Pieces of My Heart (2 page)

“I love you.” I breathed the words meant for Kiernan’s ears alone and I knew that if he still existed somewhere, somehow, that he’d hear them as the rose fluttered down into the darkness. “Goodbye.”

One

*9 Months Later*

“Graduation wasn’t the same without you. It was crowded and noisy and hot. And really, really boring. But it wasn’t . . . I don’t know.
Special
. They talked about you a bit. Put up a picture. It was okay. Kind of sappy. I don’t think you would have really cared, either way. My mom was there, something that never would have happened without you. So was Caulder. Your mom couldn’t do it. I think it was too painful for her. But Cal gave me flowers, red tulips. He said you’d want me to have them.” Emotion clogged my throat and I choked it back, determined to make it through this visit without tears.

“I got a job at The Brewery. It kinda sucks and I constantly smell like coffee, but we need the money and it pays alright for part-time. Mom’s doing well. No more slipups since the last one I told you about and she hasn’t missed a meeting in over a month, so that’s good . . .” I wracked my brain for anything else to say. Holding a one-sided conversation wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Especially when your life was as boring as mine.

“This is stupid. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this.” I lay back on the thickest blanket I could find, which just so happened to be the one off my bed. A problem to be dealt with when I got back home, but for now at least it was providing me with some protection from the cold, hard ground it covered.

Some people went to cemeteries and talked to headstones. I lay in an open field, off the beaten path and talked to myself. Which was crazier?

A frigid wind whipped through the clearing, bringing with it a barrage of freshly fallen leaves. “This is probably the last time I’ll be able to do this for a while. If I came out here to talk to you and ended up catching pneumonia . . . or the plague . . . I doubt you’d be happy.”

A shudder ran through me that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

“I miss you, Kiernan.”

It hurt. Usually, I kept that hurt boxed up in the deepest recesses of my soul. I couldn’t function any other way. But now and then, before it got to be too much, I’d crack that lid and let it out. Let myself feel it. Let it consume me. It traveled from my fingers and my toes, straight to my heart. A bone-deep, hollow ache. It felt like pieces of me had been torn away, and as hard as I tried to put those pieces back together, one piece always seemed to be missing.

Sometimes, if I concentrated hard enough, I could picture him there beside me. They were bittersweet moments. He almost always looked sad. I knew I wasn’t making good on my promise to find happiness. I didn’t even know where to begin to do that, but I knew he’d be disappointed with me. Like I knew that if he really were there with me, he’d haul my ass back to the car right about then. I could do at least that much for him.

Shaking as much of the dirt and dried grass from my comforter as I could, I folded it up and headed back down the hill. The most productive thing I’d done with my life in the past nine months was earn my driver’s license and save up for my own set of wheels. It wasn’t much to look at, but it got me from A to B . . . usually.

***

“Where have you been?” I was startled to find Mom glaring at me from the kitchen, arms folded across her fuzzy robe clad chest when I stepped inside the apartment.

“Um . . . nowhere. I went out after work for a bit.”

“Where? With who?”

“No one. I just needed some time to think.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly have to think about for over two hours. I expected you home. You could have at least called. I went grocery shopping, you know? And now everything’s just sitting out there in the backseat of my car, probably getting spoiled. You know I can’t carry all of that up here by myself. And there’s laundry that needs to get done, and the trash needs to go out. I’m trying, Jade, I really am, but sometimes it feels like I’m the only adult living here.”

Sometimes it was hard to bite my tongue. Really hard. But the last thing I wanted to do was send her running to the bottom of a bottle, so I bit it.
Hard.

Ignoring the taste of copper in my mouth, I gathered up the dirty clothes and took them down to the laundry room. The groceries were a grand total of three bags, none of which were perishable. I hauled those upstairs, put them away, and made a side trip to the dumpster on my way back to the laundry room all before the wash cycle was finished. Thankful to find my clothes right where I’d left them, I collapsed into the hard, plastic chairs and sighed. It had been another long day.

Who knew serving coffee could require so much brain power? Keeping all of those orders and ingredients straight was like one long series of pop quizzes along with all the stress that accompanied them. If I could have hacked my feet off with a dull blade, I might have considered it. Four hours doesn’t seem that long, until you spend the entire time standing. Then your feet beg to differ. 

I hurt all over by the time the clothes were dry and folded. Head, feet, back, body . . . heart. Everything ached. I coupled the last pair of socks and tucked them into my dresser drawer. Stretching my back, I heard something pop that probably wasn’t supposed to and considered if sleeping in my clothes would really be all that uncomfortable.

I was two seconds away from finding out when a loud banging echoed through the apartment. The sound made my heart skip a beat. Only one person ever knocked on that door. But it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He was gone. He wouldn’t be coming over to whisk me away ever again. This was my life. I’d better get used to it.

“Open the damn door!” A muffled voice flooded through the thin walls, dragging me from my pity party long enough to realize something was up.

I crept to my bedroom door and down the hallway. Mom was standing just inside the front door, bracing herself against the frame.
What the—?
Flipping the lock, she threw the door open, revealing a man in holey jeans and a button down flannel. His dark hair was slightly greasy and in serious need of a trim. The scruffy facial hair didn’t quite cover the sores on his skin.

“Hey, sugar.” He folded his arms across his chest, a cocky grin curving his chapped lips.

“Oh no. Don’t you dare show up at my door after, what? Eighteen years? and ‘Hey, sugar’ me.” Mom tried to slam the door in his face, but he blocked the jamb with a booted foot.

“Don’t be like that. I missed you.”

She stopped struggling with the door, and folded her arms to match his. “You missed me? That’s rich. You missed me so bad, where the hell have you been?”

The man’s arms dropped to his sides on a shrug. “Got busted a while back. Held me up for a bit. But I’m here now, ain’t I?”

Was he seriously trying to use jail time as an excuse for not coming into her life sooner? Who the hell was this guy?

“Mom?” Stepping out from the shadows of the hallway, all eyes fell on me.

“Jade . . .” Mom flicked her wrist at the slob standing in the door. “Meet your father.”

Oh . . . crap.

“Jade? As I live and breathe, if you aren’t the picture image of your old man.” Lord, I hoped not. He pushed his way inside under the pretense of getting a closer look at me. Even halfway across the room, it was closer than I would have liked. “But you got your mama’s beauty, that’s for sure.”

Perfect. A real charmer. Mom could not possibly be buying this. And yet, one look at her confirmed she most definitely was. Hook, line, and sinker.

“What do you say, Marilyn? Let me crash? Just one night, for old time’s sake?”

I saw her resolve break before she even opened her mouth. The woman had a backbone made of marshmallow. “One night, Michael. Then you’re out of here.”

“Alright.” He clapped his hands together, dropping his bag on the floor and flopping onto the couch to kick his feet up on the coffee table. “What ya got to drink around here?”

“Nothing.” I figured it was best to make that clear from the start.

Michael sighed heavily. “Now is that any way to treat a guest, Lyn? No worries. I brought my own.”

Unzipping his bag, he pulled out a large bottle of vodka. And from the sounds of clinking glass, I was guessing it had company in there.

“You can’t—” My complaint was cut short by a tight, nearly painful, pressure on my arm. Mom squeezed tighter before letting go, and shook her head.

“Join me?” He lifted the bottle to my mother and I felt her whole body tense.

“She doesn’t—”

“Not tonight, Michael. It’s late. I’m going to bed. I want you gone in the morning.”

Following my mother’s lead, I trailed her down the hallway, hoping she had something more in way of explanation for what just happened. She didn’t. I don’t know why I was surprised when she shut herself in her room without a word. I wasn’t about to go back out there with him. My
father.
So I ducked into my own room and shut the door, fervently wishing there was a lock on it.

Michael was my father. That douchy slob out there was my dad. All genes considered, I really had a lot going for me. Sighing, I collapsed onto my bed. I’d always known he was a loser. I wasn’t one of those little girls who harbored illusions of her absentee daddy as some kind of prince who would swoop in and rescue her one day.

But, then, why did I feel so utterly disappointed?

A pale blue light illuminated the darkened room with a pulsing beat from my cell, sitting idly on the rickety nightstand. I’d a missed call and I knew without looking who it was from. Not difficult to deduce given that only two people in the world had my number and one of them had just gone to bed.

Caulder had been calling a few times a month since the funeral just to check in. We swore we’d keep in touch, even hung out a few times in the beginning to keep each other company. But, as it always does, life got in the way. It had been nearly two weeks since his last call, but it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Snatching it, I powered up the screen and saw that he texted this time instead of calling.

Hanging in there?

I smiled at his now familiar greeting and considered calling him back. There was a lot I wanted to talk about, but he’d texted for a reason.

Maybe he was somewhere he couldn’t really talk, or hear . . . or maybe he didn’t want to commit to a full-length conversation. Maybe it was just a courtesy check-in. If I texted him back it would give him an excuse not to reply if he didn’t really feel like talking to me.

Guess who showed up at my front door.
Hitting send, I sat back to wait.

Caulder’s reply came almost immediately. And a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding escaped me.
Who?

My father.

He didn’t miss a beat.
Your deadbeat absentee father?

That’s the one.

Well . . . hell.
My sentiments exactly. An instant later another message chimed in before I could respond.
Where is he now?

He was going to
love
this.
In the living room.

Why?

He’s crashing on our couch for the night.

Are you sure that’s a good idea?

I’m sure it’s not. He brought his own party.

As in alcohol?
I could practically hear the scowl in his words.

Seems to be the family tradition.

A moment later, the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Are you okay?” Caulder sounded genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine. I’m going to bed. Kinda hoping he’ll be gone by the time I wake up. Like a bad dream.”

“How’s your mother handling the alcohol?”

“She seems okay. I think she went to bed, too . . .” My mind drifted to the man sitting out there, stirring up our already tumultuous lives.

“Angel?”

“Why now? Things were finally getting on track for us. Why did he have to show up now?”

“I don’t know. Did he say what he wants?”

I crawled up to my pillow and tucked it under my head, letting Caulder’s voice ease some of the tension in my body. “He said he needed a place to crash for the night.”

“But . . .”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like he’ll be that easy to get rid of. And Mom can’t stand up to him at all. She folded like a cheap suit the minute he opened his skeevy mouth.”

“Do you want me to come over there? Kick his ass out?”

I smiled knowing he’d do exactly that if I asked him to. “No. Let him spend the night. I’ll figure it out in the morning.”

The sound of his even breaths soothed me and soon I found it difficult to keep my eyes open. “Just wish my door had a lock on it.”

“What?”

Woops. Hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Jade, tell me the truth. Are you safe there?”

“As far as I know. I’ve never met the man, Cal. Mom didn’t seem overly concerned about leaving him alone in the apartment.”

“Because
she’s
one to trust with your safety.” His snipe was justified, but I still jumped to defend her.