Read Picking Up the Pieces Online

Authors: Elizabeth Hayley

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Sports, #Contemporary Fiction

Picking Up the Pieces (4 page)


Shut up, asshole,” I muttered, my mouth unable to resist lifting up into a smile.

“Just trying to make you laugh,” she shrugged. “And it worked.
What is it really?”

“Well . . .” I trailed off, embarrassed that Amanda hadn’t been as far off as she’d predicted.
“Max’s mom called me today.”

“Max’s mom?
Why?” Amanda’s face grew more and more confused as she thought about what that could mean. “He’s not back in town, is he? Lil, you can’t do this to yourself again. You’re just beginning to get back to normal. Don’t.”

I quickly decided that I couldn’t tell her he was back in town.
Not after the way she’d just reacted. And if I couldn’t tell her
that,
 I certainly couldn’t tell her Max’s mom had revealed he’d never left to begin with. “No, he’s not back. But his agent’s been trying to get a hold of him. There’s a possible job opportunity, but Max won’t return his calls. He won’t listen to his mom either. She just thought maybe I could get through to him. That’s all.”

Amanda breathed deeply and allowed the awkward silence to linger as she waited for me to continue.
When I didn’t, she finally spoke. “You’re not gonna call him, are you? After everything that happened?”

“It wasn’t all his fault.
I just thought maybe I could help him.”

“You can’t be serious?
Last week I came home to find you crying about what happened last spring, and now you wanna start this shit again? He’s not a fucking charity case, Lily.” I could see the pain and anger in her expression.


You're right,” I conceded. “I won’t call him.” But as I rose to get ready for bed, one things became clear. One, Amanda
was
right; Max wasn’t my responsibility. Still I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt knowing that part of what I had told Amanda had been a complete fucking lie.

***

Tuesday night, what little sleep I managed to find was plagued with strange dreams. I woke up in a cold sweat after a nightmare where I found myself trapped in a cave with a caged tiger. Slowly and steadily, he clawed at the lock, and I knew eventually he’d break out and attack me. I could see light at one end of the cave, but I would have had to pass the tiger to escape. I didn’t think I could make it past him without at least his paw scratching me through the cage, so I stayed in place, screaming in the hopes that someone might hear me. No one ever did.

             
In another nightmare, I woke up in my childhood room to find that it had been painted red, not the lavender that I’d grown up with. I had risen from my bed and ran my hand along the freshly painted wall, wondering who’d chosen the color and how they’d painted it while I remained asleep.

             
There was only one explanation for my odd subconscious visions: I was fucking nuts.

When I wasn’t having nightmares, I found myself wide awake, playing out my future conversation with Max in my weary mind.
Would he even pick up when he saw my number? Would he be excited to talk to me? Would
I
be excited to talk to
him
? Would our conversation begin with idle small talk as if we were two friends from childhood catching up after years of unintentional separation?

In my mind, I pictured our conversation going easily.
It would be obvious that he was happy I’d called, but he’d hide it with a cautious voice. He’d ask me why I contacted him. I’d explain what led to my call: his mom’s and my overall concern for his well-being and success. Then, after we’d each caught the other up on what we’d been up to for the past five months, we’d say our goodbyes amicably.

There
was something to be said for wishful thinking. Unfortunately, the only thing I could say for it in this situation was that it didn’t work. At all.

             
I called Max on my prep period from the school phone. I had convinced myself that he wouldn’t answer otherwise.

             
When he did pick up, his slow voice revealed that my call had woken him. At 11:15 in the morning. On a weekday. "Max?" I'd said it as a question, though I’m not really sure why.

“Yeah, who’s this?”
His voice held curiosity with a clear hint of annoyance.

“It’s Lily.”

“Lily? Is everything okay? Where are you calling from?” I could sense the worry in his voice, as if I’d only call him if something serious were wrong. And I guessed he was kind of right.

“I’m calling from school.
Everything’s okay.” I paused, realizing what I’d said hadn’t been entirely true. “Well, kinda. I . . . talked to your mom. She's concerned. Jack called her because he couldn’t get a hold of you. There’s an opportunity—”

He cut me off before I had a chance to explain further.
“That’s why you called? Because of my mom?” What little curiosity that had been present in his voice earlier had vanished. It now held pure frustration.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew about the opportunity.
It’s at a local sports station for a guest—”

“I know what it is.”
His voice grew louder and I heard a female in the background ask if everything was all right. “It’s fine,” Max assured her quietly, pulling the phone away from his mouth. “Go back to sleep. I can’t do this now,” he added gruffly. I knew that last sentence had been meant for me.

The dead air on the other end of the line only served to confirm it.
Shit.

            
 
Chapter 4: Adam

 

“Come on, Eva. We gotta go. It’s only the second week of school and you already missed the bus.” My voice sounded angrier than I’d intended. I should have cut Eva a little slack because she was used to getting a ride from me, and I knew taking the bus this year would be an adjustment. But I couldn’t hide my annoyance. My morning drive to the new housing development I had been overseeing took me over an hour each way. Now, since I’d be leaving over twenty minutes later than usual, I’d be sitting in rush hour traffic. I probably had more than an hour and a half drive ahead of me.

             
Eva pulled the straightener thing through her hair for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I’m almost ready. I just need to put on mascara.”

             
“You don’t need mascara. You look fine. And when did you start wearing makeup anyway?"

             
“Ugh," she grunted in disgust as she put the straightener on the bathroom countertop and threw her makeup in a bag. “‘Fine’ isn’t good enough. And I’ve been wearing makeup for months. You don’t notice
anything
. I’ll just do it in the car,” she huffed. “Let’s go.”

             
The drive to school took even longer than expected as Eva told me repeatedly to slow down and be careful going over any speed bumps for fear of ruining her makeup. “Where’d you learn how to do that anyway?” I asked, nodding toward some powder thing she had in her hand.

             
“Brittany’s mom. She taught a bunch of us at a sleepover.” Her voice seemed more chipper than it had before we'd left the house. Only ten minutes earlier she’d been ready to give me a third degree burn with that hair contraption, and now she acted like it had never happened.
Teenagers.


Brittany’s
mom?” I raised an eyebrow and looked over at her, hoping that she’d pick up on the reason for my question without my having to spell it out for her. Brittany’s mom was not the female influence I wanted for Eva. Her skin stayed perpetually bronzed, even during the winter thanks to baby oil and tanning salons. And to my knowledge, she didn’t own one article of clothing that didn’t cling to her body like plastic wrap. I wasn’t sure what she did for a living, but some of the other fathers and I had speculated on more than one occasion.

Eva flipped the mirrored visor up roughly, letting it slap against the roof.
“Yeah, Brittany’s mom. Gosh, what’s your problem today?”

There’s the Eva
I remember so vividly from earlier.
“Sorry,” I replied with a slight shrug of my shoulders and a smirk.

“Just drop me off over there,” she said pointing to a side entrance of the building that was about thirty yards away from the main doors.
“I don’t want people to see me getting out of your car.”

As ridiculous as I thought that was, she was still a thirteen-year-old girl, and I didn’t want to embarrass her.
I rolled my eyes, but began to veer down the driveway toward the entrance Eva had requested.

Until I saw her.
Lily. Walking up the sidewalk toward the school. My mind scolded itself for even thinking her name. And as if by reflex, I slammed on my brakes and threw the car into reverse.

“What are you doing, Dad?
I said up there.” Eva directed me to the doors she’d requested.

“Uh, I’m gonna drop you at the edge of the parking lot.” I searched for an excuse that would seem believable.
Somehow telling Eva that I didn’t want to run into her teacher from last year (you know, the one I’d been screwing) didn’t seem like an appropriate response. “The buses are pulling up. It’ll be easier to turn around. And it's not cool to be seen with me, remember?" I quickly added hoping that would strengthen my argument.

Eva seemed to accept the excuse without question, and I sighed internally with relief.
But she had always been observant: able to read people better than most. “What are you looking at?” she asked as her eyes shifted toward the school.

Shit, shit, shit.
Had I been that obvious?
I was surprised at how easily I recognized Lily from twenty-five yards away. Her wavy brown hair had grown longer, almost reaching the middle of her back. And her skin was still golden from the summer. But as much as I didn't want to think about her, didn't want to see her, I couldn't stop my eyes as they made their way up her bare legs to imagine the soft curve of her ass under that tight skirt. And as I ogled her, my mind reminded me how difficult these last five months had been. I'd had nothing but time to think about what had happened between us. And the simple truth was that, as painful as the summer had been, my life was easier without her. She had been disloyal. And selfish. And these were transgressions I didn’t think I could forgive. So I had made a valid attempt at moving on. I’d even gone out with a few women, though nothing too serious.

But even though I didn’t want to think about her, my dick had other plans.
It twitched at the sight of her confident stride as she made her way toward the building. With no luck, I willed myself to look away, to shut my eyes. I tried to think of anything but grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against me. Anything to rid myself of my sex-filled visions. But to no avail.

For once, I was thankful for Eva’s short attention span.
She had already gathered her things and exited the car, seemingly forgetting about her question.
Thank God.

But as she shut the door, I realized that
dropping the subject completely would have been too good to be true. “Oh, that’s Miss Hamilton,” Eva said excitedly as she popped her head in the window one last time. “I loved her."

As Eva made her way toward the building, my eyes remained on Lily, penetrating her with my gaze.
"Me too," I whispered.

I waited until
she entered the building before I reached down to adjust myself through my pants.
This is gonna be a long fucking day.

***

Normally, my drive down the Pennsylvania Turnpike gave me time to relax, sip my coffee, and listen to sports radio in peace. Despite the length of my commute, it was the one point in my day when no one bothered me. No one asked me about last-minute design changes or how to use our drafting program—something most of the guys had received adequate training on and should know how to use by now. The drive gave me time to
not
think.

             
But today’s ride didn’t provide that same respite I had grown to appreciate over the course of the past several weeks. My mind was plagued with thoughts of Lily. I hadn’t expected to see her, though I didn't know why. She worked at the school, for God's sake. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. But I still hadn't been prepared, especially for the physical reaction I'd felt. I'd spent the past few months fluctuating between being disgusted by her and missing her. Finally, my emotions had melded into a kind of melancholic ambivalence.

             
But I wasn't feeling ambivalent today. I couldn’t deny that I’d felt something. I just wasn’t sure what that
something
was. Part of it was physical, and I could easily chalk that up to being a guy. There was no denying that she was still hot as hell. But what else had I felt?

For once I was thankful when my phone rang and the new intern John’s question about the build materials for the Ashcroft Development interrupted my thoughts.
“Did you look in the Ashcroft folder?”
Jesus, it’s like fucking
Romper Room
there. Can’t they do anything without my help?
“All of it should be on the computer where I showed you last week. I’m driving. I can’t look it up now.” I heard John whistling as he searched the computer for the file that held the material specs.
I wish I could be that carefree when I work.

“Okay, got it, Mr. Carter.”

I hung up the phone quickly before John had a chance to fire off his next stupid question.

***

My babysitting duties continued when I arrived on the job site, and I had to spend the first fifteen minutes re-explaining the difference between the Berkshire and Evanston floor plans. I started up my computer in the trailer that served as my office and opened the CAD program. “The Berkshire has a connecting bathroom between two of the spare bedrooms, as well as a sitting room off the master. Other than that, they’re nearly identical. You should know this shit, Joe. You’re in charge when I’m not here. I can’t hold your hand every goddamn minute.”

“Sorry, Adam.
Got it. Won’t happen again,” Joe said apologetically before exiting the trailer.

“Rough morning, Adam?” Cecilia asked, handing me a fresh cup of coffee.
Her warm smile greeted me as she swept her graying hair away from her face.

“Just a little,” I said with a shrug.

“Eva?”

Sure, let’s go with that.
“Yeah, teenage girls.” I raised my eyebrows and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her some days.” I took a swig of the piping hot coffee and burnt the roof of my mouth. “Guess I was a little short with Joe there, huh?”

She chuckled softly and the fine lines around her mouth and eyes became more pronounced.
“Nah, he deserved it. Even
I
know the difference between the Berkshire and the Evanston, and I’m just the site receptionist.”

“You’re not
just
anything. Don’t sell yourself short. What would I do without you, Ceil?”

“Probably be as gray as me," she replied, smiling. "But that reminds me. . . Jeff’s coming home from college for the weekend, and he’s bringing his girlfriend.
I was wondering if I could leave at noon on Friday so I could pick them up from the train station. I haven’t met her yet.”

“How am I gonna survive a half a day without you?” I asked, only half kidding.

Cecilia already knew
the answer to her question before I could give it, and thanked me with a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Adam.”

And as I watched her return to her desk, I was suddenly overcome with the desire to hear another voice saying those same words.

 

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