Easier to Run (6 page)

I shook my head. It wasn’t our current position that made me uncomfortable—being next to him had the opposite effect, so I quietly curled up, resting my head on his shoulder and focusing on the chatter coming from the TV. I had no idea what we were watching. Instead, I was lost in my own thoughts.

I'd slept for most of the morning so I figured the chances of getting to sleep were slim—and I considered that to be a good thing. I wasn't ready for Ben to see me freak out again. I resolved to stay in my spot—my warm spot at his side until he fell asleep.

But when he switched off the lamp, I found myself fighting sleep. I forced my eyes open, his hand tightened on mine when I squirmed. Then, his fingers pressed gently at my knuckles, working between the small bones and tracing the tendons like a mini-massage. I peeked over to see my hand fisted into a ball against his shirt.

When had I done that?

His soft touches continued until I flattened my palm against him. My fingers felt like they hadn't stretched out in an eternity.

I blinked away sleep again. What was he doing to me?

Ben rubbed his hands over his eyes as his older brother took a seat on the table next to him and handed him a large cup of coffee.

“How long you been up, man?”

“I got a few hours of sleep before we came here.” His voice was roughened by his groggy state. “If not for that, I’d be going on twenty-six hours.”

“Still no more news?” Mark asked.

Ben shook his head and traced his fingers through Cassie’s straight blonde hair. She still hadn’t said a thing in the two hours since the doctor had come in. She was quietly curled against his side with her fingers clutched at his shirt near his heart.

“I want to wake up now,” Cassie whispered against his chest.

“I know, honey.” He kissed the top of her head, wishing there was something more he could do. Being reduced to fighting off sleep and holding her small, exhausted body left him feeling helpless.

The door opened slowly and another doctor stepped in. “Bryant family?”

“Yes,” Rachel shot up, “How’s mom?”

The doctor’s expression said everything before he uttered a single word. “We lost her on the table—”

Cassie’s world turned to a loud static as the room erupted into chaos around her. None of the sounds came through, so she squeezed her eyes closed and blocked out the rest as well.

“Cas,” Ben nudged the side of her face. As soon as she opened her eyes, reality rushed in and crushed her from the inside out.

“No,” she cried. “No, no, no. I want to wake up.”

Rachel knelt next to her. “I know, Cas. But we can’t. The doctor said we can go in and see her.”

Cassie shook her head. She didn’t want to say goodbye. Goodbye meant it was over. It meant she’d lost both of her parents. Even as she grappled with that understanding, most of all, she didn’t want to see their lifeless bodies with nothing left. “I don’t want to see.”

“We’ll go with you,” Beth said, rubbing Rachel’s shoulder. “If you want.”

Rachel nodded, leaving her sister with Ben and Mark while everyone else accompanied her and the nurse down the hallway.

Ben

Cassie rolled away at some point in the night. By the time I woke, she was curled on her side facing the thick curtains covering the window. It was still long before dawn, so I changed into a new pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt and stretched out in the armchair near the bed to surf the internet on my phone.

Not that there was really anything new to read. I checked the weather, the local traffic, and news, but all the while I had something else on my mind. I debated over calling Liz. Threw the idea around in my head until I felt dizzy from going back and forth. Without a doubt, we’d end up fighting, and I couldn't very well sit right next to Cassie's sleeping body and yell at my ex over the phone. I couldn't leave Cassie either.

As it neared half past five, I put away my phone and repacked my bag.

“Cassie,” I whispered, brushing her hair as I tried to gently wake her. My luck she'd punch me in the face for it.

Her eyes popped open and she glanced around the room, taking a quick gasp, then letting it out slowly. “It's morning.”

“Yep. We can pick up a coffee and a bite to eat, then we should hit the road.”

She rubbed her hands through her hair again, scratching her head. “Morning,” she repeated softly.

“Yeah,” I sat down on the bed next to her. Based on her reaction, I wondered how long it had been since she'd actually slept through a night.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and sank against my chest. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her tight, nuzzling the top of her head with my chin. She could push the bad thoughts away—she was the only person who could. “I didn’t do anything, sweetie.”

“You have no idea how much you did.”

I smiled, brushing back a strand of hair from her face. Despite all of the differences I’d noticed, it was her eyes that showed the most. Every day of the last few years was written on and around them. Those deep brown eyes belonged to someone far older, someone who’d experienced the darkness of the human spirit. All I wanted to do was forget my own problems and chase hers away. “Come on, Cas. Let's eat.”

Blinking away the last bits of sleep, she grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom to change, emerging only a few minutes later in a pair of jeans and a pink shirt.

She stuffed her pajamas in her bag, and I wrestled it away from her, throwing it over my shoulder. She gave me a pout but followed along behind as I headed toward the hotel lobby. Continental breakfasts weren't usually my early morning idea of nourishment—especially since I usually avoided hotels altogether, but the hotel had a nice spread, so we each filled our plates and settled into a corner table.

As I nibbled at the last bit of toast and jam, my phone twitched nervously in my pocket, setting my anticipation on edge. My chest tightened, and I fully considered ignoring it, but my hand slid into my pocket and slowly pulled it out.

The message was from my sister, Jenny—to my relief. Pictures of her two kids, Devon and Bree, playing at the park. Jenny was usually up early, too—the product of growing up with a truck driver as a father—so she sometimes texted me before I hit the road. I smiled as I flipped through the three images, then I flipped the phone around and showed it to Cassie.

She squinted for a minute, then dropped the last half of her bagel. “No way. Is that Devon?”

“Yep.”

She reached for the phone and I let her take it.

“He's friggin tall. Reminds me of you.”

I snorted. “He's nine now. Bree is four. There are more pictures if you scroll through. Mark's daughter, Maddie. His fiancé, Abby, and her son, Mason. Some other family pictures, too.”

She looked at me skeptically for a second, then gave in and flipped through the family album I'd collected. My sisters and brother wouldn’t stop sending me pictures of every life event. I’d never complain though. It made being away all the time more tolerable. Dad had been a driver for as long as I could remember, but as I watched my nieces and nephew grow up via text message, I wondered how he survived being away from us all the time. That was the life we were used to though. And I never thought of Dad as anything but the best dad in the world—well, maybe when I was in trouble. When he was home, family time was practically sacred.

“Seems like a lifetime since I've seen your family,” Cassie said. “Your parents don't look much different though.”

“Mom'll be happy to hear that. Dad, probably, too, but he won't show it.”

Cassie slid my phone across the table. “You okay?”

I took a long swig of orange juice. “Yeah,” I said. It was true enough.

After we finished eating, Cassie sniped my keys and grabbed her bag leaving me to throw away the trash. I had no idea what on earth she was up to so I scooped everything up, grabbed my own bag, and headed after her.

“What are you doing?” I asked, climbing into the cab and finding her in the sleeper. She’d pulled away a bit of plastic and slid a piece of notebook paper out from behind it. I saw her shoulders quake as she turned to face me, holding the folded piece of paper in her lap.

“I had to see if it was still here,” she said, fidgeting. “Last time I came with you, I wanted to tell you everything, but I chickened out. I couldn’t. I-I um,” she took a long breath. “I wrote it all down and hid it. I figured I’d tell you after we got home. Tell you where to find it. I didn’t want to see your face. I couldn’t face you.”

I wrapped my arm around her, squeezing her tightly. “Sweetie, there’s nothing that you have to worry about telling me.”

She laughed softly but didn’t move away.

“How about this, then?” She paused, backing away to put some distance between us and eyeing me carefully. “I had a total crush on you growing up.”

I grunted and sat back against the wall of the cab, lacing my fingers behind my neck. “I know.”

“What?” Her mouth stayed open.

“I knew for a long time.” I laughed to ease the tension. “I just had no idea what to do about it. Pushing you away—I couldn’t do that, so”—I shrugged—“I acted oblivious, and life went on as usual. I figured you’d eventually grow out of it, find a nice guy closer to your own age and forget about me. But then you jumped two grades and nothing held you back.”

“Yeah right.” She clasped at the paper again, crinkling it between her fingers then flattening it against her thigh. “I always wished it could be different,” she whispered. “I wanted you to find out on my own terms.”

Her body began to shake—her effort to hold it all together as she spoke was painfully visible. I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if reaching out to her would make things worse, but I did anyway, and she leaned willingly against me.

“I’m okay.” She sniffled. “I know I shouldn’t be doing this right now, I don’t—”

“Cassie,” I took her tear-stained face between my palms. “I can make up time if you need to talk. It’s fine.”

“I know you would, but I don’t think it’d be humanly possible to make up as much time as I’d need. What I really wanted to say….” her voice died away as she crumpled the paper into a ball in her lap. “You should call your ex. Say what you want to say no matter how it turns out.”

I felt like my heart stopped beating while my muscles tightened, then quickly released. I didn’t want this to become about Liz. “She’s probably not even up yet.”

“It’s worth a shot, right? Don’t regret not saying what you need to say.”

“You know you don’t have to regret anything. What happened wasn’t your fault, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation. Especially not me.”

“I know.” She stared down.

I took her chin and pulled her gaze to me. “You keep agreeing, but I’m not sure you believe it.”

She looked at me for a long quiet moment, but her eyes remained distant, focusing on things I could never see or understand. “I want to believe it. Logically, I know I should, but it’s hard when I always feel like I’m being punished.” Her sob broke me deeper than Liz’s call. I couldn’t bear the pain written all over her features. I gathered her shaking body in my arms—it seemed like the only thing I could ever do.

“You’re not being punished.”

“Then why do I keep losing everything?” She laid her head on my shoulder.

“You didn’t lose me.” I brushed her hair away from her face and caught a lone tear before it slid down her cheek.

“I did. Then, I got you back. I wish it was that easy to get everyone else back.”

“I know, sweetie.” I rubbed her back and squeezed her tight against my chest. “I wish I could make you hurt less.”

She straightened and nudged me with her shoulder. “Go on and do what you need to so we can hit the road. I’d like to see Florida again even if it’s from the highway.”

I pulled out my phone, staring down at it in my hands until I had the strength to move. Cassie was right, and I only had one shot. If I didn’t call, I’d regret it. “Wait in here.”

Cassie nodded, grabbing the blanket and moving up front to the passenger seat.

I jumped out of the truck, the shock of the pavement rumbling through my joints.

The phone rang once. My thoughts took off, running faster than possible.
Maybe we can make this work
.

Twice.
Maybe she won’t even answer.

Three times.
If she does answer, it’ll be to tell me to fuck off.

Liz answered in a hushed voice. “Hello.”

I was fairly certain she hadn’t even checked her caller id. “Hey, it’s Ben.”

“I’m trying to sleep. Not all of us enjoy living at the butt-crack of dawn. What the hell do you want?” She had never been a morning person, and I was usually ready to pass out by the time she thought life began.

“I want to talk. If you didn’t want to talk about it, why’d you even bother telling me?”

“You’re never around, Ben. That’s not going to change so there’s not much to talk about. I called because I thought maybe we had a chance, but you’re on the road to nowhere, as always, so why bother trying?”

“Why bother? You figured that
after
breaking the news to me in one breath that you’re pregnant and having an abortion. We may not get along, but it doesn’t mean—”