Perfect Regret
Page 17
The truth was I was beginning to learn there was a lot appealing about the man sitting beside me.
“Wow, that’s awesome,” I said tiredly. I meant it, really, but Garrett looked at me warily, as though looking for the punch line.
“Thanks,” he said and then fell silent. And this time, the quiet between us was uneasy.
“I really do appreciate you taking me tonight. You were right, I would never have been able to drive myself,” I said. Garrett’s eyes were once again trained on the road and I noticed the tightening of his jaw, as though he were uncomfortable with my gratitude. Yeah, I get that he hadn’t seen a whole lot of the nice, genial Riley Walker. I was so accustomed to being sarcastic and cutting that genuine pleasantness was like a sucker punch to the jaw. It left you wondering where the hell the fist came from.
“Like I said, I couldn’t let you drive all the way home in the state you’re in,” he said shortly.
“You seem to speak from some kind of experience,” I hedged, not knowing how my dig for information would be greeted.
Garrett started to fiddle with my radio, trying to find some music to fill the awkward tension that took over the interior of my car. “Yeah, well, I’ve been there. I get it,” he explained without really explaining anything at all.
I took in his sloppy disheveled appearance. His blue, button down shirt gaped open, his muscular chest on proud display. His shoulder length hair was more than a little wild and I was hit with a sudden surge of memory. I remember how it felt that first night to put run my fingers through it. I saw with sudden clarity the way his face looked as he hovered above me, his hair hanging down around his face. Oh God, I finally remembered the aching tenderness in his eyes as he kissed every inch of my face.
I shook my head, ridding myself of those unwanted memories. “Can you tell me how you get it?” I asked carefully. Garrett gave up on trying to find anything on the radio and turned it off with a frustrated flick of his fingers.
He let out a loud and noisy sigh. The hand that came up to push his hair back off of his face shook slightly. “I lost both of my parents when I was a senior in high school. I remember the call that told me they were gone. It was like my world stopped and I couldn’t understand how I could keep going without them,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat as though to dislodge the lump in his throat.
I blinked rapidly, feeling warmth flood my eyes. I had never bothered to understand how the loss of his parents had shaped the person he became.
Until now. Until I could see for myself the devastation of his loss.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice the barest hush of a whisper.
Garrett cleared his throat again and it seemed he had to take a moment to compose himself before saying more. “It was a drunk driver. They died on impact,” he said and shot a look in my direction. “That’s why I will never drive drunk or high. Ever!” he proclaimed emphatically, his eyes snapping.
Who would have thought Garrett Bellows had layers. That he was more than the stoned out guitarist with no thought to doing something more. But sitting in my darkened car, hearing him speak about losing his parents. Seeing the intensity of his misery, I forgot completely that here was a guy I had sworn I had nothing in common with. That he and I were opposites in every possible way.
But we weren’t so different, Garrett and I. Because Garrett was a whole mess of layers and he had a depth that left me breathless.
“And I’m sorry about your dad,” he finished and all of my ridiculous romanticism about the man who sat beside me shooting down the darkened highway, popped like a soap bubble. The reality of why I was here, with him, in this car, came crashing down on my shoulders like a hundred ton weight.
“Thanks,” I whispered so softly it was if all of my bones had dissolved.
My dad might die. Hell, he might be dead already, while I made the long, arduous trek to his bedside. What would I do if I never got to talk to him again? Never got to see his smile or hear him tell me teasingly to “buck up, Riley Boo?”
“How are things going at the newspaper?” Garrett asked me a little too loudly and I was wrenched from my depressing thoughts.
I blinked a few times and stared at him. “Huh?” I asked stupidly.
Garrett gripped the steering wheel so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. His smile was forced but I appreciated the effort. “The newspaper. I’m not sure what you’re doing there, just wanted to know how it’s going,” he said.
“It’s good. Going good, I mean. I’m there for an internship. You know, to get my own byline so I can become the next Barbara Walters or something,” I answered dryly.
“Ah, so you want to write for a newspaper. That sounds cool. I can see that. Good career choice,” he remarked in a tone that was almost teasing.
“Oh, and why is that?” I asked, surprised at the subtle flirtation in my voice.
“Probably because you’re the type of chick who takes the world by its balls and refuses to let go. Not saying it like it’s a bad thing. It just makes me want to wear a cup when I’m around you,” he stated and I had to laugh.
Yes, Garrett Bellows had made me laugh. Just when I thought my world was bottoming out, here he was, taking me toward an unknown future and he was making me freaking laugh. There was something pretty wonderful about that.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or completely insulted,” I told him wryly.
Garrett’s smile this time wasn’t forced or strained. It didn’t hold any twinge of sadness or regret. This smile was one hundred percent earthshattering. Shit, it’s a good thing I hadn’t seen it before or I would have locked him away and thrown away the key. Guys with smiles like that were lethal.
“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” he said as his smile faded and he was once again focusing on the road. Our moment of levity drifting away into the darkness rushing past us.
“Maybe you should try to sleep. We’ve got another few hours and you’ll need your rest,” Garrett suggested. My eyes felt gritty with exhaustion and I should probably take him up on his suggestion but my mind was in chaos and I knew I would never be able to shut it off.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of the places you’ll be going on your tour. I think I’d rather hear about that,” I said. Garrett looked surprised but then nodded.
“Sure. We’re going to start off in Charlotte, North Carolina at this bar called Warner’s.” I listened Garrett go into detail about the upcoming Generation Rejects tour and I was able to forget, just for a moment, that I would be with my very sick father in a few short hours. I could pretend that we were just two people, getting to know each other.
And I realized then that Garrett had a way of making me forget the things that haunted me. He had done it after my break up with Damien and here he was, doing it again. There was something amazing in the way he gathered up my pieces without my ever expecting him to.
For two people whose only interactions were humiliating or drunkenly sexual, our easy candor was shocking. I had never expected that the one person I had declared to have no place in my life, to be my one great regret, to fit so perfectly into my existence that it was as though he had always been there.
“Do you want to go straight to the hospital or head to your parents house first?” Garrett asked as he pulled off the interstate at exit 26. He turned right onto Route 23 toward the small, seaside town of Port David.
I squinted as I tried to read the clock on my dashboard. My eyes were blurry from my lack of sleep. It was already five-thirty in the morning. Garrett had insisted we stop for something to eat, saying I needed to keep my energy up, thus adding another forty-five minutes onto our travel time. I had been irritated by the suggestion but was now glad to have a full stomach.
“I think we should go to my parents’ first. I want to see if my brother and sister are there. Drop off my stuff,” I said.
“Okay, lead the way,” Garrett replied and I began to rattle off directions that took him through my sleepy hometown and out toward the coast. My parents owned a small house by the ocean. Once I had headed off to college, they had sold their larger house in town and bought the small bungalow on the beach. My parents loved getting up in the morning and drinking their tea on the sand as the sun came up.
My parents’ lives completely revolved around each other. Even when I was a child I knew that despite their love for their kids, their first and greatest love was for each other. Their relationship was a reassurance. A reminder that good things happen to good people.
At least until now.
Now all I could think of was if my dad didn’t make it, what would my mom do? How would she go on without the love of her life? Was it even possible to come back from losing the person you hung your moon on?
“Wow, this is awesome,” Garrett said as he pulled in front of the small, yellow house with its white porch and wooden fence. The sun was just coming up and it was almost magical in the way it shimmered off the rolling waves.
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed, getting my bag out of the back seat and climbing out of my car. I stretched and looked around at the tiny corner of the world my parents now called home. It was so them. From the multi-colored mailbox to the series of stone gnomes dotting the front garden. My mom’s wind chimes hung from hooks along the porch and my dad had purchased a straw welcome mat with the Grateful Dead slogan “All in the Family.”
I looked over at Garrett. He had his arms stretched out above his head and I knew he had to be as tired as I was. He had driven for the last four and a half hours without complaint. I knew he’d need to sleep before heading home to Bakersville. It was agreed he’d take my car back with him and I’d figure out getting back to school when the time came.
It was cold, particularly on the water like this. The air was crisp and clean and it helped to chase some of the cobwebs from my head.
“Come on,” I said, inclining my head toward the house. Garrett took my bag from my hands and slung it over his shoulder. He followed me up to the porch.
The front door wasn’t locked and I thought about chastising my mother for being so lax in security until I saw her hunched over form standing at the counter in the kitchen. Her dark head, with hair the same shade as mine, with the few wisps of grey that she refused to color was bowed down as she hastily wrote on a piece of paper. She was proud of her grey hair. Called them her victory stripes.
“Mom,” I called out, holding the screen door open so Garrett could follow me in. My mother looked over her shoulder and the look of relief on her face at the sight of me hit me square in the chest.
“Riley Boo,” she said and I could hear the bone deep tiredness in her voice. She crossed the small kitchen until I was wrapped in her arms, inhaling the familiar smell of her shampoo and her all-natural laundry detergent.
“Why aren’t you at the hospital? How’s Dad?” I asked, trying not to sound as panicked as I felt. Had something happened while I was on my way here? What if I was too late?
“Dad’s the same. He’s really out of it. He’s had a bunch of tests and the doctors say he has a blockage. They are going to do some more tests to see if he needs surgery. I had to come home and get a few things and then I’m heading back. Gavin and Felicity are with him.” My mom gave me a sad smile and touched my cheek.
“I’m coming back with you,” I said, grabbing Mom’s keys from her hand.
“Okay. That would be great. But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend first?” my mother asked, looking behind me to Garrett. I had almost forgotten he was still there, standing quietly off to the side while I spoke with my mom.
Garrett came forward and held out his hand to Mom, who took it in hers. She didn’t shake it. She simply held it firmly between her palms. She was most likely trying to read his aura or something.
“I’m a friend of your daughter’s. My name is Garrett Bellows, ma’am. I offered to drive her up here after she got your phone call. I didn’t want her making the trip on her own,” he said and I could tell his answer pleased my mother.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Garrett. Thank you so much for taking care of my Riley,” she said genuinely. Her eyes went back and forth between us and I knew she was trying to work out exactly what our relationship was.
“It was my pleasure. But I’d best be getting back on the road. I know you both need to get to the hospital,” Garrett said, already moving toward the door.
My mom stopped him. “You haven’t slept tonight, have you, Garrett?” she asked. Garrett looked at me then back to my mom and shook his head.
“But that’s okay. Nothing a little coffee can’t cure. I’ll be all right to get back to Bakersville,” he assured her but my mother was shaking her head.
“Absolutely not, young man. You will stay here and get some sleep. Get something to eat and then you can get on the road. But I will not allow you to leave until those things are done first,” she scolded him good naturedly but with a firmness that brooked no argument.
Garrett opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Forget it, Garrett. Mom will shackle you to the bed if she has to. Just go take a load off. Get a few hours of sleep. Please. I know you’re tired,” I said.
Garrett seemed unsure but my mother took him by the arm and led him down the hallway.
Walking into the ICU, the first thing I was acutely aware of was the smell. God, hospitals reeked. The horrible scent of too much disinfectant and an overabundance of stress and grief stuck in the back of my throat. The waiting room was small, with a TV mounted to the wall playing CNN on mute. There were a few other people sat around looking as anxious as I felt. I briefly wondered what their story was.
“Wow, that’s awesome,” I said tiredly. I meant it, really, but Garrett looked at me warily, as though looking for the punch line.
“Thanks,” he said and then fell silent. And this time, the quiet between us was uneasy.
“I really do appreciate you taking me tonight. You were right, I would never have been able to drive myself,” I said. Garrett’s eyes were once again trained on the road and I noticed the tightening of his jaw, as though he were uncomfortable with my gratitude. Yeah, I get that he hadn’t seen a whole lot of the nice, genial Riley Walker. I was so accustomed to being sarcastic and cutting that genuine pleasantness was like a sucker punch to the jaw. It left you wondering where the hell the fist came from.
“Like I said, I couldn’t let you drive all the way home in the state you’re in,” he said shortly.
“You seem to speak from some kind of experience,” I hedged, not knowing how my dig for information would be greeted.
Garrett started to fiddle with my radio, trying to find some music to fill the awkward tension that took over the interior of my car. “Yeah, well, I’ve been there. I get it,” he explained without really explaining anything at all.
I took in his sloppy disheveled appearance. His blue, button down shirt gaped open, his muscular chest on proud display. His shoulder length hair was more than a little wild and I was hit with a sudden surge of memory. I remember how it felt that first night to put run my fingers through it. I saw with sudden clarity the way his face looked as he hovered above me, his hair hanging down around his face. Oh God, I finally remembered the aching tenderness in his eyes as he kissed every inch of my face.
I shook my head, ridding myself of those unwanted memories. “Can you tell me how you get it?” I asked carefully. Garrett gave up on trying to find anything on the radio and turned it off with a frustrated flick of his fingers.
He let out a loud and noisy sigh. The hand that came up to push his hair back off of his face shook slightly. “I lost both of my parents when I was a senior in high school. I remember the call that told me they were gone. It was like my world stopped and I couldn’t understand how I could keep going without them,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat as though to dislodge the lump in his throat.
I blinked rapidly, feeling warmth flood my eyes. I had never bothered to understand how the loss of his parents had shaped the person he became.
Until now. Until I could see for myself the devastation of his loss.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice the barest hush of a whisper.
Garrett cleared his throat again and it seemed he had to take a moment to compose himself before saying more. “It was a drunk driver. They died on impact,” he said and shot a look in my direction. “That’s why I will never drive drunk or high. Ever!” he proclaimed emphatically, his eyes snapping.
Who would have thought Garrett Bellows had layers. That he was more than the stoned out guitarist with no thought to doing something more. But sitting in my darkened car, hearing him speak about losing his parents. Seeing the intensity of his misery, I forgot completely that here was a guy I had sworn I had nothing in common with. That he and I were opposites in every possible way.
But we weren’t so different, Garrett and I. Because Garrett was a whole mess of layers and he had a depth that left me breathless.
“And I’m sorry about your dad,” he finished and all of my ridiculous romanticism about the man who sat beside me shooting down the darkened highway, popped like a soap bubble. The reality of why I was here, with him, in this car, came crashing down on my shoulders like a hundred ton weight.
“Thanks,” I whispered so softly it was if all of my bones had dissolved.
My dad might die. Hell, he might be dead already, while I made the long, arduous trek to his bedside. What would I do if I never got to talk to him again? Never got to see his smile or hear him tell me teasingly to “buck up, Riley Boo?”
“How are things going at the newspaper?” Garrett asked me a little too loudly and I was wrenched from my depressing thoughts.
I blinked a few times and stared at him. “Huh?” I asked stupidly.
Garrett gripped the steering wheel so tightly I could see his knuckles turning white. His smile was forced but I appreciated the effort. “The newspaper. I’m not sure what you’re doing there, just wanted to know how it’s going,” he said.
“It’s good. Going good, I mean. I’m there for an internship. You know, to get my own byline so I can become the next Barbara Walters or something,” I answered dryly.
“Ah, so you want to write for a newspaper. That sounds cool. I can see that. Good career choice,” he remarked in a tone that was almost teasing.
“Oh, and why is that?” I asked, surprised at the subtle flirtation in my voice.
“Probably because you’re the type of chick who takes the world by its balls and refuses to let go. Not saying it like it’s a bad thing. It just makes me want to wear a cup when I’m around you,” he stated and I had to laugh.
Yes, Garrett Bellows had made me laugh. Just when I thought my world was bottoming out, here he was, taking me toward an unknown future and he was making me freaking laugh. There was something pretty wonderful about that.
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or completely insulted,” I told him wryly.
Garrett’s smile this time wasn’t forced or strained. It didn’t hold any twinge of sadness or regret. This smile was one hundred percent earthshattering. Shit, it’s a good thing I hadn’t seen it before or I would have locked him away and thrown away the key. Guys with smiles like that were lethal.
“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” he said as his smile faded and he was once again focusing on the road. Our moment of levity drifting away into the darkness rushing past us.
“Maybe you should try to sleep. We’ve got another few hours and you’ll need your rest,” Garrett suggested. My eyes felt gritty with exhaustion and I should probably take him up on his suggestion but my mind was in chaos and I knew I would never be able to shut it off.
“Why don’t you tell me about some of the places you’ll be going on your tour. I think I’d rather hear about that,” I said. Garrett looked surprised but then nodded.
“Sure. We’re going to start off in Charlotte, North Carolina at this bar called Warner’s.” I listened Garrett go into detail about the upcoming Generation Rejects tour and I was able to forget, just for a moment, that I would be with my very sick father in a few short hours. I could pretend that we were just two people, getting to know each other.
And I realized then that Garrett had a way of making me forget the things that haunted me. He had done it after my break up with Damien and here he was, doing it again. There was something amazing in the way he gathered up my pieces without my ever expecting him to.
For two people whose only interactions were humiliating or drunkenly sexual, our easy candor was shocking. I had never expected that the one person I had declared to have no place in my life, to be my one great regret, to fit so perfectly into my existence that it was as though he had always been there.
“Do you want to go straight to the hospital or head to your parents house first?” Garrett asked as he pulled off the interstate at exit 26. He turned right onto Route 23 toward the small, seaside town of Port David.
I squinted as I tried to read the clock on my dashboard. My eyes were blurry from my lack of sleep. It was already five-thirty in the morning. Garrett had insisted we stop for something to eat, saying I needed to keep my energy up, thus adding another forty-five minutes onto our travel time. I had been irritated by the suggestion but was now glad to have a full stomach.
“I think we should go to my parents’ first. I want to see if my brother and sister are there. Drop off my stuff,” I said.
“Okay, lead the way,” Garrett replied and I began to rattle off directions that took him through my sleepy hometown and out toward the coast. My parents owned a small house by the ocean. Once I had headed off to college, they had sold their larger house in town and bought the small bungalow on the beach. My parents loved getting up in the morning and drinking their tea on the sand as the sun came up.
My parents’ lives completely revolved around each other. Even when I was a child I knew that despite their love for their kids, their first and greatest love was for each other. Their relationship was a reassurance. A reminder that good things happen to good people.
At least until now.
Now all I could think of was if my dad didn’t make it, what would my mom do? How would she go on without the love of her life? Was it even possible to come back from losing the person you hung your moon on?
“Wow, this is awesome,” Garrett said as he pulled in front of the small, yellow house with its white porch and wooden fence. The sun was just coming up and it was almost magical in the way it shimmered off the rolling waves.
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed, getting my bag out of the back seat and climbing out of my car. I stretched and looked around at the tiny corner of the world my parents now called home. It was so them. From the multi-colored mailbox to the series of stone gnomes dotting the front garden. My mom’s wind chimes hung from hooks along the porch and my dad had purchased a straw welcome mat with the Grateful Dead slogan “All in the Family.”
I looked over at Garrett. He had his arms stretched out above his head and I knew he had to be as tired as I was. He had driven for the last four and a half hours without complaint. I knew he’d need to sleep before heading home to Bakersville. It was agreed he’d take my car back with him and I’d figure out getting back to school when the time came.
It was cold, particularly on the water like this. The air was crisp and clean and it helped to chase some of the cobwebs from my head.
“Come on,” I said, inclining my head toward the house. Garrett took my bag from my hands and slung it over his shoulder. He followed me up to the porch.
The front door wasn’t locked and I thought about chastising my mother for being so lax in security until I saw her hunched over form standing at the counter in the kitchen. Her dark head, with hair the same shade as mine, with the few wisps of grey that she refused to color was bowed down as she hastily wrote on a piece of paper. She was proud of her grey hair. Called them her victory stripes.
“Mom,” I called out, holding the screen door open so Garrett could follow me in. My mother looked over her shoulder and the look of relief on her face at the sight of me hit me square in the chest.
“Riley Boo,” she said and I could hear the bone deep tiredness in her voice. She crossed the small kitchen until I was wrapped in her arms, inhaling the familiar smell of her shampoo and her all-natural laundry detergent.
“Why aren’t you at the hospital? How’s Dad?” I asked, trying not to sound as panicked as I felt. Had something happened while I was on my way here? What if I was too late?
“Dad’s the same. He’s really out of it. He’s had a bunch of tests and the doctors say he has a blockage. They are going to do some more tests to see if he needs surgery. I had to come home and get a few things and then I’m heading back. Gavin and Felicity are with him.” My mom gave me a sad smile and touched my cheek.
“I’m coming back with you,” I said, grabbing Mom’s keys from her hand.
“Okay. That would be great. But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend first?” my mother asked, looking behind me to Garrett. I had almost forgotten he was still there, standing quietly off to the side while I spoke with my mom.
Garrett came forward and held out his hand to Mom, who took it in hers. She didn’t shake it. She simply held it firmly between her palms. She was most likely trying to read his aura or something.
“I’m a friend of your daughter’s. My name is Garrett Bellows, ma’am. I offered to drive her up here after she got your phone call. I didn’t want her making the trip on her own,” he said and I could tell his answer pleased my mother.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Garrett. Thank you so much for taking care of my Riley,” she said genuinely. Her eyes went back and forth between us and I knew she was trying to work out exactly what our relationship was.
“It was my pleasure. But I’d best be getting back on the road. I know you both need to get to the hospital,” Garrett said, already moving toward the door.
My mom stopped him. “You haven’t slept tonight, have you, Garrett?” she asked. Garrett looked at me then back to my mom and shook his head.
“But that’s okay. Nothing a little coffee can’t cure. I’ll be all right to get back to Bakersville,” he assured her but my mother was shaking her head.
“Absolutely not, young man. You will stay here and get some sleep. Get something to eat and then you can get on the road. But I will not allow you to leave until those things are done first,” she scolded him good naturedly but with a firmness that brooked no argument.
Garrett opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Forget it, Garrett. Mom will shackle you to the bed if she has to. Just go take a load off. Get a few hours of sleep. Please. I know you’re tired,” I said.
Garrett seemed unsure but my mother took him by the arm and led him down the hallway.
Walking into the ICU, the first thing I was acutely aware of was the smell. God, hospitals reeked. The horrible scent of too much disinfectant and an overabundance of stress and grief stuck in the back of my throat. The waiting room was small, with a TV mounted to the wall playing CNN on mute. There were a few other people sat around looking as anxious as I felt. I briefly wondered what their story was.
