Page 53 of Creed

“Every day since then, Collins went everywhere with us. Whether it was sitting in the bleachers or in the dugout during Asher’s baseball practices, hanging out on the dusty couch in my dad’s garage while we played, or even going with us to high school parties, she was there.”

Riley’s eyes widen and opens his mouth with what I’m sure is a what the fuck comment but I hold up a hand to silence his argument. “I know. We were young, dumb, and horny teenagers. I know those parties were not our finest moments in caring for Collins.” I sigh, staring at the same pattern on top of the table as I continue, “The last party we attended together, it was the biggest party of the year for all the seniors who were graduating from East Stutton High. The plan was to bring her with us and trade off watching her because we both had girls we were going to meet up with. Collins tried to tell us she’d be okay staying home even though her dad was God-knows-where, and her mom was yet again over-drugged on prescription meds. She was so different back then. Collins was…so pure-hearted. A fucking peacekeeper. Always willing to sacrifice her own happiness and well-being if it meant someone else got to feel the joy she always craved.” I force the words past the lump in my throat, lowering my head to where my fingers are clenched together on top of the table.

When I look back up, Riley is watching me intently, but I don’t see any judgment in his eyes. He just sits there, patiently waiting, his dark gaze urging me to continue speaking.

“Anyway,” I clear my throat, “that final party? Neither Asher nor I were thinking with our heads that night and she ended up sitting alone at a bonfire in the woods behind Bear’s house.”

“Wait, Bear?” he questions. “Like, our friend and bandmate, Bear?” I nod in conformation but he continues “You fucking lost her in the woods? Creed!”

“Yeah, but obviously she didn’t stay lost because—” I wave my arms dramatically in the direction in which she disappeared before jabbing a finger in Riley’s direction. “And don’t you fucking yell at me!”

Riley swallows but sits silently, not knowing how to react to my yelling at him. I never yell at Riley and now I feel like an even bigger ass. I palm the back of his neck and bring his forehead to mind as I mutter, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he says as he pulls back and sits down at the table again. “Please continue.”

I sit next to him. “Like I said, losing her was partially my fault and that’s kind of the point I’m trying to make here.”

“Okay, well, Bear’s reaction makes more sense now. He looked like he’d seen a fucking ghost when we left the club last night.”

“Yeah, and he’s the one who found her in the woods that night. Ripped us some new assholes and then some for our irresponsibility. We both felt sick over the whole fucking ordeal. The next day, we’d promised Collins that we’d never leave her side again, not taking into account just how badly that lie would affect her in the long run. So before we left, Asher and I each gave a gift to Collins. Something that would help her to feel more connected to us while we were away. I gave her my old Polaroid camera and Asher gave her this huge fucking stationary set so she could write to us while we were gone.” I pause, biting my lip. “That was how she communicated with us for eight years.”

“So all of those letters,” he says, gesturing upstairs.

“Yep. All from her. From the time she was nine or ten, and the last one she sent just before her eighteenth birthday.”

I get up from the table and walk through the entryway to the kitchen and look out the window over the sink at Collins who is sitting with her back facing us, her feet dangling into the pool. The early afternoon sun is peeking out from behind a cloud and it illuminates her nearly white blonde hair, making her look like something not of this world. I turn to see that Riley followed me into the kitchen and is also watching her. His eyes give nothing away to his emotions though. He just looks like his usual peace-loving self.

“So, two years ago when you had that major breakdown…was it related to her?” he nods towards the girl in question who is currently swirling her legs through the water.

I nod and heave a long, heavy breath, giving her one last look before turning back to Riley. I need to give him the last pieces of my side of the story so he fully understands where I’m coming from with this whole situation. Collins can tell him her side of things if she ever feels the need to share.

“Those letters were a blessing and a curse, because she spared no details of her life from the time Ash and I left for California. Some letters were happy, telling me about how her mom would take her to the library or to get ice cream when she was having the rare, good day, or about how she won her fifth grade spelling bee. Others were…not so great. The joy she shared diminished with each letter she sent. There were times that she would vent about feeling the need to hide in the closet and listen to music until her parents would stop fighting again. When I felt her spirit was breaking with those letters, I started to write her back, hoping it would help to make her day a little better, or give her something to look forward to.”

I drop my head down, my chin nearly resting on my chest and let the memory from what seems like a lifetime ago wash over me as I recount it to Riley.

“Right after you joined us, I got a call one night from a social worker informing me that Collins’ mom died from an overdose and her dad was yet again MIA. They were searching for next of kin to take her in and since Asher was…unavailable at the time, they’d called me because he had me listed as family in her medical charts. I was barely twenty and our band had just signed for its longest tour in the U.S., and I didn’t see how I’d be able to take her along with me like I used to, since she’d need school and care that I couldn’t give her with my lifestyle at the time. I was still young, dumb, and buried between a different set of legs almost every fucking night because I also had no morals.”

I raise my hands and dig the heel of my palms into my eyes, rubbing at them like it’ll help wipe away my memory of that day. My breathing is shaky as the emotions I felt that night come flooding back all these years later. I stalk out of the kitchen and into the dining room, farther from Collins. Riley is hot on my heels, following me quietly, his movements around me cautious. Probably waiting for me to finally snap. Well, he won’t have to wait long. “I—I told them no, Riley. I told the social worker that I didn’t want her. That I couldn’t care for her. I was all she fucking had left at the time and I let her go into the system, Ri! The same fucking foster care system that failed to give her a loving, stable, safe space to just be a kid!”

I shove one of the chairs so hard that it jolts against the table before it tips sideways, clattering hard against the tiled floor. I beat my open palms against my chest as I continue to yell because now I’m fucking pissed at myself and I can’t seem to stop. “I fucking failed her years ago, over and over and over again! And I’ve been fucking failing her ever since. Even now, Collins is outside—alone—nursing wounds that I inflicted with my words because I just can’t stop fucking up! Goddamnit!”

Now I’m seeing red, my vision darkening with the sudden need to release all this pent up frustration and anger as I whirl around with my fist cocked, ready to plow it through the wall. Before I can even swing, I feel two hands grip my biceps, holding me in place.

“Creed, stop. Please.” Riley’s soft-spoken voice washes over me like cool water on a burn. I’ve worked myself up so much that I’m physically shaking now. His grip tightens a fraction, the pressure grounding me a little more. “Turn around.” The command is quiet yet firm, but I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t have breakdowns. Ever. It’s extremely cliché to say it’s because I’m a fucking grown man, because that’s the fucking base of the truth. But the events of the last twelve hours have threatened to turn me and my emotions inside out and now I’ve had not one, but two goddamned breakdowns in the span of a day.

I hear Riley’s footsteps shuffle around until I feel him standing in front of me. I startle when his warm, calloused hand grips the back of my neck, the move so similar to how I grab Riley to calm him down or comfort him all the time before he speaks. “Look at me, Creed.”

After a stubborn moment of hesitation, I do. His dark, soulful gaze holds mine so firmly, “You didn’t fail her—” he starts to tell me and I try to jerk from his grip to shake my head and deny his claim, but he squeezes the back of my neck lightly, keeping me in place. “You didn’t. Fucking. Fail her. Like you said, you were barely out of your teenage years when you were contacted. You were traveling. Touring. Collins being surrounded by a bunch of strange, adolescent men with no other kids, living a life on a traveling bus and being left alone for several hours for rehearsals, recordings, and concerts? That wouldn’t have been able to provide a stable environment for her. You made the right decision for you. You couldn’t have known what her life would be like.”

What he’s saying makes sense. In my mind’s eye, I know he’s right. I know with me living the life I was, and Asher being in rehab, neither one of us could’ve given her a stable environment. But I know the shit she went through while bouncing from foster home to foster home. The way she suffered for years while I refused to step up and help her. I won’t tell this to Riley because I’ve shamed myself enough already.

“Besides, she’s here now. Aside from her job and her living quarters, she’s alive and she seems pretty damn healthy. So count that blessing rather than trying to piss all over it by beating yourself up over a past you can’t change.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I acquiesce.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He says, his voice oozing with playful sarcasm as he cups his ear, tilting his head toward me.

“I said you’re right, okay, jackass?” I shove him playfully in the shoulder before pulling him back in for a hug. I kiss his temple as a murmur into his freckles, “Thanks, Ri.”

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