Page 14 of Salvaged Heart
Laurel bolted upright like she had been electrocuted, knocking me off her–which was a feat in itself due to the considerable size difference between us. She snatched the phone from my hand and raised it to her ear, greeting the person on the other end with a “This is Laurel Mitchell.” She listened intently, humming and nodding before adding, “When would I…Monday?… Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem…Thank you, I will see you then.”
The call hung up, and she stared into space for a moment before finally meeting my eyes. “The summer internship I got waitlisted for had a last-minute dropout. My name was next on the list.”
“Babe, that’s incredible!”
She frowned.
“Why do you look so down? This is what you’ve been working towards all semester.”
“No, I’m over the moon, obviously. But Beck, what about the house? I have to be back in Knoxville by Monday. Two days from now. Margery will kill me when I tell her we are leaving early.”
That wasn’t a problem. I had already mentally committed myself to spend the entire summer in Lake Norman, and working on the renovation had been the most fun I’d had since playing baseball. I was determined to see it through to the end.
“Well, that’s fine. You head back to Knoxville, and I’ll stay here to finish the reno with Anders.”
“I don’t know, Beck. That’s a lot to ask.”
“Nothing I haven’t already agreed to. I was already doing the heavy work, and Anders has been a surprisingly quick study. It will extend our timeline a little, but we both know I have nothing better to do.”
“Beck…” A glint of sadness flashed across her eyes.
“You know what I mean.” I moved in front of her, squeezing her hands tightly in my own. “Go back to Knoxville and provide for our future by chasing your dreams there. I’ll stay and provide for our future by seeing this project through. Come Fall, I’ll join you back in Tennessee as planned.” I placed a delicate peck on her forehead in reassurance.
“You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Well, maybe with the exception of you.” I flicked her nose to distract myself from the guilty feeling bubbling in my chest the second those words left my lips. I'd genuinely meant them, but why did they taste like a lie as they rolled off my tongue?
She nodded somberly, “Shit, I have so much to do. I need to make some calls.”
“Take care of what you need to do. Just let me know how I can help.”
She answered with another nod and whispered, “Thank you.” Then, pulling on a loose sweater, she disappeared from the room, furiously typing what was sure to be a to-do list into her phone.
9
ANDERS
Ilay on the boat dock, eyes closed tightly against the morning sun. Despite my initial hatred towards this spot, it was quickly becoming one of my favorite places on the home’s property. Partly because there was a good chance it would break any moment under my weight and I’d be drowned, but mainly because the others didn’t try to bother me out here. I had no idea how long I‘d been lying here. I just had no plans to move anytime soon.
A soft breeze blew over the lake, a rarity for this time of year, but it was a pleasant hiatus from the stifling weather we’d been having. The water lapped around the dock in gentle waves caused by the already busy traffic floating by. People starting their Saturday mornings early, scoping out the perfect place to drop anchor and settle in for a day of fishing and drinking. I bobbed up and down, my hazy mind slipping in and out of focus.
Last night had been a rough one. Thoughts and memories I had come to North Carolina to escape had finally caught up with me. The reminder of all the things I desperately wanted to forget, too great for just alcohol to numb. I’d been doing better,keeping the pills at bay, but to think I could hold off that itch forever had been a joke.
I was so fucking weak.
But, like with any time these drug-fueled stupors came over me, I found I didn’t care. I’d feel good until the high subsided. Then I’d feel a thousand times worse when the come down inevitably started and the self-hatred began rolling back in.
As if to foreshadow my impending slip back into the darkness, a cloud passed over my head, blocking the brightness that peaked through my closed eyelids. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when I’d closed them, but days could have passed for all I knew. The concept of time was always the very first thing I lost when I gave in to my addictions. I opened one eye hesitantly, squinting up at the cloud, but two bright blue orbs peered down at me instead. Man, every time they looked at me, it was like they were seeing into my soul. I hadn’t heard Beckham approach, but it didn’t surprise me that he had come looking. I hadn’t made it to breakfast earlier, possibly missed lunch, too, and work had no doubt been underway for several hours already.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” I groaned, rolling over and hiding my face in the bend of my elbow. My stomach lurched at the quick motion. I tried and failed to hide the dry retch that burst from me. I had nothing to puke up.
There was a creak of floorboards to my right as Beckham squatted by my side. A firm but gentle hand came down on my forehead, rolling my face so I was forced to look over at him.
“Everything alright down there?”
“Hungover,” I mumbled. It was the closest lie I had to the truth.
One of his eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was adorable that he genuinely had no idea what a fucked up hot mess I was ninety-five percent of the time, but he clearly hadn’t noticed thefluctuations in my temperament. Maybe he just thought I was bipolar.
