Take Heart (3 page)

Okay, I know I just said that I hate explaining myself, but…I like her. If that means I have to bend a little, then so be it.

I scoot forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “Well, see, that’s the thing—yes there
was
something casual going on between Christa and I—but that wasn’t what was misleading. Where I went wrong was when I let you walk off, making you think that I wasn’t interested in you. Because I am.”

I let out a frustrated sigh as I try to find the right words. “We...I...you know what, screw it. Let me take you out to dinner Monday night, and I’ll tell you all about it. Sound good?”

She lets out a hard laugh. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Come on, you know you want to. Admit it, you were just as intrigued out there as I was, before Christa came out and ruined it.”

She gives me a dubious look.

“Don’t give me that look. I know I’m right. Just picture it, a nice restaurant with delicious food, even better conversation, and drinks afterwards.”

“Bellotti’s,” Raven coughs.

“And let me guess, then we go back to your place afterwards?” Mia asks, with a hint of boredom.

Go right ahead, Mia. It only makes me hotter for you.

I purse my lips. “As amazing as that sounds, I’ll be on my very best behavior. I promise. You, and you alone, control the pace of the date.”

She folds her hands in her lap, like she’s mulling it over.

Please, say yes.

“You know, all of my instincts are telling me that this is a bad idea, but I also believe in giving everyone a fair shot to prove me wrong.”

She looks torn. Since I know she’s not looking to waste her time, I need to try to convince her that a date with me is the right choice.

“Give me one night to show you that I’m really not that bad of a guy. If the date is horrible, at least you get a free dinner out of it. And for the record, I’m persistent. I will keep harassing you until you give me a couple hours of your time.” I conjure up my best panty-melting grin and send it her way, no-holds-barred. Yes, I’m not fighting fair—sue me.

She takes a deep breath and looks over at Raven, silently seeking her approval like girls do.

This is important. Raven needs to sign-off on this, and if she does, I’ll owe her big. She smiles and nods.

Mia’s gaze finds mine.

“I need you to give me one good reason why I should. And think twice before you sling bullshit, because I’ll see right through it,” she says.

Tired of Raven sitting between us, I move to sit on the coffee table. I grab Mia’s plate, and set it down beside me. I take both her hands and hold them in one of mine, my thumb tracing circles on the inside of her wrist. She jumps slightly at the contact, as if she was on the receiving end of static electricity. With my other hand, I seize her sunglasses, and slowly pull them off her face.

She gulps and her eyes widen in panic. I fold her sunglasses around the V of my shirt. Tentatively, I reach back up to lightly brush her side-swept bangs out of her face.

Looking earnestly into her eyes, I say, “Do you feel that? That’s fucking chemistry. You can’t tell me there isn’t something here. I’d love to stay and argue that I’m worth your time, but only you can decide that. You’re going to have to take a chance on me. You said it yourself, remember? You’re here to take risks and create a new life. You want to meet new people, try new things. Well, you met me, so are you going to try me?”

She closes her eyes and sucks in a sharp breath.

“The decision is yours. Just get my number from Eric or Raven and let me know what you decide. Okay?”

She nods ever so slightly.

I stand up and grab her empty plate. Raven is sitting there staring up at me, mouth agape. Mia’s still frozen in place.

“Raven, always a pleasure,” I assure her.

I make my way to the kitchen. When I’m finished rinsing her plate, I say my goodbyes to everyone. I grab my keys and call it a night. I have another long day ahead of me tomorrow. But at least now, I have something to look forward to.

a     m     e     l     i     a

Chase couldn’t take a hint to save his life. I’d given him the cold shoulder, the silent treatment, the bitch fit
—
you name it. He just kept coming back for more. I’m starting to think he’s a glutton for punishment, although, his unwavering determination was equally flattering and irritating. When I’d throw a rock, he’d come back at me with a boulder.       

Eventually, he ended up with a date. I haven’t texted him to confirm it, but we both know I’m going to say yes. How could I not after the case he made? I found him attractive to begin with, and then he laid into me with that charisma of his until I caved. It seems that’s his secret weapon and he knows it. I’ll have to keep that in mind for future reference. Monday is still two days away, so I don't have to text him right away. Even though I’ve already made up my mind, it couldn’t hurt to make him sweat a little bit.

Suddenly, a knock on my bedroom door interrupts my musings.
Real life always ruins everything.

“Come in.”

Raven opens the door and casually moseys on in. She plops herself down on my bed, still in pajamas.

“How’d you sleep? she asks, eyes hopeful. Her warm receptions always make me smile. It’s nice to know that she’s just as excited about living with me, as I am with her.

“Really well. This bed is ridiculously comfy.”

“Tell me about it. It’s like sleeping on a cloud.” She extends her arms and legs out, proceeding to make snow angels on the covers.
What an adorable little weirdo.
She flips over onto her stomach and crawls further up the bed. When she reaches me, she leans down on her elbow, and clasps her head in her palm.
Looks like playtime’s over.

“Have you heard from your mom yet?”

Annnnd...there it is.

“I don’t know. I shut my phone off last night. I’m sure the drunk texts and calls will come pouring in as soon as I turn it on. They always do.” It’s one of the few consistencies I can count on.

Thankfully, she nods but doesn’t press the issue further. She knows my parents are a touchy subject.

“So now for the important question, have you made a decision on whether you’re going to give Chase a chance?”

“I have to. The bastard still has my sunglasses.”

She laughs. “That was quite a connection y’all formed last night. And quite a speech he gave, if I do say so myself.”

“You’re telling me. What’s the deal with him and Christa, though? Are they a couple?”

“No. They’ve never been exclusive. At least, not to my knowledge. He was being honest about that. They have history, though. You should ask Eric because he would know more about their relationship than me. All I know is they’ve been hooking up on and off for a while.”

Great, I have a potential player on my hands. That’s extra drama I don’t need. Maybe I should’ve followed my instincts, after all. Rubbing my eyes, I groan and readjust my body so I’m lying down beside her, my head propped up on a pillow.

“I don’t know what to do, Rave. I like him, and I want to go out with him, but there are red flags.”

“Mia, you know I would never tell you to go against your gut, but at the same time when you fall for someone, there’s always going to be risk and imperfections involved. I think you’re so used to being disappointed by your mom that you’ve put up a wall to protect yourself. Not everyone reverts to their old ways like she does. I’m not saying that Chase’s past isn’t concerning, but he isn’t a bad guy. I could never see him doing anything to hurt you on purpose. Plus, your chemistry is explosive,” she says with a giggle.

I know she’s right, but deep down I’m skeptical. I can’t help it. I’ve spent a great deal of time building up my walls in order to survive my mom. And when I was around Chase last night, he made me feel so vulnerable and out of my element. I’m not sure I know how to handle that. Raven is right, though. I have to learn to trust my heart over my gut, and hope that it doesn’t come back around to bite me in the ass.

“You know, I really do love you like the sister I never had.”

“I know,” she smiles confidently. “Don’t worry, if he hurts you, I’ll boil his balls.”

“Promise?”

“Always, baby girl.” She kisses my forehead, and smoothly rolls off the bed in the direction of the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask, sitting up.

“Gotta get ready for work. I’m on the lunch shift today. Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want. This is your place now, too.”

I smile adoringly. “Please tell your family ‘hi.’”

“I will.” She steps out of my room and closes the door.

I look around at all of the boxes “decorating” my floor, dreading the unpacking process that lies ahead. With a huff, I pull the covers back and reach over to grab my cell phone off the nightstand. Reluctantly, I turn it on; what’s coming my way won’t be pretty. Sure enough, my phone begins to vibrate, over and over, from the missed calls and text messages. I see that there are three unread messages from my mom and one from Hadley.

Hadley is my Raven back in Kansas. I owe her a lot. We both went to the same school, and there were many times when I crashed at her place after my mom kicked me out for the night. Mom was never too fond of me hanging out with her, which only made me like her more. She thought Hadley was a bad influence. That’s not entirely false, but some of the best people out there are the ones that push you to take risks. She’s actually the one who urged me to move down here. I’m sure that only added another nail to her coffin in my mother’s eyes.

I open up the text from Hadley first, not wanting to deal with my mom.

Hadley:
Hey slut, text me when you get there to let me know you’re still alive. Miss you already.

Me:
Made it down here safely. Will call you later tonight. Got so much to tell you! :)

My hands begin to tremble. I brace myself as I tap on the three unread messages from my mom.

Mom:
Call me as soon as you get this.

Mom:
Don’t think for one second that you can just walk out on me and ignore my calls you selfish, little shit. I’m still your mother. Call me!

Mom:
Mia, this isn’t funny. Get your ass home now, otherwise you can find somewhere else to sleep for the night.

I toss my phone aside, close my eyes, and lean back against the headboard. Feelings of guilt and remorse start to form in the pit of my stomach and creep up my throat. The ramifications of what I’ve done start to fully sink in.
I left her behind.
God, what if something bad happens and I’m not there to help? It would be all my fault. The tears begin to roll down my face in a silent stream. Memories from our last fight begin to cloud my thoughts. I try my best to block it out, but it’s pulling me under and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Nine Days Earlier

I walk out of her bedroom and down the hallway in the direction of the stairs.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Amelia Jaymes! Get back here right now!” she yells down the hall.

I pick up my pace and rush down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I hear her stomping, coming after me. My heart accelerates out of sheer fear. Once I’m at the bottom of the stairs, I make a swift right and end up in our living room. I turn around, dreading that, at any second, her foot is going to hit that bottom step. My heart is hammering in my chest and my blood is roaring in my ears.

A heartbeat goes by and her bare foot hits the bottom step. She’s dressed in the same bathrobe that she’s had on for three days. Her hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a week. She has dark hues under her eyes, making her look about ten years older than she actually is. She’s holding a bottle of vodka in her left hand and a cigarette in her right. The house reeks of smoke and booze, like it always does. It’s an unsettling yet familiar scent: home.

“I’m not done talking to you, young lady!” she shouts.

I eye the vodka in her hand warily, knowing all too well that she has a tendency to get aggressive when she’s been drinking this much. When you live with an alcoholic, you quickly learn what sets them off and train yourself to prepare for the worst. 

“You know, Mia, I’m really sick and tired of you being so ungrateful in my house.”

“
Your
house?” I mock.

She glares at me. Her grip tightens around the neck of the bottle. “You best watch your tone with me. This is my house and you live by my rules, understood?”

“Funny, I’m the only one paying the bills to keep us afloat in
your
house,” I spit back. I’m on wafer-thin ice.

Suddenly, her eyes darken in fury, and she reaches me in three long strides—stopping only two inches from my face. I swallow loudly and begin to tremble, afraid of what’s coming next. Her towering stance makes me feel like a helpless child again. Her breath reeks. I automatically lean back a couple inches and try to calm my nerves. I have to hold my ground.

“Who the hell are you to speak to me that way? I’m your mother, and you will respect me.”

She grabs my throat and brings me closer. “You know, every time I look at your face, I see him.”

This is not a good thing. She hates being reminded of him. All it does is fuel her depression and self-loathing. The more she drinks, the more I look like him. Sounds like a great motivator to quit drinking.
What the hell do I know?

Acting strictly on impulse, I shove her back.

She drops her cigarette on the rickety floorboards. Stumbling backwards, she stares down at the floor impassively for a minute. When it finally clicks that her precious cigarette is wasting away, she makes a sudden dive for it. “You little shit! My cigarette!”

I use this moment of distraction to grab an empty bottle and smash it against the coffee table, holding the broken end in her direction, just in case.

She charges at me, but freezes when she sees the bottle in my hand. “Is this your way of threatening me?” she asks in disbelief.

I stand there silently, anticipating her next move.

She opens her arms wide. “Go ahead. But know this; you take one swing at me, and you’re done for. I’ll give you an ass beating the likes of which you’ve never seen before.”

My eyes widen. This is it—a pivotal moment. I’ve hit my limit and I can’t take anymore. I toss the rest of the bottle on the ground, shattering what’s left of it, and feel a rage boil up inside me that replaces my fear in record time.

“Godammit, Mom!” I roar. “I can’t do this shit anymore! Do you have any idea how hard this is? To sit here and watch you waste away while I’m cleaning up your messes all the time? Working my ass off to maintain the basics around here? And yet, we’re still behind on bills because you keep blowing my money on fucking booze!”

I reach back and grab a fistful of my hair, pulling tightly in frustration. I kick the coffee table into the couch, effectively spilling all of its contents. Most of the bottles roll off, creating a cacophony as they hit the floor. I turn back and yell with everything I have, releasing years of pent-up anger and resentment. I’m beyond the point of reason. I’ve lost all control over my emotions and my heavy heart is just trying to get it all out.

“I’m supposed to be the kid in this house, not the parent. You took that from me and I resent you for that! Go get some help before you kill yourself. I already lost one parent, do you really think I want to lose another?” I feel lighter, more free, with every word I spew.

She stands there and stares, unmoving.

“What the hell happened to you, huh? What went wrong? You didn’t used to be like this...until dad left you. You used to be a good mom. Now you’re just...shit!” The chains that have kept me prisoner for so long are breaking.

My lungs heave and I bend over to grasp my knees, but I’m shaking so bad that I fall hard to the floor. I look up into my mother’s cold, lifeless, eyes and see a lone tear rolling down her cheek. Mortified at the person I’ve become, I firmly clasp my hand over my mouth and go into hysterics. My entire body is shaking profusely from the effects of the adrenaline. Mentally, physically, and emotionally, it’s too much. I was a plugged up sink, full, on the brink of overflowing.

I cry the hardest I’ve ever cried in my life. I cry because even though he’s not here now, I know my dad would’ve done anything to protect me from this. I cry because there was a time when my mom—not this drunk woman in front of me—my real mom always made sure her first priority was keeping me safe and happy. And I cry because I realize that if I don’t get out of this shithole now, I’ll never leave. And this can’t be my life. I’m done trying to save her. If I can’t help her, I have to help myself. I owe it to the little girl in me—and maybe even my dad—to try and be happy.