ON AIR (22 page)

32

Y
ou know when you’ve really hashed something out with a person and you’re left totally and completely drained, physically and emotionally?

I took almost a week off work after I left Emmet’s office. There was nothing left of me when I stood and walked out of his precinct in silence. And now I had so many questions I wanted answers to because I hadn’t exactly hashed everything out with him.

I knew he’d loved my mother. I knew she’d loved him in return. Back then I didn’t know who it was my mom had been involved with, but it all made sense now. Certain words I caught between my parents here and there; Emmet came around less. And when he
was
around, there were a mix of moments that I could piece together now. Again, more words here and there, behaviors changing. Despite everything, my dad and Emmet remained friends, and my parents stayed together for Chloe and me.

And I was still angry about that.

God, I was beginning to think life was just meant to be one giant mindfuck, and we were supposed to sit back and watch it all happen.

On the fourth day I was holed up in my house, Madden broke my door down. I mean literally. He fucking busted through it to get inside. After listening to him knock and ring my bell for ten minutes while I sat on the couch in my underwear, I don’t think I even flinched when he came hurling into my living room.

The asshole took the door that was hanging on half a hinge and casually propped it back into the frame like nothing happened. He sat on the couch on the opposite end from me.

“I ordered pizza,” he stated.

And just like that I seemed to accept his intrusion. It wasn’t just the offering of food, but the friendship that had propelled it. I put pants on. We ate, drank beer, and watched baseball. I knew he was going crazy with worry. Probably a lot of confusion and stress, too. I felt obligated to share what I wasn’t ready to share, but if I didn’t, I didn’t know how long I was going to remain sane.

Finally I said, “Sinclair is Jessica Holt—the seventeen-year-old driver who was tried for killing my parents. Her older sister, Hailey, was actually the one who had been driving. Plain as fucking day that was the case. Hailey was twenty-two; she had a nine-month-old baby at home… I don’t fucking know,” I waved it off. “But Jessica took the blame. Huge controversial case about her getting off so easy because of her age and the fact she was an honor student about to go to college.” I explained this to Madden because, although he knew how my parents died, I’d never really shared too much about it. He hadn’t even moved to Portland until two years after they died.

I couldn’t quite remember all the media jumble from back then—probably because I’d spent the last seven years trying to block it out. All I knew was that Jessica and Hailey had switched seats after the accident. Several witnesses had sworn that’s how they left a friend’s house that night—with Hailey behind the wheel. Jessica hadn’t been drinking, but her sister had been over the legal limit.

The news that Jessica Holt was Madden’s mysterious Sinclair was a blow to him. I didn’t see it on his face because I didn’t look at him—we were both staring straight ahead at the television—but I could feel it radiating from him.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally said, “Wow. I can’t even… I can’t.”

Yeah, I couldn’t either. It took me years to get over just the circumstances of my parents’ death and the case that evolved from it. That shit had circulated through the media pretty harshly. People were outraged that Jessica got off so easily, but especially that someone—Hailey—hadn’t accepted responsibility for the crime; that she’d coerced her sister into taking the fall in hopes they’d both walk away without any repercussions. Then there were those who supported the teenager because she was “an honor student; a sweet and caring athlete who was going to graduate with a college scholarship—why should her life be ruined for one mistake? Accidents happen.”

“I kind of read up on the facts a couple years back,” Madden admitted. “You told me about your parents’ accident and how it happened. You were vague though. I was curious.”

“I’m not mad.”

“There was even a petition going around to get that judge de-throned.”

Even in a shitty mood, I still smiled at his choice of words. But I also sighed. “Yeah, it got pretty intense. A beloved cop versus a perfect student with a bright future.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see him nod his agreement. We both reached for another slice of pizza, and while he took a huge bite, I paused for a second.

“Guess who my mom had an affair with. Emmet Greene.” I said this casually, like I was announcing the weather.

Madden choked on his food, and as he coughed, tossed the half eaten slice into the box so he could take a swig of beer. “What the fuck?”

Leaning my head back, I stared at the ceiling as I recapped my entire visit at the police bureau. I’m honestly not sure if I felt no emotion to any of it or if I was just so beaten down I hadn’t had time to process all of it yet. I’d spent four days going through every single conversation with my dad that I could remember. It was like he wasn’t even mad at my mom—or Emmet, now that I knew who she’d been seeing.

I didn’t understand any of it.

“I don’t either, man,” Madden replied.

I wasn’t even sure how much of that last part I’d said out loud. I turned my head to see him mirroring my position.

“I’m sorry, man,” he proffered softly.

Returning my gaze to the ceiling again, I shrugged. “Hm. Nothing to be sorry about. It is what it is.”

I set the slice of pizza back in the box and continued to talk. I’m not even sure what drew it out of me, but it was like the dam had burst and only more was going to rush through before it slowed down. I talked about Natalie quite a bit and how much I missed her. I confessed that I had fucked up with her big time. Everything I’d been mad about hadn’t even been her fault. I was such a piece of shit because I couldn’t even admit to her I’d been wrong. I realized so many of the good things that had been in my life had a lot to do with her.

“She loves you, Dane. It’s time you admit that to yourself, and then you either shit or get off the pot.”

He was so right. Problem was, if I made the decision to proceed with Nat…that’s what it was going to be. None of this back and forth crap, and no more misunderstandings or off-and-on with her. I didn’t want that in a relationship. There were always ups and downs—I knew that—but I wanted the stability of going through it together. No excuses.

“So,” Madden exhaled after a bout of silence. “The mystery of Sinclair has been solved. Eh… I feel like one dumb son of a bitch.”

“So do I.”

“Yeah, but Jesus Christ, I was obsessed with her.”

So was I. And just the thought of that—being so preoccupied with something so precarious—made me feel like a loser. I’d spent so much time on something I knew could blow up in my face. It did and here I was, with more questions than I could handle.

“I probably should have talked to her more. I kicked her out of my office.”

“Understandable, bro. She manipulated the situation. Not cool. But even though the circumstances are really weird—I mean
really fucking weird
—maybe this all happened for a reason.

God, I didn’t want to think about “fate.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he continued. “I’m being serious.”

I sighed. “After the ruling, I was presented the opportunity to meet with Jessica Holt so she could give me and Chloe a face-to-face apology.”

Madden paused. “So why didn’t you? Just the thought of it being too hard?”

“No, just the fact that I knew she wasn’t the one who had been driving. She was going to apologize to me for something she didn’t do? It would have been a mockery, a lie. And Chloe… Yeah, my sister accepted the letter Jessica wrote, but it didn’t do much. It didn’t change what happened.”

We sat in silence for almost a minute before Madden asked about Emmet again. He wanted to know how I really felt and what or if I was going to do anything about it.

“I honestly don’t know. Like I said, it’s been right in front of me but I was never willing to acknowledge it. There’s gotta be a reason for that.”

“He was your dad’s best friend. He’s really the only person in your life who knew him so well. Maybe better than you because there are some things you just don’t talk to your kids about when you’re an adult. Your dad felt he should let it go and move on. Maybe that choice was hard for him and maybe it wasn’t, but you should probably respect his decision. And maybe you forgave Emmet subconsciously because there’d already been too much grief taking up your life. The accident and the aftermath of all that was quite a lot. Sometimes people are just too tired to face anything more.”

I turned my head to face my best friend. For a goofy motherfucker, he sure did come through when I needed him to. I guess you couldn’t ask for anything more than that in a person. They make you laugh and enjoy life, but will kick your ass and feed you the honest truth when you need it.

I believed he was one hundred percent right.

A nod was my only response. The candid bro talk was over. We watched the rest of the game and finished off the entire pizza.

Oh yeah, and we both fixed the front door together.

33

L
ife really is about growth and learning. I believe our potential depends on how much we’re willing to refine ourselves, and sometimes that process can vary. There were some obstacles I’d overcome simply because I was forced to, but there were also some that I really needed to resolve with calculated effort.

You can’t always help who you are. Some of our innate characteristics are ingrained in us permanently. I believed my sister would always be a sweet, caring person just as much as I believed myself to be a decent guy. I also knew we were both stubborn, but whereas Chloe could easily admit it, I wasn’t so bendable. 

I’d returned to work the next Monday, and although I always kept in touch with my sister through texts or dropping in now and then, I was glad she’d been extremely busy with wedding plans. She hadn’t had time to stick her nose in my business, and it was okay with me that she hadn’t been aware of my Sinclair obsession—or worse, what Emmet had confessed to.

As I sat in my office that morning, my thoughts went to the conversation I’d had with Emmet the night before. I’d called him. I didn’t want to meet with him face-to-face just yet, but I wanted to clear the air about things. Him, my mom, my dad, the accident, and also “Sinclair.”

I’ll say this straight up: you don’t always feel better when things are out in the open. Some days I wished I didn’t know; other days I felt my curiosity and determination to solve pretty much every damn thing I could was always going to win. Some moments I was glad I knew Sinclair’s identity and some moments I regretted it.  The saying “what you don’t know can’t hurt you” definitely made sense in my life now and then. Sometimes I wish I’d been blind and deaf to it all.

I wondered if I’d be better off having never heard Sinclair on the radio. But I had. And even though I hated her words repeating in my head—
a crazy twist of fate
—I couldn’t stop wondering if maybe she was right. When that entire nightmare was happening—the media talking about the accident nonstop and people taking sides—Chloe had once said, “It’s just a tragedy no matter how you look at it and people need to move on.”

I never considered how wise those words were back then. Looking back on it now, she’d been completely right. No wonder she had a happy life despite what she’d been through. She’d
chosen
to have a happy life. Maybe in thinking I was always looking out for my sister, she was actually the one being an example to me instead.

She entered my office that afternoon. The visit was a surprise because we worked on opposite sides of the city, and whenever we’d get together for lunch, we’d usually meet somewhere in between. Because of her new business and her engagement, that hadn’t been much of an option the last few months.

Smiling, I gave her a hug. My guilty conscience was observing her at the same time, but she seemed like her usual, happy self.

“I’ve missed you,” she told me.

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I’m more available though if you need me.”

“Yeah, Chris said you were going to be cutting down hours here. How come?”

Shrugging, I sat and motioned for her to sit too. I turned to my computer and opened a file. She waited in silence until a design popped up. “What do you think?” I asked.

She studied it while I rotated the house, and then flipped through the floor layout. “So nice,” she nodded. “I love it. Who’s it for?”

I closed the file. “Me.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You designed yourself a house. To buy? To live in?”

I could have just agreed with her, but instead, told her the truth. It was something I needed to discuss with her anyway. “Actually… I’m thinking of asking Natalie if she’d want to try it out with me.”

She gaped at me, but her lack of verbal response had me worried.

“Look, I know you and Natalie don’t mesh that well, but I—”

“What?” she interrupted. “What makes you think that?”

I considered what Chris had told me and chose my words carefully. “Your fiancé seems to think you and Nat shouldn’t be friends. He also implied that she’s only friends with you to get close to me.”

She scoffed, but then started to laugh. “Natalie and I
are
very different, but honestly, it’s what I love about her. And Chris is only trying to look out for me. Sometimes I think he treats me like I’m more fragile than I really am. I’m a big girl, Dane. You don’t have to protect my delicate feelings.”

“So… You and Nat really are friends, right?”

“She’s a
great
friend to me. She really is. And yeah, it took me a while to get used to her personality, but Dane, she’s the sweetest, most giving person I know. Do you know how many hours she’s put in at the café for me?
Without pay.
It’s an absurd amount. I’m finally at a point where I can pay a couple of employees, but Natalie still won’t let me pay her what I would owe her. I know she’s got her own full time job, but I wish she could work with me every day. We’ve had some good times.”

I let that information sink in. It’s not that I needed my sister’s approval over who I dated, but I’d intended on filling her in.

“I’ve treated her like shit,” I admitted.

“Yes, you have.”

I’ll confess I was a bit surprised by her agreement. I mean I was owning up to being an asshole, but maybe I was hoping it wasn’t truly the case and she’d stick up for me a little bit.

“Dane,” she sighed. “Natalie is a very strong, independent woman. She’s bold, she’s opinionated, and she’s downright sassy sometimes. But…she’s perfect for you. Those are the qualities you love in her. You like that she won’t agree with you just to agree with you; you like that she’s feisty and gives you hell sometimes. You don’t like boring. You don’t like predictable. You don’t like ordinary. And… Natalie Denman is none of those things.”

I didn’t know what to say. She was right of course, and I needed to figure out the best way to make things right with Nat.

Chloe rose from her chair, a smile slowly forming on her face. “And man, I wouldn’t want to be you right now,” she laughed. “I heard you stood her up last week.”

Confused, I began shaking my head. There was no way I— Last week?

Oh. Shit.

“Word on the street is you had a date to
Wicked
and didn’t even pick her up for dinner…”

“Oh my God,” I groaned, dropping my head so hard onto the desk it gave me an instant headache. “Oh. My. God.”

“Mmhmm,” my sister said as she turned for the door. “If I were you, I’d get to groveling pretty damn fast. Flowers, Dane. Candy. The most expensive concert tickets you can find. A new car. A shopping spree for clothes with an unlimited amount.”

She was teasing me, but I seriously felt like none of that was enough. Thinking back, Natalie hadn’t even called or texted me that night to see where I was. She must have been pissed as hell.

“I had so much going on last week…” I began. But I stopped myself. Because then I’d have to discuss things with my sister that I wasn’t ready to deal with yet. And yes, I had decided to tell her. It was the right thing to do.

Just not now. I wanted to wait until
after
she got married.

She paused in the doorway, her smile turning somewhat pensive. “You know what I said earlier? About me not being a sensitive little baby?” She waited for a few beats. “I know what Mom did. I know about Emmet.”

I was honestly rendered speechless. All I could do was lean back in my chair and stare at her.

“He tried, Dane. He was there for us. And even if it was out of guilt, I think Emmet has genuinely always cared about us.”

“When did you speak to him?” I finally asked.

She sighed. “This morning. This last week has just been kind of weird and… I guess I’ve been feeling like there’s a big gaping hole in my life that’s been there for a while. I realized it had to do with Mom and Dad. You know, I wasn’t always kept in the dark back then. I heard things between you guys, between them.”

She paused for my response, but I didn’t really have one.

“Things seemed to blow over, though,” she continued. “So I thought they had things worked out and all was well. Mom seemed happier, Dad spent more time on her; I wanted to focus on them being back together. But then the accident, and all of the media… You know how hard that was. Maybe I swept it under the rug, but I felt it was the best thing to do at the time. There’s so much hate and unhappiness in the world. I just like to focus on the good stuff.”

I guess I could understand her thinking that way. I’d always felt like she had no clue. But again… She
chose
to look at things positively.

“I think they had to go through that to realize what it was that they loved in one another,” Chloe added. “Kind of like you and Natalie.” She paused so that could sink in. “And by the way—in case she ever denies it—she kept your sweatshirt because she always slept in it. She liked feeling close to you even when you weren’t around.”

She left on that note, leaving those words to resonate in my office. I considered talking to her about Jessica Holt, too…but maybe it was better to wait. I was sure my sister would face it with the same type of attitude, so perhaps it was just
me
who needed to get through my hangups first.