The Davis Years (Indigo) (26 page)

“What does she want?”

“It really does sound like she’s in trouble, so maybe it was mean of me to say it like that. There’s a lot going on with her. She’s fighting with Thom, her husband, again. They fight a lot whenever he comes back from being on his ship. He lets people fill his head with rumors of things she was doing while he was gone and then he jumps all over her. Last night, Mom said Tara was so out of it. Like she was strung out on something. And now Thom’s threatening to leave her and fight her for custody of Branson.”

“That’s messed up,” Jemma said, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with Tara on Em Rose’s wedding day. There was always more to a person’s story than what was on the surface. It was always too easy to judge without taking a closer look. “But I’m glad to hear you say that about how you feel about her. You should have stopped giving her power over you a long time ago.”

Emily Rose squeezed her hands. “Yeah.”

She pushed away thoughts again of wanting to know more about Davis and Tara and their marriage. It seemed to be such a sad and painful story. People didn’t always want to share, though. She should have known that better than anybody. She put her hands on Emily Rose’s shoulders. “Thanks for putting up with me. Through, you know, everything.”

Em Rose hugged her. Resting her head on Jemma’s shoulder, she said, “I’m sorry for yelling at you the other day. You really have been a good friend. There probably wouldn’t have been a wedding without you.”

“I probably needed you to yell at me. But you know what? No more apologies between us. We’re going to start fresh. Right now. There’s nothing to apologize for because we’re going to let all old wounds heal. No more festering.”

Emily Rose grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

“Me, too.” Jemma hugged her closer.

Later, after Emily Rose said goodbye to her parents, she and Jemma headed out to the car with the last of her things. Em Rose was still trying to convince Jemma not to give up on Davis when she opened the car door. Jemma put a blue tote bag in the back seat and shut the door.

“Jemma.” Em Rose gave her the I’m-trying-very-hard-not-to-cry look.

“Hmm?” Jemma said.

She threw her arms around Jemma and squeezed. “You know, I still believe that even in the worst of circumstances, we can be the very best of ourselves.”

“I want to believe that, too.” Jemma hugged back. She really did, but she didn’t know how to quite get her mind around it. She didn’t know how to see past the idea of being forever broken—emotionally mangled—by her past. She wasn’t sure it would ever be possible for her to trust things like love, forever, and all the other things people promised. She let go of Em Rose and sadness gripped her. The gloomy morning sky seemed to darken a little more.

“I told you, Jemma. Everything’s going to work out.” Emily Rose threw her a last reassuring smile. “I’ll call you later. See how everything’s going.”

“Have a safe trip back,” Jemma said, hugging herself as Em Rose slipped into the car. She waved one last time before pulling away from the curb.

***

Sunday morning, Jemma’s bare feet slapped against the linoleum as she paced the floor in Mary’s kitchen. She’d awakened at four in the morning and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. Forcing herself not to think about Davis almost drained as much energy as thinking about him.

She’d finally gotten out of the bed after a few hours of tossing and turning and gone into the living room to channel surf. She’d still been in her pajamas, lounging on the couch, when Mary came home from work a little while after the sun came up.

It was time to stop stalling. She went to her room to get her laptop. She looked up the visiting hours at Smooth’s prison. She had to tell him to his face. To look into the face of the man who’d stolen everything from her and make sure he knew from her own lips that she wouldn’t let him steal anything else.

After that, she went back into her room to set down her laptop. She thought about her scrapbook, which she’d stuck in the bottom dresser drawer. She liked to keep it close, but didn’t like to keep it where she could see it—she didn’t like to be constantly reminded of what it contained. But maybe looking at it was just what she needed that day.

Retrieving it from beneath her nightshirts and hose, she walked over to the bed and sat down cross-legged with it. She opened it to the section labeled “The Davis Years” and flipped past the track listings for that CD she’d made for Davis before she could read the names of the songs. She scanned over some cringe-worthy poems she’d written about him while trying to remember what she’d put in the letter she’d written and given to him along with the CD.

All she could remember was how much she’d loved him. How much she always had. The one line she remembered from the letter was admitting to him the words that often ran through her mind:
Your kisses are like home
.

***

Davis woke up sore and wincing on Codie’s couch Sunday morning after sleeping most of Saturday away. He’d spent most of his time at Codie’s so far in a semi-comatose state. He stood up slowly, listening to his knees crack and pop. Just one sound effect away from Rice Krispies, he thought with a sour smile. He then limped to the kitchen. His knee was being a real asshole that morning. He poured a glass of water and pulled out the Vicodin bottle. He shook a few pills into his hand. Then he sighed and threw them down the sink. After a pause, he emptied the rest of the bottle into the drain and then switched on the garbage disposal. The last thing he needed was another vice.

He went to Codie’s pantry, where he knew she kept her over-the-counter meds, and found some aspirin. He gulped down a few of them with his glass of water. He rested his forehead against the side of the refrigerator.

“Davis?” Codie yawned. She was near the kitchen’s entryway. She stood there in flannel pajamas and an oversized yellow T-shirt. Possibly the ugliest T-shirt he’d ever seen.

“Hey there, canary lady,” Davis said, limping over to her and leaning against the counter next to where she stood, taking most of his weight off his right knee. On the days his knee chose to really be a pain in the ass, mornings were the worst.

“You’re so funny.” Codie rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, you know. I do what I can.”

She wrapped her arms around him. He half-heartedly hugged back. “You okay, Davis Hill?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You sure about that?”

“Codie, I—yeah.” He didn’t want to talk about it. He knew what she would say to that.

She gave him a little frown. “I don’t feel like things are the way they used to be between us.”

Davis smiled weakly. Nothing was the same. How could half a person give all he used to give to anyone? That was the main reason he had to leave Jemma alone. Even though he was angry and it hurt, he understood that what she’d done was for the best. She deserved more than half a person. She deserved everything in the world she wanted. He was not one of those things. And with good reason. He had to come to terms with that. To respect it.

He said, “Don’t go all Hallmark on me. We’re good. Hey, you’re obviously the first person I run to when things fall apart.”

“Yeah, if only you’d let me help put them back together.” She gave him a sad, tired smile. “You know, you should try to call her.”

“No. She was right. My head was clouded by what I wanted and I forgot all about what was right.” He wasn’t about to drag Jemma down with him.

Codie sighed and shook her head.

“I still think you should marry me and make me a kept man,” he said. They laughed although he was only half-joking and even then mostly about the latter part.

“Quit before I decide to take you up on that. The dating pool’s shallow these days after all.”

“I love you, Codie my friend. You’re the best.”

“Things are going to work out, Davis my friend. You two are gonna make it.” She grasped his elbows, shaking them for emphasis. “I can tell no one’s ever meant to you what she does. I’ve always been able to tell that. She brings out all the things that are great about you like no one else can.”

Davis rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

She slapped his shoulder. “Wait. You’ll see that I’m right.”

He gave her his best attempt at a smile. “I’m going to go take a nap.”

“Didn’t you just wake up?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t see anything all that great about being conscious at the moment, though. Plus, maybe the aspirin would kick in if he lay down for a little while. He noticed the wounded look in her eyes and said, “When I wake up, we’ll go for a walk or something?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Sure. I have some work I should be doing, so I’ll just go—do that.”

He settled into the couch and pulled her afghan over him. Why had he come up here and just dumped on her? She wanted to help and he was hurting her by making it impossible. Why did she put up with him? He closed his eyes, trying to think of ways to be a better friend to Codie and of ways to forget about Jemma.

Davis woke up early that afternoon to the sound of his cell phone vibrating against the coffee table. He squinted at it, head pounding, before making a swipe at the thing.

He almost fell off the couch in the process of reaching for it. Groaning at the sight of Cole’s number on the caller ID, he put the phone to his ear. He hadn’t thought about Cole since that day he’d run into Seth at the post office. Seth had told him his brothers would call, but Davis forgot about it up until that moment. “What?”

“Nice to finally talk to you, bro,” Cole said.

“What?” Davis repeated.

“We need to talk about the house.”

“You can’t kick me out. The house is mine, too.”

“We have a proposition for you. That’s all I’ll say over the phone. We’re staying at the Red Roof near the interstate. We went by your house, but nobody was home. Your car’s missing. Neighbor said you hadn’t been home in a couple days. I think her name’s Ayn? Where are you anyway?”

“Out of town,” Davis said flatly.

“Well, when can you be back in town? This is urgent.”

“Just tell me what you want.”

There was a short pause before Cole said, “This isn’t the sort of thing that can be discussed over the phone. But I will tell you this. If you can’t get your butt back here by tomorrow, you won’t be happy. We have an appointment with Seth.”

“You can’t talk to my lawyer without me.”

“All three of us, dummy. And we’ll get our lawyers involved if you don’t play nice. Don’t make me drag you into court for something this stupid, Davis. I’ll do it if I have to.”

Davis winced. Maybe he should have listened to those voice mails from Seth before deleting them. “All right. I’ll be there by tonight. What room are you staying in?”

“Three thirty-six.”

Davis hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket.

“Your brother?” Codie asked. She must have walked into the room some time while he was on the phone. She wore jeans and a cream colored blouse. It looked cleaner in there, too. She’d been productive while he was conked out. Always the considerate type, she’d probably tip-toed around him while he slept.

Davis nodded. “Both of them. In Derring. I guess it’s time for the final showdown.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“You have to work.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, sinking down next to him on the couch. “You’re more important than work.”

“No. This is between me and them. Thanks for being a good friend, though. Always.”

Codie wrapped her arms around him. “I’m always gonna be here for you when you need me.”

“Thanks,” Davis said. He didn’t deserve anyone being so good to him, but it was sure nice to have Codie in his life.

He limped to the front door and she followed.

“I’ll call you when I get back,” he said.

“Okay.” She nodded. She stood in the doorway and he walked into the hallway.

He turned at the end of the hall to wave to her and caught her swiping her sleeve across her eyes. His heart broke a little more. Being friends with him couldn’t be an easy thing. All he could ever seem to do was hurt people. Maybe he just needed to stay away from everybody.

Davis grabbed a cup of coffee and drove back to Virginia with only two bathroom breaks. Traffic wasn’t too bad, and he got back earlier than he’d expected to. He went to Room 336 at the Red Roof and knocked on the door. When it opened, he started to say something, but then closed his mouth. The shock of seeing an unexpected face had made him forget what he wanted to say. He stared back into his own eyes on a slender brunette who appeared to be in her mid-forties.

Davis stumbled back a few steps. It couldn’t be.

“Oh, Davis.” She let out a choked sob and reached for him. “You’ve grown into such a handsome young man. You’ve grown so much.”

Davis guessed she would be shocked. After all, the last time she’d seen him, he’d been four. Of course he would have grown a little in twenty-one years.

Davis looked up to see Cole and Ashby standing further back in the room.

“Your brothers brought me to you,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulders.