Purple Haze (Blue Dream Book 2) (16 page)

Like her previous sentence, the answer is muffled, “...on The Row.”

“Wait outside. I'll find you.”

Ending the call, I start my car and pull off down the road while the battle of wills continues inside of me. If I pick any drug that isn't Presley right now, I'm a liar. To her. To Doc. To Noah. Baby Shelby. To the man I just walked away from. I'm not the useless waste he helped birth. I'm more than that now. I plan on staying more than that. This is
my
life and I'll be damned if I ever let him have that sort of power over me again.

A few blocks from Ashwin, the prestigious art school Merrick and Jovi both attend, I take a left onto The Row. Even art nerds have sororities and fraternities. Fortunately they're grouped together making it a one stop party shop if you're in the mood. The club homes are built out of older homes they revamped and refurnished to fit the lifestyle they desired.

Slowly I cruise my car down the territory, head swinging back and forth, eyes squinting in the dark for a figure I recognize. At the end of the rowdy road I recognize the blonde with purple tipped hair who seems to be leaned against a car for balance.

When I come to a complete stop, I unlock the door, and roll down the window. “Get in.”

Kara's body sways as it struggles to do what it's told. The moment she flops down in the passenger seat her eyes fall shut.

Taking a right, I harshly snap, “What the fuck did you take?”

She shakes her head. “N-n-n-nothing. Someone....slipped...”

Her inability to finish the sentence tenses my body. “Were you drinking?”

Kara incoherently mumbles, but I manage to capture the word soda before she's completely passed out in my front seat. At the light I relocate my attention to her paralyzed body that's sweating profusely. She wasn't roofied. Most likely she ingested a combination of something harder. Something that would initially knock her out but later induce the desire to want to be fucked. There are a handful of party drugs that do that, so to assume which one she was slipped is pointless. What matters now is that she's not alone and that I don't leave her somewhere to be taken advantage of.

The light changes colors and I let out another frustrated groan. I'm not a hero. Hell, I used to be the villain who would deliver a batch of this shit with no moral concern who it would be used on. It wasn't my problem. My problem was solved upon delivery. My next high could and would be met. As an addict tunnel vision takes on an entirely new meaning. I didn't have to give a shit what happened after I left, but seeing it first hand now churns my stomach with disgust. What if I hadn't shown up? What if I would've ignored her call? What if I would've arrived blitzed? What kind of sick shit would I not mind doing to her? What kind of walking horror was I when I was fucked up out of my mind? There are memories from those days I can't unlock. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe just seeing this nightmare is enough of an unwanted memento to drown out any desires that attempt to show themselves. I don't give a shit how hard my life gets. I don't want to go down this rabbit hole. I don't wanna lose Pres. I don't wanna lose myself again.

Ryder

The beginning throbs of a headache create a groan in my throat. The stressful night I had yesterday has managed to roll itself into today. I drag my exhausted body out of bed, slip on shorts, and head to grab some aspirin. On my way to the kitchen I grab a glimpse of the unwanted visitor passed out on our couch. Couldn't take her home because I don't know where leaves. Couldn't drop her off at a sponsor's because she doesn't have one. If I would've taken her to the hospital to have her system flushed I have no doubt she would be thrown back in rehab against her will for something that wasn't entirely her fault. Addiction is enough of a prison sentence without constantly having others force you in a physical one.

Through another groan of pain, I open the cabinet to grab the medication, thankful Jovi has built up a habit of making sure this apartment is stocked with such necessities.

Seconds after a bottle of water is in my hand, a feminine voice calls out, “Can I have one too or does that cost extra?”

My eyes cut over to the sight of Kara gripping the sheet covering her. I grabbed her one also and acknowledge her conscious state. “You're probably dangerously dehydrated.”

She slinks her body to a sitting position. “Is that why I'm naked?”

Sitting on the edge of the couch beside her, I offer her a bottle. “Probably. When I went to bed you were still wearing clothes.” After the water is in her grasp I throw the pills in my mouth and wash them down. “You hadn't hit the heat phase.”

Kara sips on the drink. “I don't....I don't remember anything from last night.”

“You remember calling me?”

Her head tilts as she struggles to recall. “Not...not exactly. The last thing I remember was being handed a soda from Marc. Everything after that is fuzzy.”

For a moment I stare down at the epitome of the lifestyle I used to choose, which is exactly what it was. It was a choice. I chose to get lit. I chose to party. I chose to do the things necessary to feed the demon, to keep it happy. Here, in a scarred blonde form, is the cast aside shadows I ignore. Staring at her in disbelief I ask her something unexpected. “Is sobriety a game to you?”

Kara's eyebrows dart down. “What?”

“Is staying clean something you actually plan on doing or is it something you happen to be doing until you grow bored?”

“I didn't
purposely
take drugs last night, Ryder.”

“No,” I agree. “You didn't. But every time I look up you're putting yourself in the same fucking position. Every other day it seems like you stick yourself right in the middle of chaos in hopes it will consume you. You wanna stay clean? It helps to stay away from parties. It helps to stay away from night clubs. It helps to stay away from all the same goddamn bullshit that you got you hooked to begin with!”

“So I'm just supposed to give up living!” She snaps harshly. “I'm supposed to die miserable, alone, and sober? How the fuck is that better?”

“No one told you had to die from any of those things. You can be sober and have a life worth living.”

“Really?” Her voice gets cold. “Is yours?”

Without hesitation I reply, “Yes.”

“When? When you're struggling to rub elbows with people who will never know the abyss that only I know expands inside of you? When you're sitting like a good student at those fucking meetings?”

“When my brother looks at me with pride instead of shame. When I don't have to struggle between the decision of buying food or buying an ounce.” I wet my lips slowly before I add, “When I look into my girlfriend's eyes and see love instead of fear.”

Kara pushes her hair behind her ear and meekly exclaims, “I don't have any of those things. All I have are two parents who have given up on me, friends who only want me around if I'm up to party, and a guy who would rather pass me around as payment than actually pay out the pocket for his habits. Not all of us are given golden second chances, Ryder.”

“Make no mistake,” I growl lowly. “If you want a second chance you have to take it. You have to show up every fucking day and make it happen. The world doesn't owe you shit.”

My words, the final ones before the jingling of the front door knob fills the apartment. Assuming it's Merrick coming home to grab the sleep he didn't get at Jovi's I brace myself to explain the naked female on our couch. Immediately my jaw drops at the surprise.

“Morning!” Presley cheerfully greets me. Lifting up a folded bag she dangles it playfully. “Figured, I would bring you breakfast on my way in.”

I cock a short smile.

“I missed you last night. I-” Her voice cuts itself off at the view of Kara. She violently stutters, “Wh-wh-who the hell is that?”

The suspicious way this appears isn't lost upon me, but I do my best not to accelerate the hostile reaction by overreacting myself. Cautiously I stand to my feet. “It's not what it looks like. I swear.”

Presley places the bag on the island. “Oh good. Because it looks like there is a half-naked-”

“Fully naked,” Kara corrects with a devious smirk.

“Much better,” Presley whispers under her breath. In an unhappy voice she retorts loudly, “Maybe you should get dressed and go now.”

“Can't.” Kara shrugs. “Ryder's my ride home.”

“Of course he is...” With an unmistakable pain in her eyes she pins me with a stare. “Is that why you didn't call last night? Because you were with her?”

Yes. That's the honest truth, just not the way she's thinking. Never the way she's thinking. My brain races alongside the throbs to communicate that in a clear, concise sense.

“I'll take your silence as an admission.”

“It's not that simple, Pres.”

“With you it never is.” She shakes her head and heads back for the front door. “I have to go.”

“It's not what you're assuming.”

“So I'm wrong for assuming you're keeping secrets from me?” The fact that I am contorts my lips. “Exactly...I have to go.”

Rushing after her I slam my hand on the door to prevent her from leaving. “Baby, I can explain. You have to let me explain. You have to give me a chance to-”

“I don't have to do shit.” The bite is filled with enough venom to drop my hand. “Move.”

“Presley just listen for a second-”

“No,” she denies loudly.

“But there's a good reason-”

“For another woman naked in your apartment?” Disbelief flashes in her eyes. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?”

“I-”

She yanks the door open and mumbles as she exits, “Don't waste your breath.”

After briefly watching her storm the direction of her car, I slam the front door and roar, “Fuck!”

“She seems swell,” Kara mocks reaching for her top.

“Do you fucking blame her?” I spin around. “And what the fuck were you thinking saying that?”

“I thought it would lighten the mood.”

“Did you?” Roughly I drop my hands on the back of the couch. “Or did you hope you could fuck up my world just enough for me to dive back down to dark depression with you?”

Her jaw struggles not to tremble.

“Get dressed. I'm fucking taking you home. And for your sake you better hope the damage you've done to my relationship isn't detrimental or you'll wish you would've never dialed my number last night...”

At the end of the sentence, I storm off for my bedroom in no mood to spend the day under the hood of cars or wondering how hard it's going to be to rebuild the trust I managed to break once again.

Presley

Without time to contemplate the issues of my personal life I walk through the front doors, immediately assaulted by Dana. “Morning Boss!”

Her cheerfulness causes my face to twitch.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You sure? You don't look as cheerful as you had.”

“I'm fine.”

“You skip breakfast?” she continues as if hearing isn't one of her top three skills. “I can grab you something from the kitchen. It's a packed day ahead and you'll probably end up skipping your usual lunch time. Should I go ahead and plan to have an early or late one delivered?”

Anxious to get to my office, I deny, “I'm fine, Dana. I'll be fine.”

“Alright.” The defeat in her tone isn't one I can stomach right now. She's not the only one facing it. “There's a delivery of documents from accounting on your desk. Your first tour will be here in twenty seven minutes. The toddler class is expecting you during morning gym time and Merrick called because he couldn't get a hold of your cell to tell you he's now on vacation.”

His name twists something tight in the pit of my stomach. That key was supposed to be in case of an emergency, not a surprise. I should've never used it. I should've knocked. I should've called. I should've....I don't know. Anything to avoid having to witness my so called boyfriend pre sex or post sex. It doesn't matter which it was. Both are acts of betrayal.

I try to clear away the animosity. “Right. His niece or nephew is being born.”

“Aww...babies,” Dana coos.

Something that every time I consider having, the opposite sex manages to toss a wrench in. How could I be so stupid? Why did I ever think just sleeping with me would be enough? Why did I ever think I'd be enough for anyone?

“...don't you agree?”

The realization I wasn't listening kicks me harder than expected. “Sorry, Dana. Brain's all over the place this morning. What were you saying?”

She offers me a sympathetic smile. “It wasn't important. How about I grab you a cup of coffee. Maybe that'll help shake that mind of yours into gear?”

Not sure I can deny her kindness any longer, I cave. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Dana bounces the opposite direction of my office and relief momentarily replaces her. I can do this. I have to do this. Work requires my focus. It deserves it. It's earned it. Besides, the more things I can do to keep from trying to dissect how I missed the signs of a cheating boyfriend, the tell-tale indications we were having this level of problems, the better. I'm not sure I can handle the soul crushing conclusions.

**

Hours thankfully fly by leaving my brain no downtown. Between multiple tours, parent interviews, classroom check-ins, and emails that seem to be never ending, I haven't had the chance to turn into the shriveling mess I know I will as soon as this stops. As soon as I let it soak in how we're over. How even ten years later we still can't make
us
work. Maybe we're not destined to be together.

A sniffle comes from me at the same time Dana knocks on my office door. “Hey. You're two o'clock appointment is here.”

Unsure who or what it's for, I usher a hand for her to send them in. “All ready.”

Another lie. Today seems to be filled with them.

The familiar face appears in the doorway with an expression I'm not sure I recall the last time I saw. Breathlessly I sigh, “Xander....”

He smiles and tosses a hand in the air. “I'm your two o'clock.”

Baffled by his presence, I waste no time questioning, “What are you doing here? Your brother send you here to do the dirty work of helping get your niece in?”

His soft chuckle wraps around me like an abandoned blanket I had forgotten could ever provide comfort. “No. His pay check could never afford a place like this.”

I cross my legs and lean back in my chair. “Then what brings you in?”

Sitting in the seat across from me, he undoes his suit jacket. “It's been months since I've heard from you.”

My face doesn't change from it's professional expression.

“I did my best to give you space. The occasional voice mail. Text. Email. And I got nothing.”

Firmly I state, “I've been busy.”

“I don't doubt it.” He attempts to smile again. “Your schedule was equally as hectic as my own when we were together.”

Uncomfortable by the recollection since it's out of character for him, I rush, “What did you need, Xander?”

“You.”

The bluntness of his response drops my jaw.

“I would like to talk to you about....us-”

“There is no us.” A common theme cycling through my life.

“We were together for five years, Presley. Maybe there's no romantic future, but I wouldn't like to close the door on friendship.” His mature request is one my head can't comprehend. “Can we have dinner tonight and just talk? When you broke up with me that didn't exactly occur.”

He's not exaggerating. I denied his proposal and left the apartment. The next time we were face to face Katherine was at my side with moving boxes. Even then I barely said more than I had to. But he didn't exactly fight to keep me. Hell, come to think of it, Ryder didn't either. Both of their half ass attempts to stop me from walking away makes me wonder did either really want me around because they loved me or just because it was an asset to their well-being?

I prepare to deny the invitation for dinner tonight of all nights, but a childish impulse pokes until I'm grinning deviously. “Dinner would be great, Xander.”

Dinner with an ex-boyfriend after catching your current boyfriend fucking someone else is probably as immature as it comes. The logic to care about the catastrophic consequences is stifled out by a stronger will to get even. To make Ryder feel the tiniest portion of the agony boiling inside me.

“How about we meet at Flander's Fillet? I remember you used to love their crab cakes.”

Another attempt to recall something from our past informs me his request for friendship is more than that.
He
wants a second chance. The opportunity to start fresh. Unfortunately for him, I'm fuck out of those.

“Sounds good.” I nod. “Around 9. It's a late work night for me.”

He stands and states, “I'll make the reservations.” After an additional grin he says, “I look forward to it.”

Not sure that I'm looking forward to anything more than the crab cakes.

**

After our first glass of wine, which is accompanied with light conversation I wasn't aware he was capable of, we place our orders. I spent the last couple of hours alone in the office crying and contemplating what the hell to do with the cards life decided to deal. I've never been a fan of dwelling in the past. That's not where I am. That's not the direction I'm going. That's not the direction I want to go. Xander deserves the truth. He shouldn't have to suffer through the facade I was with Ryder. Maybe the ten years of separation was supposed to be enough time to realize we
weren't
meant to be. Maybe the inexpiable crossing of paths was a test to stay away from each other. A test we failed. A moment for our futures to be brighter than our pasts. Finding one another again isn't the same as destined to be
together
.

“You seem distracted,” Xander quietly comments.

Folding my hands in my lap, I confess. “I am. I'm sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes. No. Yes. Not with you. Not with Ryder. Hell not even with Katherine who will just give me some textbook explanation lacking heart.

“Not really.”

Xander nods slowly before sighing, “I've missed you.”

Unaffected by the words that feel hollow I merely wait for him to continue.

“You don't realize how much someone means to you until they're gone. I used to think that old saying was just bromidic. I didn't know there was truth behind it. And there is Presley. I miss coming home to you. I miss hearing you laugh at books in the bathtub. I miss the warmth in bed beside me at night. I miss having someone to talk to outside of work.”

I don't express mutual longing. The truth is, I don't miss those things. He's not who I miss when I'm home alone. It's not his laugh at my goofy dancing. It's not his light snore after an exhausting day. It's not him cooking in the kitchen that creates a sense of security for a future I've always wanted.

“Xander,” my voice calmly starts. “I've been seeing someone.”

“Oh.” His facial reaction isn't one I think I've ever seen. “Is it...serious?”

I was convinced it was and now....now I'm wondering who was the bigger liar. Ryder when he said he changed or me every time I convinced myself he had.

“That's not important,” I circumvent the answer. “What is important is that I'm honest with you right now. What we had was...” My brain wracks itself for the correct phrasing. “Comfortable.”

“It was.”

“And after five years, a degree of that is understandable, but as a whole Xander, it's not what I want. We went through the motions of two people in love without ever stopping to actually be. Everything between us was a convenience. Accidents we benefited from. There were few intentions we had. Hell, right down to the idea of marrying me wasn't about building a life together for our remaining days so much as a retirement plan.”

He doesn't argue.

“That's not what love is, Xander. Part of me had forgotten that. Part of me didn't think I deserved it or would ever find it again. But over the last few months...” The sentence drifts as I picture my head in Ryder's lap on the couch. Him kissing me goodbye before work. Taking him to one of my kick boxing classes. Memory after memory floods until my throat constricts. I do my best to speak through it. “Over the last few months I've fallen in love again and it has it's highs just like it has it's lows, but what matters most is that I feel
something
every day. I'm not just drifting through the days any more. We have good days. We have...” Seeing his desperation to need to explain to me croaks my voice. “...bad ones. But every moment I feel
alive
and that's something I don't take for granted. It's not just something I
assume
I'll keep having. It's something we constantly work at and it's...worth it. So please understand, Xander, if you want to start to be friends, that's fine. We can figure out a way to make that happen, but if you're hoping for a friendship in hopes it will lead to a second chance, you need to let that go.”

And maybe I need to give the idea of letting Ryder go a second thought. For all the reasons I just mentioned, maybe he deserves that chance to explain. Maybe there was an actual explanation for what I thought I was witnessing. Maybe I shouldn't have automatically assumed the worst possible scenario. Maybe Ryder deserves to be given the fighting chance I never gave Xander.  Maybe I owe it to myself to find out.