Forgotten Promises (The Promises Series Book 2) (17 page)

I look at Ethan for confirmation and he answers for me.

“We’ll be back within the hour. Give me time to drop Blair home with her bags so she can see her mom. Then maybe y’all can come over around eight?”

He looks at me for confirmation and I nod as Brie tells him it’s a date and will see us both soon.

“You sure you’re up to this?” I ask, once the call has disconnected.

“Yeah, it’s only Brie and Jackson. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” I smile. He’s been quiet and looked pretty down since we left IHOP, maybe seeing a friend will cheer him up a little. I cross my fingers and lean back in my seat, waiting for him to initiate a conversation. He doesn’t; instead he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and my heart squeezes a little bit more.

I’VE BEEN RACKING my brain since we were at the restaurant where Blair had mentioned Em’s death. The name is familiar to me, and I couldn’t place why until I dropped Blair off at her house (which, by the way, I needed directions to. How fucked up is it that I didn’t know how to get to my own girl’s house?) I carried her things up to her room as she stood hugging her mom in the hall like she hadn’t seen her in years. It made me smile; I love that she has that with her mom; I wish I had it with mine. I placed her duffle on her bed and looked around her room. I even sniffed her pillow. I’m a goddamn creeper. That’s when I noticed it—the picture on her noticeboard. It was of me at my locker and Em standing to the side, but still in the forefront of the picture. It was strange, like she was supposed to be the focal point but instead I was. I walked over to get a closer look, and that’s when I was flat out assaulted with the images of Blair crying while I shouted at her about being part of Emily’s bucket list. I needed to spend a few minutes trying to jumble through the mixed-up memories, but they were there. We’d argued about her crossing me off as a checkbox on her dead best friend’s list. I’d left her at the campsite where we’d collected our shit yesterday, and went and got trashed at a dive bar.

I know I’m still missing some vital points to complete the picture, but I don’t want to ask Blair to fill them in for me. I’m pretty sure that we got past the argument, but I have a weird feeling that I’m still pissed at her. I just don’t remember why. Maybe it’s because it feels new again and I need a while to get my head around it. Perhaps it’s just my newfound insecurity but she regarded me with such a strange look when I finally returned downstairs, I’m finding it hard to stay confident when I know I’m still partially in the dark.

I made small talk with Susan for a few minutes and assured her that I would go and collect my medication and check in with the hospital in the morning. Blair followed me out to my car and gave me a kiss, declaring she’d be coming over to my place at eight before I headed home.

That’s where I am now. My feet are resting on the walnut coffee table in the family room, boots still on, and my bags are dumped on the sofa next to me. I’m waiting for the asshole to walk in and kick off at what I’m doing, even though I know he isn’t here. My headache is back, but I think this one is because I can’t stop my brain from trying to figure out the missing pieces to my memory of the accident. I’ve reasoned that my dad came to the police station and bailed Blair and me out. I’m pretty sure that’s a memory and not just my overactive imagination playing tricks on me. What I can’t figure out is how the crash happened, or at least what happened between the time we left the cop shop and waking up in the ICU.

Dad stands mocking me from the family portrait that hangs above the fire; it was taken when I was about twelve years old. I’m sitting in the middle of the frame; Mom is standing behind me to my left, Dad to the right, and they both have one of their hands resting on my shoulders. Anyone looking at the picture would see nothing untoward about it, but if you look closely you can tell my smile’s pained. I remember right before it was taken my parents were arguing because Dad had arrived home late. Mom had cooked his dinner and it was ready for him to eat, after which he was going to change and we’d make our way downtown to the portrait studio. Dad had just changed out of his uniform and into his tailored navy blue suit. He was walking through the kitchen to the island with his plate in hand, and I’d run downstairs with my head down playing on my PSP. I didn’t see him—it was just an accident. The plate fell and covered his suit pants in food before smashing on the tiled floor.

I can still recall the second just before his fist connected with my stomach…it was slowed down, like god wanted to let me get a good look at the hate on his face as his first travelled towards me. I remember having enough time to think that it was better to try and not tense. I knew from experience it hurt less that way, but I was a twelve-year-old kid with a man’s first sailing towards him. Of course, I tensed. I practically shit my pants. He hit me so hard that I flew across the room and threw up where I landed. Then he walked past me like nothing had happened and went and got changed. Mom cleaned me up, not saying anything worth remembering. An hour later we were all smiling for the camera. I fucking hate that picture.

Blair arrives before the others. She smiles, following me into the family room before noticing the glass shattered all over the mantle and in front of the fire. The portrait frame is smashed and resting in the corner.

“What happened?” she asks quietly.

“Not sure. I guess it must have fallen from the wall while we were away.” The lie falls from my lips effortlessly, like they always do. I’m practiced at it.
How did you get that bruise?
Playing basketball.
What happened to your shoulder?
Walked into the doorframe drunk. They’re second nature now.

She looks around the room before turning to face me.

“What happened?” she asks again in a sterner voice, knowing I’m lying. I figure I should just tell her the truth.

“I hate that picture. I decided to do something about it.” I shrug and glance over at the fire poker I smashed into the portrait minutes before she arrived. Her gaze follows mine and a frown pulls at her lips.

“Go grab a trash bag and the vacuum cleaner; let’s get rid of the glass.”

“You don’t have—”

“Ethan,” she sighs and I nod.

“Okay, gimme a second.”

I return with a garden bag and the vacuum. I place the large shards inside the bag along with the broken frame and the picture, as Blair hoovers up all the smaller pieces.

“I never liked this photograph of you anyway,” she says, looking at a corner of it sticking out from the sack. “Your smile’s fake.”

I shoot her a real smile. Everyone always commented on what a beautiful family picture it was.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says like it’s no big deal, wrapping the power cord up and securing it back in place. She has no idea how comforting it is to hear her say it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The sound of laughter filters into the room seconds before the doorbell chimes.

“You get that. It’s most likely Brie and Jackson. I’ll get rid of this,” she says picking up the bag and disappearing out of sight.

“Well, if it ain’t Evel Knievel,” Jackson says, his 6-foot, solid frame pushing through the door and giving me a bro hug. It hurts but I don’t complain.

“Who?” Brie asks stumbling behind as TJ tries to push through. Her long blonde hair falls over her face in a veil and she tosses it back like she’s starring in some shampoo commercial.

“Dude, your girlfriend, doesn’t know who Evel Knievel is!” TJ laughs, giving me the same bro hug Jackson just did and nearly collapses my lungs when he slaps my back. I wince and groan as he sucks air in through his teeth and offers me an apologetic smile that’s more of a grimace.

“Girlfriend?” I look to Jackson who’s wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Yep,” Brie giggles, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger. “Good to see you, Ethan,” she says kissing my cheek.

“Woah…back away from my boy toy!” Blair shouts, and then Casey appears from nowhere, pushing past me at the same time Brie does to tackle Blair to the wall and hug her. She smiles awkwardly and I find it completely fucking adorable.

“Boy Toy!” Drew sniggers, filing in with Dannii in tow. “Glad to see you, man.”

“Yeah, you too.” I take the sight of them in for a moment: he’s wearing jeans and a tight plain black t-shirt with a black leather jacket. She’s wearing the same, just a tighter version.

“You had us all real worried. Dipshit over there would have had to take your place as lead.” I smile as TJ turns and flips Drew the bird.

“Are they coordinating their clothes or something?” I ask TJ under my breath as we file into the kitchen and grab drinks.

“Yep,” he sniggers as he pushes Drew’s back, “She’s pussy whipped him good!” he barks out.

“Screw you!” Drew retorts uninterestedly, not bothering to even turn. Dannii does though, and if looks could kill, TJ would be so dead they’d have to bury him twice.

We sit around the island talking. Blair handles most of the questions, seeing as how I can’t really recall shit, and I sit back, happy to let her do it as she perches on my lap.

“You know you look like shit, right?” Jackson tells me before taking a long pull on his beer. Everyone is in the kitchen, laughing and joking. I’d slipped out to clear my head, and Jackson followed. I fiddle with an invisible piece of lint on my leg as I look out over the pool.

“Thanks, man.”

“Seriously, bro, you okay? I heard what’s going on with your old man. Your mom called my mom. You know how they are…she said he needed a pretty big op.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, but thanks.”

“Hey, no pressure…if you do though, I’m here.”

We stare at each other for a beat too long and it’s weird as hell.

“Dude, should we like hug or shit?” he says, and I push him off the side of the lounger he’s settled on.

“Quit being a pussy.”

“Score! Who’s pussy are we talking about?” TJ asks with a grin as he takes a seat.

“Your mom’s!” Jackson and I deadpan in unison.