Light Unshaken (Unveiled #2) (8 page)

chapter thirteen

Open Arms

A baseline of chatter rumbled over the floorboards and echoed off the café’s cobblestone walls. The absence of music hollowed the raw ache in my chest as much as the spotlight that first introduced me to Riley now hollowed the empty stage.

I wound my tea bag string around my mug handle a third time.

Jaycee angled toward me, away from the rest of our friends. “You all right?”

My tea bag string unraveled. “Yeah.”

Her question jarred me back to our table where our friends sat, each with a spark of life I was missing out on.

Trevor slapped five wooden tiles onto the Scrabble board covering most of the tabletop. “Fifteen points, baby.” He threw his hands up in a gangster pose. “Booyah.”

Jaycee chucked a balled-up napkin at him. Becky giggled. But I couldn’t latch on to their energy. Their conversation dissolved into background noise as the vacant wooden stage swept into focus again from the corner of the room.

Images of Riley with his guitar and microphone flashed in and out like a candle flickering in the wind—his light constantly on the verge of disappearing altogether.

I stared at my sapphire engagement ring and traced the sides of the stone. I shouldn’t have felt this way. It wasn’t like last year when I thought he left because he didn’t want me. But the helplessness of watching him fade slowly . . .

A shriek exploded in front of me. My head shot up from my lap.

“Aah! Trevor!” Becky lunged from the table to dodge the stream of water gushing over the side.

Trevor snagged every napkin within reach and compressed them over the expanding pool. “Sorry, Becky,” he said between chuckles. “Little too much caffeine in that last espresso. Didn’t mean to bump the table.”

Jaycee raised her empty mug to her lips to shield her laughter. Following her lead, I reached for my own laugh suppressor but stopped midstream when A. J. caught my gaze.

All humor drained away with the rest of Becky’s drink dripping onto the floor. A scrutinizing stare trapped me in a moment of connection I couldn’t explain or escape.

With one labored blink, a careful display of indifference confiscated his eyes again. He diverted his attention to Becky and the commotion still bouncing around us.

No one else seemed to have noticed, but I saw it. Felt it. And worse, I didn’t know what else to do except pretend I hadn’t.

The drone of my friends’ conversation lulled me back to my thoughts until a series of screeching chair legs cued me it was time to leave.

The day’s earlier drizzling had progressed into steady beads of oversized raindrops. Everyone congregated in a huddle at the door. Trevor hooked an arm around Jaycee’s waist and made a run for it to the back row of cars. Squeals followed Becky and Ashlea’s trail. I lagged behind, not giving the rain the satisfaction of penetrating beyond the surface.

“Well, this seems oddly familiar.” A. J. strode up alongside me with his hands in his pockets and eyes sharper than the ragged gravel under our feet.

“Blank stare, shoulders hunched, detached from the world. You should really stop letting him do this to you. It’s not healthy.” The edge that’d stormed the look he shot me across the table earlier seared into the bite of his sarcasm now.

Rain beat onto my hot cheeks. “Riley isn’t
doing
anything to me.” If I’d asked him to stay, he would have. What made A. J. presume he had a clue about what was going on between Riley and me, anyway?

“Right,” he said. “You just think depression’s an admirable trademark. Is that it?”

I swallowed the sting. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

He caught my elbow and drew us both to a standstill in the middle of the parking lot. “And why is that? ‘Cause I’m not capable of the kind of love you two share?”

“You know that’s not what—”

“Forget it.” He let go of my arm and blew past me. Gravel churned.

He braked several feet away, something unspoken suspending him in place. “I’m more compassionate than you think.” He turned. “I know where this path leads you, Em. I watched you walk down it before, remember?” An undertone of sadness bled into the frustration darkening his face. “Not this time.”

Each stride away from me pushed the impact of his words deeper into my heart.

It wasn’t just about Riley leaving. Trey’s divorce, the attack, Dee, the rejections, this constant tension between us. It was too much. Couldn’t he see that?

My chest heaved with every pent-up word I wanted to say. I didn’t care if everyone was staring at me or that it was pouring down rain. Nothing mattered except someone who was supposed to be my friend stalking off.

Layers of tangled emotions burned hot in my throat. “You want to walk away? You want to avoid me? Fine. As if that would be any different from the entire summer.”

If anger was what it took to break through his shield of apathy, then let him be angry. Let him be furious. At least that was something real.

He advanced straight toward me.

Fight draining, my voice depleted to a hoarse whisper by the time he reached me. “You promised, A. J. You promised we’d still be friends.” Rain dripped from my hair and blended into tears I didn’t bother to wipe away.

Less than a foot across from me, he hesitated for the slightest moment and then drew me close. Despite my resistance, he held on until I finally gave in and clung to his shoulders to keep from falling apart.

“I’m trying,” he whispered.

Minutes passed. Neither of us spoke. Raindrops played percussion against the hoods of the cars around us. Our friends must’ve left in Trevor’s Outlander. When I withdrew from A. J.’s arms, we were the only ones left in the parking lot.

The reality of what had just taken place set in. Perfect. I’d let A. J., of all people, witness my meltdown.

He pitched a tent with his hands above his head, a slow grin hiking his cheek to the left. “Mind if we get out of this rain now, or were you intentionally going for the wet cat look?”

If he were anyone else, it wouldn’t have made sense for a single comment to override everything leading up to it. Yet one genuine smile, and all slivers of self-consciousness vanished under the ease of a friendship I’d thought I’d lost for good.

“We wouldn’t want to mess up your hair or anything.” I flicked the top of the perfectly molded sculpture. “Wow. Go a little overboard with the hair gel this morning?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He ducked out from under my reach and patted his hair to assess the damage. “It takes a lot of hard work to compete with Jareth the Goblin King.”

My grin turned into outright laughter. “Only you would bust out a
Labyrinth
joke while we’re standing in the rain, after I just bawled my eyes out.”

Smiling, he drooped his arm over my shoulder and steered me toward his car through an obstacle course of puddles. “Hey, I can’t help it if you have a thing for David Bowie.”

Pellets of rain torpedoed down, stealing my chance to make some clever comeback. I dove into his car’s cozy leather seat the second he hit the unlock button.

He cranked up the heat to full blast to dry us off. As much as I’d teased him for being a college student with an Acura ZDX, this was one time I was thankful his parents could afford luxury. God bless the inventor of seat warmers.

We were a good ten minutes into the drive before he turned off the heat. Without the noise, soft music from the stereo became audible.
Open Arms?

I looked from the player to A. J. and tipped the psychedelic colored CD cover out from behind the cup holders. “Since when did you start listening to Journey?”

He snatched the case and tossed it back into its secluded compartment. “Since when did you start nosing around people’s stuff?”

“Touchy.” I held my hands high in the air.

He turned up the volume to drown out my laughter.

Nice try.
I belted out the lyrics and flung an air microphone at him to join me.

He batted my hand away and scrambled to turn off the stereo. “Okay, okay. Laugh it up.”

“At least your taste in music is improving. Jae and I might even let you into our eighties fan club now.”

His dimples curved around a half smile. “Might, huh?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty exclusive,” I joked. “We don’t let just any ole riff raff in.”

“Harsh as ever. One album isn’t enough to prove myself, huh? I see how it is.” He rolled down my window. “Better be careful. I might toss you back out in the rain. You’re getting my leather seat soaked.”

I threatened to wring out my shirt right there.

He rolled up the window. “Easy, Rosy.”

I’d forgotten how much I’d missed that smile.

Our laughter tapered off into a silence that seemed louder than any previous noise. He lined up my car door with the walkway in front of my apartment. Slouching in his seat, he dragged his hand over various points on the steering wheel.

“I started listening to them at the end of last year.” He kept his voice soft and his eyes on the windshield. “Guess it reminded me of you.”

I toyed with the knob on the vent. My thoughts followed the wipers’ back and forth motion. There’d been plenty of times this summer when I’d retreated to memories of the way things used to be between us. I never imagined A. J. would have done the same. If he missed our friendship too, where did that leave us now?

chapter fourteen

Buoyancy

Slim chance whatever held Jaycee silently amused the next morning had anything to do with the magazine she was pretending to read or the chocolate Pop-Tart she was devouring a piece at a time.

I let go of the kitchen table. My chair dropped onto all four legs. The sharp noise didn’t garner so much as an upward glance from Miss Unreadable or shake the overzealous grin she’d been sporting all morning. One of her generous sips of coffee was bound to trickle down the corners of her mouth at any moment.

I drew an invisible circle on the table with the bottom of my mug, silently trying to lure it out of her.

So much for Trevor’s theory on us being clairvoyant. I chugged my tea and grabbed the nearest reading material within reach.

Big mistake. Stuck with
Bridal Guide
in my lap, I tried not to regurgitate my breakfast onto the airbrushed models’ fuchsia bouquets.

“So . . .” The word arced with a note of intrigue.

I looked up at the first excuse to sever contact with the ghastly magazine. “So, what?”

“So, last night? Complete meltdown, duking it out with A. J., crying in the rain . . . Ring a bell?”

“You guys saw that?”
Figures.
I combed my fingers through my air-dried hair. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

No telling what everyone must’ve thought about the scene A. J. and I’d made.

Jaycee’s scrunched expression said enough. “Maybe a tad on the dramatic side.”

We cracked up at the same time. Jaycee flung her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. I got my wish. Coffee seeped all the way down her chin.

I took in my best friend through a misty blend of gratefulness and humility. “Thanks for dragging me out last night, by the way. You were right. I needed it.” More than I realized.

She towed her legs into the chair, seemingly uneager to voice the infamous I-told-you-so speech that I was more than entitled to hear.

My back sank into the chair’s wooden slats. “I knew this time apart from Riley was going to be tough, but sometimes I feel like I’m drowning. There’s no way I’d make it without you guys.”

She wiped a streak of coffee off her mug. “Sounds like A. J. was the real lifejacket last night.”

“Maybe, but you’ve rescued me from rock bottom plenty of times. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Girl, I’ve been taking diving lessons since the day I first met you.”

I snagged the cushion from the next chair over and threatened to swat her with it.

Laughing, she latched onto the table to keep from toppling over. “So, does this mean you guys are friends again?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I think it does. Well, sort of.” I stared absently at the magazine cover. “I still sense there’s something left unspoken. Sometimes when he looks at me, it’s like I can feel this silent pain in his eyes. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You need to be careful, Em.”

“Jae, it’s not like—”

She sprang out of her seat and glared at the clock as if it’d committed some monstrous betrayal. “Shoot. Is that clock right? Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!” Her voice squealed in escalating octaves. “Professor Greaves is gonna kill me. I was supposed to meet him in the ETC at ten-thirty to set up for a presentation.”

She made it to the bedroom and back again before I had time to set my dishes in the sink. I tossed her a banana right when she reached the door. “Something to supplement that imposter breakfast combo you had going on earlier.”

“Thanks for looking out.” She slipped the banana into her purse and winked. “We’ll finish talking later.”

“After work.”

“Be careful,” she called behind her.

A breeze from the stairwell coursed into the apartment and settled over my shoulders. Yet rather than stifle, the silence following me down the hall felt surprisingly like a friend. One I’d missed.

I wasn’t naive enough to think things were back to normal between A. J. and me. If I were honest, they’d never be exactly as they’d been, but something broke last night. I sensed it.

At the bathroom sink, I dropped my pressed powder, flexed my hands against the counter, and stared in the mirror. My chin still bore the mark left by that thug’s ring, but the dark circles under my eyes were gone. No imprint of restlessness to hide.

How could one good night’s sleep reverse the effects of countless nightmares? The meltdown with A. J. must’ve had more impact than I thought. I felt lighter. Freer than I had in weeks.

Jaycee’s sticky note train waved at me from under the ceiling vent. “I am courageous. I am not alone. I am loved. I will make it through.” Maybe I would. Even if I wasn’t fully whole yet, life seemed a little less broken today.

A sense of assurance stayed with me all the way into Portland until I parked Riley’s Civic in my usual spot. Fresh graffiti defacing the bricks on the front of the building stared back at me.

The agitation in my stomach grew into a slow boil.
Dee.
I yanked open the door and barreled across the street. He wasn’t getting away with this.

I blew into the office. Little Brandon’s head popped up from Trey’s chair.

“Where’s Trey?”

Brandon lowered his feet from the desk. “Just missed him. Got a call, then hustled out. Said somethin’ about final signings.”

The divorce. I couldn’t think about that right now. At least it’d finally be over.

Basketball dribbles rang from out back. Still fuming, I stormed through the screen door and scanned the court. Dee sat on a bench with headphones on, looking like he was at home. Like he was one of us. Who did he think he was?

“You.”

He tugged his ear buds out before I could do it for him. His confused gaze bounced from me to the rest of the kids on the court staring at us.

I towered above him. “What are you really doing here? You think this is some kind of game? That you can just stroll up in here and vandalize the place?”

He tottered to his feet and backed into his book bag. “What?”

“The graffiti. I saw the spray paint fall out of your bag the other day.” Did he think I was stupid?

His brow creased. “I ain’t got nothin’ to do with that.”

“Like you didn’t have anything to do with those guys who attacked me?” I clutched my elbows to box out the memories.

What, their assault wasn’t enough? Now, they send some punk kid to find an inside way to finish off the place? Try to shut it down so they can get a hold over the kids? Not gonna happen. Not while I had fight left in me.

Dee didn’t lift his focus from the backpack at his feet.

My chest burned. “What are you hiding?”

“I ain’t hidin’ nothing.”

“Then open your bag.”

He backed up. “No.”

A. J. intercepted me before I could snatch it from the ground. “Em, calm down.”

I tried to push around him, but he steered me into the office, away from the uncertain glances flitting around the court.

He tossed Jamal a basketball. “Get a scrimmage going. Vests are in that tote. You know the drill.”

The noise on the court resumed its flow but didn’t shut out the drumming in my ears. Inside the office, I paced, arms still holding my sides together. “Why are you letting him stay?”

A. J. leaned against my desk. “It’s not my call.”

Trey’s compassion might’ve overruled his judgment this time. Was I supposed to believe Dee up and left his gang to come here for tutoring?

Unbidden, the fatherly look on Trey’s face from that day in the hall rushed to mind and bled into the blindsided look on the kid’s face from a minute ago—both clashing with the questions knotting inside me. None of it made sense.

I stopped in the middle of the room. “What’s he really doing here, A. J.?”

“Making a mistake,” Dee said from the back door.

A. J. and I both turned. Dee’s strained face held the same raw tenor that his voice carried. Shouldering his book bag, he hustled to leave through the front exit but collided with Trey coming in through the opposite side.

“Whoa, slow down.” Trey held him by the shoulders and looked at me for an explanation.

Between the hurt in Dee’s eyes and the question in Trey’s, mine turned glassy before I could stop them. Conflicting emotions backed me out the screen door and onto the court.

The beginning of a game kept the kids’ attention diverted. I hurried into the utility closet to keep it that way. Out of view, I unclenched my fingers but couldn’t steady my breathing. The tension followed me in, rebounded off the tiny space, and balled up inside my chest.

I needed to move. Needed to do something—anything other than stand still. I rifled through the shelves in search of a bucket and something to use to scrub the wall.

A shadow stretched in from the doorway. I looked behind me. “I’m fine, A. J.”

“I know.” He strolled in and tinkered with the clutter on the shelves. “Just thought you might want some help. You know, with being fine.”

His dimples fought to garner a smile from me.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” I shouldered past him and stopped at the spigot to fill the bucket.

Trying not to douse my pants, I waddled toward the front of the building. Bolded streaks of black spray paint caught the sun’s glare and laughed at the sight of my little scrub brush. I set the bucket at my feet and rolled up my wet shirt cuffs anyway.

A glimpse of a wooden ladder peeked out from the side of the building, followed by A. J. rounding the corner. Apparently, “I’m good” hadn’t translated.

“What are you doing?”

He eased the ladder off his shoulder and propped it against the wall beside me. After dusting off his hands, he shimmied an oversized sponge out of his back pocket. “Oh, just releasing some energy. You?”

I shook my head, a grin breaking through. I dipped my fingers in the bucket and flicked water at him. “I can do this myself, you know.”

He steadied the bucket with one hand, soaked his sponge with the other, and met my eyes. “You’re not alone, Emma.”

His sincerity almost unleashed the tears I’d stifled in the office earlier. I faced the bricks and dragged my brush over the part of the graffiti I could reach from the ground.

One wall at a time.

He worked beside me, no need for words. Clouds drifted in. Minutes drained with the murky water running down the sidewalk into the storm drain. But no amount of scrubbing blotted the vulnerable look in Dee’s eyes from my mind. Was I wrong about him?

Fingertips like prunes and nails darkened around the edges, I pushed back my hair with my sleeve.

A quick glance caught A. J. wiping a paint-tinted smear of sweat across his brow. He was sowing as much into the center as I was. Same as Trey.

“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “For acting like I’m alone in all this.”

“That’s a lot to load on your shoulders.” He wrung out his sponge.

I slumped against the wall. “I know. Guess I’m just used to doing things that way.”

“Makes it hard to pretend to be fine all the time.”

A laugh snuck through my tight lips. “Didn’t buy that, huh?” At least he hadn’t pushed. “Thanks.” I dragged the tip of my Converse sneaker over the pavement. “It’s nice to have someone who understands.”

“Any time.” His soft voice followed his chin to his shirt.

Sometime amidst scrubbing, the sky had turned gray. I closed my arms over my body to block a damp breeze blowing in. A text notification dinged into the silence. I pulled my cell from my back pocket. Riley’s face lit up beside the message.

Been running around all day. Will you be up after 11?

I thumbed a quick reply, pocketed my phone, and kicked off the wall.

A. J. folded the ladder. “Things that bad?”

Of course he’d notice. “Just hard.” I dumped the rest of the water down the drain.

“Nashville not turning out the way he planned?”

I tossed the brush into the empty bucket. “No, it’s great. You should hear him. He’s alive there. Energized. And he should be. He’s falling right into where he belongs.”

A. J. hooked an arm through the ladder rings. Rather than press, he simply waited.

I stared at the water stains spreading up my pant legs. “I’m just not sure how to compete with that world.”

“Thought it was a world he wanted to share with you.”

“It’s easier to share it with some skanky manager hanging on his side every day.”

A. J. angled his chin at me, mouth slanting. “Skanky?”

“You didn’t see the pic of her riding a mechanical bull. Trust me.”

His laugh faded into a look of sobriety. He shifted the ladder and his tone. “Doubt he’s stupid enough to give up what he has.”

But what if something better came along? “I keep wondering if I should’ve gone with him.”

He shrugged. “Part of your heart’s here.”

His eyes held mine. Heat pricked the tops of my cheeks. He didn’t think . . . ?