Living With Regret (23 page)

“Ready?” I ask, stepping off the curb.

The corner of his mouth turns up, his eyes scanning the entire length of my body. “Did I tell you how fucking sexy you look in that coat and boots?”

“You may have mentioned it.”

His fingers loop into my belt loops, using the leverage to pull me forward until my body is flush against him. “In case I didn’t, I’m going to say it again. You’re so fucking sexy, Rachel, and I can’t believe that after all these years … all this time, you’re finally mine.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I step up on my tippy toes and kiss the cleft of his chin. “I’m the lucky one.”

He kisses me back, but on the lips. He tastes me slowly, like one might let a smooth piece of milk chocolate melt on their tongue. When he pulls away, I crave him. I want his skin back on mine.

“Since our relationship is new, I’m not going to argue with you about that, but it’s not always going to be this way.” He goes in for one more kiss, leaving me nearly breathless by the time he’s done. “We should probably get going,” he says, looking up to the sky. “It looks like the weather man may have lied.”

“Okay. Maybe we can go back to my house and watch a movie or something.”

His head tilts. I know what he’s thinking … my parents will have a heart attack if they see Sam Shea walk through my front door.

“Or your place,” I add, making that smile of his reappear.

“Now, that sounds like a plan.”

He slides the helmet off the handlebars and places it firmly on my head, making sure it’s fastened in place. “Ready?” he asks.

“I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“Why are we still standing here then? Climb on.”

With my arms tightly around him, we make our way out of town, taking the same route we used to get in. From there, we turn onto a winding country road that’s completely different. The path is lined with mature trees, which are just starting to change color with autumn moving in. Even under the cloudy sky, I have to admit it’s beautiful.

With the sound of the loud engine once again in the background, I think about what Beau said back at the diner. About Madison being the one who called about the party that day. Something about Madison hasn’t sat right with me since that day in the hospital. There’s something she’s not telling me.

Maybe she called but wasn’t able to make it back in time for the party. Maybe she’s protecting me by not telling me something she knows would break me. Whatever it is, I just want to know, to try to put the pieces together.

As we continue to make our way toward home, the sky becomes darker. It’s a different feeling—being out here in the dead of night. It’s harder to see where we’re going. My control starts to slip, and that’s when the old feelings come back. The hopeless sorrow I’ve been fighting. Visions of Cory’s smiling face flood my mind. It’s hard to imagine one event affecting a person this much, but it has. I freaking hate it.

Soon, I recognize some of the houses we pass … not too much farther to go, I tell myself. As we come around a big curve, panic fills my chest. There’s no reason, no thought behind it, but all the sudden it’s extremely hard to breathe. My hold on Sam is tight, yet it’s like I’m not holding on at all. My arms feel like rubber, and my jaw tingles. Then, as we round the last quarter of the curve, I hear them … the voices. Mine and Cory’s.

“What are you talking about, Rachel? I’m not the one who fucked up.” It’s Cory. He’s sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

“Me!” I scream. My fingers ache from how tightly I’m gripping the steering wheel. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You’re the one who fucked up. I know exactly what I saw!” I yell.

“Pull this car over right now! We’re going to find somewhere to talk until I get it through your fucking head … I didn’t fucking touch her.”

Anger. Just thinking about this is making my blood boil. I saw something that night. Something I wished I could un-see. What was it? God, I wish I could remember.

“So putting your fucking lips on her neck isn’t touching? What the fuck, Cory? I’m not an idiot!”

“So what now? Hmm? You going to make me suffer for a week or two while you work through the shit in your head? What if I don’t wait for you?”

I laugh, but sad tears run down my cheeks. It’s maniacal—like I’m going insane. “No, I’m going to take you home and spend the next weeks and months convincing myself you never existed, because right now, I wish you didn’t.”

“Damnit, Rachel!” His hand covers mine on the steering wheel. “Pull. This. Car. Over. Now!”

“No,” I say, the tears spilling over at a quicker rate.

Then it happens: his hand tightens over mine, and as I try to free myself, he pulls against the steering wheel. Looking up through the windshield, I start to panic. My car veers off the curve and down a deep embankment. It’s falling fast, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Shit! Shit!” Cory screams, but then there’s silence. Everything goes black.

My body trembles as I remember what it was like in those last seconds. How helpless I felt. It’s why I always feel like I’ve lost control. I knew what was coming the minute the car rolled into the grass, but there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

I’m so lost that I don’t realize Sam’s pulled along the side of the road. I don’t realize my eyes are closed until I notice the overwhelming darkness. I feel dizzy, as though someone slapped me hard across the face, and I’m trying to regain my footing.

“Rachel, what’s wrong, baby? Talk to me please.” Not only has the motorcycle come to a complete stop, but Sam’s standing over me with my face in his cold hands. I want to say something, but I’m too numb. Insensible. Unfeeling. I see him. I feel his worry, but I’m unable to respond to it.

“Rachel, please. Please, baby.” He cradles me in his strong arms, holding me close to his body. In the distance, I see a wooden cross, surrounded by faded silk flowers and a stuffed teddy bear. This is exactly where it happened … where Cory’s life ended.

My breathing becomes more labored as tears cloud my eyes. It’s not long before I feel nothing. My body goes limp then I see nothing.

I OPEN MY EYES
to an unfamiliar, dark space. The only light in the room is a street lamp that shines through the window showing the outline of a dresser on the other side of the room. There’s a door along the same wall, but I don’t make any move toward it, even though I know this room isn’t mine.

Stretching my arms above my head, I realize I’m in a warm bed with a blanket pulled up to my neck. It takes me a minute to adjust—to remember where I was before this—and as soon as I do, the tears immediately start up again. Something really bad happened the night of the accident before we even got in the car. What did Cory think he saw? What did I see? My head hurts trying to recall what it was and after a while, I give up completely. I have enough to wrap my head around.

If the memory is accurate, the last thing I said to Cory is something about wishing he didn’t exist. I don’t even want to imagine what was going on in his head as the car went toward the tree. Was he replaying my words? If he’s in a place like heaven, is that what he remembers? Can you even remember things like that in heaven?

Rolling to my side, I fold one of the pillows in half and let it soak up my tears. Burying my nose into the soft cotton, I realize it smells just like Sam—the mix of his cologne and soap. I inhale it, wishing he were still here and slowly drift back to the darkness. Days like this, I like it better there anyway.

I try to turn over, but a strong arm holds me in place, a large chest pressed against my back. I don’t have to look to see who it is. I recognize the safe feeling. The warmth. The mixture of firm and gentle in his touch. Pushing back, I align my whole body with his; it fits perfectly.

“Are you awake?” he whispers, sounding half asleep.

“Yeah,” I answer, rubbing my hand over his forearm.

He loosens his grip. “Look at me, baby.”

Feeling the weight of this situation in the center of my chest, I follow his request. I’m too tired and weak to do otherwise, and I’ve put him through enough as it is.

Even in the dim light, I recognize the pain and worry in his eyes. Creases exist at the corner of each, ones I couldn’t see as easily before now. If there were room in my heart or mind for anything besides my sadness and contemplation, I’d feel guilty for what I put him through.

His fingers curl into my hair as his thumb brushes along my cheekbone. “How are you feeling?” His words come out quickly as if he’s worried I’ll drift off again before he gets an answer.

I open my mouth, noticing how painfully dry my lips are. It’s like the hospital all over again. “Confused and tired.”

“You scared the shit out of me last night.”

“I’m sorry. I remembered something about the accident as we came around the corner, and I lost it.”

“Talk to me.” His hand trails down my jawline before combing through my hair yet again. It feels good to fall into his touch.

“I can’t put it into words, not yet. Besides, I feel like I haven’t slept in days, and my mouth is so dry.”

His large hands come down, cupping my jaw. “Baby, please let me help you.”

“I need time. Please … just be patient with me.”

His fingers slide to the back of my neck as he kisses my temple. With that simple touch, some of the built up tension in my body fades away, like footprints washed away in the sand by a coming wave.

“I’ll grab you some water. Sit tight.”

He rolls out of bed before I have time to protest the loss of his warm body against mine. His form quickly disappears through the door, giving me just enough time to realize he’s only wearing a pair of gym shorts … no shirt. If this had happened yesterday, I would have jumped out of bed to get a better glimpse at his tight, toned abs, but today’s a top ten worst days ever type of day.

“Here you go,” he says, reappearing.

I prop myself up, grabbing the bottle from between his fingers. “Thank you.” I gulp the cold water down until the inside of my mouth doesn’t feel like it was scraped with sandpaper.

“What time is it?” I ask, realizing just how dark it is outside.

“Almost three in the morning.”

“Oh my God,” I screech, sitting straight up. “My mom’s going to freak out.”

“Hey,” Sam says, crawling up next to me on the bed. “I called her earlier. She knows you’re here and that you’re safe.”

“You didn’t tell her about what happened, did you?” I see hours and hours of therapy in my future. Hundreds of questions I can’t necessarily answer. Just when things started to feel normal again, they had to fall apart.

“Of course, I didn’t. She thinks you fell asleep on my couch, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Ugh … I bet that went over well. Sorry.”

He wraps his strong arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “Having you here next to me makes it all worth it. Besides, she took it better than I expected.”

“Hmm, that sounds unlike her,” I mumble, lying my cheek on his chest. It’s not as comfortable as a pillow, but it’s more comforting. It’s the equivalent of having a warm fleece blanket. I want to wrap myself around him and never let go.

“Go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning,” he soothes, his hands slowly brushing over my hair. It’s not long before my worries start to fade. Sleep really is the only true escape … the place where thoughts of nothingness take over.