My Unexpected Forever (10 page)

“What are you working on?”

I spin on my stool to find Liam picking up his guitar. There’s no point in hiding the lyrics from him any longer, not if I want Katelyn to hear them. I hand him the paper, he takes it and starts moving his head up and down. He can already hear himself singing the words.

“When did you write this?”

“That night after the bar.”

“This is really good. Want to give it a go?”

“I don’t know. It’s about…” I shake my head and pick up my drumsticks. “I like her. Quinn likes her. I don’t know what to do.”

“She’ll come around and if she doesn’t, move on. Her loss.”

He strums his guitar and starts with the first line. He writes down some notes and starts over until he’s found a melody that will work.

“Why the change of heart?” I ask.

“I’ve known Katelyn for a long time, but have spent all my adult life with you. I want to see you happy and if it’s her, great and if not, great. But I’m not going to get in the middle. I’ll just encourage. Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Katelyn,” he says without taking his eyes off the paper.

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you think she can do this job or not?”

I spin my drumstick between my fingers while I contemplate his question. Technically, no, I don’t think she can do the job, but we hired her knowing she had no experience.

“I think she’ll learn. I think that we threw her into the tour without any experience and the things that happened, do you really think she double booked us like that?”

Liam looks up. His eyes steady on mine. “No, but I’m not sure I can get over it.”

I nod. “Yeah, I hear ya.”

I don’t know what we’re going to do. Liam fired Sam and I was okay with that, but I’m not willing to let the band suffer for lack of a manager. We left Los Angeles assuming we could make it here, but maybe we can’t. Maybe we need to spend more time in L.A. working. The band is too important to let shit slide.

“Maybe things will get better.”

Liam smirks as he writes down a note. Maybe I’m just the eternal optimist and don’t want to give up the slight hope I have of making her see the real me. Not the guy she kisses and walks away from.

F
or
a week I’ve avoided the Westbury household. Not because I’m mad at Josie, or upset that Liam yelled at me, I deserved the verbal berating I received. But because that is where I work, or used to work, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not cut out for the music industry or any industry for that matter. The tour was a joke, a complete and utter disaster that ended with DeVon’s manager calling and giving me her own tongue lashing and threatening to sue the band for misrepresentation. I’ve had enough. I can’t take anymore. So I’m going to quit before Liam fires me. Save face that way and keep our friendship intact. I should never have taken a job with him, but once again, my mouth got the better of me and now, here I sit with the
Wanted
ads and a red pen, circling potential jobs. Red because I need the reminder that my life is nothing but a downward spiral and I’m losing control, I’ve lost it completely.

I lay my head down on the cool ground, the grass tickling my cheek. I fight the urge to cry, and not just cry, but to throw a good ole temper tantrum about how unfair life is. I didn’t sign up for this. I never thought I’d be sitting here at twenty-nine years old worrying about a job. A year and half ago everything was so much simpler. My biggest concern was wondering what I’d make for dinner. We weren’t well off by any means, and we lived paycheck to paycheck, but it worked. We didn’t fight or struggle with making our minimum payments. We just lived.

I roll over and look at the clock. It’s after midnight and Mason still isn’t home. There’s a pounding sound coming from the living room. I get up slowly, realizing that I’m still in my clothes from earlier. Tonight’s game had been two hours away. A team trying to make a name for themselves asked if we’d come play them. Mason, never one to turn down a game, obliged happily as did the rest of the team. They loaded up the bus, plus two additional ones for fans and made the trek. The girls and I went, but left early because it was cold.

I walk out into the living room, its dark, but blue lights flash through the window. The pounding starts again. It’s the front door. Mason probably locked himself out.

“Crazy man,” I mutter. I open the door and am met by Paul Baker, the local police chief. “Paul, what are you doing here this late?”

“Hi, Katelyn,” he says as he tips his hat. I push the screen door open and look out into the driveway for Mason’s truck. It’s not there. I try to keep the feeling of dread from creeping in, but it’s there. Something’s wrong.

“I need to take you down to Beaumont General.”

“What for?” I don’t give Paul a chance to even tell me why before I’m asking.

Paul takes off his hat. His eyes are red showing evidence that he’s been crying. “Mason’s been in an accident. You need to come to the hospital.”

My knees buckle. Paul catches me before I hit the ground. “I got you. Come on Katelyn,” he says as he rights me. “Call Josie, tell her to come and sit with the girls. They’ll be okay until she gets here. Roberta will sit outside. We gotta go.”

I nod and walk on shaky legs to the phone. It takes me four times to get her number right. The phone rings and goes to voicemail. I hang up and try again. “Hello?”

“Josie, I need you to come watch the girls. Mason… he’s had an accident and I need to go. Paul’s here.”

“Okay I’ll be over.” Josie hangs up, but I stay on the phone listening to the buzzing sound. Mason’s been in an accident. An accident. The word plays over and over again in my head, but I’m not grasping the meaning. What kind of accident? Paul’s hand presses down on my shoulder and the other takes the phone from my hand. He sets it down so gently I barely hear it click.

“Come, Katelyn we need to go.”

“Is Mason alive?”

Paul doesn’t say anything as he guides me out of the house. He shuts the door behind me and pushes me toward his car. The blue lights blinding me the closer I get.

“The girls…”

“They’ll be fine. Roberta is right there, see?” I follow the direction he’s pointing and see another police car sitting in front of my house. My neighbors are standing on our property line in their robes and slippers, holding hands. I don’t want to know what they’re thinking when Paul helps me into the front seat and pulls out of the driveway.

We drive through the empty streets and even though he’s speeding, it feels like the fifteen-minute drive is taking an hour. My hands are wringing in my lap. My stomach turns and threatens to empty itself all over the floorboard that my feet rest on. Paul turns into the almost empty parking lot and right up to the emergency room entrance. I look out the window at the sliding glass doors and see a few people walking around. Everything looks calm inside, yet everything inside of me is burning and on edge.

Paul opens my door and holds my hand until I’m standing. Everything is moving in slow motion. I hesitate at the door, afraid to cross the threshold. The last time I was here was to give birth to the twins and something is telling me that I’m leaving here by myself. He nudges me, his hand guiding my back as we walk through the quiet halls. A door clicks and we are in the center of the action.

“Mrs. Powell,” I look at the doctor standing in front of me. His blue scrubs look clean, fresh out of the laundry. I nod, unable to find my voice. Paul motions for us to sit down. I can’t move. I shake my head. I need to know what’s going on.

“Where’s Mason?”

When the doctor looks at me I know. He doesn’t need to say the words. My hand covers my mouth and my head starts to shake back and forth. Paul’s arm comes to rest on my waist holding me up.

“Mrs. Powell, if you’d like to see your husband I can take you to him. He doesn’t have much time left. I’m sorry. We’ve cleaned him up and he looks like he’s sleeping. The machines are keeping him breathing, but he can’t breathe on his own and he has very little brain activity.”

“He’s alive?”

“At the moment, yes.”

The doctor turns and I follow with Paul beside me. He pauses at the door separating me from my husband.

“What happened?”

Paul clears his throat. “He was sitting at the bottom of the hill, waiting for the light to change when an eighteen wheeler came behind him. The truck’s brakes gave out at the top of the hill and he couldn’t slow down. The driver said the light changed, but by then he was already too close and hit Mason. He says he honked, but you and I both know Mason probably had the radio turned up, so he probably didn’t hear him.”

Paul takes deep breath. “As soon as he hit, Mason lost control. He hit the wall before jumping the guardrail and hitting a tree.”

I don’t acknowledge Paul or the doctor. I push the door open. My hand covers my mouth as a sob takes over my body. My husband… my school sweetheart lays before me with a white sheet covering his body. His arms are down at his side. His face… his beautiful face is bruised and covered in cuts. I can’t tell if this is my husband or not. I take tentative steps to his bedside and run my fingers up his arm. I bend slightly and look at his shoulder, unable to control myself, I lay myself on top of him and cry. This beat up man is my husband and he’s dying.

“Mason,” I say over and over again waiting for a sign or some type of response to show me that the doctor is wrong. My husband is strong. He can pull through this. He just needs to know that I’m here and that I love him. I cup his face, lean in and kiss his lips. They’re cold and uninviting. I run my hand over his hair. He has an appointment tomorrow morning so he can get a trim. Every six-weeks like clock work.

“Mason, baby, please wake up.” I plead with him. “Open your beautiful eyes for me.” I lay my head on his chest to feel his heart, but it’s so faint.

“Katie?”

My head pops up and I see Mr. Powell standing at the end of the bed. I forgot to call him. He looks at me with such sorrow in his eyes. He comes to me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. He holds me while I cry. I scream loudly, but don’t know the words that are coming out of my mouth. His body shakes with mine as we battle the pain that is ripping through our bodies. Our world is leaving us and we are powerless to stop him from going.

“We have to say goodbye.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s strong, he’ll pull through.”

“I know, Katie.” He sighs, holding me tighter. The machine beeps. We break apart. I hold Mason’s hand while his father holds his other. My fingers twist his wedding band back and forth while my other hand strokes his cheek. I lean forward, setting my lips by his ear.

“I love you, Mason Powell. You’re the best husband and father. Our daughters love you. If you can hear me, fight baby. Fight so damn hard because we need you. I need you. I don’t know how to live without you.” My tears wet the side of his face. I hear his dad take in a deep breath. I can’t even begin to imagine how he’s doing this. We were in this same hospital not a year ago saying goodbye to his wife.

Mason’s body shudders. The beeping stops. I try to choke back a sob, but it wracks through my body. I cry for the loss of my husband and best friend.

I wipe away the tears that are steaming down my face. I hadn’t thought about that night in such a long time. The nightmares are few and far between. Now I just dream about him coming for me. Months ago that is something I wanted. Not the death part, but to have him in my arms again, but now? Now I wonder if there’s something out there for me. Is Harrison the one who can turn things around for me and give the girls a father figure? The answer is no because I have a feeling that if I replaced Mason, my father-in-law might be hurt, and there’s no way I’m going to hurt him.

“I need help, Mason,” I say to his tombstone, knowing that it won’t answer, but wishing it would. “These feelings I have inside me are raging, building up to the surface and I feel like I’m going to explode. I’m antsy and on edge. Something has to change, but I don’t know what. I hate having feelings for another man when I love you so much. I shouldn’t feel like this. My heart… it should know better, Mason. Please tell me what to do.”

Of course, he doesn’t answer. He’ll never answer. He’ll never sit by my side and help me through the tiniest of problems. He’ll never hold my hand and walk with me along the path that we set out for ourselves so many years ago.

“Harrison will.”

I sit up, looking around. I see no one and can’t imagine my subconscious would be telling me to move on. Not like this. Not in the place where my husband rests.

I know what I have to do, but it won’t be easy. I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the name that has been looming there since Mason left. I press the number and watch as my phone lights up, telling me I’m calling the one person I’d hope to avoid because I thought I was strong enough to do this by myself.

“Hello, this is Katelyn Powell. I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Brooks.”

I wait on hold until she comes back with my appointment time. I hang up and watch the other mourners, wondering if they’ll go through the same thing I have or if their lives will just continue. There are two little girls; they look to be about the twins’ age. Both are dressed the same. Mason was adamant that we never do that to our kids, but we did. I did. He laughed and went along with it, once.

I think about Peyton and Elle and how I don’t want them to grow up. How I need them to stay just the way they are so I don’t forget what it was like to have their dad around. I need Peyton to always love football, to keep Mason’s spirit alive on Sundays and for Elle to be the princess that her daddy said she was going to be. I think that is the only thing that is going to keep me afloat.