The Risks We Take Page 8

  Twelve years is a long time

  To move on when I said good-bye

  It should have never been that way

  But the past will never change

  Don’t you wonder what we’d be?

  If we unpacked just to never leave?

  Do you think we’d be okay?

  Would we ever be the same?

  I tap the end of my pen against the blank paper, searching for something else. A single word. An idea. A concept.

  The problem is, nothing comes. Not a single thing that can help me or the band. It’s been like that for months now, to the point the guys suggested getting other people to write for us.

  We’ve never had anybody other than Will write for us. Even then, it wasn’t supposed to become anything. But the song “Relentless” meant something to him. When he showed me the lyrics, let us play with the music during practice, I knew it would be successful, because he wrote it for Tessa.

  Some people think baring our souls isn’t worth the risk—like it weakens us. Shows people our lowest points. But it also gives us something to prove, a justification.

  Sometimes, justifying your feelings doesn’t work out, though. It becomes a game of how many excuses you can make before you either win it or lose it all.

  I’m not going to do nothing while I’m here, so instead of pretending like inspiration will hit, I decide to take some risks of my own.

  Setting my notebook and guitar aside, I get changed and grab my wallet. Kasey may not want much from me, but I want everything.

  I left my best friend here twelve years ago, and I’ll be damned if I leave one behind again.

  My second home has become the last booth at Birdseye, in a nook with a draft every time the glass door opens. On days like today, in the middle of the week, there isn’t much business. It’s scattered, especially mid-morning like now.

  Some of the waitstaff are filling ketchup bottles on the tables, others filling salt and pepper shakers on the counter. I notice the way they look at me, their smiles all telling a different story.

  I’m used to it. The way some girls smile at me like I’m an opportunity, while others are able to see a cause that’s beyond a hyped image.

  My life is so photoshopped that people only see what the press allows them to. You learn who your true friends are after a while, because they won’t ask you for anything like others do.

  Some of these women, their smiles, tell me that they pity me. They sympathize. I can only imagine it’s because they know why I come here. It’s definitely not for their coffee, because whoever makes this stuff in the morning puts an extra scoop too much. I like my caffeine, but not when I have to chew it.

  No, they know damn well it’s Kasey. And, okay, their burgers are pretty good, too.

  The bell chiming above the door makes me lift my gaze from the coffee I’m staring at. Kasey has been in the back helping with dishes for an hour. At first, she said maybe three words to me. But one good puppy-dog look got her coming over and refilling the nasty coffee, and me pretending I loved it.

  My get-to-know-you plan only went as far as her admitting her favorite show was Supernatural, and me somehow blurting out that I loved watching reruns of Jersey Shore. Not my proudest admission, but not my worst one either.

  “You forget where you live?” Jake asks from where he stands at the end of the booth. He’s in his uniform, so I assume he’s heading into work unless he worked night shift, since it’s only a little after eleven.

  I chuckle. “How could I forget where I live, Jack? I have such amazing neighbors to go home and hang out with.”

  He looks at me for a second before chuckling, not caring about the name blunder. I push aside my coffee cup, the mud sloshing around, and watch as he slides in across from me.

  He shifts on the hideous red upholstery. He looks at my nearly full cup of coffee, and then back at me.

  My brows arch. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing cop shit? Like fetching donuts or coffee? I think there’s still a Dunkin’ over on Myrtle. I’m sure they have what you’re looking for.”

  He scrubs his palm across his jaw. “That place closed about three years ago. A local bakery on Main gets most of the baked good business. Pretty cool, if you think about. How somebody local can be that successful.” He eyes me as he says the last part.

  I eye him back, taking in the double meaning. “So I take it this chat means you don’t have to hand out tickets to old people who are walking too slow?”

  He snorts, flagging down the redheaded waitress at the counter. “Can I get a cup of coffee, Mel?”

  She smiles and nods, pouring him a cup. I notice the way she looks at him from over her shoulder. How her eyes drift longer on him than other customers.

  I chuckle.

  “What?” he inquires.

  “That chick is into you.”

  “Mel?” He shakes his head. “Nah, we barely know each other. Can’t even say we’re friends, really.”

  Before I reply, she comes over with his coffee. She sets it down in front of him, giving him a wide smile, before sauntering off again.

  The extra swivel to her step proves my point.

  I turn back to him, seeing that he noticed exactly what I did.

  “Okay, I see what you mean,” he murmurs, clearing his throat and taking a sip of coffee. I notice his is lighter than mine, and seems to move easier.

  I take his cup and study it. “What is this?”

  “Uh … coffee.” He says it like I’m crazy.

  I frown, staring at my own cup. “This looks way better than mine.”

  He takes my cup and inspects it, then starts laughing. “You’ve been drinking this crap since you started coming here, haven’t you?”

  “Well, yeah,” I say slowly.

  He glimpses over to Mel, who is cracking a grin. It isn’t predatory like it was when she smiled at him before. It’s amused. Knowing.

  I sigh heavily. “They’ve been giving me crap coffee on purpose, haven’t they?”

  Jake nods. “Kasey’s specialty. You’re a trooper for actually drinking that shit. I had the misfortune of drinking it once. Couldn’t finish it.”

  I notice a familiar pair of eyes watching now.

  I shake my head at Kasey, but can’t help but smile.

  Raising my cup, I say, “Well done, Miller. I was wondering why it tasted like the mud pies you used to make when we were younger.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  Before anyone says anything, I drink the rest of the cup. I try ignoring how awful it tastes, and how thick the texture is. But I have a point to prove just like she does.

  “Maybe tomorrow you can give me a regular cup?” I bargain, setting my cup back down on the table.

  The amusement on her face disappears, replaced with awe. I’d like to think there’s even the slightest chance that I impressed her.

  Without saying anything, she goes back into the kitchen.

  Well …

  “I can see why she likes you,” he states after a moment of silence.

  I gape at him. “Are we talking about the same person, because I’m fairly certain she doesn’t like me.”

  “She doesn’t share her feelings often,” he replies, shrugging. “But I know for a fact that she did with you. The night I stopped by to see her, I heard part of the conversation.”

  “You mean you eavesdropped?”

  He grins. “Yep. Anyway, she doesn’t tell people much about her past. She especially doesn’t let people know how she feels, because she sees it as a weakness. Believe me, Wells, she likes you.”

  I cast a glance to the kitchen window, but I don’t see her standing there anymore.

  “She wanted to tell me why she doesn’t like me,” I disagree quietly. “I don’t blame her. If she was bottled up all this time, she was bound to blow eventually. I was just the person it happened to.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  I lean forward. “I don’t know. You�
��re her friend. I imagine you know her better than anyone. Like she’s said plenty of times to me … I don’t know her anymore.”

  “But you want to.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does,” he counters. “To her. To Rosie. Hell, even to me. I’m not going to pretend that I’m thrilled you’re here. I’m not. But I have no reason to dislike you. And Kasey … you’re part of the life I wasn’t in. Her past. She’s got some serious demons, some I don’t even know about. If you being around means chasing some of those away, then I’m glad.”

  I stare at him, trying to figure him out.

  “What’s your game?”

  He sips his coffee. “Not everyone has an end game. You should learn to trust.”

  “Do you trust people you hardly know?”

  “No,” he admits casually. “And I know for a fact that Kasey doesn’t either. Don’t give me that look. I get that you know each other, that you’re not technically strangers, but see it from her perspective. You don’t know everything that happened here over the years.”

  “I know enough.”

  He finishes his coffee off. “If you really believe that, then you’re an idiot. Think, Wells. If you were in her shoes, would you open up about absolutely everything to just anybody? Regardless of who that person used to be to them?”

  Used to be.

  I still hate the past tense labels I get when it comes to Kasey and me, because I know there was a time when we promised each other we’d always be friends.

  “My parents said that friends don’t last forever,” she tells me. “That someday you might not hang out with me anymore.”

  I stare at the picture she’s drawing. I think it’s supposed to be a cat, but it looks more like a pig to me, only she’s coloring it brown instead of pink.

  “Our parents don’t know what they’re talking about. I’ll always hang out with you.”

  She puts down the brown crayon. “We’ll always be best friends?”

  “Always. I promise.”

  “Even when I take your candy?”

  “Yep.”

  “Or when I make you play tea party?”

  “Yep.”

  “But what about when we’re older?”

  “I said always, Kasey.”

  “But always seems like a big promise to keep, and Daddy told me that you shouldn’t make promises unless you know you can keep them.”

  I force myself to brush off the old promise.

  I hate to admit when other people are right on the subject matter, but I can’t pretend he’s wrong. If I were her, I wouldn’t want to open up completely either.

  “She already told me about her family, so what more is there that’s bothering her?”

  “It’s not just about her family,” he explains. “It’s about her feelings. I don’t know girls, and I doubt I ever will. What I do know, is that this girl is more emotional than she lets on. She plays tough so people think nothing gets to her, but I can see it eat at her every day. Sure, she told you about her parents splitting, but there’s a lot you don’t know. Shit, there’s a lot that I don’t know.”

  “So how do I find out?”

  He shrugs. “You don’t. Unless she wants you to know, you hold back from pressing the issue. If she thinks she has to tell you, she’ll only resent you more.”

  He makes a solid point, even though it sucks to admit.

  I can’t help but wonder why he’s insistent on telling me this. “What’s your deal with her? You’re interested, that’s pretty obvious. So why bother warning me against pressing her if you know she’ll resent me for it?”

  “Mostly because I’m not an asshole,” he answers simply. “And I know Kasey to some degree, and she’d threaten to cut off my balls if she knew I warned you away from her. Her dislike for you is something she justifies to herself. If I even bother disliking you for the same reasons, she won’t like it.”

  “Doesn’t make much sense.”

  He chuckles. “Kasey doesn’t make much sense sometimes.”

  “But we like her anyway,” I conclude, sighing.

  “Hard not to,” he agrees. “For somebody who thinks she’s incapable of loving because of what her parents went through, I see how much she loves her sister. It shows hope for her that I wish she seems someday.”

  “With you?” I guess.

  His face remains slack from emotion. No wonder he’s a cop, he doesn’t give anything away. “With anybody who makes her happy, as far as I’m concerned. If you and I don’t agree on much, we can at least agree that she deserves to find somebody worth her time. Her happiness.”

  I just nod along.

  “So what is your game?” he asks, throwing my words back at me. “Are you here to stay? Can’t imagine you’d find much interest around here. We don’t have anything exciting going on most of the time.”

  I shake my head. “Not staying. Just visiting.”

  “You came here for Kasey?”

  “Not like I have anybody else to see.”

  He studies me, his arms crossed on his chest, and I wonder what he sees. Hope? Wishful thinking? It isn’t like I wear my intentions on my face. Whatever he’s calculating, he’s coming up with his own conclusions.

  “What made you think that she’d want to see you?”

  “I didn’t. I suppose it was wishful thinking on my part.”

  His eyes become calculating. “But she doesn’t necessarily want to see you, and you’re still here.”

  “I feel like I need to make it up to her. I made a promise a long time ago that I didn’t keep, and I should make it right before I head out.”

  His lips twitch. “She’ll think it’s pity.”

  “She can think what she wants. As long as I know what it is, it doesn’t matter.”

  He snorts. “You care what she thinks, or else you wouldn’t put so much effort into trying to earn her forgiveness. And shit, before you came here you didn’t know you needed to be forgiven. So stop feeding me bullshit.”

  We stare at each other challengingly.

  I break the silence first, averting my gaze. “I wasn’t bullshitting you about the promise. And even though I stand by not having a say in what happened years ago, it still hurt her. I see that now. I heard it. So, no. Maybe I didn’t think I’d need her forgiveness when I first came. Maybe it was just an understanding I wanted. An acceptance. But regardless, I came here to see her.”

  “With what outcome?”

  “I wasn’t aware this was a interrogation, Officer. Maybe I should call my lawyer.”

  He levels with me. “I don’t want to see her hurting any more than she already is. So if asking you endless questions is how I ensure that, then suck it up, buttercup.”

  “I don’t want her hurting either,” I ground out. “And your mother has been doing a perfectly good job keeping the interrogation going, so we don’t need you. She practically asked me what my track record with women was.”

  Humor lit up his stoic face. “I’m going to be very honest with you. My mother is all Kasey has for a mother figure in her life. Hers is a mess, as you’ve heard. There is some tough shit going down with her that you and your image will only get in the way of. Kasey might not need anybody’s protection, but she has backup. She has us.”

  Us. Not him and me, but him and his mother.

  “If your mom practically adopted Kasey into your little happy-go-lucky family, then isn’t it a bit strange you’re so into her? Might want to see somebody about that.”

  He blinks, and then shakes his head.

  Sliding out of the booth, he tells me, “I really want to threaten you if you hurt her, but I think if anything happens between you, you’ll feel bad enough when it ends. So I don’t think threats are needed right now.”

  Not right now. But someday.

  “Why would it end?”

  “Face it, Wells. This isn’t your home anymore. You’ve got other places to be besides here, worrying about making some old friendship new agai
n. You don’t need this town like you used to when you were little, or the people in it. I’m not trying to come off as a douche. Eventually, you’ll have to say good-bye.”

  He walks away before I can reply.

  Looking over, I see Kasey frowning at me.

  How much did she hear?

  KASEY

  After a long day at work, and helping Taylor with homework that should never be this hard for somebody her age, having the night off is exactly what I need. Having an empty apartment again seems foreign, which is odd considering it hasn’t been long since Taylor moved in. But I love having her around, because her free spirit reminds me of a different time, when our family was happy.

  When I was happy.

  Slipping into an oversized T-shirt is only half of the fun I have planned for the night. The other half consists of curling up under the blankets with a book in hand, and Supernatural on in the background.

  Although, Supernatural will probably take precedence.

  Part of me hopes that something will take my mind off the conversation I heard Jake and Ian have earlier. I know Jake means well, but I don’t like him talking about me to Ian. It’s like two different worlds colliding. If my past and present merge, I can’t determine what my future will be, and I need to know it. I need that control.

  Eventually, you’ll have to say good-bye.

  Jake knows more than anyone in this town that I hate hearing good-bye. The idea that somebody can just up and leave, without even looking back, makes everything unbalanced. Ian isn’t here for long, and connecting myself to him in any way will only end badly.

  Goodbyes … they aren’t my thing. The less people I let in my life, the less likely I’ll be disappointed when things go south. Because they always do.

  Just as I’m about to crawl into bed, there’s a knock at my door. Frowning, I consider ignoring it and going on with my night as planned. Rose has Taylor, and I have the Winchesters. It’s the perfect night, sans something sugary that I’ve been craving all day.

  The knocks keep coming, and I decide it’s best not to let the neighbors complain about it later.