Текст книги "Ten Tiny Breaths"
Автор книги: K. A. Tucker
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
“About pushing you like I did. I thought if you opened up about your past, I could somehow fix it for you. I shouldn’t have kept pushing you like that.” I suck in a gasp as I feel a set of warm lips trail my belly. He knows that’ll melt my defenses. He’s not playing fair. Worse, in this moment I don’t want him to play any other way. “I should have just focused on making you happy. And I will. From now on, Kacey. I will. I will devote every day for the rest of our lives to making you happy. I promise.”
Will not buy it. Will not buy it. “You’ve said that before. And then you vanished.” I don’t like the way my tone falters, like I’m about to cry. One … two … three… four…
Fuck. Useless.
He leans back on his heels and his hands slide down my thighs again. He doesn’t meet my eyes though, choosing instead to stare at the floor between us. When he speaks, his jaw is set with a hint of anger. “Kacey, you’re not the only one with issues. I’m fucked up, okay? There are things about my past that I don’t know how to tell you. That I can’t tell you.”
His admission catches me off guard. Trent with a dark past? I’ve never once even contemplated that. Why have I not contemplated that? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own issues that I haven’t even thought of his, that’s why. But how dark could anything from his past really be? With a shaky finger, I reach out and gently push his chin up so his head tilts back, so those beautiful blue irises can pull me in. He seems so level-headed, so well-adjusted, so perfect.
“I’ve never once pushed you to divulge your skeletons,” I say, my tone softer, without bitterness.
“I know. I know, Kace.” Trent’s grip on my thighs tightens as he draws me closer to him. His fingertips slide up to grasp my hips in their entirety, his thumbs sliding along my pelvic bone, lighting a tiny spark of need mixed among these emotional flames already burning bright. My hands instinctively slide down to cover his.
He continues. “After that night, I … I thought I pushed you too hard. I thought I caused what happened the night Storm was attacked.”
I shudder with the reminder. My dark side. My murderous side. “You didn’t cause that, Trent. That was me, finally coming unhinged.”
“I know, babe. I know that now. But I had to get away and think. I had to walk away for a while and—”
“You could have sent me a message.”
“I know. I fucked up. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to explain why I ran off. I was scared.” One look up shows me the tears welling in his eyes. All my rage extinguishes, all my defenses shatter.
I can’t handle seeing Trent like this.
“No, it’s okay.” My hand strokes the back of his head with nothing but compassion while my other one wipes the tear away. Who is this person talking? She’s not the one who ran around the apartment on a tirade, stalking the news, and ready to mutilate Ken dolls.
“I’m so sorry, Kacey. I’ll stop pushing you. No more talk of past. None. Just the future. Please? I need you.”
Again, that need word. I can’t even speak. I only nod.
But that’s enough for Trent. Strong fingers flexed at my hips tug me down. I willingly drop to my knees. Trent pulls me to him so our bodies hold tight against each other. Warm hands find their way across my bare back to unclasp my bra. He casts it aside and reaches forward to cup my breasts at the same time that his mouth finally finds mine.
The feel of his lips sends a wave of irrepressible hunger through my body in a shudder. Three weeks without this. I don’t know how I survived. I reach down and fumble with his shirt. I want it off. Now. I want my bare skin against his. Now.
As if sensing the urgency, he breaks from my mouth long enough to yank his shirt off over his head and then dives back in, his chest pressing against mine as I slide close to him. “Kace,” he whispers, his lips shifting greedily to my neck as one hand moves up my inner thigh to slip under my panties. I gasp as his deft fingers touch me. “I’m never letting you go again. Never.”
My heart races as I rock back and forth against his hand, as I whisper his name, as I fumble with his zipper, letting the last three weeks disappear into the well of the past.
Chapter Sixteen
“Did I do that?” I frown as my finger touches the side of Trent’s face where a red welt has formed.
He winces. “Livie’s got a mean left hook.”
“Seriously?” I prop myself up to get a better look at it. And at Trent, in general. At his entire naked body, lying on the carpeted floor of the dimly lit V.I.P. room. I don’t hear the steady pulse of music in the club anymore. That must mean the place is closing up. I don’t know how long we’ve been in here. Ben hasn’t bothered us though. Not that I noticed anyway.
Trent starts to speak and stalls several times. “When you left your place with that goon, Livie stormed out and chased me around the commons, screaming at me that I broke your heart. Then she hauled back and punched me, and told me I better go and make you happy again. Forever.”
My head flops down on Trent’s bare chest as I laugh. “I think my temper may finally be rubbing off on her.” I replay her words in my head as I nuzzle against Trent, inhaling his scent. “Forever’s a long time.”
Trent’s arms squeeze around me. “Forever’s not long enough when it’s with you.”
***
“Do you think if I go out there right now, Livie will hit me again?”
“Anything’s possible. But I do feel pretty happy right about now,” I murmur, stretched out in bed.
Trent’s arms extend back to cradle his head, a cocky grin curving his lips. “I sure hope so. I tried my best. Five times last night, I think? If that didn’t fix you …”
I lift myself up and throw one leg over his body to straddle him, arching my brow. “Oh, you fixed me last night. Today’s a different story.”
Hungry eyes graze the length of my body and then settle on my face with one raised brow. “Seriously?”
I shrug and then wink secretively.
He chuckles as his hands push through his hair, sending it into wilder disarray. “I’ve heard redheads were crazy, but man, no one warned me that you were sex fiends.”
I playfully flick his nose. With a roar, he rolls and pins me down on my back, holding himself up to linger over me, high enough to give me ample view of his entirety. With a wry smile, I throw my legs around his waist and pull him down to meet me.
***
The weeks fly by, and Trent stays. He stays in our apartment most nights now. He’s usually at the club late in the evening, sitting and watching me quietly with that intense, teasing stare that makes my knees buckle because I know what’s waiting for me when I get home. He stays, and he makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. In many ways, happier than I’ve ever been. He makes me laugh. He makes me giggle. He makes me feel again. And each night, he takes my nightmares away. Not all of them. But they’re not on daily repeat anymore. And when I do wake up, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, Trent’s there to hold me, and stroke my hair, to promise me that it’s over, and what he and I have is real.
Each day, tiny pieces of Before Kacey fall into place. Or maybe come out from hiding. Maybe Kacey Cleary has been buried somewhere deep inside all this time, just waiting for the right person to pull her from the deep, dark waters.
To save her from drowning.
I don’t notice the pieces at first, but Livie sure does. I catch her watching me all the time—when I’m fixing myself a sandwich, when I’m cleaning, when I’m shopping—a secret smile touching her beautiful lips. When I ask her what’s up, she just shakes her head and says, “Kacey’s back.” And she’s happy.
Storm and Dan are going strong. I think Storm might be in love, though she won’t admit to it for fear of jinxing it. I can tell that Dan is head over heels in love with her and with Mia by the way he watches them, a tiny smile always touching his lips. And Mia?
Well, one morning, Trent and I wake up to Mia hovering over our bed with a gapped tooth grin and two quarters in the palm of her hand. “Look, Trent! I sold my teeth last night!” All I could do is laugh. Laugh and remind myself to get a lock for the door so Mia doesn’t learn more than cuss words from me. She’s the happiest kid I’ve ever seen because she’s surrounded by people who love her.
True to Storm’s promise, I’m making more money at Penny’s than I could ever dream of making elsewhere. My bank statement grows considerably each week. Two more years of this, and I’ll be able to pay for Livie’s first year at Princeton. I’m still banking on that scholarship, which is a good possibility. Livie’s so smart and so good. And so deserving.
Everything is perfect.
***
“Why do we have to be at Penny’s three hours early?” I moan, pulling my jacket against my body as a light December chill breezes through my body. There’s an unnaturally cool weather front coming through Miami for this time of year, I hear. It’s still balmy compared to Michigan but, all the same, the goose bumps spike on my skin.
“Liquor license training. We do it every two years. Anyone who serves needs to go through the course,” Storm explains.
“Three hours of how to pour a drink? Seriously?”
“Don’t worry,” she says as she bangs on Penny’s back door. “They let you sample too.”
“Great. I’ll be slurring before our shift starts,” I grumble with a quick nod to Nate as I pass through. It’s dark and quiet inside. I’ve never been at Penny’s when it’s this quiet. “Where is everyone? This is creeping me out.”
“By the bar,” Nate rumbles behind me, his hand prodding me forward. I peer over my shoulder and his mouth splits open to reveal gleaming white teeth. I can’t believe I used to be afraid of this giant teddy bear.
We round the corner into the dimly lit main club area.
“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”
I jump back and slam into Nate, who wraps his trunk-of-an-arm loosely around me while his deep laughter reverberates off the ceiling. Everyone’s there, standing on the stage, under the spot lights. Trent, Livie, Dan, Cain, Ben. Even Tanner.
And Mia! She’s off to the side, dancing around in circles with Ginger and a bunch of other fully-clothed dancers I don’t recognize.
“Are you surprised?” Storm giggles as she grabs my arm and tugs me forward. “Livie told us you turn twenty-one soon and we wanted to surprise you. Cain offered to throw you a little party here.”
As if on cue, Cain wanders over and tosses his arm over my shoulder. “Hope you’re okay with a birthday party at Penny’s. We figured this would be a guaranteed surprise.”
I find myself struggling to speak, not sure how to respond as I take in the people. “Of course I am. Thank you.”
He hands me an envelope. “Twenty-one only comes once, Sweetheart. You’re a hard worker and you take care of my Storm. Here’s a little something from everyone. Enjoy the food, the wine. Everything. Take the night off.” He pinches my cheek and then turns to Storm. “Keep that little princess of yours away from the stage, you hear me? Don’t want her getting any ideas.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course, Cain.”
I shake my head as I watch him walk away. He’s an odd duck. Hearing him say that, given this place is his life, and he employs all these dancers to do just that—be on the stage—his words are just plain weird.
That thought vanishes as I watch Trent find his way over to me with a seductive grin and two champagne flutes in his hands. “You know I don’t drink, Trent,” I say as I take one.
“And you know I don’t drink, Kacey.”
We smile at each other as he curls his free arm around my waist and pulls me into him, kissing my neck. “Has my plan worked? Have I made you happy?” he whispers into my ear.
My breath hitches. It always does when Trent’s near. “I can’t even begin to describe how much.”
His cool nose grazes my cheek. “Try.”
“Well …” I lean forward, pressing myself against him. I don’t know how it’s possible, but those electric sparks zap me every time I do like it’s the first time. “Better yet, how about I show you when we get back home?”
I feel his response to my implication dig into my stomach and I giggle, still in shock that this gorgeous, sweet, devilish guy is all mine. He clinks his glass against mine. “Here’s to the next eighty years,” he murmurs and then tips his glass back and takes a sip.
“Eighty? God, you’re optimistic. I figured you’re good for another ten, and then I’ll have to trade you in for a younger model.”
He leans down and kisses my mouth and I taste the champagne’s sweetness on his tongue. “Good luck with that. I’m not going anywhere.”
***
My fingers weave together as I ride back with Trent, the evening breeze nipping at my cheeks. As tempted as I am to let my hands wander, I know better than to distract Trent while he’s driving. I can wait until we get home, but just barely. Livie and Mia are in Dan’s car, following behind us. Storm decided to work. She promised we’d do a girls’ day tomorrow.
Trent parks the bike and I climb off. I don’t get very far though, before he grabs the front of my jeans at the zipper, and yanks me back to him. “Stay in or go out tonight?” His teeth lightly nip my neck.
“How about both. First go out, and then stay in.”
“That makes no sense.” The sound of his chuckle against my ear sends shivers through my body.
I giggle. Then I shove him hard and he tumbles to the grass. I start running. “If you can catch me, you get to choose.” I manage to get the key into the lock before he reaches me. I’m running through the commons toward our apartments, squealing with anticipation, expecting to feel strong hands grab hold of me any second.
When they don’t, I slow and glance back. Trent is standing in the middle of the commons, frozen, his face ashen like he’s seen a corpse.
“Trent?” I walk back toward him. Following his riveted gaze, I discover an older well-dressed couple standing ten feet away, watching us. In my mad dash, I’d missed them earlier.
The man’s appearance strikes me as familiar and I quickly realize what it is. He has Trent’s eyes and mouth. Looking to the woman, her hair pulled into a sophisticated bun, I recognize Trent’s narrow nose.
“Trent, are these your parents?”
No answer.
I’ve secretly been dying to meet his parents. His father is a big shot lawyer in Manhattan; his mother runs a creative agency. She funnels a lot of contract work through to Trent. That’s how he gets his clients. I know that they’re divorced and yet here they are. Together. A spike of fear channels through me. There must be bad news if they travelled all the way here together.
Trent still hasn’t moved, and this is now beyond awkward. I don’t know why he’s acting the way he is. It didn’t sound like there was bad blood between them. Someone needs to do something. I step forward with a polite smile and extend my hand. “Hi, I’m Kacey.”
I feel my smile slide off as Trent’s mother’s face lightens five shades. She shuts her eyes and squeezes them shut as if she’s in pain. When they open again, they’re glistening with tears. She turns to Trent and swallows, her words barely above a whisper and full of anguish, “How could you, Cole!”
That name.
My heart stops beating altogether.
When it starts up again, it’s a slow, pounding, irregular rhythm. “What?” I croak. I turn to find Trent’s face twisted with dread and guilt but I still don’t get it. “What … why did she call you that, Trent?”
His eyes shine as his lips part to whisper, “I just wanted to make you happy again, Kacey. It’s the only way I can fix it.”
Stage Seven ~ Breakdown
Chapter Seventeen
I’m falling.
Falling backward into the deep, dark water. It’s pouring over me, into me, through my mouth, up my nose, filling my lungs, seizing my will to breathe, to live.
I accept it. I welcome it.
In the distance, I hear voices. I hear people calling my name, but I can’t find them. They’re safe, above water. In another world. The world of the living.
There’s no place for me there.
***
“When will she wake up?” I hear Livie ask above the soft rhythmic beeping. I’d heard enough of those machines in my day to recognize it for what it is—a hospital I.V. If that doesn't give me a hint of where I'm at, the sickly sterile hospital odor sure does.
“When her mind is ready,” an unfamiliar male voice explains. “Kacey has gone into severe psychological shock. Physically, she’s fine. We’re just ensuring her body stays hydrated and nourished. Now we have to wait.”
“Is this normal?”
“From what I understand, your sister suffered a traumatic experience four years ago and has never recovered emotionally from that.”
The voices stop long enough that I dare crack open my lids. White and yellow walls fill my hazy vision.
“Kacey!” Livie’s face appears suddenly. Her eyes are puffy and lined with dark rings, like she hasn’t slept in days, her cheeks red and blotchy from crying.
“Where am I?” I ask, my voice coming out raspy.
“A hospital.”
“How? Why?”
Livie’s mouth falls open for a second before she pulls it closed again, trying to act calm. For my benefit. I know that. I know my Livie. Always so selfless. Always so caring. “You’re going to be fine, Kacey.” Her hands fumble with my blankets to find my fingers. She squeezes. “You’re going to get help. I’ll never let Trent hurt you again.”
Trent. That name attacks my body like a thousand pin pricks. I jolt in response.
Trent is Cole.
Trent destroyed my life. Twice.
Suddenly, I’m gasping for air, the reality squeezing my lungs like a vice. “How …” I start to say but I can’t speak because I can’t breathe. How is Trent, Cole? How did he find me? Why did he find me?
“Breathe, Kacey.” Livie tightens her grip on me, crawling in to lie down beside me and I realize I’m hyperventilating.
“I can’t, Livie.” I cry out, tears burning my cheeks. “I’m drowning.”
Her sobs fill the room.
He knew. All that time he pretended to be caring and sympathetic and unaware of my past, he is the cause of my past. It was his car, his friend, his drunken night that stole my life from me.
“It’s okay, Kacey. You’re safe.” Livie’s arms hug my body to hers, her weight resting against me to stop my body from shaking.
We stay like that for minutes. Hours. A life time. I don’t know. Nothing changes. Nothing until Storm crashes into the hospital room, panting as if she’s just run a marathon, a wildness in her eyes like I’d never seen before. “I know, Kacey. I know what happened to you. I know everything, now.” Tears spill out over her cheeks. She climbs into the other side of my bed and grabs hold of my hands. The three of us lay like sardines.
Tangled, sobbing sardines.
***
A hissing sound …
Bright lights …
Blood …
Trent’s beautiful face, his hands on the steering wheel.
Pointing at me.
Laughing.
“Kacey!” Something sharp smacks my face. “Wake up!”
I’m still screaming, even as Livie’s bulging eyes comes into focus front of me, and the machines around me. A sharp sting bites my cheek. I raise my hand to test it out.
“I’m sorry I had to slap you, but you wouldn’t stop screaming,” Livie explains through her tears.
The nightmares are back, only they’re worse. A million times worse.
“You won’t stop screaming, Kacey. You need to stop.” Livie sucks in a sharp sob as she curls up in my bed beside me and begins to rock, muttering to herself, “Please help her. God, please help her.”
***
“Which hospital is this, again?” I’ve been here two days now and Storm and Livie haven’t left my bed except to use the bathroom or get water and food.
Storm and Livie share a long, edgy glance. “A specialized one.” Livie says slowly.
“In Chicago,” Storm adds, setting her chin up a notch.
“What?” My voice gathers more strength behind it than I thought possible. I struggle to sit up in bed. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.
Livie rushes to add, “There’s a P.T.S.D. clinic nearby. It’s supposed to be the best in the country.”
“Well … what … how …” I finally pull myself upright with the help of the bedrails. “Since when does public health cover the best P.T.S.D. clinic in the country?”
“Calm down, Kacey.” Storm gently pushes me back down into a lying position. I don’t have the strength to fight her.
“Uh, no, I can’t calm down. We can’t pay for this …” I fumble with my I.V., cursing to myself.
“What’re you doing?” Livie asks, panic in her voice.
“Ripping this damn thing out of my arm and getting the hell out of this swanky cuckoo nest.” I swat her hand away as she tries to stop me. “What’s it costing, huh? Five thousand per night? Ten?”
“Shhh, don’t worry about that, Kace.” Storm smooths my hair.
It’s her turn to get a hand swat. “Someone has to worry about it! What the hell am I going to do? Take up permanent residence at Penny’s V.I.P. room wearing nothing but knee pads so I can pay the bill!”
“I see our patient is awake?” The unfamiliar soft voice from before interrupts, and stalls my fit. I turn to see a decent looking older man with a receding hair line and kind charcoal eyes hold his hand out toward me. I hadn’t even heard him come in. “Hello, I’m Dr. Stayner.” I glare at that hand like it’s covered in spots and oozing puss until he pulls it back. “Yes, that’s right. Your issue with hands.”
Myissue with hands? I scowl at Livie and she averts her gaze.
If any of this bothers the doctor, I can’t tell. “Kacey. Your case was brought to me by—”
“Dan,” Storm cuts in, her eyes shifting between the doctor’s and Livie’s.
“Right. Dan.” He clears his throat. “I think I can help you. I think you can live a normal life again. But I can’t help if you don’t want to be helped. Understand?” I’m left gaping at this man who calls himself a doctor and so clearly can’t be. What kind of doctor walks into a room and says that?
When I don’t answer, he strolls over to look out the barred window. “Do you want to be happy again, Kacey?”
Happy. There’s that word. I thought I was happy. And then Trent destroyed me. Again. I fell in love with my family’s murderer. I spent night after night with him next to me, inside me, dreaming of a future with him. Bile rises to my throat with the thought.
“A requirement of my therapy session is that my patients talk, Kacey,” Dr. Stayner explains without a hint of sarcasm or annoyance in his voice. “So I’ll ask you again. Do you want to be happy?”
God, this guy’s pushy. And he’s going to force me to talk. That’s what this is about. Why does everyone insist on drudging up the past? It’s done. It’s over. No amount of talking will ever change it, will ever bring anyone back. Why am I the only one who sees this?
That comforting numbness is back and trickling into my limbs and chest, forming a hard icy coating over my heart. My body’s natural defense. Numbness to take away the pain. “There’s no such thing as being happy for me.” My voice is cold and hard.
He turns to me again, those kind eyes tinged with pity. “Oh, there is, Miss Cleary. It will be an uphill battle, and I will test you every step of the way. I can be unconventional with my methods. With you, I will do things that are questionable. You may hate me at times, but you and I will get there together. You just have to want to. I will not move you into my clinic until you willingly agree to it all.”
“No,” I growl defiantly, the very idea of going anywhere with this new quack outrageous.
I hear a choking sound beside me. It’s Livie, struggling to stay calm. “Kacey, please,” she pleads.
I set my jaw stubbornly, even though it pains me to see her like this.
She sees my knee jerk reaction and sudden rare fury flashes in her eyes. “You are not the only one who lost their parents, Kacey. This isn’t just about you anymore.” She jumps out of my bed and hovers over me, her fists balled up. And then she rages like I’ve never seen before. “I can’t take it! The nightmares, the fighting, the distance. I’ve had to deal with this for four years, Kacey!” Livie’s hysterical now, tears pouring freely, screaming, and I expect security to stalk in any second. “Four years of watching you come and go in my life, wondering if today’s the day I’m going to find you hanging in a closet or floating in a river. I get that you were in that car. I get that you had to see everything. But what about me?” She chokes, the fury that fueled her forward with that outburst deflating, leaving her looking drained and miserable. “I keep losing you over and over again and I can’t take it anymore!”
Her words hit me over the head like a sledge hammer.
I thought my heart was already broken but it wasn’t.
Not completely.
Not until now.
“I know what happened the night Storm was attacked, Kacey. I know,” Livie says, watching me under a meaningful gaze. Storm. I shoot a glare her way, and Livie scolds me with a waggling finger. “Don’t you dare give Storm grief over telling me, Kacey Delyn Cleary. Don’t you dare. Storm told me because she cares about you, and she wants you to get help. You almost attacked a man with a broken beer bottle. We’re not going to help you avoid your shit anymore, understand?” Livie gracelessly wipes the tears away. “I’m not doing it anymore.”
I’ve told myself time and time again that this is all for Livie. Everything I've done is to protect Livie. If I watch her now, if I look at what Livie has had to deal with, I wonder if it’s all been about protecting myself? I know Livie lost her parents. I know she lost me too, in a way. But have I ever really considered what she feels like? Tried to put myself in her shoes? I figured no one’s shoes were half as bad as the ones dragging me down like cement blocks. And Livie never let on. She’s always been so strong and level-headed. She’s always been Livie—with or without my parents. I just thought …
I didn’t think … My God! I never really weighed my actions, all my reactions, and what they do to Livie. I just figured if I was upright and breathing, that I was here for her. For Livie. But in a way, I never really have been.
Suddenly I want to die.
I feel my head bob up and down, all resistance vanishing as a new level of pain surges. Awareness. All I’ve ever told myself is that I want to protect my little sister from pain, but it hasn’t been about protecting her. It’s been about protecting me. All I keep doing is causing pain for her. For everyone in my life.
“Good,” Dr. Stayner takes that as an agreement. “I will have your room prepared. The first part of your therapy will begin now.” I’m reeling over how quickly he seems to react. Efficient and business-like, but at the same time like a tornado, swooping in to wreak havoc. He smoothly walks over to the door and motions someone in.
No. I cower in my bed and squeeze Livie’s hands until she whimpers slightly. Good God, please … no! He wouldn’t.
An older version of Trent turns the corner and steps into my room, sorrow marring his handsome features.
Trent’s father.
Cole’s father.
Fuck. I don’t even know what to call him anymore.
“I want you to listen to what Mr. Reynolds has to say. Nothing more. Just listen. Can you manage that?” Dr. Stayner asks me.
I think I nod, but I’m not sure, I’m too busy staring at this man’s face, how much he reminds me of his face. His eyes that I fell into day after day. Happy. In love. Yes. In love. I was in love with Trent. With my life’s murderer.
“We’ll be here with you the whole time,” Storm says, gripping onto my free hand.
Trent/Cole’s father clears his throat. “Hello, Kacey.”
I don’t respond. I just watch him slide his hands into his pockets and hold them there. Just like his son does. “My name is Carter Reynolds. You can call me Carter.”
A shiver runs through my body at the sound of that family name.
“I want to apologize to you for all that my son has put you and your sister through. I tried to do so four years ago, but the police issued the restraining orders. My family and I respected your privacy then. Unfortunately, Cole … Trent has since harmed you again.”
He takes a few steps further into the room until he’s at the end of my bed, casting a furtive look at Dr. Stayner, who only smiles at him. “It was our car … my car … that Sasha drove the night of the accident.” A frown flashes across his face. “I think you knew that, though, right? Insurance papers would have specified that.”
There’s a pause as if he’s waiting for me to acknowledge. I don’t.
“We lost Cole after the accident. He ceased to exist. He dropped out of Michigan State, quit football, cut off all contact with his friends. He left his girlfriend of four years and stopped drinking altogether. He changed his name from Cole Reynolds to Trent Emerson—his middle name and his mother’s maiden name.”
Carter pauses, his lips pressing together in a slight scowl. “That accident tore our family apart. His mother and I divorced a year later.” He waves his hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. What I do want you to know is that Cole … er … Trent is a troubled young man. Two years after the accident, I found him in my garage with the car running and a hose connected to the tail pipe. We thought we lost him for good that night.” Carter’s voice cracks with emotion and I feel an unwelcome spike of pain over the image in my head. “Soon after that, we admitted him to Dr. Stayner’s inpatient program for post traumatic stress disorder.” Again, Carter looks to the doctor to see him smiling and nodding him on. “When they released Trent, it was with a seal of approval. We were sure he had recovered. He laughed and smiled again. He began calling us regularly. He enrolled in a graphic design school in Rochester. He seemed to have moved on. He even attended outpatient programs and therapy groups to help others get through their grief.
“Then, six weeks ago, it looked like he was having a relapse. He appeared on his mother’s door step, mumbling something about you and how you’ll never forgive him. We brought him here and admitted him to Dr. Stayner.”
I fight hard to school the shock from my face. So all the time that Trent was missing, he was here, in Chicago. In a hospital for P.T.S.D., the thing he was insistent on curing me of.
“A few days after release, Trent was ecstatic again. We couldn’t figure it out. We thought maybe he was manic or on drugs. Dr. Stayner said no to both. He couldn’t tell us what was going on because of patient-doctor privilege.”
