Scattered Colors (18 page)

I paced the length of my bedroom like a caged lion. The metaphor was fitting considering I’d spent the last several days feeling like I was coming out of my skin. The only thing that kept me from running to Freya, demanding that she listen, was the knowledge that she needed time to cool off. The rational part of my brain insisted that beating her door down wouldn’t do any good. However, the irrational part needed to see her with a fierce desperation so overwhelming it left me feeling as if my skin was the only thing holding me together, keeping me from breaking apart into a million miserable pieces. The look on her face and the sad tone of her voice as she told me she wanted to forget that she knew me was more painful than any blow my father could ever land. I’d left school early, my insides twisted into a mass of knots. Even if we’d only known each other for a short time, the thought of not having her in my life was unbearable.

Finally, as the sun began its slow fall from the sky Sunday evening, I couldn’t make myself wait a second longer. I knew exactly where she’d be. My body had a mind of its own as my feet carried me through the damp grass to that trail I knew would lead me to her. The crunch of the leaves and the crack of the twigs beneath my feet were a faint muffle against the sound of my own heartbeat thumping rapidly in my chest.

Several times during the short trek, I had to stop in order to get my emotions under control. While I was determined to make things right with Freya, there was an underlying urge to grab hold of her and not let go. The effect that girl had on me was staggering. I couldn’t think straight when it came to Freya. Everything from my emotions to my body were strung so tightly I couldn’t tell which way was up. The only thing I was able to focus on was her. Everything about her drove me mad. I wanted her in a way I’d never wanted anything or anyone before. I wanted to claim her, mark her in some way, make her mine completely until she felt the same all-consuming
need
for me that I felt for her.

I feared that my near obsession with Freya was unhealthy to say the least, but she made me feel alive for the first time is so long that I’d be damned if I was going to let that go. I’d screwed up, and I needed to make it right. For the sake of my own sanity.

My footsteps slowed as I came to the end of the trail, my breath stalling in my lungs as I took in the peaceful expression on her beautiful face. Her bright eyes shone in the fading light. Her smooth, flawless skin glowed in the faint rays of sun left in the sky. As I stood there, silently taking in the gorgeous girl in front of me, I was overcome with the desire to touch her.

When I took a step closer, the sound of a snapping twig under my foot startled a gasp from her. As she turned from her perch on the log—the very same log she sat on the day I met her—the serenity that had clouded her features just moments before faded away when those blue eyes fell on me. I hated that she looked at me with such disdain. I wanted to be the one who made her smile, not frown. From the way her full lips tipped down in displeasure, I knew it was going to take more than a simple apology to make things right. I was going to have to do something I’d never done before. I was going to have to peel off the scab that covered that years’-old wound, making the pain fresh once again. The thought of telling her the truth caused a ball of dread to form in my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, trying to summon the courage to get through what I needed to say, praying I wouldn’t crack in the process. When I opened them once again, Freya was staring at me with so much uncertainty, I decided to just dive right in, hoping she’d be there to pull me out at the end of it.

“He was my little brother,” I started. “The boy you saw in the picture at my house, he was my brother.”

The words rushed out so quickly I missed the sound of her gasp over the blood rushing in my ears. Saying those words out loud was like a punch to the gut, pushing all the air from my lungs. My focus remained on the sandy, pebbled beach beneath me, unable to meet her blue eyes as I spoke.

The pain the memories of that day brought forth was almost enough to bring me to my knees. The sound of my little brother’s laughter echoed in my head as visions of his smiling, happy face assaulted me. I hadn’t realized that my eyes were squeezed shut, my breathing erratic, my hands clenched into painfully tight fists until the touch of Freya’s hand on my arm pulled me back. When my gaze met hers, the understanding shining back at me was enough to help me breathe again. Sliding her hand down the length of my arm, she took hold of my hand in hers and pulled me to the log she’d just been sitting on. A sense of calm washed over me with her comforting gesture. The feel of Freya’s tiny hand tucked into mine sent a spark of electricity through my body, causing me to tighten my hold on her. I could tell by the slight widening of her mesmerizing eyes that she’d felt it, too. I held her hand like it was a lifeline, fearing if I were to let go, she’d disappear.

“Parker, you don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard. I understand,” she spoke softly.

Her compassion gave me the strength to continue.

“Toby was six years younger than me. When they told me I was going to have a little brother, at first I was pissed, you know? I was used to being the only kid. I liked not having to share my parents with anyone else. How selfish is that?”

Her fingers clenched around my hand, drawing my attention back to her face. “It’s not selfish,” Freya answered, rubbing her thumb against my knuckles. “It’s normal. I’m sure all kids feel like that, at least at first.”

“I guess,” I grumbled, not fully believing what she was saying. “I was mad, but as soon as he got here… Christ, he was just so damn special.” My voice broke as I worked to swallow down the tears threatening to break free.

After several long, painful seconds, she finally spoke. “If you want to tell me what happened, I’m here to listen. If not, we can just sit here and watch the sunset. Either way, I’ll be here.” Her words were a promise, heartfelt and sincere.

Until that moment, I hadn’t realized just how much I needed that promise from her. “He drowned,” I croaked, unable to stop the few tears that broke free and slid down my cheeks, cold from the chilly temperature. “Toby had always looked up to me…wanted to do everything I did. He wanted to be just like his big brother. When I joined the water polo team my freshman year, he got it in his head that he had to practice to be good enough to join when he was older. Only problem was he wasn’t a very strong swimmer.”

I heard her muffled
oh, God
as I stood from the log and began to pace. “I walked home back then and I’d always swing by the elementary school each day so Toby could walk with me. Practice ran later than normal that day, and I guess he didn’t want to wait around for me and headed home by himself.” Images from that day bombarded me from every angle, making it difficult to stay on my feet. If I had only left school when I was supposed to. If I hadn’t let my coach keep me late. If I’d told him to never walk home without me. For the past three years, my life had been a constant cycle of
if only
.

“He was so determined to be as good as I was,” I continued, my brother’s face, so much like my own, at the forefront of my mind. “He went down to the beach and started swimming by himself.”

I could still hear the commotion of all the people on the beach. I could still see the bright lights that shone on the water as divers searched for my little brother. That night, I’d told myself they were searching to find him alive. I refused to let myself think that those divers were looking for his body. Holding on to that hope had only made the pain that much more excruciating when they finally found him hours later. After that, my family cracked, fractured completely into irreparable jagged shards, never to be whole again.

I couldn’t stand the torment in his eyes any longer, not after that heart wrenching story. The hurt that blanketed his expression was just too much to bear and I couldn’t think of anything but comforting him, helping him, being there for him in any way I could. All thought of how he’d hurt me vanished with his explanation. There was no room left in me to hold on to that anger.

As soon as I took a step in front of him, the shroud of sorrow lifted from his eyes and he was able to see me again. My arms went around his waist, squeezing tightly as I attempted to pour every ounce of comfort I could into that embrace. He stood stiff and motionless for several seconds before his body finally lost some of its tension and his arms circled around my back and shoulders, holding onto me like I was everything. It wasn’t until then, being wrapped up in his arms that I realized just how much larger Parker was than me. Even though I was the one who was supposed to be offering comfort, I couldn’t ignore just how amazing it felt to have both his body and his intoxicating scent surrounding me.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered into his strong chest. “You know that, right?” His chest vibrated with a gruff sound of disagreement. I tightened my hold on him and repeated my words. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid, Parker. I’m so, so sorry that you and your family had to go through that, but it was an accident. You can’t hold on to the guilt for something you couldn’t control forever.”

“If I had just been there,” he whispered, his lips pressed onto the top of my head. “If I’d have left school when I was supposed to—”

“Stop.” I pulled away from him, just far enough to place one hand over his mouth. “You can’t do that to yourself. You can’t hold the blame for what happened, and you certainly can’t tell the future. Even if you
had
been there that day, you have no way of knowing what would have happened a week or a month or a year from then. That isn’t on you. When my…” My voice broke as I struggled with the words I needed to say. I hadn’t realized I was crying until Parker reached one hand up to brush away my tears with his thumb. But the tears weren’t for
my
loss that time; they were all for Parker. “When my mom died, I told myself that if I hadn’t gone to that stupid competition, she wouldn’t have been on the road to pick me up that morning. She wouldn’t have been hit by that drunk driver. If I had been at home that day, then she’d never have had a reason to leave the house and she’d still be with us.”

“Do you still think that?” Parker asked as his gaze bore into mine, the calloused pad of his thumb slowly stroking from my cheek to my bottom lip.

“No, because I remembered something my mom taught me. ‘Everything in life happens for a reason.’ She taught me that no matter how much it hurts to lose someone we love, we have to remember that they were so special He needed them up there with Him. I have to believe that. Even though I still want her with me every single day, I have to believe there was a reason she was taken from me so soon. She was so important that God needed her.”

Parker’s brow furrowed in thought. “Does that help? Believing she’s gone for a reason?”

“Some days it does.” I sniffled as I brushed away the remaining tears from my cheeks. “Some days it helps, but then there are those days where just getting out of bed feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. On those days, there’s nothing I can tell myself that’ll make it hurt any less. I just have to hope that the next day is a little bit easier.”

The sigh Parker let out was heavy in the air as he unhooked his arms from around me and led us back to the log to sit, my hand remaining in his the whole time. Neither of us spoke as we watched the very last rays of daylight disappear into darkness. The companionable silence between us as we watched the sunset was enough; no words were necessary.

A while later, once we finally started our journey back up the path, away from the beach, I found the courage to ask the question that had been weighing so heavily on my mind. “Is your mom okay?”

He didn’t answer until we were walking slowly across my backyard. “For today,” he said sadly. “Toby’s death broke her. She spent weeks in bed. It got so bad that my dad practically had to drag her out of it just to get her to bathe. That was the only damn thing he did for her during that time. Now he hardly even bothers to come home.” It was obvious opening up about his mother was hard for him, so I remained silent as Parker spoke, not forcing him to reveal any more than he was comfortable with.