.

“Are you leaving today?” she asked. She took a small sip of her coffee and winced. That couldn’t be a good sign, the coffee must be bitter as shit.

Stirring in a little more creamer and sugar, I set the spoon I’d been using on the counter and turned to face her. “Yeah, I figured I’d head back a little later this afternoon. I need to cram some more for finals tomorrow.” I took a sip of my coffee and nearly sprayed it all over the floor of the kitchen. That shit was strong! “Is there anything more you need me to do at Gramps’ place before I leave? I’ve boxed everything up already.”

“No, it can all wait,” she said without meeting my eyes. “I planned on having an appraiser come look at it next week—I think they’re supposed to come on Wednesday and the inspector is on Friday. They can both walk around a few boxes.”

Appraiser; it was still so strange to me that we were selling my grandparents’ house. I had so many childhood memories in that place—probably just as many as were made in our old house. Soon it would be gone. Some schmuck would come along and buy it up without realizing everything that had happened between the walls—all the pies eaten, summer days spent, and awesome holiday dinners shared. They’d walk out on the dock and not realize that was the place my Gramps had taught me to fish.

Why was life so ever-changing?

“Sounds good,” I said. “Let me know if they have any suggested repairs or whatnot, I’ll start fixing them when I get back.”

“When you get back?” she asked. “What do you mean when you get back?”

“I figured I’d come back for however long it takes to get things up to par there. When we sold the other house, I know there was a lengthy list you had to deal with. I’m sure this place won’t be any different and you could use all the money we can get out of it to take care of Gramps in that home,” I said.

Guilt didn’t even begin to cover all the emotions I felt when I thought back to how I’d dipped out after Dad died, leaving her to deal with the move and everything that went with it all alone. I was eighteen and fresh out of high school; there were only so many things I could handle at the time.  Dealing with packing up my dead father’s belongings was not one of them. At least that’s what I told myself, what helped me sleep at night and what I’d made myself believe—that I wasn’t stable enough, mature enough, to handle such things at the time.

I’d used a similar excuse when Gran was bedridden and sick last year, but I’d also added in that I had a full load with school and a part-time job. The true reason was, I hadn’t been able to deal with the first death that had swept through my life like a tornado, ripping and shredding at everything that ever was; there was no way I was ready to go through that twice in such a sort amount of time. This time though, I wasn’t about to let Mom go through it all on her own. The phone call I’d gotten from her about two weeks ago had nearly killed me. It was my reason for being here, for stepping up like I should have both times before. She deserved it.

I hadn’t known Gramps was having such a hard time with the loss of my grandmother. They’d been together for nearly forty-five years—I was stupid to not think there would have been an unfathomable bond between the two. It was so strong, in fact, he’d literally given up, and I was positive over the next few months he would be the first person I’d ever meet to die of a broken heart.

Mom didn’t deserve to deal with any more death on her own. Having her husband die, and then her own mother two years later, and now her father almost a year later—that was something no one would wish on their worst enemy. It was time I stepped up and was there for her. It was time I stopped being a little bitch about the whole thing and acted like a man. My mom needed me—I was all she had left.

“I hired people for that then and I’ll hire them now, if that happens to be the case. This is not your problem, Jason, you need to focus on school,” she snapped.

“School’s over in a week, Mom,” I said. “I’m helping. You don’t need to hire anyone. I can do it.”

“What about your job? What about your apartment? Jason, the list they could hand me might be lengthy and I can’t allow you to travel back and forth for this. I can’t afford to foot the bill for your gas and I know you can’t either,” she insisted.

“Mom, I’ll be fine.” I smiled. “I’ve already thought this through. Brian can get a new roommate if I think I’m gonna be here for too long. They aren’t going to miss me at the golf course for crying out loud; that’s such an easy-fill job it’s ridiculous, and if need be, I can always enroll at Norhurst in the fall.” I shrugged.

Her eyes grew wide. “You’ve really thought this through then?”

I nodded. “I have. We’ll have to see how things go, but I do have a backup plan, should I need one. Don’t worry so much, Mom. I’m here for you.”

My heart sank to my toes at the sight of tears filling her eyes. Had I really been hurting her that much being away? By not being here to help her with this all? Or maybe it was just the simple fact that me being here made her feel less alone.

God, I’d been a shitty son. It was time I made it up to her.

If she told me right now to move back home and help her out, I’d do it in a heartbeat. It was never my mom I was running from, it was the memories and the pity in the faces of those around town who knew all too well the type of torment my mother and I had gone through with my dad’s death.

Mom took another sip of her coffee, her bright green eyes locked with mine.  The tears were there, glistening in the florescent light of the kitchen, but I knew she wouldn’t let them fall.

“I’ll try not to,” she whispered with a smile.

“Good.” Setting my coffee on the counter, I headed back to my room for some clothes. I needed a shower. “Now go get some sleep… You look horrible.” I heard a gasp escape her. She’d honestly believed I’d been too messed up last night to notice the empty bottle on the counter and the glass on the coffee table.

“Thanks for sugarcoating it, sweetheart,” she called after me.

I smirked to myself and shook my head. God, I loved my mom.

CHAPTER NINE

BLAIRE

Bonnie’s office/business central was organized so expertly it made me want to run home and redo everything in my room, implementing what she had going on here. Solid wooden bookshelves stood at attention on either side of her matching desk, crammed with a rainbow of spools of thread and Mason jars filled to the rim with buttons of every shape and color. There were two crates filled with rolls of ribbon on the bottom shelves and numerous craft books lining the top shelves.