Page 9 of Drifting Hearts
I’d have liked to see the beauty in everything the way Brodie did. Or the good in everyone the way our mom did. But something inside me must have been broken and I hated how that made me feel cold. I’d once tried to see the world the way Brodie did, but I could never manage to keep the illusion up for long. It was the same with people. I wanted to think the best of them, but people routinely proved me wrong.
Shane once asked who hurt me, but the truth was that no one had hurt me but myself, I supposed. My outlook on people and anything else didn’t stem from some sort of tragic heartbreak, which only made it worse in Shane’s opinion. How could I not trust anyone when no one had hurt me and somehow ruined my ability to trust people? He didn’t understand that you didn’t have to thrust your hand into the fire to know it was hot. Not every lesson had to be learned the hard way. Mom might trust Clayton and believe that he wanted to change, but she never had a problem seeing the best in people.
All I saw when I looked at him was someone who’d already betrayed his best friend. I didn’t understand how she could see anything different.
Chapter 5
Clayton
Back before everything wentto shit, my art was my escape. And now I had nothing. My dominant hand was in a cast and my only hope was that when it came off, I’d still be able to use it like I always had. Gratitude was a strange thing, because while I still had nightmares about the attack, I was thankful they busted my arm and not my hand. I added that to the growing list of random shit I kept meaning to ask my therapist about.
At the top of that list was how every day I wanted to know if Archer asked about me. I’d been stunned that he came when the hospital called. After all that I’d done, I wouldn’t have held it against him if he’d pretended that he didn’t know me. Hell, most days I wished I didn’t know me.
Patricia’s house had a massive back yard with a six-foot tall fence. The back door off the kitchen opened up to a deck and most mornings before my appointment, I liked to hobble out onto the deck and drop down into one of the patio chairs.
The compulsion to gamble, my therapist said, was partly because I’d tried to use it not as entertainment, but as a solution. I’d never had a lot of money. Growing up, I’d worn hand-me-downs. Shoes were worn until my toes stuck out of the end of them. Sometimes we thrifted those too. Out of everything, I hated that the most. More than used jeans and faded hoodies, I despised wearing other people’s shoes.
In some ways, my very existence felt like I was wearing someone else’s shoes. The tattoo shop had been Archer’s dream. The house I was staying in was someone else’s. My life seemed cobbled together with bits and pieces of other people’s. So I supposed my therapist was right. The gambling was a symptom of a different problem.
“You’re going to freeze out here.” Patricia appeared with a cup of hot coffee and a blanket. The weather was still warm later in the day, but the nights were getting longer and the early mornings colder.
“It’s not that bad. I like the fresh air.”
Patricia thrust the coffee into my good hand and draped the blanket over my legs before dropping down next to me in the other chair. Her gray hair was braided today and I could almost see the way she must have looked when she was younger. The calm she radiated made me want to tell her everything. I wondered if she had that effect on anyone else or if it was just me.
My fingers itched with the urge to draw her. While Archer dabbled in all kinds of different styles and subjects, I liked doing portraits. Unlike Archer, who had been drawing since he could hold a pencil, I’d gotten a lot later start, not finding the joy in art until I was a teenager.
“Archer and I met at an art class at a community college when we were both teenagers,” I found myself saying. “I think we were fifteen or sixteen. I can’t remember exactly, but it was during the summer. A few years before, there’d been some trouble in town with some teenagers who had too much time on their hands and not enough supervision or direction. The college partnered with the city and they developed programs for teenagers to fill their summers. The classes were cheap, just a couple bucks a head, and I think that was to discourage the kids who just wanted to be a pain in the ass.”
I took a sip of my coffee. Using my left hand for everything was still a pain in the ass in a lot of ways, but at least drinking coffee wassomething I could manage. I didn’t like the helplessness that clung to me every minute of the day now. It wasn’t so bad at the moment. It was hard to feel helpless when you were sitting and drinking coffee.
“I didn’t like art at first, but I liked Archer so I went back. And then I found out he was taking all the classes, so I took them too. And by the end of the summer, I had a new best friend and a new hobby.”
“You liked him.” Patricia’s lips curled into a knowing smile. I didn’t bother arguing with her assumption.
“He was my great awakening. I was obsessed with him. And then suddenly I wasn’t. Not because I no longer felt that attraction to him, but because the friendship was more important than something I knew would go absolutely nowhere.”
“You sound sure about that.”
“Well, I did kiss him once, just to see.”
“And?” Patricia seemed excited to hear the answer, like my old, dusty memories were the greatest source of entertainment.
“And I imagine that if I’d had a brother and I’d kissed him, it would have been a lot like kissing Archer.”
“You miss him.” Not a question, but her statement was delivered with so much compassion that it made my chest ache.
Those words sounded inadequate to describe the void he’d left. The void I’d created. It wasn’t fair of me to think of it as him leaving a hole in my life when I’d been the one to carve him out. Sometimes my stupidity still left me breathless. And now the one outlet I’d had was temporarily unavailable to me.
The back door slid open and Kieran stepped out onto the deck. Biting back my groan, I sipped my coffee and did my best to ignore his presence.
“Oh good, you’re right on time,” Patricia said, getting to her feet. “I have some boxes I need you to take to the storage unit for me.I’d do it myself, but I’m about to leave to take one of the girls to an appointment.”
I’d quickly learned that Patricia spoke vaguely a lot of the time, giving out only the information required and nothing extra. Why did she need the space? What space? Which girl was going where? They were all questions that circled through my brain, but Patricia never offered up anyone’s secrets. That’s probably why spilling my guts to her was so easy.
“I’d offer to help, but…” I raised my cast and wiggled my fingers. The stormy look on Kieran’s face was the first thing I’d smiled at in I wasn’t sure how long. His eyes were a captivating shade of dark blue, almost gray. Not unlike thunderclouds on the horizon. I’d have to be dead to not notice that Kieran was my type. Tall and handsome, a sharp jaw, broad shoulders, broad everything probably.
I concentrated on sipping my coffee so I wouldn’t check him out in front of his mother.
