Page 4 of Bring Me Home (Shattered Hearts 4)

This duplex isn’t far from the apartment Lindsay and I shared our senior year at Duke. Lindsay isn’t a terrible person, but she did some pretty terrible things the last few months we were together. I still haven’t forgiven her, though I’m not quite sure how to tell her that without making her feel like she’s totally alone.

“Hello? Adam?”

“Sorry. Yeah, I’ll take her.”

I reach for the baby, who’s wrapped tightly in a soft lilac blanket and fast asleep.

“Support her head with your hand,” Lindsay says.

I ignore the fact that I accidentally graze her breast with my hand as I take the baby into my arms. She’s so soft and warm. I try not to look awkward as I hold her against my chest. She has Lindsay’s golden-blonde hair and the most delicate little fingers. The faint shadow of hair on her brow twitches and I wonder whether she’s dreaming and what she’s dreaming about.

“Are you ready?” Lindsay asks.

Something about the way she asks this question makes me think she means something else. As if she’s asking whether I’m ready to forgive her and accept this routine of helping her out until she gets a car. The answer to both of those is definitely not.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Lindsay has never had a problem holding a conversation. She chatters nonstop on the way to the clinic about how her mother, Lillian, is still living with her “asshole” stepfather in Carolina Beach even though he’s cheated on her more times than she can remember. One thing I never understood about Lindsay was why she always got upset over things she couldn’t change. Or, maybe I’m just too accepting of things that should be changed.

“Why do you still visit her if it upsets you so much?” I ask as I pull into the clinic parking lot.

“Adam, I’ve told you this a million times. She deserves better. I’m not going to give up on my mom, but I refuse to live with them.”

“You need to learn to let that stuff go.”

“Oh, really? And when was the last time you spoke to your dad?”

“That’s not the same. My dad and I have totally different issues.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

“Anyway, that’s besides the point. You’re going to have to get over your hatred of your stepdad if you don’t get a job and a roommate soon.”

She draws in a long stuttered breath as she turns to look out the window.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“It’s fine,” she says, still looking out the window. “I know I must seem like a total loser to you now; getting pregnant before graduation and letting Nathan convince me to wait to get a job until the baby was born.”

“You’re not a loser. I don’t think that.” I pull my truck into a parking space and glance over my shoulder at the car seat as I kill the engine. “But you can’t start feeling sorry for yourself and depending on me to dig you out of this. You ripped my heart out and pretty much ruined my life.”

“I apologized for what I did to you. And I’m not the one who made you beat the crap out of Nathan.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. The point is that you can’t depend on me. I’m not the person I was when we were together. I’ve moved on.” She finally turns to face me and the hurt in her eyes makes my stomach twist. “I’ll help you out with this stuff for the baby, but you need to get a car or a bus pass or something soon. I can’t keep doing this.”

She looks like she’s about to cry, but she quickly composes herself and climbs down out of the truck. I hurry over to her side to help her get the baby out of the car seat since the truck is raised. Kaia wakes up when I pull her out of her car seat. She scrunches her eyes and stretches her arms as her mouth opens wide as if she’s about to start wailing, but she doesn’t. I hand her over to Lindsay and she has a smile on her face.

“What are you smiling at?”

She shakes her head and smiles. I’m pretty certain she saw the panic on my face as I anticipated Kaia’s screams.

“Nothing,” she whispers as she takes Kaia in her arms.

As I watch her kiss Kaia’s forehead and comfort her, I’m reminded of the time when I assumed that Lindsay and I would be getting married and raising a child together. It’s funny how nothing really ever turns out the way we expect it to, no matter how certain the future seems. I guess we need to keep adjusting our dreams to fit reality, because life is not going to cooperate. Maybe this makes me a defeatist, but I’d prefer to think of myself as a realist.

As we walk toward the clinic, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and smile instantly when I see a good morning text from Claire.

“Is that her?”

I look up from the screen and quickly pull open the door for Lindsay to enter the clinic. “Yes. And her name is Claire.”

And she’s the most beautifully broken girl I’ve ever met.

Chapter Six

Chris

Once the studio was booked, the only thing left for me to do was to reschedule the physical therapy for my leg. I can’t do that shit right now. The screws holding the rod in my shin make my knee hurt like a bitch, but no one will ever hear me complain about it—especially not Tristan or Jake.

I enter the control room at Reverb Room and immediately set down my guitar on the floor, propped against the control desk. I sit on the edge of the desk and try not to make it obvious that I’m doing this to rest my leg. Tristan is sitting in the desk chair with his back to the controls and Jake is on the other side of the glass partition, in the main room, setting up his drums.

“Gene and the sound tech are late. Xander snuck off to the lobby to stuff his fat face with donuts,” he says, glancing at my leg when I attempt to bend the knee a little.

All this walking around, checking out studios this past weekend, has fucked me up. I’ve only had the cast off for two and a half weeks. I should be lying in bed with this leg elevated, but I need to get this record finished. My first self-titled album. Sometimes I don’t even recognize my life anymore.

“Did they say how long it would be until they get here?”

Tristan shrugs. “I think they’ll be here any minute. Hey, do you have the phone number for Claire’s friend, Celia, or whatever the fuck her name is?”

“I’m not giving you her number. I don’t need you fucking shit up for me with Claire.”

“All right. I know her name. It’s Senia. Can I have her number now? I want to apologize.” I narrow my eyes at him and he raises his eyebrows. “What? I was a dick to her. I want to make things right in case she goes to Rachel’s wedding with Claire.”

“Did you run out of girls to fuck or something?”

He runs his hand through his brown shoulder-length hair and grins. “Yeah, you of all people should know that will never happen.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing. Just give me the fucking number.”

“Fuck you. I’m gonna go wait in the isolation room.”

I make sure to walk without a limp as I leave the control room and make my way across the main room, past where Jake is setting up, then into the soundproof isolation room where I’ll do the voice recordings for each track. Once I get in the room. I shut the door and climb carefully onto the stool under the microphone.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and see I have three texts: one from Jake and two from random numbers I don’t recognize. I deleted all the girls’ numbers I had saved in the address book in my phone when Claire and I got back together for those five days. Since then, I get occasional texts from numbers I don’t recognize. I usually just delete them, but this last message piques my interest.

Unknown: We’re willing to meet next week if your girlfriend promises to not upset Abigail.

This is not a random girl and this is not at all what I expected. Abby’s parents have never given me their phone number and they have refused to respond to my adoption lawyer, Tasha Singer’s, messages for the last four weeks. I’m

beginning to think that maybe it’s Tasha who has rubbed them the wrong way and not Claire and me.

I just hope Claire isn’t upset that I lied to them and said we were back together. I thought it might increase our chances of getting a meeting with them if we appeared to be united and stable, like we’re doing this as much for our love of each other as our love for Abby. This is definitely true for me. Just the idea that Claire may not feel the same way makes me sick.

Glancing into the main room, I see Jake has finished setting up his drums and the studio manager is in there helping Tristan get set up. The sound tech is probably here. I’ll have to call Claire later. But, for now, I can’t pass up this opportunity. I have to respond to this text.

Me: Next week is great. I promise everything will go smoothly. Thanks for this opportunity. I’ll be in touch. - Chris

I then shoot off another text to Claire.

Me: I have good news. You’re going to get to see Abby next week. What day/time works for you?

The studio manager, Jerry, signals to me through the glass. I’m not sure if he’s asking me to test the mic, but I have to wait for Claire’s response first.

Claire: Really? I don’t even know what to say. How did you make this happen?

Me: I promise there was no money involved. I did it because I love you and Abby.

There’s another pause and I watch anxiously as Jerry approaches the isolation room. He pops his head in and his bushy moustache wiggles when he raises his eyebrows.

“There a problem with the mic?”

“Nope. Just need a couple of minutes. I’m almost ready.”

He glances at the phone in my hand and nods before he leaves the room.

---