Текст книги "Best Kind of Broken"

Автор книги: Chelsea Fine

Соавторы: Chelsea Fine
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

58 Levi

It’s been a shitty day. In fact, every day since Pixie basically kicked me out of her life has been shitty. So when I hear the back door of the inn squeak and see Ellen come sauntering over to where I’m replacing a broken shutter on one of the inn’s back windows, I curse under my breath.

“Hey,” she says.

I don’t look at her. “Hey.”

Her focus snaps to something in the distance. “What in the world…?”

I turn around to see two figures, covered in dirt and sweat, staggering toward the inn’s back door—handcuffed to each other.

One is a girl with long, muddy, blonde hair. And the other is…

“Daren?” Ellen takes a step forward as they near.

“Uh, hi.” He smiles sheepishly and starts to wave with his cuffed hand, causing the girl’s wrist to yank up with his.

She whips her arm down and hisses, “Use your other hand, asshole.”

“What the hell…?” I stare, horrified, at Daren and point at his bound prisoner. “Did you kidnap this girl?”

“What?” He makes a face of disgust. “No! Hell, no. You think I wanted to be handcuffed to this girl?”

The girl rolls her eyes. “Oh, like I wanted to be leashed to you?”

“Will someone please explain what’s going on?” Ellen looks around the lavender fields in confusion. “And where you guys came from?”

Daren says, “It’s a long story.”

“It’s a stupid story,” the girl corrects.

Daren glares at her. “Are you incapable of shutting up for even a second?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snaps back, raising their cuffed wrists. “You’ll have to excuse my bad mood. I have a douche bag attached to me.” She turns to us and holds out her free hand. “I’m Kayla, by the way.”

“Ellen.” Ellen slowly shakes her hand, glancing between the two of them.

Kayla cuts her eyes back to Daren. “See how I used my non-cuffed hand to do that? It’s not rocket science.”

“Yes, well.” Daren smirks. “We’ve already established that you’re an expert on handcuffs.”

Kayla glowers at him. “I hate you.”

“Ditto.” He narrows his eyes at her before turning back to Ellen. “Is Angelo here?”

Ellen hesitates. “Uh, yeah…”

“Excellent. If anyone can get us out of these things, it’ll be him. Come on.” He pulls Kayla by the cuffs to the back door and inside the inn, while she mutters death threats and curse words at him.

For a moment, Ellen and I just stare at the closed back door.

“I don’t like that guy,” I say.

Still looking at the door, Ellen slowly nods. “But I think someone does.” She sounds amused.

I curl my lip. “What, the prisoner girl?”

Ellen gives me an oh please look. “That girl is hardly a prisoner.”

“Whatever.” I shake my head and go back to fixing the shutter.

Ellen watches me.

“So Pixie’s leaving in just a few minutes,” she says, after an awkward amount of time has passed. “She’s driving up to Copper Springs to pick up some stuff from her mom’s before heading back down to Phoenix.”

Where she’ll get on a plane and leave me forever.

“Yeah,” I say. I pull the damaged shutter down and set it against the wall before picking up its replacement. “I know.”

A gust of wind sweeps past, carrying the scent of rain and the promise of another storm. I don’t know why I feel so hollow inside today. I haven’t lost Pixie. We’re still friends.

Positioning the new shutter, I grasp my hammer and begin to nail it into place.

We’re friends.

Ellen eyes me. “Are you going to say good-bye?”

I grab another nail and hammer it in. “Probably not.”

She slowly nods and studies the discarded shutter for a moment. “You know, one of these days I’m going to run out of things that need to be fixed around here and you’re going to be out of a job.”

I stop hammering and look at her. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” she says, something unrecognizable in her eyes. “Just the honest truth.”

With a brief smile, she turns and walks away.

59 Pixie

I’m packing. I’m crying. I’m hoping Levi will knock on my door and say something, anything. I’m packing.

I know he won’t do it, just like I know I won’t do it.

And I don’t even really know why I’m crying, other than I feel like I’m never going to see Levi again. Which is ridiculous. I’ll see him again.

I press a hand to my chest, where a sharp ache throbs with each of my heartbeats. Loving someone and not being with them hurts.

Thunder grumbles in the distance.

I look at the wall that separates my bedroom from Levi’s. Did I make the right decision?

The throbbing in my chest continues and I have to take a deep breath to keep more tears from falling.

I blink. I swallow. I’m fine.

I look around my room. Boxes everywhere. Paint stains on my headboard. Canvases of Charity in the window. More boxes.

Something green peeks out from beneath one of the dusty boxes and I bend to retrieve it. It’s the flag from our capture the flag game last summer. I run the old faded material through my hands and bite my lip.

Time.

It just goes.

And now I have to go with it.

This is the beginning of my future. Another tear rolls down my face and I swipe at it angrily as I shove the flag into my suitcase.

It’s better this way. It really is. It’s safer.

I yank off the painting shirt I have on and start to change into a clean tank top, but when I catch my reflection in my bedroom mirror, I pause.

I run a finger along my scar, tracing its jagged pattern with my eyes as the damaged-yet-healed skin meets my fingertips.

It’s a best friend and a place to call home. It’s a lesson learned and a reminder that life is fragile. It’s my first taste of death and a second chance at life.

It’s everything I never want to forget. And it’s beautiful.

I’m glad I shared it with Levi.

I’ve made my decision and sure, my heart is broken, but it’s the good kind of broken. The kind that leaves you branded, so you never forget, and heals over time, so you can see just how far you’ve come.

It’s the best kind of broken.

I touch my scar again.

Like me.

60 Levi

I stare at my computer screen as the sky outside darkens with the encroaching storm.

Pixie left twenty minutes ago. I know this only because I heard the wheels of her suitcase squeaking past my door. I didn’t say good-bye.

A friend would have said good-bye.

She’s off to New York, where she’ll have a new life and new opportunities, and I’m sitting here in front of a blank computer screen with nothing to say.

This isn’t how I thought things would go. This isn’t how I wanted things to go. Even though I haven’t technically lost anything, I feel incredibly defeated.

But the game isn’t over yet.

I straighten my shoulders and crack my knuckles. One essay on winning. I can do this. I start to type.

As a football player, I know all about the principles of winning and the strategies—

I delete and start over.

The great football coach, Vince Lombardi, once said, “We didn’t lose the game; we just ran out of time.” I’ve always appreciated this attitude because—

Delete.

I bite the inside of my cheek for a moment, staring at the wall as I think through what I want to write.

The new drywall over the hole I patched up hasn’t been painted yet, so it remains a dark gray splotch against the otherwise beige wall. The hole seems like forever ago.

I look back at the screen and start to type. Slowly at first, then gaining momentum as I carry on. Forty minutes later, I stop typing, scan the document, and start rereading what I’ve put down so far.

HOW TO WIN

Winning is an effect of trying. You have to want it badly enough to go through pain, discipline, and failure to find it. To confront it. To claim it. But most of all, you have to fight for it. Everything else—anything else—is absolute surrender.

My eyes snap to the dark patch on my wall again as my heart grows loud and heavy in my ears. Without another thought, I click Send on my half-assed essay, grab my keys, and race out the door.

61 Pixie

The sky grows darker as I head south, the storm clouds closing in on the day and blanketing the earth below in a muted gray. After leaving Copper Springs, I decided to take Canary Road down toward Phoenix instead of the freeway. I haven’t been on this road since the night of the accident. It looks the same.

It feels different.

I hear a sharp crack of thunder and see a flash of hot white lightning cut down through the purple clouds, touching the horizon not far from the road. Less than a minute passes before thick drops of rain begin to splash against the windshield.

Storms are supposed to be terrifying things, reckless and unpredictable, violent and wild, but they energize me. Remind me of life and love and the brink of happiness. The urgency of breathing in, the wonderment of jumping out with your eyes closed.

I think back to the stormy day in the little fort with Levi. The rain. The kiss. The love…

I quickly push the memory away.

The old back road winds through the forestland, barely visible now through the downpour and darkening day. The monsoon clouds split open and a sliver of sunlight shines through the torrent onto the road in front of me, an oddly bright ray of hope against the violent rain and thunder. The patch of light illuminates a large object blocking the road. It’s coming up fast. Too close, too large, to ignore—and it’s right beside the ridge burn, the exact same spot where Charity died.

I slow down as I near. My heart flies into my throat when I realize it’s Levi’s truck, blocking the storm-ridden road.

And in front of the truck, under the gray deluge, is Leaves.

Blue eyes, waiting for me.

62 Levi

Somehow I knew I’d find Pixie here. Not on the freeway. Not on the commonly used back roads. But on Canary Road.

She pulls over to the side, and I’m at her door before she comes to a full stop. I yank it open and stare down into wide green eyes.

“No,” I say, loud enough to be heard over the roaring wind and rain.

She blinks. “No?”

“No, we can’t be just friends.” Rain drips down my face as my heart hammers against my rib cage. “Because we’re more than just friends, and we always have been. And I’m not talking about sex, Pix. I’m talking about trust and comfort. I’m talking about home.” Lightning strikes nearby and the wind picks up. I raise my voice. “You are not my friend, Pixie. You are a piece of my heart and a part of who I want to be.”

She gets out of the car and stands in the rain. “But, Leaves—”

“I love you,” I yell, thunder echoing my words, rain drenching my clothes. “I love you when you’re Pixie and when you’re Sarah and when you’re messy and when you drive me crazy and when you scare the hell out of me. I love you, Pixie. And I know you’re scared.” I step closer so I no longer have to shout, and cup her wet face. I look into her eyes. “But you have nothing to be afraid of. I will never leave you again. Never.”

Hot tears run from her eyes, mixing with the cool rain as I run my thumb over her cheek. “So you can move to New York or fly across the world, but I want to be there too. Wherever you are. By your side. Always,” I say. “Because I’m yours. Even when you don’t want me, I’m yours.”

She puts her hands on my cheeks and halts my speech, looking into my eyes as rain beats down on us. Then she crushes her lips to mine.

I kiss her deeply, still cupping her wet face as I pull her close to me, not wanting to let go, not wanting another minute in this life of mine to pass without her here, with me.

“God, I love you,” she says in between kisses, and the words fill me like nothing ever has before. She smiles against my mouth. “By the way? I’m not going to New York,” she says. “I never was.”

I pull back slightly and scan her face, my heart pounding. “But you left.”

She nods. “I went home to get a box of my stuff from my mom’s, but I was heading down to Phoenix to move back into the dorms with Jenna so I can return to ASU this fall. I declined NYU’s acceptance a few weeks ago.”

“But… why?”

“Because I realized that this is my home. Arizona. Ellen.” She trails her eyes along the lines of my face. “You.” She looks up at me. “I didn’t want to leave. Even if I didn’t have you, I wanted to be where you were. Because I’m yours.” A playful smile pulls at her lips. “Even if you don’t want me…”

I slowly smile. “Oh… I want you.”

“Yeah?” she says, over a roll of thunder.

“Oh yeah.”

Then I’m kissing her all over again. Pixie—beautiful, wild Pixie—is mine. I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.

63 Pixie

Rain pours down from the heavy clouds above, washing over us as Levi pulls me into his arms.

Here, on this wicked road where so much was lost and even more was found, we kiss to the sound of rain. Falling on the scarred earth. Falling on this place of tragedy. Washing away all the painful things and drenching the beautiful things left standing.

And lightning strikes.

Epilogue

“I can’t believe I let you paint on me, Pixie.” Jenna rubs her cheek where I’ve painted a sun devil in maroon and gold. “I feel like my skin is dying.”

“I think it looks cute,” Ellen says, smiling.

The three of us are seated in Sun Devil Stadium, high up in the stands overlooking the brightly lit football field below and waiting for the game to begin. I’m wearing one of Levi’s old jerseys and have my own sun devil painted on my cheek.

“Cute and sticky,” Jenna says.

“It’s called school spirit,” I say as a few crazy blonde curls fall into my face. “We’re here to support Levi and Zack.”

“Um, hello? We’re already giving Zack plenty of support.” Jenna gestures to Marvin, who’s chewing on my shoelace. “I don’t know why you even brought his goat up here.”

Ellen wrinkles her nose. “Me neither.”

I shrug. “You know Marvin is a yeller. I couldn’t leave him in the parking lot. Besides, I promised Zack I’d keep a close eye on him.”

Ellen frowns. “I thought Zack was only supposed to have his little goat pet until the end of summer. It’s November.”

I scoff. “Well, the girl who talked him into goat-sitting for the summer went off to Argentina and decided to vacation there, permanently. So Zack is now a goat daddy.”

“Goat daddy. Ew,” Jenna says. “The images running through my head right now are very disturbing.” She gasps. “Marvin! Get away from my boots or I swear to all the goat daddy gods—”

“Pixie!” says a cheery voice.

I turn to see Linda Andrews squeezing her way through the crowd to come sit with us. Mark is right behind her. They call me Pixie now, just like pretty much everyone else in my life. I love it.

“Hi, guys.” I smile and give them both long hugs. I love how Linda Andrews smells. And I love that she and Mark moved back to Copper Springs two months ago. I get to see them every other weekend when Levi and I go back home.

Their marriage still needs a lot of work, according to them, but they’re living under the same roof and participating in Levi’s—and my—life as much as possible. So that’s progress.

“I see you got roped into goat duty,” Mark says, scratching Marvin behind the ears. Mark complains about Marvin, but I think he secretly likes him.

“You and Levi are coming home for Thanksgiving, right, dear?” Linda asks with bright eyes. She loves holidays, and she’s been desperate to get a family holiday thrown together since she and Mark moved back to Arizona.

I smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“And you too, Ellen and Jenna,” she says, looking across the bench at the two of them. “The more the merrier.”

Jenna yanks her purse out of Marvin’s reach and grits her teeth. “I wish I could, but I’ll be busy slaughtering a goat.”

Ellen turns to Linda. “I’d love to come.”

Mark stands up and starts cheering as the players run out to the field. The rest of us follow suit and holler along with him.

The game begins and we sit down, all on the edge of our seats. I find Levi’s number and follow him with my eyes. Dean Maxwell readmitted him to ASU shortly after receiving Levi’s essay, which worked out perfectly since I started the art program at ASU this fall.

For the past few months, Levi’s been training like crazy for football and I’ve been spending more time painting, in color. And of course we’ve been pretty much inseparable—which is exactly how it always should have been.

He’s my best friend, and I’m his.

Levi sends a perfect throw down the field, and I cheer. I love watching him play. And I love cheering him on. And I love the way he always searches the crowd for me and smiles when he finds me. Like right now.

I watch his eyes scan the fans… up and down stadium seats… searching…

He finds me and a large grin stretches out his face. He always looks so relieved to see me in the stands, watching him. I don’t know what he’s worried about. I’m not going anywhere.

Because I’m his.

And he has me.

Levi’s eyes rove over the rest of our clan, and his face lights up. On the far end is Mark, smiling at his son with pride. Then Linda, who always gets teary eyed when she watches Levi play. Then me, with my sun devil face paint and giant jersey that says ANDREWS in big bold letters. At my feet is Marvin, who is once again chewing on my shoe. I tug my foot away and Marvin goat-cries—loudly—but the crowd drowns out the sound. Next to me is Ellen, who has her arm linked through mine. And last is Jenna, with her high-heeled boots and her rock-star makeup, always keeping me in line and believing in our friendship.

I see the joy in Levi’s eyes as he looks up at us and I share the feeling.

This is life. This is what we have. We can mourn over the broken pieces or we can cling to what’s left.

And we’re clinging like hell.