Pieces of Summer (A stand-alone novel) (24 page)

BOOK: Pieces of Summer (A stand-alone novel)
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Chapter 46

 

MIKA

 

2 months later…

 

“How’s Aidan?” I ask Whit as I move my laptop away to devote my full attention to her.

We have one rule: She never calls. I do all the calling.

“He’s… Mika, are you sure he’s going to be okay? He’s angry. He’s drunk most of the time. I’m worried about him. It’s like… I don’t know. He knows your safe, since Dr. Stein keeps him updated, but he doesn’t act like he believes it.”

Guilt hits me like it has for two solid months, but I take a deep, calming breath. The end of summer came and went, and I’ve worked hard to not think about it. I always hated autumn.

“Aidan deserves a better life than he can have around a defective sister,” I state without any emotion.

I’ve managed to get my emotions under control better than ever. That’s what isolation does for you. You cry for three weeks straight until you’re too numb to feel anything. Some things have been broken—because I’m still just as crazy today as I was yesterday—but I haven’t hurt myself anymore.

I also have a panic button just in case. It directly calls for an ambulane. That was a firm request by Dr. Stein, who I chat with via Skype at random times, on random days.

“You’re not defective, Mika,” Whit says softly. “I couldn’t have survived what you’ve been through. I can’t… Just hearing about it makes me want to curl into a corner and cry for you. Are you sure I can’t come out there and see you?”

“No. I… I can’t do that. It’s better if I slowly cut all ties. Did Aidan get the paper for ownership of the house?”

“Yes. It finally went through. But… It sort of set him off. He’s convinced you’ve gone off to die like a dog in the woods.”

“I didn’t come here to die,” I tell her. Again. It seems to be the same conversation every time I call her.

“Do you want to know about… Chase?” she asks.

My stomach tenses, and my throat closes up.

“No.” The word is a pained whisper, and I glance toward the screen of my laptop, seeing the latest version of how I’ve killed him… After having my way with his body a few times.

At least people can’t judge me for the things I do to cope. What are they going to say? That I’m crazy?

“Are you sure? I think you need to hear, because—”

“Whit, I really, really,
really
don’t want to know. If he’s doing great, that will hurt to hear. If he’s hurting like me, that will hurt to hear. If he’s drinking, that will kill me. If he’s doing worse… I just can’t. Not right now. I’m still trying to keep my head in a good place.”

She sighs heavily, and I swear I hear her nodding.

“You’re getting out and stuff, right? Not staying in over three days?”

“I’m getting out,” I assure her, even though it’s hard as hell to force myself to do.

I owe it to Aidan to keep myself as normal as possible. He’s fought so hard for me for so many years. I just hate that it’s taking him so long to bounce back from my absence. I want him to be happy, not missing me.

It takes all my strength not to go back.

“Has Hunter left any, or is he still staying there?” I ask her.

“He’s running his business over the phone for the most part. He’s waiting on you to come back too. They’re both miserable, Mika.”

I close my eyes, trying to figure out where this went wrong. None of this was supposed to hurt them worse. This was supposed to make their lives better.

“Don’t make me feel worse,” I whisper pleadingly.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m not trying to. I just don’t want to lie. You’re missed, Mika. They don’t see you as their burden. They actually seem really lost without you.”

My chest starts to ache, and I stare at the blank screen of the TV on my wall.

“And Chase… Can I please tell you about him?”

“No,” I say firmer.

She groans but doesn’t press the issue.

“Well, they’re all still looking for you,” she grumbles. “I hate lying. Sadly, I must be really good at it because no one suspects me. And Chuck is good at it too.”

“I’m sorry you have to—”

“What’s the matter, slut? Not able to find a dick big enough to fit in that canyon you call a pussy these days?” an elderly woman’s voice cuts in.

“Fuck you, hag. At least I don’t need a bottle of lube to smear on my dried up walls. It’s like the Penderson Desert in that beast.”

Ah. Mrs. Penderson is apparently around. I guess Whit is sitting outside her apartment again.

“At least my vagina still holds a dick. Does yours even feel anything anymore?” Mrs. Penderson shoots back. “Or does he have to spin circles just to catch more than air.”

After putting the phone on speaker, I get up to grab a drink. These sessions always take a while.

“Gah, lay off the excessive douching! You smell like you’ve been marinating in vinegar for too long. If a cucumber got shoved in there, it would come back out a pickle,” Whit groans.

“You smell like an abandoned Easter egg hunt inside that massive orgy hole. I guess the eggs rotted when they couldn’t be found inside that wallowed-out abyss.”

“Do you even know what a normal pussy looks like anymore? Or does your overgrown bush block the view? Need Edward Scissorhands to landscape for you? Or should we call the chainsaw guys in?”

“At least I don’t shave mine and make it look like something that happened after a chainsaw massacre! Right out of a horror film.”

Rolling my eyes, I open a bottle of water. How do they know what kind of lady-scaping each other has?

“There’s nothing horrifying besides your unkempt, 1970’s porno forest. I wax, bitch. It takes a real set of ovaries to do that. And my pussy is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it takes a real woman to make her vagina look like a little girl’s. You should worry about the kind of man that gets turned on by that.”

Frowning, I actually look down my underwear at my own smooth skin. Brazilian waxes are totally in right now, damn it. And I found a place that takes walk-ins and doesn’t even bother giving you an estimated time frame.

Then I roll my eyes again—this time at myself. Somehow I let myself get sucked into the ridiculousness. Even my silent participation is embarrassing.

“Just worry about the kind of man who gets turned on after you take your bra off. Any guy who wants to wrestle with those
Tales From The Crypt
tits is a fetish freak or something. Do your nipples rot off after the first century?”

“Fuck you, asshole licker.”

“Fuck you, wrinkly ball lover.”

“Did you get my meds?”

“Yeah, I was waiting out here for you.” The rustling of paper has me biting back a smile. “I even got you a couple extra tubes of lube. You’re welcome.”

“Drop dead, cum guzzler,” Mrs. Penderson grumbles.

“Eat shit, pickled cunt!” A slight pause takes place, and I wonder if Mrs. Penderson is glaring daggers at Whit or flipping her off while hobbling away. Or strangling her with her cane… My mind always goes to murder.

“You still there?” Whit asks, and I head back toward the phone.

“Yeah. Just thought I’d wait it out,” I say as I take the phone off speaker.

“Anyway, I got all your bills paid. By the way, your bank account makes my bank account very jealous.”

“I wish you’d let me pay you for doing all that,” I tell her on a sigh.

“Hell no. I want to help you, and I don’t want to be paid for it, Mika. Besides, Mrs. Penderson would be up shit creek if I had extra money. I’d move out of this apartment, and she’d have no one to buy her meds when everyone else refuses her. As you can tell, she’s not easy to feel sorry for.”

I laugh lightly while lying back on my couch. Boredom is brutal. Dr. Stein and Whit are my only contacts to the outside world. I call Dr. Stein for therapy purposes, and I call Whit to remember I’m human.

“Shit. Patrol car just pulled up and I’m smoking the pot Mrs. Penderson gave me. Great. I bet that mean old bitch called them,” Whit groans, causing me to strangle on a laugh. “Hey, Dusty!” she yells.

“Put that shit out, Whit,” he calls back, sounding annoyed.

“Damn small towns,” she grumbles.

Never thought I’d miss that small town so much. I spent years away and never missed the town. Then again, it’s not really me missing the town as much as it’s me missing everyone in it. Mainly my two brothers and one guy who is probably back to fucking anything on two legs. That’s how he moved past me the first time.

The taste in my mouth is a mixture of jealousy and self-loathing, and I feel the urge to brush my teeth.

“I need to go,” I tell her, acting like I have a life, when really all I need to do is stop listening about the one I had to give up.

“Yeah. Sure. Call me soon, okay?”

I nod like she can see me before hanging up, and I stare up at my ceiling. At least solitude is helping me with my emotions, even if it is trapping me with them at the same time.

Giving up Aidan is killing me. Giving up Hunter isn’t easy either.

Giving up Chase… It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did last time, but it hurts worse. Probably because I had a taste of what we had once again, only to have it stripped away.

At least I had him for a little while, even if it was just enough to torture me.

 

Chapter 47

 

CHASE

 

“Anything?” I ask Hunter, who helps me lift Aidan off the barstool. Between the two of us, we carry him out to my truck.

“No. Just glad you’re not stuck in a drunken stupor the way he is,” he grumbles.

“I got lost in the bottom of a bottle and other women the last time I lost Mika. It didn’t help. I was a kid then. I’m not anymore. Right now I’m trying not to lose my shit, because I want to deserve her when we find her. Aidan… Aidan just needs to realize this isn’t helping.”

“Dr. Stein wants to see him, because she’s worried about him. Mika allows her to update him on her well-being, but Dr. Stein says she still can’t disclose where Mika is. That’s all he needs to pull himself back together again.”

“Mika isn’t home,” Aidan mumbles, still half passed out as his head flops from side to side.

We put him into the back cab of my truck, and Hunter walks around to get in on the passenger side, while I heave myself in behind the wheel.

“She thinks she’s keeping him from living his life. Does that look like a man who is missing out on life?” Hunter asks me, gesturing behind him as Aidan groans and tries to get comfortable in the back.

“She’s coming home. I just have to figure out a way to find her. Chuck… I think Chuck knows something,” I tell him as we back out of the lot. “Which is one thing helping to keep me from being in a drunken stupor. That and the fact I’ve been focused on my list.”

“What? Why? How?” Hunter asks in a higher pitch than normal as I drive us toward Mika’s home. It’s her home even if she did sign it over to Aidan.

“He’s been avoiding me the past few weeks. When I asked him what was up, he rambled about nonsensical bullshit for a while. Chuck is terrible at keeping secrets for long periods of time.”

He sighs as though a weight is lifted off him. “Finding her would be the best thing that could happen to Aidan right now.”

“And me,” I remind him as we turn into Mika’s driveway.

“So you’ve stuck to the list for two months and think you’re ready to go full-time?”

I nod. “Haven’t checked off any boxes in over five weeks.”

“That’s impressive. Took me almost six months to go without checking off a box.”

“I have a little more incentive,” I mumble.

“You know you can’t ever get married if you do this, right? She’s not the typical bride type. She can’t plan a wedding.”

“Yeah. I read about it. A wedding of any kind would be too much stress. Even a small one without any times or planning could cause agitation. For now. Mika has improved drastically from what I’ve read in that damn book.”

“Speaking of which, she had another book come out. You died again.”

I grimace, thinking back to the book Mika once tried to stop me from reading. This was
not
that book. That book has yet to be published, but this one was, and I died brutally. Acid—pure burning acid—was injected into my veins in small doses.

“Yeah. Saw that. How many times can she kill me? I thought they made her stop killing someone named Chase.”

“She’s a cash cow. They bend their rules based on what she needs. You had to die in order for her to try and move forward again. She’s probably already written several others where you’re being killed. Aidan wasn’t killed. That’s a good sign.”

“Good for him,” I grumble.

Just as we get out to move Aidan inside, Whit’s car wheels in beside us. She gets out, and her eyes flick to the backseat Aidan is sprawled across.

“I need to talk to you,” she says, not looking away from Aidan.

“Kind of busy right this second. Can it wait?”

She looks up just as I heave Aidan out of the truck and wrap his arm around my shoulders, waiting on Hunter to get around here and give me a hand. I’d throw him over my shoulder, but he puked on me the last time I did that. I’d rather not get an encore.

“It’s about Mika. I know where she is.”

Aidan flops to the ground when I drop him on accident, narrowly missing the concrete, and he groans as he flips onto his back, spitting dirt out of his mouth.

“Where?!” I snap, watching her flinch.

“Promise you won’t let Aidan kill me when he sobers up?” she asks, taking a wary step back.

“Whit, you should be more concerned about me right now,” I growl.

“I know you won’t hurt me, but he might,” she goes on, pointing at Aidan who is cursing and trying to sit up.

“Where is she?” Hunter barks.

Whit reaches out, handing me a piece of paper, and Hunter tries to snatch it away. I don’t let him. I read it over.

“It’s a three—”

“No numbers,” I interrupt, hearing Whit swallow the rest of her words. “I have to go.”

“Right now?” Whit asks. “He needs to sober up.”

“Yes, now.”

“Me too,” Aidan says from the ground.

Hunter lifts him, and we toss him back in the back.

“We can grab coffee on the way to sober him up,” I tell Hunter as my skin tries to crawl off me.

Whit is talking, but I’m already shutting the door.

“Fuck her. She’s known all along,” Aidan slurs from the backseat.

I say nothing, because I don’t know if I’m furious with Whit for holding this back or happy as hell that she told us. Everything is conflicting right now, and I can’t get out of the driveway fast enough.

“You know the address?” Hunter asks.

“No, but I can figure it out without GPS, considering that thing uses arrival times and exact miles.”

“We can cheat this once,” he argues.

“No. We can’t. I can’t. I’ve worked too hard to be what she needs to fuck it up this close to the finish line.”

My motor roars when my foot pushes harder on the pedal. My tank is full, and I should be able to make it there without stopping. Hopefully. Fuck the coffee.

“I changed my mind. Hang Aidan’s head out the window and let him get fresh air,” I tell Hunter. “I’m not stopping.”

 

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