Forget You (10 page)

Although, it may have helped to infuse my
anger toward him and the situation ten-fold.

Storming across the room, I dumped my drink
on him, and proceeded to rip him down to size. I couldn’t remember
everything I’d said, but I remembered most of it. It had gone
something along the lines of,
“Here’s his number and some cliff
notes: He smokes too much pot, but he’s good in bed. If you want
more than that, don’t waste your time. I’m not.”

“Yeah, that one was good. It wasn’t my best
though; you missed my most extraordinary break up. Cameron was
there for that one, Paige. A few years ago, I dated this guy who
was totally wrong for me.” I paused and took a sip of my wine,
thinking, what guy had I dated that had ever been right for me?
“He’s actually the guy who forced me to come up with a list of
categories in the first place. His name was David, and he was the
typical player pretty boy I strive so hard to avoid now. He’s the
one who Craig reminded me of, Paige.”

Paige fidgeted in her seat at the mention of
her ex. Craig Owen had been her last boyfriend gone wrong. He’d
been a little intense—to the point of physically hurting her a few
times, and being verbally abusive as well. Thank God, Cameron had
saved her.

“I’m sure he was a grade A douche, then,”
Lauren muttered. Her eyes shifted from Paige to me, and then back
again.

While Craig had gotten help from his family
by way of some expensive anger management classes and counseling,
it still didn’t lessen the events that had led up to all those
steps. I understood that better than anyone. A person could be
forgiven, but his or her actions never forgotten.

“Needless to say, David was very controlling
and physically abusive. As a matter of fact, he’s where I got this
scar on my upper lip.” I pointed to the faint scratch of a scar
above my top lip no one ever seemed to notice besides me. Maybe it
was because I knew the pain that had put it there. “He backhanded
me so hard across the mouth one night that his ugly ass man ring
his father had given him cut my lip.” I tucked my hair behind my
ear, and took another long swig of wine as the memory fizzed in my
mind.

“Yikes.” Blaire shivered.

“You did something badass to him for revenge
though, right?” Lauren flashed a wicked smile my way.

Biting my bottom lip, I envisioned how
non-badass I was back then. “No, I didn’t get my backbone until
later with him. Sure, I had little pieces of it, but I actually
have Cameron to thank for my current backbone. He was the one who
taught me I deserved better, that I deserved more.”

“Sounds all too familiar,” Paige
insisted.

Cameron had done the same for her. The only
difference between Paige and my story was the fact that Cameron
knew there was not a chance in hell he would be getting into my
pants. He and I were too much alike. He’d been through some
horrible crap growing up and so had I. We’d bonded over Hemingway
quotes and stories of whose life was more screwed up.

I won that last category, hands down.

While he’d had to endure finishing the rest
of his teenage years without his parents who’d loved him
unconditionally, I’d been bounced around in a seriously flawed
foster system since the tender age of six, when my drug-addicted
mother overdosed in front of me.

“Anyway, long story short. A group of us had
gone on vacation together to a place in South Carolina right on the
ocean. We’d rented a condo, and split it so it would be cheaper and
we could all stay longer. There was a restaurant beside the condo
with an awesome rooftop bar we went to every single night. They had
a live band, the backdrop of the ocean, and amazing mojitos.” I
unwrapped a chocolate. After taking a small bite, I continued with
my story. “I was sitting at the bar with this girl, Sheila. She was
the girlfriend of one of David’s best buddies. We were drinking and
talking. The bartender kept giving us free refills, so, naturally,
we continued to accept them. I didn’t know David had been watching
me from where he sat with his friends. Eventually, he came over and
proceeded to drag me from my chair, telling me I was embarrassing
him by accepting the drinks, and it was time to go. For whatever
reason, I didn’t go willingly with him. Instead, I told him I would
leave when I wanted. Alcohol was always my courage back then. David
refused to listen though, so I took the nasty ass Black and Mild he
was smoking from his mouth, and put it out in the center of his
forehead.”

“No way! You did not!” Lauren shouted.

Blaire and Paige had already burst into a fit
of laughter. Looking back, it was funny, but at the time, I’d been
trembling in my sandals, wondering how hard he was going to hit me
for what I’d done.

“I did,” I insisted. I downed the last sip of
wine in my glass, and stood to get a refill.

“Well, what happened next?” Lauren asked.

“I was in shock for what seemed like forever,
watching as he brushed at his forehead with the palm of his hand in
slow motion. I remember Sheila grabbing my arm, and jerking me
away. We flew down the stairs with David shouting obscenities after
me. I wasn’t sure if he attempted to follow me or if he’d just
stood there like an idiot. I never looked behind me. Instead, I
just ran with Shelia. We made it to the hotel across the street,
and she booked me a room for the night. After David had finally
passed out later on, she brought me my suitcase. I called Cam, and
he was there first thing the next morning to pick me up.”

“Wow,” Paige gasped. “That’s insane.”

I nodded. “I know. And just like with Craig,
Cameron beat the shit out of David.” I smiled, and poured myself
another glass of wine. I’d have to cut myself off after this one if
I wanted to be able to drive home in a few hours. “I’m betting
David will never forget me though, because I’m pretty sure with as
hard as I pushed that freaking cigar into his forehead, it had to
have left a scar. Eye for an eye and all that, right? Or in this
case, a scar for a scar.” I smirked, and walked back to the
couch.

“You’re like my freaking hero, I swear,”
Lauren boasted. “You’re bad ass, Eva Bennett.”

“Thank you.” I tilted my head to the side,
and toasted my glass to the air. “To being bad freaking ass.”

“I’ll toast to that!” Lauren agreed.

Raising our glasses, we toasted and then
crumbled into a fit of laughter. Picking up the bag of chocolate
from on the coffee table, I unwrapped a piece, and popped it into
my mouth.

“So, this guy is better than Keith or David
is pretty much what you’re saying, right?” Paige grinned once we’d
all contained ourselves.

“Hell yes.” I nodded.

“He better be,” Blaire said. “Or else I’ll
have to show him just how badass I can be.”

Tears ran down my face, I was laughing so
hard. Blaire was a studious bookworm; she was as far from badass as
any one person could be. Obviously, that comment had been the wine
talking.

“He’s much better,” I said. “Don’t
worry.”

SAWYER

My parents’ dinner had been fun, but there
was a level of sadness hanging over the entire thing. Everyone
wanted to be happy for me, but at the same time, they all were
still sad because we were down one Keeton.

Sitting beneath the cloudy night sky, I
sipped my cold beer in secret. Generally, I wasn’t a drinker. A
beer or two on occasion was fine by me, but I wasn’t one who
enjoyed getting smashed time and time again. What was the point
when it made you feel like shit the next day?

The sliding glass door behind me opened and
closed quickly. If there was any warmth from inside the house that
managed to sweep out with whoever it was, the cold air of the night
swallowed it up too swiftly for me to feel. Wes’s boots came into
view beside me. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips at
the sight of them. Wes never wore boots. He was more of a
year-round sandals type guy, but this fall had been colder so far
than all the years previous combined.

My theory on this was that the world was just
as sad and pissed off by the loss of Ryker as the rest of us, and
this was its way of letting us know.

“Are you sneaking a beer out here like you’re
fourteen again?” Wes chuckled. He moved to sit beside me on the
steps off the back porch.

“Yeah.” I held the bottle up so he could
better see it, and gave it a slight shake. “I’m still scared to
death of Great-Aunt Martha.”

This was no joke. Great-Aunt Martha was a
serious anti-drinking and driving person. While we all understood
the dangers of it, she knew firsthand. When she was in her late
fifties, a drunk driver had slammed into her minivan. The accident
had killed her best friend, Claudette, and had broken her back,
rendering her legs immobile.

“I don’t blame you, man.” Wes shifted around.
He pulled a lighter from his front pocket, and popped the top on
his beer off. “Mitch just made the mistake of telling her he’d only
had one and wasn’t even close to being buzzed yet.”

Shaking my head, I shifted my beer from one
hand to the other. The cold was getting to me; my hands were
freezing. “What a dumbass. He should know by now she doesn’t care
to hear any excuses.”

“I know, right?” He chuckled. “She ran his
foot over a few times after she said she didn’t give a damn.”

“Sounds like something she would do.” I
laughed.

Taking a long swig of my beer, we lapsed into
an awkward silence. A harsh wind blew through the yard cold enough
to make my eyes water.

“Damn, it’s cold out here.” Wes shivered.

“Supposed to get down to like twenty-one
tonight,” I muttered.

Weather. We’d resorted to talking about the
weather at my fucking graduation/welcome home party. Awesome.

“Too cold for me.” Wes tipped his beer back,
and then picked at the sticker label with his thumb. “How’s your
shoulder? Mitch and Tim said something about you biting it out on
the track today. You know, you should really think about having
someone out there with you when you ride.”

I shifted to glare at him. “None of us ever
have before. I don’t see why we should all have this sissy pact
now.”

“Sissy pact?” He shook his head and dropped
his stare, the corner of his mouth quirked into a small smile.
“God, you sound just like him sometimes.”

I swallowed hard. Maybe I had said those
words because of that reason, because I knew it would have been
Ryker’s reaction to the whole thing. We lapsed into heavy silence
again. I finished off my beer, thinking of how I needed to head
home and go to bed. This had been a crap day, and all I wanted now
was for it to be over.

“I think I’m gonna head home.” After
finishing the last sips of my beer, I stood. “I’m beat, and I’ve
got to go in early tomorrow.”

“Which is why I still work at the movie
theater. No early hours, free movies, and unlimited popcorn,” Wes
said, toasting his beer to the sky.

I rolled my eyes, and headed toward the
sliding glass door. “You’re talented. I’ll give you that. Most of
us couldn’t manage to live off minimum wage and twenty hours a
week. More power to you, man.”

Wes laughed. He knew I was joking with him.
The funny thing was, even if he thought I was ragging him, it
wouldn’t have mattered, because to him those words were a serious
compliment.

Stepping inside the warmth of the house, my
hands began to tingle and I realized how cold I’d actually been
while outside. The sadness that pressed against me heavily before
I’d decided to step foot outside was now gone from the energy of
the house. My mom’s laughter floated to my ears as my Great-Aunt
Martha said something about her Depends underwear.

Strolling through the house, I made my way to
the living room where everyone seemed to be congregating now that
they’d all eaten. Passing by the wall clock in the kitchen, I took
note of the time—8:49 p.m. I tossed my empty beer bottle in the
trash just as my dad came into the kitchen.

“I saw that.” He smiled. “You’d better be
glad it was me and not Great-Aunt Martha. She’s already run over
Mitch’s toes more than once.”

“Wes told me.” I smirked. “It was only one,
but we all know how little the amount matters to her.”

“Care for some dessert? Your mom made a key
lime pie for you.”

Even though I wasn’t in the mood for dessert,
I couldn’t turn down Mom’s key lime pie. It had been a longtime
favorite of mine. In fact, I had it every year on my birthday
instead of a regular cake like everyone else.

“Sure, I could go for a piece.” I nodded.
“After that though, I’ve got to head home. I’m opening
tomorrow.”

Dad went to the fridge, and pulled out the
pie. “Are you enjoying working at Bruce’s?”

“It’s not bad.” I shrugged and pulled two
paper plates out from the cabinet for us.

Bruce was a friend of my dad’s, who owned a
local men’s clothing store called Sharp Suites. I’d quit my job as
a stocker at Harrison’s Grocery when I went into basic training.
For whatever reason, I hadn’t thought it was fair to Mr. Willard to
have to keep my position open for me when I came back. My thoughts
were I could always find something else when I returned. When I
came back, my position had been filled, and they had nothing else
for me. Dad had asked around town a few weeks before I came back
and found me the job at Bruce’s place, selling suits and ties. In a
town the size of Coldcreek you wouldn’t think there would be a high
demand for such things, but there was.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Dad cut a large
piece of pie for me, and then one for himself. “I’m proud of you,
son, just so you know.”

“I know, Dad.” The words came out in a
strangled sort of whisper, and I cleared my throat.

Taking the plate from him, I handed him a
plastic fork, and then all of our mushy talk and male bonding
ceased as my mom’s famous key lime pie took front and center in our
minds.