Forgotten Promises (The Promises Series Book 2) (20 page)

I pop a few of the prescription pills I collected from the pharmacy and pour myself a huge glass of water. I drove around in a hate-fueled daze for a while after hanging up on my mom. I must have been on autopilot because I ended up back home, only I have no real idea of what route I took to get here. The message on the back of the pill carton said not to operate heavy machinery, and that the pills might make me drowsy. I don’t want to be trapped in my own warped headspace, so I decide to call Jackson to come hang out. I normally like my own company, but today, not so much. It takes fifteen minutes before he’s waltzing through the door announcing that we should get some practice in. Apparently Kickstart has been booked to play some club in town after graduation. I groan at the thought.

“Dude, you look like I just ran over your dog. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“It’s just a saying, jackass. Seriously though, what’s up?”

“Honestly bro, you don’t even want to know.”

He drops down into the seat next to me and places his guitar at his feet. He sits back and removes his cap, ruffling up his already messy blond hair and sighs. “Take it Blair didn’t react well to the rumor news huh?”

I let out a small laugh. “If only that were it.” I drain the glass of water in one long gulp and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “She told me that my mom’s not actually my mom.” I watch as the confusion slides across his face, and his eyes squint.

“What do you mean she’s not your mom?”

“Exactly how it sounds, man. Mother Dearest isn’t my biological mom.”

He rubs the back of his neck, still looking utterly baffled.

“How does Blair know this?”

I let out a huff and rub my temples. “You’re asking the wrong amnesia patient. I have no freaking clue what’s going on. Only that my mom must have told me at some point before the crash. I must’ve told Blair, then all the shit with the accident happened. My mom figured since my slate is wiped clean, she just wouldn’t tell me again, and enlisted Blair to help her.”

People that say that talking through your problems helps, a problem shared is a problem halved and all that rubbish. I call that bullshit; a problem shared is a problem doubled. Jackson sits slack-jawed with an entirely vacant stare. Telling him hasn’t made me feel better in the slightest. Now I just feel sorry that I’ve caused the unease that’s descended on the room.

“Dude…fuck!”

“Your words of wisdom are truly inspiring. You know, if college doesn’t work out, you could get a gig as a motivational speaker.” I’m trying to add humor to the situation. It’s not working.

“Sorry, I just don’t know what to say. Have you confronted your mom or dad?”

“Mom’s flying back today. She wants to talk.”

He hisses air through his teeth and gives me a pity glare.

“This really sucks, Ethan. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, what’s one more thing to deal with, right? Amnesia, a paralyzed father at death’s door, a lying girlfriend, and a fake mom. All I need now is a long lost sibling somewhere that I’ve unsuspectingly slept with, and I can go on Jerry Springer.”

His mouth lifts at the corner as he suppresses his amusement.

“Gross.”

“It would be just my luck right now.”

“So, what happened with Blair? Are you guys okay? Still speaking? Dating?”

“I dunno, Jackson.”

I drop my head into my hands and begin massaging my temples with my fingers again.
Why won't this headache let up?

“I kind of kicked her out, as soon as she told me.”

“You didn’t make her explain?” he asks, disbelieving. I cringe a little and shake my head no. The movement makes me dizzy. The pills seem to be kicking in, and I feel tired.

“I couldn’t take anymore lies.”

“How do you know she would lie to you?”

His voice sounds like an echo from really far away. I squeeze my eyes a couple of time to fight the weird lights buzzing in my peripheral vision. Then I watch his face appear in front of mine. His mouth’s moving, but it’s in slow motion and there are no words coming out.

I frown.

Blink.

My eyes are heavy.

Darkness.

“HE’S GOING TO be pissed when he comes around and realizes that I’m here.” I run my hand through Ethan’s hair, and pull the blanket a little higher over his lax position on the couch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the heat. I didn’t know who else to call,” Jackson says rubbing his neck and stretching.

“Um…the ambulance?” I deadpan.

“Yeah, and we both know he’d have taken that real well! He only took three pills from what I could get out of him before he passed out completely,” he says rattling the packet millimeters from my face.

“The directions say that they’ll make you drowsy. He just needs to sleep them off.”

“Okay, are you sure he only took three?”

He sighs and opens the little white box showing me that there are only three missing from the foil blister packet.

“I guess we should just wait then.”

“Yup,” he answers with a hint off sass behind the word.

“Jackson, have I done something to make you pissed? What’s with the attitude?”

He looks at me like I’m an idiot, and I’m even more confused.

“He told me,” he says with a glare. I raise my palms, jut my head out and widen my eyes, indicating that I’m still no wiser.

“About you lying to him about his mom!”

And there’s the clarity I needed. My shoulders drop, and I remove my glasses before rubbing at the bridge of my nose and replacing them. Jackson is watching me intently, no doubt waiting for me to defend my actions.

“You don’t know all of it. So please don’t judge me.”

“He’s totally cut up. I know that much.”

“I know.”

“You need to fix this, Blair. I’ve never seen him so happy as when he’s with you. You have to make things right.”

If he only knew how much I wish that I could. I’d do anything to take away his pain.

“I’ll try,” I lament, brushing past him to refill Ethan’s glass for when he wakes. Jackson reaches out and takes a hold of the top of my arm, halting me in my tracks. I jerk backward and glare at his hand gripping me.

“Not good enough. Don’t just try; make it happen.”

I nod and pull myself free. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him when he wakes. But I’m not leaving so easily this time.

“Look, I hate to do this,” Jackson says. “I kind of need to leave. I’m supposed to be picking Brie up in half an hour from her cheer practice. Are you okay to stay with him?”

“Of course I am. I’m not just going to bail on him.” I respond with a little more despondency than intended. He checks his watch then looks down at his cell.

“I can call her and ask if she can catch a ride with someone else,” he says looking over at Ethan then back to his cell.

“No, honestly, I’ll be fine. We need to talk anyway. I won’t leave him on his own if that’s what you're worried about. I’m not a heartless bitch.”

“I know you’re not, Blair.” He gives me a sad smile and walks over to the door. His massive frame lingers before he finally turns.

“Tell him to call me if he needs anything. His mom should be back tonight, although he didn’t say when.”

I feel my eyes bug out a little. “Later.”

“Yeah, later.”

Moira’s coming back? I’m not sure how I feel about that little nugget of information. On one hand, I’m glad she’s finally putting his needs first and decided to come deal with this mess. On the other, I’m pissed at her for not telling him sooner. I get what she was trying to do; I guess I’m just mad at myself for not changing her mind.

His legs kick out as he bolts upright with a start. I feel my heart jump into my throat and watch in slow motion as my coffee soars through the air, floating like a lead balloon before dousing us both in the lukewarm liquid. I let out a startled screech as Ethan dives from the sofa, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid movement. It’s so fast the coffee couldn’t have even had time to soak through to his skin. He lunges forward and yanks my t-shirt over my head, painfully pulling half my hair with it.

“The fuck! Ouch, you’ve got a hold of half my scalp! Get off!” I cry out.

“Shit, sorry. Are you burned?” he says in a panic, alarm and confusion evident in his eyes.

“No, I’ve been drinking it for the last half hour. It’s barely even warm.”

He lets out a relieved grunt. “Why’d you decide to throw coffee over us?”

“I didn’t!” I shriek. The shock of the last thirty seconds has my voice reaching heights I’m sure only dogs can register. He gives me a look of complete perplexity. “Okay, so I’m imagining the fact that we’re both standing here half-naked and covered in coffee, then?”

“Don’t be a smart ass. You were sleeping. I was sitting next to you on the sofa, drinking my coffee. You must have been dreaming, because one minute you were all serene and calm, and the next you jumped up like someone was attacking you. You knocked my drink out of my hands.”

He looks around, as if only now realizing his whereabouts.

“Are you okay?” I ask. He’s as pale as a ghost.

“Yeah.” He takes a few calming gulps of air. I was just frightened you might be scalded is all. I didn’t mean to drag your shirt off like that,” he says with a hint of amusement in his tone. His eyes drop from mine down to my chest then back up, before repeating the cycle again. And again, and again. Men!

I glance down at my chest for a second before I realize that I’m staring at my boobs, and not my bra. What the hell?

My arms fly up to cover myself. I can feel the heat spreading through my cheeks like wildfire, and know I must be glowing bright red. My embarrassment only flames his amusement and now he’s flat-out laughing at me. There’s not a hint of remorse as he looks down at my shirt in his hand and then fishes out my sports bra from the soggy crumpled fabric and tosses it at me.

What do I do? The same as anyone would do when someone throws something at you—try to catch it. Except I’ve momentarily forgotten why my hands were indisposed. I reach out to intercept my bra and feel the weight of my breast shift slightly. I miss the bra, and it hits me in the face and falls at my feet as I retract my hands at warp speed, trying to protect my modesty, or at least what’s left of it. Ethan’s whole face contorts.

Asshole.

“Holy shit! That worked out better than expected,” he says through his laughter. He’s clutching his sides and his shoulders are bobbing up and down as he fights a losing battle to gain control. As much as I want to be annoyed at him, it is kind of funny— in an undignified, and horribly embarrassing kind of way.

“This doesn’t mean that I’m not still mad at you, but the peep show just cheered me up,” he smirks. “Follow me, Princess,” he requests and I oblige, too dumbstruck to do anything other than tail behind, trying to pull the sports bra over my head with one arm.

He takes me up to his room and I’m wondering what his intentions are, given that he not-so-subtly dropped in that I’m still not his favorite person. He opens his dresser and retrieves a faded Stones t-shirt, shaking it out and looking from me to the shirt and then deciding that it won’t do. He rummages around and pulls out a plain white t-shirt, inspects it and then seems satisfied. He walks over to me, crossing the room in a few long strides and stands millimeters from me.