Pushing the Boundaries (Picking up the Pieces #3) (32 page)

“What are we going to do if she doesn’t answer?” Kenzie asked as she wrung her hands in front of her. Nearly a week had gone by since Lizzy and Trevor’s epic breakup and she’d called out of work every day since. She’d finally had enough worrying over not being able to get a hold of Lizzy and had called for reinforcements.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Savannah said, taking a look over her shoulder at everyone. Lizzy’s friend and co-worker. Kenzie, had placed a call to her earlier, worried sick about their friend, so in true Savannah fashion, she’d called up Emmy, Stacia, and Mickey to come assist in an intervention.

“We’ve got keys.” Savannah held up the key ring in her hand and jingled it.

“How do you have a key to her place?” Kenzie asked.

“You’ll get it now that you’re a part of the inner circle,” Emmy responded with a wink. “We love to hand our keys out then bitch and moan about everyone and their dog having access to our houses. It’s kind of our thing. Welcome to our wacky world.”

Kenzie couldn’t imagine ever handing over something that personal so willingly. But then again, she’d never had a group of friends who’d go to the mat for her in a heartbeat. Her entire adult life had consisted of taking care of her twins and her boyfriend Lance. He’d done a stellar job at making sure she never had time to cultivate any friendships. The bonds she’d witnessed since moving to Cloverleaf were completely foreign to her. But something deep inside warmed considerably at being so easily accepted by these people.

“Oh, shit, that’s not good,” Savannah muttered as she pushed the door open. The last line of 50 Seconds of Summer’s “Amnesia” faded away before the opening chords started again. Oh, damn, Lizzy had the song on repeat.

“Uh, hey, honey. How you doing?” Stacia asked as she stepped into the living room with the rest of the girls behind her.

Lizzy sat in a dirty blue recliner with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s—ironically enough—Chubby Hubby resting between her folded legs. Swollen and red-eyed, she blew her nose into a napkin before shoving a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

“I wish that I could wake up with amnesia,” she sang through a full mouth before breaking down in a sob.

“For the love of…How the hell do you turn this damn thing off?” Emmy looked for the power button on the stereo before finally giving up and ripping the iPod from the dock so the song would stop.

“Hey! I was listening to that,” Lizzy said through sniffles.

Emmy looked at her with pity. “Honey, you’ve got to get out of this house. This is not a good look for you.”

The girls ran their gaze over Lizzy’s appearance, each one cringing at what they saw. Her curly, red hair was matted and tangled from lack of washing and pulled up into a knot at the top of her head that looked like it could possibly have birds nesting in it. Her face was covered in splotches from crying for days on end. And a mysterious smudge of something—hopefully food—streaked across her chin. To put it plainly, she was an absolute catastrophe.

Mickey’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “Oh, God. What’s that smell?” she asked before pulling the neck of her shirt over her nose.

Kenzie bent down closer to Lizzy and sniffed. “I think it’s her.”

Lizzy batted Stacia’s hand away with a scowl when she pinched a corner of her t-shirt and pulled it up.

“What’s all over your shirt?” she asked, leaning in for closer inspection.

Lizzy lifted the shirt slightly and licked the spot in question.

“Oh, that’s just gross!” Emmy dry-heaved.

“Pizza sauce,” she told the girls with a casual shrug as she went back to devouring her ice cream.

The most pathetic, sorrowful meow any of them had ever heard drew their attention to the living room window. On the ground below the window, in what looked to be a doggy bed, Lizzy’s cat, Mr. Bojangles laid on his side looking just as depressed as his owner.

“Is that a dog bed?” Savannah asked, pointing toward the cat.

“It’s Merle’s. Trevor left it here when he moved. Poor Mr. Bojangles misses his puppy friend.” Another round of gut-wrenching sobs tore free from Lizzy.

“Okay, tough-love time,” Savannah declared, crouching down so she was eye level with Lizzy. “If you don’t get your ass out of this disgusting chair and into a shower in the next five minutes, I’m going to drag you there myself.”

“This was Trevor’s chair,” she sniffled, giving the worn arm a loving stroke. “He forgot it here when he l-left me.”

And cue hysterical waterworks round three.

“That chair needs to be incinerated, Liz! Why are you sitting in it? God only knows what you’ve contracted.”

“It’s all I have left of him, Savannah!” Lizzy shouted. “Well, that and this shirt.” She picked at the food-covered shirt she had no doubt been wearing for the past several days. “This was his favorite shirt,” she said as she gazed down at the tee that stated “Merle is my Homeboy” across the chest.

Savannah propped her hands on her hips and stared down at her friend. “You smell like you died a month ago and your insides are decaying. Shower. Now. You’ll have to bathe at
least
three times to get all the funk off.”

“Well, excuse me for being a little depressed.”

“This isn’t a little,” Emmy replied softly. “Honey, this is, like, DEFCON 2, here. It’s pretty fucking bad.”

Lizzy reached for something tucked in the chair next to her and slapped them down on the coffee table. “Well, you get served divorce papers and tell me if you don’t become a little melodramatic.”

Sure enough, there were the divorce papers along with a silver ring that couldn’t be anything other than a man’s wedding band.

“He didn’t even take the ring,” Lizzy said in a broken voice. “He left it on the table by the door when he walked out. I didn’t find it until this morning.”

Shit
.

The room was deathly quiet, no one knowing what to say to make their friend feel any better.

Kenzie pushed the stuff aside and sat on the table in front of Lizzy. “Sweetie, maybe if you’d try calling him—”

“I have. I’ve called and texted to the point where I’m starting to feel like a goddamned stalker! He won’t answer or respond back.”

“Maybe he just needs time, babe,” Emmy offered.

“He doesn’t need time.” Lizzy stood from the recliner and paced, giving her friends a peek at the equally-stained sweats that hung from her hips. “He made his decision. He’s done. I fucked this up beyond repair. There’s nothing I can do to fix it; he won’t even talk to me. If I could just get him to talk to me…” Collapsing onto the couch, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. A wave of sorrow at the idea that Trevor may
never
speak to her again caused a lump to form in her throat so large she couldn’t speak past it.

Yes, her heart had been broken, but she’d done it to herself. It was the look on Trevor’s face as he walked away from Lizzy that had her crying so much over the past few days, but now she was being hit with not only that, but also the thought that he might not ever be a part of her life again. That thought was enough to steal the breath from her lungs. She couldn’t imagine her life without Trevor in it. He had given her everything so willingly. All he asked for in return was the same, and she’d failed.

Trevor felt like she thought he wasn’t good enough for her. The truth was, she didn’t even come close to deserving him.

“I have to get him back,” she whispered. “I can’t…I…” She swallowed past that painful lump, determined to earn back what she’d lost. “I fucked up, I know that. But I want him back. How do I do that?” she asked her friends, desperate for their help. “What do I do?”

The girls remained quiet, each of them seeming deep in thought before Emmy finally spoke. “I think I have an idea, but it’s going to take some serious dedication on your part. You sure you’re up for that?”

“Yes!” Lizzy exclaimed. “Anything. Just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“I’m 99 percent sure that this is going to work.”

“99 percent?”

“Well, more like 97.5, but don’t worry. It’ll be awesome.”

Lizzy’s face went blank as she replied dryly, “Not really getting the warm and fuzzies over your plan here, Em.”

“Eh.” She waved her hand in the air like it was nothing. “No worries. If it works, you’ll owe me. I’m talking first-born named after me and all that jazz.”

“What if I have a boy?”

“Ask me if I give a flying rat’s ass. Boy or girl, its name is Emerson.”

Lizzy let out a huff. “Fine. And if it doesn’t work?”

Emmy looked up at the ceiling as if in deep thought. “Let’s just worry about crossing that bridge when or if we get there.”

“We finished up at Lizzy’s salon today,” Brett said as he popped the cap on two beers and made his way into the living room before handing me one.

I let out a grunt and sucked down half my beer in two gulps before turning my attention back to the game on TV.

“So, I take that grunt to mean you’re gonna keep sitting here like a pussy instead of getting off your ass to do something to get your girl back?”

“Fuck off, dickhead.”

“Wow, even your insults are pathetic. Should I put on
Dirty Dancing
and buy you a gallon of ice cream since, clearly, you’ve grown a vagina over the past two weeks.”

Merle lifted his head and gave Brett a muffled whine before dropping it back into my lap.

“Damn, dude. Even your friggin’ dog’s depressed. He hasn’t done anything but mope around the house since you started crashing here.”

I reached down and gave my boy a pat on the head, feeling a little bad that my sour mood had affected the rambunctious little guy.

“He’s just a little out of sorts from the move. He’ll get straight.” Although I sounded sure of myself, a part of me doubted that either of us would go back to the way we were before. I missed Lizzy every second of every day. Hell, I even missed Mr. Bonjangles’ fat ass. No amount of booze had dulled the pain of the past thirteen nights. And no matter how busy I was at the shop, nothing I did was enough to rid my mind of the girl who’d crushed me like I was nothing. Having to look over at Mick’s pitying gaze each day wasn’t much of a help, either. I knew she desperately wanted to grill me about what happened and talk about my feelings or some such shit, but no way in hell was I down for that right now.

Six days ago, I’d gone and filed for the divorce Lizzy had wanted so badly just months ago. The entire time I sat there, nausea churned in my stomach. It didn’t feel right, but what else should I have done? I wasn’t enough for her. I’d been trying my hardest to hold on to something that just wasn’t meant to be mine. It was time to cut my losses and try and move on with my life. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like absolute hell. After filing, I’d called off work and headed to the nearest liquor store, stocking up on my friends Jim, Johnny, and Jack, and spent the rest of the night partying with my boys until sweet oblivion took over. I’d prayed for just a few hours of relief from the burning in my chest, but the moment I woke on the bathroom floor that same pain was intense enough to hurt through anything my hangover could have dished out.

Each day was an endless cycle of the same shit. Think of Lizzy, work, think of Lizzy, come home, think of Lizzy, drink, think of Lizzy, pass out, dream of Lizzy. Day after day for the past thirteen God-forsaken days.

I was pathetic.

Brett plopped down at the other end of the couch, near the business end of Merle, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. That was probably the worst place to sit in the entire house. I hadn’t been in the mood to go to the grocery store the past few days, so poor Merle was out of dog food. I’d had no choice but to split my can of chili with him so we’d both have something to eat for dinner.

I was just about to give Brett a fair warning, but then the asshole opened his stupid mouth. “You know, maybe if you’d stop being such a damn baby and answer one of her million calls or texts you wouldn’t be stuck on the couch every night feeling sorry for yourself.”

I kept my eyes on the TV as I told him, “There’s nothing for us to talk about. It’s done. She got the papers two days ago.”

Slamming his beer bottle down on the table, Brett turned to me and glared. “Yeah, that’s another thing. You filed for a divorce after a fucking week? What kind of heartless asshole does something like that? You didn’t even
attempt
to work shit out with Liz. I should kick your stupid ass for that reason alone!”