Running Home to You (The Running Series) (24 page)

“I’ll be at Auggie’s.  You know where to find me if you change your mind.  I’ll be waiting for you.  Please don’t make me wait long.  I won’t wait forever, Evan.”

He says nothing.  I have no choice.  I toss the bag in the back of my car, and leave without looking back.  I’ve done everything I can do. 

Let the Chips Fall Where They May

T
he next day, I arrive at Rush early hoping to find something to do to keep myself busy.  Auggie’s parents will be with him at the hospital all day, leaving me with nothing to do.  As I walk up to the front door, I’m shocked to see Adam hanging out waiting for me.  “Morning, Jette.  Mind if I join you?”

“Um, sure.  Come on in.”  I unlock the door and invite Adam in, locking the door behind us.  “You’re up early.  What brings you all the way down here?  You know Emmy won’t be here for two or three more hours, right?”

“No, I know that.  I’m here to see you today.  Can we talk?”

“Okay, just give me a minute.”  I slip back into my office, turn on all the lights, start up the in-house music system, and crank up the air conditioning. 

When I come back out front, I find Adam behind the bar pouring himself a big glass of orange juice.  He hands it to me, then proceeds to fill another.  I watch as he makes himself at home behind my bar.  He reminds me so much of Evan that it hurts.  They are the same height, have the same broad shoulders, and both are strikingly handsome.  But it was Adam’s blonde hair that first caught Auggie’s attention last spring. 

I walk over to a table and begin to take the chairs down.  Adam quickly joins me and helps me take down the last of the chairs.  “So, how are you holding up these days?” Adam asks.

“I’ve been better.  Listen, I’m glad you’re here.  I have a bone to pick with you.” 

“Really?  How so?” he asks, surprised by my directness.

“Evan’s falling apart before my eyes and there’s nothing I can do about it.  He won’t admit it, and he won’t accept help.  You could be doing more to help, Adam.  Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“I’m on Evan’s side.  I’m always on his side, Jette.  What do you expect me to do?”

“Convince him to call Dr. Falkowski,” I tell him.

“I don’t see what good that will do.  You know Evan won’t take any drugs.  If he does have some kind of anxiety disorder, and I’m not saying he does, what good will it do to talk about it endlessly?  Personally, I think that would just make things worse.  You don’t understand men.”

“No, I guess you’re right.  I don’t understand.  Adam, you saw him that night.  If you and Marcus didn’t break up the fight, who knows how far out of hand things might have gotten.  He could have gone to jail and put Ryker in the hospital.  I would think that as a part of his ‘team’, you wouldn’t want him to do anything that might jeopardize his career.”

“I’m doing what I can to stick close by him and help him fight through it.  You, on the other hand, are throwing around ultimatums.  Don’t you think you could do more good if you were there with him, holding his hand, and telling him everything’s going to be okay?”  He pauses to let me think about that for a moment.  “You’re the one making things worse.  You’re confirming his worst fears.  By walking out, you’re telling him that he’s not good enough.  He’s fragile right now, and I can’t help but think you’re punishing him for not being strong enough.  That’s how Evan sees it.”

“Wow.  Seriously?  Are you really trying to tell me that this is all my fault?”

“Of course not, but I just want you to see it from Evan’s perspective.  I thought that maybe, just maybe, if you looked at things from a different point of view, you might handle things differently.  That’s all.”

“Adam, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why is it that every time Evan’s in trouble, you’re right there to rescue him?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Do you think he’s incapable of handling his own problems, or is he just too stupid?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.  The more you step in to solve his problems, the more dependent he becomes on you.  You’re making him helpless.  He doesn’t think he needs help because you said he doesn’t.”

“Evan’s a big boy, Jette.  He makes his own decisions, he always has.”  Adam gets up from the table and politely pushes his chair in.  “Bark at me all you want, Jette, but you know I’m right.  He needs you, not some quack.”  And with that, Adam walks out the door, leaving me more confused than ever.

Could what he’s saying be true?  Is it possible that I am making things worse?  Am I doing more harm than good?  I suppose it’s a possibility I need to consider.  As I sit alone considering all my options, I’m startled when an unexpected guest joins me at my table.  “Ryker?  What are you doing here?  You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.  I hope you don’t mind.  I come in everyday around this time.”

“I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I came in through the back.  I usually park my motorcycle behind the kitchen.  Marcus gave me a set of keys to let myself in a few weeks ago”.  He pulls out a chair and waits for me to invite him to sit. “May I?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  Please, sit down.”  Ryker takes a seat across from me.  “I guess you heard most of that.”

“I did.  I hope you didn’t buy any of the bullshit that guy was trying to sell you.  Who the hell is he, anyway?”

“His name is Adam.  He’s Evan’s best friend and Emmy’s boyfriend.  He’s got a Sport Business degree from the University of Maryland.  That’s where he and Evan first met.  He follows Evan around from team to team.  I think his current title is Player Liaison for the Sentinels, but his duties are more like what a manager or an agent would do.  He brokers deals, acts as Evan’s gatekeeper, and oversees most of our public relations and business affairs.”

“He’s got his hands in a lot of pots, doesn’t he?”

“He sure does.”  Ryker is picking up on something that’s been on my mind for a while now.

“Do you trust him?” he asks.

“He’s saved Evan’s ass over and over again.  Every time Evan finds himself in a challenging situation, Adam is there to help him turn lemons into lemonade.  The public loves Evan and Adam’s got a lot to do with that.”

“That’s nice, but you didn’t answer my question.”  Ryker is looking at me, waiting for a response.

I answer as honestly as I can, “Evan trusts him implicitly.”

“And you?”

He’s not letting this one go.  “I do, yes.  I may not like him constantly in our personal business, but he’s always been there for Evan and I have no doubt that he’s just trying to help.”

“And what does this idiot know about PTSD?”

“I can’t imagine he knows the first thing about it,” I confess.

“Keep that in mind, Jette.  Evan is dangerous.  You’ve seen it with your own eyes.  Don’t forget that.  Not for one minute.”

Ryker excuses himself and returns to the kitchen, and I go sit in my office to crunch some numbers.  I stay away from the Internet, fearful of what the press might be writing about Evan.  I’m certain that if there were anything I need to know, Emmy would tell me right away. 

Before long, the rest of the staff arrives to start getting ready for Sunday lunch.  It’s the weekend before the Fourth of July and business is really starting to pick up.  Our hostess is away at a family wedding today, so I decide to take her place. 

As soon as I open the doors, we get slammed.  Every time there’s a break and things slow down, Emmy tries to give me advice on how to deal with Evan.  She keeps telling me how Evan refuses to leave the house and won’t let anyone except Adam into the house.  “I know he wants to talk to you, Jette.  Please go to him.  He needs you,” Emmy begs.

“What he needs is to deal with his anxiety, Emmy.  Suppose he freaks out again, but this time he seriously hurts someone?  Or worse, suppose he hurts himself?”  I have nightmares about both possibilities.  “Besides, he knows where I am.  He can come to me anytime.”

Arguing with Emmy is no better than trying to reason with Evan.  We just keep going around and around, but get nowhere.  I’m grateful when Derek calls Emmy back behind the bar.  She’s trying to help, but all she’s doing is making me miserable.  I miss Evan so much I can hardly stand it.  I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.  Maybe my ‘tough love’ strategy isn’t working for either one of us as well as I had hoped.

Now that the lunch rush is over and things are quieting down, I try to find a quiet inconspicuous spot to sit alone and think.  The booth at the back is empty and it’s got a great view of the projector.  Images of Evan in his uniform flash by, mixed among other pictures.  There are photos of him in his Texans uniform, his Terps uniform, and my favorite, Evan in his red Sentinels jersey.  I grab a napkin to wipe the tears that fall and I sit quietly and allow them to come. 

A plate of chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of milk slides in front of me.  “Do you mind if I join you, boss?”  I look up and Ryker is standing in front of me.

“No, please.”  I scoot over to give him some room to join me.  “I wanted to ask how you’re doing.  I feel really badly about what happened on Wednesday.  I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner.”  I look more closely at Ryker, and I can see the shadow of what was a black eye.  His stubble hides any bruises that might remain on his jaw.  “I’m sorry I put you in that situation.”

“Don’t sweat it, Jette.  I’ve been in my fair share of scuffles over the years.  I can hold my own.”  He grabs one of the cookies and takes a big bite.  “I’m more worried about you.  I hear all these people who claim to be your friend giving you advice about how to help Evan through this.  But let me ask you this, who’s worried about what’s best for you?  Not Adam, that’s for damn sure.  Not Emmy.  If Evan really cared about what was best for you, he’d put your needs ahead of his own and get his shit sorted out.”  He slips out of the booth, leaving me the way he found me, alone and confused.  For the second time today, he’s given me something new to think about.

I
stop to pick up some deli sandwiches for Auggie and me.  He’s getting tired of hospital food and I can’t blame him one bit.  I look forward to our dinner routine.  It gives me a chance to escape my reality and think about someone else’s needs and troubles for a change.

That relief is short-lived because when I happily step into Auggie’s room, I find Evan sitting with him, smiling, laughing, and chatting.  Auggie is sitting up in bed and Evan is sitting beside him in the guest chair.  The smile on my face immediately fades and I don’t even try to hide my discomfort.

I walk over to Auggie, kiss him on the cheek, and place his dinner on the hospital bed tray table.  Evan watches me as I arrange the sandwiches, plates, and bottles of water with great care.  I glance over towards Evan, and his eyes haven’t left me.  He stands up, shakes Auggie’s hand, and walks right towards me.  “Juliette, can I speak to you for a moment?”

I look towards Auggie for help, and he just shrugs his shoulders, offering me no guidance what so ever.  I mutter, “Okay,” and follow Evan into the hallway.  He walks purposefully towards the family waiting room at the end of the hallway, which thankfully is empty.  Always the gentleman, Evan holds the door for me, and then closes it behind us.  He turns off the television and takes a seat in one of the most uncomfortable looking chairs I’ve ever seen. 

He stares, waiting for me to sit down.  “Juliette, please, I won’t bite.  This won’t take long, I promise.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes, and no.  I was hoping to see you here tonight to ask you for a favor.  I know you don’t owe me anything, and I wouldn’t ask if I could help it, but I need your help.”  His voice is flat, and I cannot read his mood.  He seems to be in business mode, so I decide to treat this as a negotiation.

“What do you need?  If I can help, I will.”

“Adam just locked down my celebrity endorsement deal with Top Dog Sports Drink.  We start shooting commercials and print ads next week.”  He states this all very matter-of-factly, without any excitement or joy.

“That’s great news, congratulations.  But what does that have to do with me?” I wonder.

“Tomorrow, Adam and I will be driving into the city to sign the contracts.  There’s a morality clause.  It says that while I’m endorsing their product, I cannot, wait, let me read it,” he takes out his cell phone and pulls up a list, which he reads to me.  “It says I cannot become involved in any sort of public scandal, disrepute, widespread contempt, or public ridicule.  They have the right, at their own discretion, to terminate the contract at any time.”  He turns off the screen, and places the phone back in his pocket.