Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax (21 page)

“Nah. I’m not hungry, but thanks.”

We sit in silence for a minute, the air conditioning making a soft whirring noise in the suite.

“I remember that first time we all saw him,” Joss says, breaking into my thoughts of everything that might go wrong tomorrow.

Mike chuckles. “He looked like a scrawny little gerbil.”

“Screw you,” I say with no heat and a small smile on my face.

“I’ve only ever seen you look at two other human beings the way you looked at him that day—Tammy and Lyric. That kid knows he’s loved, Walsh. Just remember that.”

I look at Joss, my best friend of over forty years now. We’ve been to hell and back together, and I literally don’t know what my life might have turned out like if I hadn’t met him. It’s something I don’t like to consider, just like I don’t like to consider a future without Pax.

“I never should have let him do it. I never should have let him try to pay off that creep. I never should have let him change his name and come out here all alone. I indulged him. I kept thinking that, if I gave him enough space, he’d come to his senses. This is all on me.”

“No, man, it’s not,” Mike says, determination lacing his words. “We were there, remember? We were all there when he decided to do this. One thing the kid’s got is determination. And if you had stopped him at that point, he would have just done it the minute he turned twenty-one anyway. He’s as stubborn as Tammy, and you know there’s nothing you can do about that.”

Joss chuckles. “Yeah, he got her stubborn streak for sure. I’m glad Mel doesn’t, but I’ll tell you I think Jessa’s taking after Aunt Tammy instead of Mom.”

I have to nod, because Joss’s fourteen-year-old daughter is about the most stubborn kid I’ve ever met.

“Thank God I’m not mixed up with the DiLorenzo gene pool,” Mike jokes. “I don’t think I’d handle a stubborn teen too well. It’s tough enough dealing with Cass’s hormones. He has a new girlfriend every other week. I think he’s gone through half the junior class already.”

Joss and I shoot each other a look that clearly says,
Like father, like son.

“But really, Walsh,” Joss continues. “Don’t take the blame for this. It’s not your fault. It’s not Pax’s. He tried to help a friend and a girl he has a thing for. His heart was in the right place, and one thing that kid has always had is tons of heart. He gets
that
from
you
. But he’s twenty-two, and sometimes, at twenty-two, good intentions lead to big mistakes. Hell, sometimes, at fifty, they do too.” He gives me a wry smile.

Then I realize that I’m shaking—my hands, my limbs. It’s as if the adrenaline that’s kept me going for the last twelve hours has drained away and left me a husk trembling in the breeze.

“I can’t lose him,” I whisper.

“You won’t,” Mike answers resolutely. He clears his throat. “This is our family, man. No one screws with our family. We’re going to wake up tomorrow and go get him. Then we’re going to see to it that the bastard who did this fries.”

My phone chimes, and I take it out of my pocket to see who’s texting.

“Tammy’s checking in,” I say as I stand. “I think I’ll give her a call then hit the sack, see if I can get any sleep.”

They both nod. “I have the sofa,” Mike offers. “You can have the other bedroom, Joss.”

Joss agrees and says goodnight. I know what they’re doing though. The other bedroom has two queens in it, but Mike wants to stay in the living room within spitting distance of the bar. He’s afraid I’ll drink, and I don’t blame him. I haven’t wanted one as badly as I do now in years.

I look him in the eye, and I know he hears what I’m really saying. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” he answers before he kicks his boots off and stretches out on the sofa. “I’ll just add it to your tab.” He smirks at me, and I try to smile before I head to the bedroom to call my wife and dream of my son.

**

Carly

Aunt Beth is going to drive me crazy. Truly, undeniably insane. She’s been fussing and hovering ever since she got here after a red-eye flight at five thirty a.m.

“Here,” she says, sitting next to my bed. “Drink some more water. You lost a lot of blood. You need to replace your fluids.”

“Aunt Beth, I just drank half the glass, like, five minutes ago. I feel fine. Really.” Well, except for the burning, aching pain that encompasses most of my left side and my lower back.

She sighs. “Okay, but I want you to finish this in the next half hour. Where is Vaughn? I told him to get back here with your things an hour ago.”

“It’s okay. I can’t wear the clothes anyway.”

She stands and paces over to the door so she can peek out the little window. “I want to have your things ready when you want them. Your toothbrush, some clean underwear. You’ll feel so much better when we can get you cleaned up, wash your hair.”

I sigh. I know what’s happening—she blames herself. She thinks that everything that’s happened is her fault. The first thing she said when she got here was that she never should have left me alone and she never should have put all that pressure on Vaughn. I guess I’m just a big, fat burden to everyone.

Everyone except Pax. He never made me feel that way.

The backs of my eyes burn, and I turn my head to look out the window before I cry in front of Aunt Beth. Maybe it’s the pain meds or just the pain—but for whatever reason, I can’t control it and tears slowly drift down my cheeks. I quickly wipe at them, but then I sniff, and that grabs her attention.

“Carly?” She comes back to my bedside. “Oh, sweetheart! What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Tell me what you need.”

“I’m okay,” I blubber. “I just—” The tears come harder, and I gulp before I can speak. “I really want to see Pax, and now, he’s gone, and it wasn’t his fault, Aunt Beth. It really wasn’t.” Then I break down into ugly crying.

With perfect timing, in walks Vaughn, struggling to haul a huge suitcase and two smaller duffel bags. He drops all of it on the floor with a loud bang.

“What the hell? What happened?” he says, panic in his voice.

Aunt Beth has an arm around my shoulders and is wiping my face with a tissue while I bawl harder than I have since I was two years old.

“Ssshhh,” she says as much to Vaughn as to me. “I think the strain is just catching up to her,” she tells him.

I shake my head vehemently. “No-oo.” I hiccup. “I just…miss Pax.” I dart a look at Vaughn, guilt eating away at me.

He rubs a hand over his face and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “C. It’s not safe,” he says gently. “I’ve explained this to you. Lagazo and his guys think Pax is a walking gold mine. If he’s smart, he’s already back in Portland, locked up in his parents’ house with a bunch of security standing by.”

“Have you talked to him?” I ask, sniffling. “I’m worried. I mean, I know you told me his dad was coming into town, but do we know if he’s okay?”

Vaughn shuffles his feet uncomfortably. Aunt Beth darts a glance at him before she picks up the suitcases and moves them to the small closet. She kneels down, unzips them, and starts going through everything. It’s a good thing I’m too tired to worry about my privacy. I’ve had Vaughn pack my underwear, and now, Aunt Beth is pulling out my boxes of tampons and consolidating them with the panty liners. If I weren’t already crying, I might start now.

“Vaughn?” I ask. “Did you hear me?”

He clears his throat. “Look. Pax and I sort of had it out. I don’t want him near you anymore like I said earlier. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t insisted on giving you the money and gotten all of us tangled up with Lagazo even worse than your dad already had.”

My tears dry as fast as my tongue lashes out. “How could you? How could you turn on him right when he needed us the most? God, after everything he did for me? And you know what? You’re not my keeper, Vaughn. You don’t get to decide who I can see and who I can’t.”

Aunt Beth tenses as she continues sorting through my stuff.

“Just let it go, Carly,” Vaughn warns.

“No. I won’t let it go. I won’t let
him
go. I’m an adult, and you don’t get to decide who I can and can’t see.” I turn to my aunt. “Can you give me my phone please?” I ask, all syrupy sweetness as I shoot death ray glares at Vaughn.

She sighs and looks at Vaughn. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing,” she says softly to him. “But he’s been your friend for over twenty years. He’s a good boy. None of us knew the right thing to do about this. We all made mistakes. Can’t you try to forgive him?”

Vaughn’s jaw is tight, the muscle in one side of his face twitching. He folds his arms across his chest, hard and tense and obviously unhappy.

“Fine.” His words are clipped, his tone bitter. “You do whatever you want, Carly. Just remember that you’re not some lone wolf in this life. There are people who care about you, and when you do things like get
shot
, we suffer too.”

He stomps out of the room, shutting the door a little too hard on his way. I twitch when it closes.

Aunt Beth is at my side with my phone in her hand before I can finish a breath. “Don’t let him upset you, sweetie,” she coos as she brushes my hair off my forehead. “He’s just worried about you. It was pretty scary yesterday, and he loves you. We all do. You know that, right?”
      I swallow as she runs her fingers through my hair. I’ve never had a mother to soothingly stroke my hair, and it’s making me want to run away at the same time that I want to lean in to her touch. I’m a big confused ball of emotions, ready to break apart if one more thing is stuffed in.

“I know,” I whisper. “And I know Vaughn’s just trying to keep me safe, but I really don’t think Pax is who he needs to protect me from.”

“Go ahead,” she says, motioning to the phone on my nightstand. “Call him.” She smiles. “I’ll go find Vaughn, get a cup of coffee. You talk to Pax and see if he can come see you. Tell him I’ll make sure Vaughn doesn’t give him any trouble.”

I nod. “Thank you, Aunt Beth.” The stinging behind my eyes threatens again, and I know that it has to be at least partly due to the painkillers. There’s no way I’d be this weepy otherwise.

A minute later, I’m alone in my room, staring at the phone, trying to get up the guts to swipe the screen with Pax’s name and digits displayed.

I had a dream sometime during the night after my surgery. I dreamt that Pax came to my room and talked to me. He told me that he would keep me safe, that he would miss me when he went away. It was only a dream, but it somehow makes me feel closer to him and more confident about calling him.

I finally press my finger to the screen and put the phone to my ear. It starts ringing. My heart is beating like a bird’s and my breathing is shallow as I wait to hear his voice. But when I finally do, it’s just his voicemail.

“Hey, this is Pax, let’s talk. Leave your name and number. I’ll call you back.”

As grateful as I am to hear his voice in any form, everything inside me plummets when I realize he’s not answering. I wait five minutes and try again. Then another five and try one more time. But there’s still no answer, and I slump back on the bed, defeated. Maybe Pax doesn’t want to talk to me. I am, after all, the girl who brought a mobster to his door. Maybe his father’s decided
I’m
not good for
Pax’s
health.

No matter what the reason, I miss him, and something feels wrong about all of this. So very wrong.

**

Walsh

By six a.m., I’ve given up on sleep. I might have dozed off for a few minutes in there somewhere, but mostly, I stared into the darkness, replaying all the moments from Pax’s life that are embedded in my mind like pieces of tile in a mosaic. The first time I laid eyes on him. The first time I held him as he fell asleep in my arms. Watching him learn to skate, the way he glided over the ice when he played hockey, and the first time he held a guitar while Mike positioned his small fingers over the strings.

I remember the look of sheer wonder on his face the first time he played a whole song on the scaled-down guitar Mike got for him. Mike special-ordered it, so it wasn’t just a fractional guitar, but one custom-sized for Pax, made by one of the finest guitar makers in the world. Tammy said that Mike was spoiling the kid, but I knew that Mike never would have done it if he hadn’t seen what I was seeing—a boy who’d found his passion.

I blink the tears away as my mind returns from that day so many years ago. One thing my son has never understood is that Mike, Joss, Colin, and I don’t offer to help him in the music industry just because he’s my kid. We want to help him because he’s that damn talented. I love music, but I’ve never considered myself a particularly talented musician. I can’t write songs like Joss, I can’t pick up nearly any instrument and make it sing the way Mike can, and I don’t have the innate sense of what’ll make a song really soar the way Colin does. I’m just a guy who likes to pound the skins with his buddies.

But Pax got a shitload of musical talent from somewhere, and we’ve all known it from the time he was very young. I’ve never doubted that he’ll make it big one way or another. He’s just too good not to. All the guys and I have ever wanted to do is make it go faster and smoother for him, but he wouldn’t have any of that. So I let him come to Bittersweet, Alabama, and in my hurt that he’d rejected my help, I left him alone, entirely on his own. I decided that, if he wanted to be an adult, then I’d treat him like one—no supervision, no rules, no checking up on him. My one concession was to make sure he had a roof over his head, and even that was only at Tammy’s request.

So, now, I’m paying the price for having left my boy loose in a dangerous world without my help. And more than that,
he’s
paying the price. The bile in my stomach threatens to come up, and I know that, if I don’t get some food in it, I’m going to be worshiping porcelain. I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees and burying my head in my hands.

There’s a soft tapping on my door.

“Come on in,” I say. I sound like my old man, and I can’t help but shake my head at the irony of it all.

Joss’s head appears around the edge of the door. He sees that I’m up and in my boxers, so he strolls in, sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room.