Page 113 of Forgotten Pieces

I sigh into the phone before taking a sip of my drink. Glad I brought it with me. “I’m fine, Rae. I like it here. New Orleans has treated me well so far. How is White Creek?”

“You know, same shit different day. The Sergeants are ruthless as always. Won’t stop talking about the drama between Laney and Mac. Have you heard?”

“I think I was the first to know. I am glad she started dating Johnnie Walker. She needs to experience something different. Her fling with that guy she met here when she helped me move really woke her up.”

Rae laughs into the phone. “Brooks isn’t too happy about it. He says he has to listen to Mac cry about it.”

I hear Brooks shout in the background agreeing with Rae. “Mac didn’t know what he had in front of him. Although I never thought they would last. He always seemed like he was waiting for someone different.”

“Tell me about it. Brooks and I have been tryin’ to figure it out for months.” She pauses and I know she is ready to kill our light conversation with something heavy. “Ryder won’t stop asking about you.”

I groan into the phone. I do not want to talk about him. I can’t. “Rae, don’t.”

“You need to hear—”

“I don’t need to hear anything!” I shout loud enough for people that are walking by on the street to turn their heads toward the alley.

“T,” she says, her tone demanding, almost like she is the older sibling trying to scold me. “You need to hear me out.”

“I don’t think I do.” I hear mumbling in the background, knowing she is talking to Brooks. “I’m hanging up,” I say.

“Wait…” she responds, her tone less authoritative and more empathetic. “Ryder is leaving in a week.”

That stops me from hanging up. I knew he left messages talking about doing one last deployment. But I didn’t know how soon it would be. “I thought he was going to wait until after the baby.” I barely get out the last word, my heart crumbling at the thought of the family he has growing and the one I am once again missing.

“About that, T, you should really talk to him.” Her voice sounds different, sad, and I can’t figure out why.

“I can’t, Raely. It hurts too much. It’s like I have a thousand pounds of weight hovering over my chest and the second I give in, the second I answer his calls, his texts, the weight will fall and crush me and I don’t think I will survive it. I know I won’t.”

I don’t know how I am holding back my tears now. I worry at the thought of Ryder leaving for deployment when I know his PTSD isn’t a hundred percent under control. He was cleared but I also know I was part of the reason he was able to pass his psych test. I was there to talk him through everything he was feeling. And now he has no one. I’ve abandoned him. Yet I can’t find the strength to talk to him.

Rae is quiet as she no doubt knows I am thinking about what she said. After a few minutes she finally speaks, “This will be the last time I say anything. I promise T, but you need to talk to him.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” I lie just so she will stop talking. I hear a scrambling in the background with mumbled cursing followed by Rae saying don’t.

“Birdie.”

I drop the martini glass I’m holding. It shatters into pieces across the alleyway just like my heart. The tears I held back break free of their dam as I try to catch my breath.

“Please don’t hang up. I just need to hear your voice.”

“No,” is all I say in a hushed breath as I hang up the phone.

I slide down the back door of the bar and work on catching my breath as my phone rings again and again. I brace my hands on the ground, the broken glass cutting into them. I embrace the pain, I would rather feel it physically than the anvil crushing my soul right now.

Someone opens the door behind me and I fall backward. I look up to see Charlie hovering over me.

“You rushed out of here on your phone. I wanted to see if you were okay,” she says as she takes in my broken state. “Clearly you aren’t.”

“I’m fine,” I gasp.

She pulls me up and I wince as she grabs my hand. “If this is fine, then I’m worried what your shattered looks like.” She grabs a towel off the rack by the door and wraps it around my hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

After we wash the glass out of my hands, she orders me to sit at the bar. She grabs a bottle off the bar and two shot glasses. “I know a broken heart when I see one, Tacoma. This calls for whiskey.”

I struggle to breathe as I shake my head. “Whiskey broke my heart.”

“Well shit. This calls for tequila then.”

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