Bitter Exes Page 6

  I give a furtive nod as tears blur my vision. “Don’t leave me, Lane. Please don’t leave.”

  And he doesn’t. Lane rides down on that tennis racket right along with me, cradling me in his arms, whispering comforting words into my ear all the way down the mountain. And with every inch we travel, it feels as if all of the pettiness between us, all of the hurt and pain melt away.

  I lean my head on his shoulder, and he lands a soft kiss to my forehead.

  But all of the pain and hurt did happen.

  Now what?

  Lane

  After what feels like a solid hour, the medics finally get us down the mountain and into a warm and waiting ambulance.

  Seth and Petra run up with about a dozen cameramen, and my adrenaline kicks into overdrive. It looks like the circus is in town again. Petra hands me my shoes as I take off my ski boots.

  Seth starts barking out orders on who goes where and asks me to keep my mic on while tossing a cameraman into the back of the ambulance with us, and I toss him right back out.

  “Enough!” I roar so loud even the medics pause from the task at hand. “You’re not coming. Not one of you is welcome. She’s hurt! Can’t you see that?” I strip the mic from inside my jacket and quickly work down Vi’s jacket as well.

  Her teeth chatter wildly, and her lips are blueish purple. “I always knew you were dying to undress me.” Undress comes out elongated with her teeth knocking like castanets.

  A dull laugh pumps from me as I reach in and carefully pull at the wire until it gives. “Always the funny one.” I hand the warm mic over to Petra.

  “We totally understand.” She nods as if she was suddenly frightened of me, and I feel bad for yelling. “Production will touch base with the hospital just to make sure she’s okay.” She leans into the mouth of the ambulance. “Feel better, Violet! Our thoughts are with you!”

  Seth shouts in his own good wishes as the doors shut tight, and the ambulance begins to howl off as we hit the main road.

  I lean in and wipe the hair off her forehead as the medic readies a shot of morphine. “You want me to call your mom?” I offer as I look into those frightened eyes. Vi is a beauty, a stunner at all times, and here she is looking just as gorgeous as ever even though she’s afraid out of her mind. A steady stream of tears makes their way down the side of her face, and I do my best to wipe them away as fast as they fall.

  “No.” She does her best to shake her head, but she’s strapped in from head to foot. It’s a wonder she can speak. “Please don’t.”

  “Okay.” I lay my hand over hers as they lie against her chest. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Vi.” My own tears come, and I sniff them back. Then silently, one by one, they roll down my cheeks, and I don’t stop them.

  She gives a slight nod while watching them fall as if to say thank you in some roundabout way. I lean over and press my lips to her warm cheek.

  I’ve stolen a hell of a lot of kisses since the fall, and I don’t feel one bit of remorse. I meant them all in the deepest sense. I care about Vi more than she will ever understand. They came from the heart, where she lives inside of me. Where our love still lives under lock and key of the past.

  “I’d give anything to trade places with you right now,” I whisper.

  Vi gives a chattering laugh. “Trust me, I would do anything to make that happen.”

  We rock and roll our way to the Snow Valley Community Hospital, and Vi is wheeled into emergency, straight into a private room in the back.

  I don’t dare let go of her hand as they carefully extract her boots. The left one comes off without a whimper, but as soon as they start messing with that right leg, Violet lets out a mighty roar.

  “I got you,” I shout up over her screams as her fingernails press in through my flesh. “You’re going to be okay.”

  She looks up with her lips pressed tight and sobs into my arm.

  They cut her pants off, right leg first, and I catch a glimpse of the purple swollen flesh. Shit. I’d give anything if we could go back in time. It was my boneheaded move that landed us on the fucking Matterhorn to begin with. Widow’s Peak to be exact.

  The nurses do their thing, then cover Vi up before rolling the entire bed out of the room for X-rays.

  “I’m coming with you,” I offer, and according to her death grip, there is no other option.

  Vi’s ankle is twisted, badly. Nothing broken. Nothing short of a miracle. The doctor says she will spend two weeks in a walking cast, and we’ll reevaluate after that. They shoot her up with morphine until she’s happily numb and gift her a brand new shoe. One of the nurses offers up an old rubber boot from the donations bin for her left leg so she doesn’t have to go shoeless in the snow. They outfit her with a hospital gown, crutches, and give us the proverbial boot, pun intended.

  I call Uber and hold her in the back seat all the way back to Leland. And once we get there, I have her hold onto those crutches and carry her to the elevator, then all the way to her dorm.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she whimpers as she works her key, and the door glides open in front of her. She slaps on the light, revealing an empty room, two beds, all the girly frills, fluffy pink comforters, a few stuffed animals littered on both, and I can’t help but smile. This is the Vi I know and love. My gut cinches, because deep down, I still do. You can’t just turn off your emotions just because something ends, and with Violet, I wouldn’t want to. Couldn’t if I tried.

  “That’s my bed.” She points to the farthest, and I pull back the covers, help get her settled. I go back and shut the door, turn up the heater, take off my jacket, and kick off my boots. “What are you doing?” She struggles to hike up on her back, and I gently lift her until she’s scowling at me from a comfortable vantage point.

  “I’m staying right here until your roommate gets back.”

  “It’s Friday night.” She growls out a husky laugh, and my boxers can’t help but tick to life. I can’t blame myself. Vi is the hottest girl I know, whole or injured, and that smoky voice. It has always been the end of me. “She’s not coming back.” Her lids hang low as she shoves a stuffed cat behind her neck and groans.

  “Well, then I’m spending the night.” I flick off the lights, and my eyes quickly adjust as the moon spills its beams into the room. It only takes a moment for me to slide in next to her and pull the covers around her tight. She’s still shivering, her body quaking nonstop, so I snatch the comforter off the other bed and toss that on top of us as well.

  “Th-thaank you,” she stammers. “I don’t know why I’m still freezing.”

  “It’s called shock.” I wrap an arm around her tiny body, and a slight groan works its way up my chest.

  “Oh, that feels good.” She nuzzles into me, and our bodies warm one another up until we’re nice and toasty. “Lane?” She looks up at me, blinking back tears, and I fight the urge to press a quick kiss over each of her lids. “Do you think we can forget about all that bull between us for tonight?” She bucks as she struggles to warm her body.

  “Just for tonight.” I offer a quick wink.

  “Right.” She bites down on a smile, and I can’t help but study those lips. My God, how I’ve missed them. “Because as soon as the sun crests the horizon, it’s back on. I’m pretty sure I’m going to hate you forever.” She offers up a sly wink of her own. “I rather like tormenting you with my glacial looks and pithing words.”

  A laugh bursts through me. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. It keeps me humble.” My thumb brushes over her cheek, then her lips as if it were an afterthought. But it wasn’t. It was a calculated move on my part because a part of me couldn’t hold off from touching them for one more minute.

  She clears her throat. “But I mean, if I ever did get over it, what would that mean?”

  “Wow.” I blow out a hard breath as I curl my arm around her tight. “I guess that might mean we’ve finally moved on.”

  “Grown up.” She nods as if agreeing. “It does sor
t of feel as if we’ve grown up together, even though we were only really close toward the end.” Her finger bounces over my lips, and my heart bangs against my chest like a gong.

  “Really close.” I lean in a notch toward that ruby red mouth, as my breathing picks up pace, my body heat rises to hellish levels, and the bed suddenly feels unbearably hot.

  “Lane”—she whispers my name, her lids unable to hold themselves open—“thank you for everything.” Vi nods off hard and fast, snoring softly in an even rhythm, and I can’t help but smile as I watch her sleep. If anyone would have told me a few weeks ago that Violet Hathaway and I would be sharing a bed, that she would be tucked safe in my arms, I would have told them they were drunk. And yet here we are, Violet and me, in her bed, my arms wrapped around her so tight, just the way I wish they had been before she tumbled down that mountain. Tears spring to my eyes as I remember how earthly afraid I was, so very worried I was about to lose her. Thank God she survived. Thank God she’s okay.

  Now I just wish there were a way for us to survive, to be okay. But I’m pretty sure I nailed that coffin closed a long time ago with one stupid kiss. I try my best to blink the memory out of my mind. I’d do anything to go back and erase the entire incident. I don’t want to think about it. Instead, I melt into a thick sleep that feels comfortable and restful for the first time in a year. All is well, if just for one night.

  * * *

  In the early afternoon, Violet’s roommate stumbles back into the tiny dorm and screams at the sight of me, swatting me with a stuffed elephant until I stumble out of the room, doing my best to catch my boots as she tosses them at me. The RA comes up and chews me a new one as I scamper the hell out of Canterbury Hall before they tar and feather me.

  I shoot Vi a quick text as I hit the Underground. You need me?

  A moment jumps by without a response, but I know for a fact she yanked her phone out of her pocket before drifting to sleep.

  My screen lights up. Boy—you are all ego, aren’t you?

  A quiet laugh pumps through me, and just as I’m about to head into the Underground for a quick bite, I get a hard shove to the chest that sends me slipping backward in the snow.

  “Shit.” I look up, trying to get my bearings, and find Wendell Hathaway looking every bit like he’s about to smash my head through the brick wall next to me. “Okay, I get it. You’re pissed.” I hold up a hand. Wen and I go way back. He’s practically my brother. And when Vi and I broke up, he actually felt bad for me. Hell, he outright sided with me. The details weren’t as black and white as Violet might have painted them to be that night in Finley. The only stipulation Wen has ever had for me post-breakup was stay the hell away from his sister. She was one and done in his mind. He didn’t want me sniffing around after I had already cracked her heart in two.

  He closes his eyes and tips his head back a moment. “Why in the hell are you messing with Vi again?”

  “I’m not. I mean, I am, but I swear it wasn’t intentional.” I nod to the bar. “I’m hungry and buying. You want to join me for a burger?”

  Wen scowls, and his features look decidedly like Violet’s. I’ve seen the similarities before. At times they’ve frightened me. But today, after holding Vi all night, spending time with Wen feels like spending time with family—family that coincidentally wants to kick my ass.

  We head in, take seats near the back, and order up a quarter pounder topped with onion rings and bacon. I throw in an order of chili cheese fries and a side of nachos to round out the calorie count.

  Wen shakes his head at me once the waitress takes off. “You got hollow legs or is that artery clogging banquet a slow suicide?”

  “I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.” I lean in and tell Wen about the incident at Widow’s Peak, the fact his sister is lucky to be alive.

  “Crap.” He pulls out his phone and sends a spastic text to Vi. “Why didn’t you tell me when we were out front? Dude, I gotta go.” Vi texts back, and his fingers begin pecking at the keyboard again. “Just tell me this.” He looks up with a heavy sigh. You can see his discontentment with me glaring off him as if it were a neon sign blinking on his forehead. “You’re not going to do anything with her on these dates, right?”

  “The focus is bitter exes.” I pump my shoulders. “I’m assuming they like us bitter.”

  “No.” He wipes the sleep from his eyes. “Dude, I’ve seen enough of that crap to know they want you panting after one another. The end game is to get you back together, and I’m sorry, but that’s a no-go for me. The two of you were like oil and water. I don’t want to deal with that mess again, and I don’t think you do either.” He waits for me to agree, and I’m slow to nod my head. Not sure what I’m nodding for. “Look, Vi took our parents’ split pretty hard, and I’m sorry that it took the two of you down, too, but we’ve been down that thorny road. If it were meant to work out, it would have. Don’t you think? It’s been a year, and she’s still volatile anytime you come up in a conversation. You’re not the one. I think we both agree that Vi needs someone special in her life. Someone that makes her happy.” He gets up and knocks his knuckles over the table. “I want that for you, too. You’ll both get it. Just not with each other.” He smacks me over the shoulder. “Enjoy my burger, man. I’ll catch your game this week.” He takes off, and I stare at his food. Ironically, my appetite has done a disappearing act, too.

  It’s been a year, and Vi is still pretty volatile whenever my name pops up in a conversation?

  A surge of adrenaline pumps through me at the thought. That means she’s still feeling something, and that feeling would be hate.

  Wen wants Vi to be happy, for me to be happy—just not with each other. It probably couldn’t happen anyway.

  But I can still smell her perfume on my skin, and it’s telling me something different.

  I agree with Wen on one point. Vi deserves someone special in her life.

  Still not sure why that can’t be me.

  Memories and Memorandums

  Violet

  “Lane Cooper was in my bed. IN MY BED!” I howl at Sophie. “I realize that morphine and who knows what other big pharma street drugs they pumped me full of had played a hand in this malfeasance—but I woke to find him wrapped around me like an anaconda, and I want answers.”

  Sophie’s face is piqued with color, glowing even, and her eyes have that faraway sparkle that lets me know she’s still flying high off Rowen Garret’s colossal love fumes. She gets like this for days after they’ve spent the night together. It’s pretty clear Sophie and Rowen are lifers at this point. Everything between now and their wedding night is simply an inconsequential detail. And it’s also pretty clear she cannot hear or comprehend a single thing I’m saying.

  “And then I chopped his dick off and fed it to him for breakfast.” I nod, and she giggles as if I told her we found a litter of puppies tucked between us. “Knew it. You’re too stoned off your boot knocking-fest with Rowen to comprehend the natural world.” I pull over my favorite stuffed elephant, Ellie, and let out a primal scream right into her belly. I’m pretty sure I’ll be thirty and still doing this very same thing, lamenting Lane Cooper and appreciating how good my fabric softener smells in Ellie’s fur while screaming in an effort to rid my body of the rage that’s infiltrated it.

  A hard knock comes over the door and in storms Wen, followed by my mother. And just as I’m about to sit up straight to face the infantry—my father comes barreling in, too.

  “Oh my God,” I wail as their voices go off all at once in a detonation of questions, one after the other, rapid as machine gun fire. After several minutes of shouting up over the cacophony of voices, the three of them settle down, and it’s only then I notice they’ve chased poor Sophie away. She’s probably taken off for Ember’s room in hiding. And, believe me, I would have followed if my walking cast would have allowed it. The last time my parents were in a room together was this past Thanksgiving, and it wasn’t pretty. Turkey went flying, colorful w
ords were exchanged, and it was all over a missing turkey baster. Once upon a time, my parents got along great. Then something mysterious happened, and it was as if World War III broke out in our living room. Of course, there were far more hushed arguments than there were public displays of non-affection, but Wen and I quickly got the gist. Our parents were warring, and we were going to be the casualties. I’ve asked my mother on a few occasions what went wrong, and she assured me it was years of miscommunication. But I figured it had to be way worse than that. Who destroys a twenty-nine-year marriage over a few disagreements? My money is on another woman, or secret bank account—something far more sinister than just an argument over the fact my father could never put the toilet seat down after using the restroom.

  “What happened?” My mother’s tone is sharp and caustic as if I had been arrested for robbing a bank. “Wen says they suckered you into a black diamond run. Is that true?”

  “That show?” Dad stammers in anger, looking every bit the older version of my brother. I happen to have his brows. Wen and I called them the Hathaway brows because these bushy facial tresses have been traced back all the way to my great-grandmother. “We’ll sue. They’re not going to get away with hurting my baby. And you’re not going back.”

  Mom huffs as if it were a given. “Certainly not. Vi would never do such a stupid thing as that.” She hooks me with that gaze that insists I agree with her. There are very few options to choose from once my mother’s anger gets ahold of her.

  “I forbid it.” Wen folds his enormous arms over his chest, and I scowl at him the longest. It’s one thing for my parents to say it. Heck, it’s monumental that they’re agreeing on something for the first time in forever, but Wen? What gives him the right?