Everly
It was dark. The apartment had gone quiet long ago.
And yet I still lay awake in our bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep because of the flood of thoughts filling my head.
There were too many, and yet not enough, and then so many I didn't want to face.
Ryan hadn't said anything, but I knew the casual conversation he'd witnessed between August and me the night before had unnerved him.
He wasn't the only one.
It had unnerved me, too. It unraveled me and sent me to a place within my head where I didn't want to dwell.
A place where he became more than the monster I'd turned him into, and I could never allow him to be. Because if he wasn't the monster in this fucked up fairy tale, then who was?
After that one glance, I'd never once looked back up at our old theater box, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was on my mind.
Even if he had been.
Instead, I'd followed every twirl, every lift as Sarah flawlessly performed the role of her dreams, bringing the swan princess to life on stage. She had been phenomenal and I'd finally found myself caught up in her brilliance, rather than my own selfish world.
When I met her back stage once again, all thoughts had been firmly back in place, focused on her, as Ryan and I congratulated her. We'd offered to take her out to celebrate but she'd sadly declined, explaining the cast was going out together, but promised to meet up with us later in the week.
On our drive home that night, as I watched the city pass by in a blur, I tried not to envision August and his redheaded date in the back of a darkened car. Ryan had interrupted my dark thoughts, bringing me back to reality.
"You seem better," he'd said, reaching across the seat to grasp my hand. I'd looked over to see a small grin tugging at his lips.
"Better? Than what?"
"Well, you seemed a bit tense after the show started. Did running into August scare you?"
I closed my eyes briefly as the memory flooded back. Spread your legs … relax.
"Yes," I had quickly answered, giving a hesitant smile. "Just threw me off, I guess."
Another white lie.
Guilt pulled heavily at my conscience.
"Well, it's a good thing I came when I did," he'd said, giving me a sideways glance as we pulled onto a side street near our apartment.
"You're always there when I need you."
And he was.
I rolled over to watch him sleep. The sound of his even breathing filled me with such peace, I found myself listening to its steady rhythm until I felt my own body drifting off.
Even in sleep, he still was there for me.
What felt like moments later, I was awakened by a noise-a phone, maybe. I sat up, rubbing my tired eyes as I looked over to my nightstand. My cellphone buzzed around next to me.
Why did I insist on putting that thing next to me at night?
Oh right; in case of emergencies.
Suddenly, I looked at the time as I grabbed the phone. Three in the morning-my heart pounded in my chest as I thought of Sarah out late at night with the cast.
"Hello?" I answered, my voice tired and groggy. Ryan's hand reached out for me in the darkness and he too awoke.
"Who is it?" he asked, his head buried in the pillow.
"Miss Adams?" someone asked.
"Yes, this is she."
"This is Doctor Maven from the UCSF Emergency Room. We have August Kincaid here-he was in a car accident."
There were many emotions I should have felt at that moment. Confusion should have probably topped them all as I wondered why I was being called at all, but the second I heard "August" and "car accident" in the same sentence, I couldn't breathe.
"Is he okay?" I asked, taking long, slow breaths to keep my emotions from spilling down my cheeks.
"Yes, a bit banged up. Perhaps a few bruised ribs and a sprained ankle. But he's fine. Or will be."
"Do I need to come down?" I asked, already rising from the bed.
"He will need a ride home-he's pretty out of it from the pain meds."
"That's fine," I answered before hanging up, not even realizing what I was signing up for. I was in some sort of zombie mode, where August was in need and I'd just responded.
Without even thinking of the repercussions or consequences.
Especially the big one sitting on the bed, staring at me right now.
"What was that all about?" Ryan asked, his eyes hooded with concern and doubt.
"August was in a car accident tonight. They need someone to give him a ride home," I answered very casually, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from my drawer.
His hand met mine instantly. I hadn't even seen him get up.
"And why does that person have to be you?" he asked. I looked up at him. His expression was full of the same intensity I'd seen at the ballet when he'd pulled me away from August in the lobby of the theater.
"I guess he still has me listed as his emergency contact," I said with caution, stepping out of his grasp to get dressed.
"Damn it, Ev!" he shouted, his voice filling the room. "What is going on with you?"
"Nothing!" I yelled, taken aback by the roaring thunder of his voice. Ryan very rarely raised his voice-especially to me. "Nothing. He just needs someone to take him home. I'll be right back." I turned toward the bed and began pulling on my jeans, the awkward silence filling the spaces where I should have been apologizing-begging for forgiveness for all the stupid mistakes I'd made.
"You know this is way more than just a simple ride." His hand touched my shoulder tentatively, and I turned.
"We knew this would be tricky," I said softly. "We knew if he woke up, it would be rough."
He nodded. "I just expected something much different from casual conversations and rides around town."
"Me too," I admitted.
"I feel like we're drifting, Everly, during a time when we should be growing closer. We're getting married soon and I barely see you."
I looked up into his eyes and saw hurt … pain, vulnerability.
I'd done that and I wanted it gone. All of it.
"It's the wedding planning. It's too much," I blurted out without thinking.
That was only partially the truth. Wedding planning did cause me stress but it wasn't the reason I'd been mentally checking out.
So many lies. So many secrets. When would it end?
"I never said we had to have a big wedding, Ev."
"I know. I just thought that was how it was done," I said.
"Well, who says we have to do it the way it is supposed to be done?" he replied, his eyebrow lifting mischievously. "Let's elope!"
"What?" I choked out.
"Let's just do away with tradition and go away this weekend and get married! We can fly to Vegas, or drive down Highway One and find a little chapel somewhere. Whatever you want to do."
Looking up at him once again, I didn't see hurt or pain anymore. I saw hundreds of possibilities and I wanted to make each and every one of those come true. For him. For us and for our future.
"Yes," I answered.
He picked me up and twirled me around the room while I squealed. It was like our proposal all over again, only I was half-dressed and he was wearing boxers.
"I'll start Googling places while you're gone," he said happily, kissing my cheek with exuberance. "Hurry back."
No more ill feelings about the hospital or August. Just happiness.
And that was exactly the way it should be.
A little banged up, the attending doctor had said …
Jesus, he looked like he'd gotten thrown into the middle of a boxing ring with one hand tied behind his back.
And the worst part of all? The smug little grin on his damned face.
The "I don't give a shit about any of this" attitude he was sporting.
I wanted to punch him. No, I wanted to kill him … and then punch him.
Asshole.
"Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?" The words finally burst free from my mouth as we sped down the highway. He'd been discharged with pain pills, directions for how to wrap and care for his wounds, and a future date to check in with his primary care physician … which he didn't have.
Irresponsible asshole.
Silence spread between us after my rather vocal outburst, and he turned toward me. "Can't a guy wreck a car and not be interrogated about it?"
More smug grinning.
Steam billowed out of my ears as I plotted various ways to slap that stupid expression off his damned face. God, I hated him.
No more words were exchanged until we arrived at his house. He didn't bother moving as I pulled into the driveway and got out to retrieve his crutches. As I yanked open the passenger door, he greeted me with his dopey smile.
"You're too good to me," he commented. The drugs he had been given in the emergency room were clearly making their presence known.
"Uh huh," I agreed as I placed the crutches out in front of him so he could use them to stand. He wobbled a little but made it upright. Slowly, we got to the front door.
"Do you have the key?" I asked, looking at him with annoyance.