Toxic

  “True love.” Mike nodded his approval and smiled warmly. “It sounds like true love.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ashton, anything else you want to say to your fans?”

  “Thank you.” Gabe’s voice dropped. “For understanding.”

  “Alright, that’s it.” Mike waved at the camera crew while someone stood up and grabbed the microphone from Gabe.

  Everyone started packing up while Wes approached Gabe and pulled him in for a tight hug then handed him a phone.

  Gabe dialed a number, then held the phone to his ear, face tight. He looked ready to unleash on someone.

  “Yeah, you wanted me parading in front of the media? You got it. I suggest you watch Mike’s show tonight. Should be on around six,” he ground out. “And when you do, just know I did it all for you, you sick son of a bitch.” He sliced the air with his hand and started pacing back and forth. “Shut up and listen, old man, because I’m saying this once. You and me are done. You can’t hurt any of us anymore, and you and your sorry ass are going to fade into the pit of hell where you belong or I will hunt you down… and kill you.”

  He listened, but I couldn't tell what his dad was saying because Gabe's expression never changed. And then he cracked a smile. “You finished?” He waited a brief moment then nodded. “Good. Because those are the last words you will ever say to me, you money-hungry, piece-of-shit bastard.” He stabbed the end button on the phone and looked like he was about to throw it when Wes intervened and grabbed it out of his hands.

  The silence was broken by Wes chuckling. “If ever there was a time when a person needed a drink — now’s that time.”

  “Here, here.” Gabe’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, but when he looked at me, I could tell some of that weight was beginning to fall off.

  I just hoped that by the time my surprise happened, he would be receptive and not angry that I’d overstepped my boundaries.

  “Whiskey.” Wes pointed us toward the door. “It’s time for whiskey.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  If God meant for us to carry baggage around, he would have made our skin have little pouches like kangaroos. Or maybe he would have just made it so that each and every one of us were born with huge- ass shoulders to carry the load. Clearly, we weren’t made to carry the weight of the world, kinda makes you wonder why we do it anyway, huh? —Wes M.

  Gabe

  For the first time since Wes punched me, I drank. I didn’t drink a ton, because I wasn’t optimistic that my body would actually forget the trauma of that day, let alone my mind.

  When Wes drove the car toward the dorms I asked him to turn around and drive me to the house instead.

  Saylor offered to stay with me.

  I turned her down.

  Not because I didn’t want company, but because I knew I was in bad shape. I was a bit buzzed, emotionally distraught, and she just looked so damn pretty that I knew I’d make a giant ass out of myself and either try to seduce her in order to feel better, or end up weeping on her shoulder. Maybe both.

  At this point, it was a toss-up.

  I still felt pissed. I still felt angry, but that’s the thing about feelings. They don’t have to force you to make choices you know may sound good at night but ruin you come morning.

  So I went to bed — by myself.

  I punched my pillow a few times, letting the alcohol soothe my nerves as I closed my eyes. Sleep. Sleep would cure everything. With a sigh, I let myself fall off the ledge into a deep slumber.

  I would have followed her anywhere.

  It’s funny isn’t it? People claim to know what love is — yet the minute they’re given the opportunity to prove it — they bail.

  I wish I could have bailed. I wish I could have walked away four years ago, then maybe I’d have the strength to walk away now. To look her in the eyes and say, “Sorry, but I can’t do this again.”

  People rarely mean what they say. To me, sorry was just another word in the English language that people misused, just like love.

  I love ice cream, I love pancakes, I love the color blue — bullshit, because when I said love — I meant I bled for you. When the word love actually leaves my lips — I’m speaking it into existence. I’m empowering my soul — I’m joining with yours.

  I’d always heard about crossroads, how people are given choices in their lives, choices that either make or break them. I never realized that I’d be given that second chance. I never realized I’d fail to take it.

  Her eyes pleaded with mine. My heart shattered in my chest, my lips moved to speak — to say anything to get her to understand the depth of what I was feeling, but I knew the minute I told her how I felt — it would be all over with.

  My heart, my soul, it couldn’t survive anything happening to her. If she wasn’t in my world, my heart would stop. I knew it was killing her — because it was destroying me.

  But going back to that life.

  Even for her.

  Was out of the question.

  Falling in love, jumping out, even knowing full well that she’d catch me. It wasn’t an option. Because everyone knows, when it comes to love, it’s not the fall that hurts… it’s the landing. And I knew it was only matter of time before she gave up on me too and allowed me to break.

  Because in the end… that’s all I was — broken. A shell of a human.

  “I don’t understand!” She beat against my chest with her fists, “You promised me! You promised you’d never leave!” Tears streamed down her face, the face I used to love. I closed my eyes then looked behind me as Saylor clenched the keys in her hand, waiting for my decision.

  I was at a crossroads all right. One path led to my future — the other to my past and utter self destruction.

  I couldn’t look at her. I ignored every thread of feeling — and relished the pain of my heart breaking into a million pieces as I held out my hand in front of me, “You’re right, I promised.”

  “Gabe!” Saylor yelled from behind me. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  “Don’t you see?” I said quietly without turning around. “It’s always been like this. It will always be like this. I warned you.”

  “But—”

  “Enough.” I yelled, tears threatening to stream down my face. “I said enough. You should go.”

  I heard the door slam behind me.

  “It’s okay!” she said, cupping my face. “It will finally be okay!”

  “Alright, Princess.” I choked on the word. “Alright.” I tightened the pink scarf around her neck and put my arm around her.

  “Thanks.” She sighed happily. “You always promised you’d take care of me. You can’t leave. You can’t—”

  “I won’t,” I vowed, because it was my fault. Just like everything else.

  “Can we go play now, Gabe?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart, we can.” I folded the blanket around her legs and pushed her wheelchair out of the room, knowing full well that I was choosing the wrong path — with every step I took.

  I jerked awake in a cold wet sweat. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream, but why did it feel so real? I really did believe all those things.

  Sick to my stomach, I barely made it to the bathroom before I lost my dinner and those four shots Wes had fed me.

  As the water flushed down the toilet, taking the remnants of Wes’s good idea with it, I grabbed a towel and wiped my face, then sank down onto the cold tile.

  I missed Saylor.

  I also missed Princess.

  I didn’t want my choosing Princess to make it so that Saylor left me. How selfish could I be? I wanted both? Did I even deserve both? I knew I didn’t, but that didn’t make me want her any less. It didn’t make the cravings for her kiss, for her touch, go away.

  “Damn.” I wiped my face again, stripped off my soaked clothes, and jumped into the shower. I’d only gotten six hours of sleep, but at least I’d slept.

  Today was the day I had to decide whether or not to call hosp
ice, and I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do.

  After my shower, I walked numbly across the cold slate floors that led into the kitchen.

  The sun was just starting to peek over the city.

  It was beautiful — I wished Saylor could be there to watch the sunrise with me. I wished so badly that I was whole for her.

  Just as I was getting ready to turn on the coffee pot, the doorbell rang. Curious, I walked over and prepared myself for some low-life reporter who’d somehow discovered my secret house.

  I opened the door.

  It wasn’t a reporter.

  Saylor stood smiling at me. And Princess was with her, all cuddled up in her chair with blankets spread over her, an oxygen mask on her face.

  A pretty woman in scrubs stood behind Princess, beaming.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, after finally discovering my voice again.

  “I came here to bring Princess home.” Saylor smiled.

  “Home!” Princess shouted then started coughing. “Ashton, it’s my home. From the picture!” She coughed some more as her chest rattled.

  I knelt down on to meet her face to face. “Do you like it?”

  She nodded. “Because you know why?”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It’s a castle,” she whispered.

  “Fit for a princess.” Saylor finished.

  I couldn’t talk even if I wanted to. Without saying anything else, I opened the door wider and helped them pull the chair into the living room.

  “The doctor’s okay with this?” I asked.

  “Well…” Saylor chewed her lower lip. “Let’s just say Wes had to do his fair share of throwing his weight around and even then the only way they’d release her was if your signature was on the paperwork.”

  “So?” I crossed my arms. “How’d you do that?”

  “Martha signed.” Saylor cracked a smile. “She’s pretty good at doing your signature too by the way. Oh, and she said if you fire her she’ll hunt you down.”

  “Ha.” I wiped my face with my hands. “She’s the best head nurse we have. I’d never fire her.”

  “Good.” Saylor’s smile was wide and happy.

  “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

  A throat cleared. I glanced to the right. The nurse was folding her arms over her chest, looking between the two of us with interest.

  “Oh, and I almost forgot! This is the nurse who’s going to be taking care of Princess, and even if you call hospice she won’t leave.”

  The nurse tilted her head and held out her hand. “I’m Tara.”

  Saylor went and stood next to the lady then wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “Gabe, meet my mom.”

  Stunned, I could only stare and then hold out my hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  She nodded and politely took my hand. “Where would you like me to put Princess?”

  “Ahh…” I sighed and looked around the house, momentarily confused as to which direction to take them. “Guest rooms are down here, let’s go.”

  It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall that I realized Princess hadn’t called me Parker — Ashton. She called me Ashton.

  How was it possible for a heart to be so full of dread and excitement at the same time?

  I paused in the hallway.

  “Gabe?” Saylor turned. “Are you coming?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked. “Sorry.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Watching someone you love… die? There are no words for how broken that makes a person. It’s like waking up from a bad dream only to find out that it’s you reality, it’s like watching sunlight fade from the sky, like watching death suck the one you love dry, and being powerless to stop it. You may as well try to stop the waves from rolling in, or the sun from rising. In the end, the waves will roll, the sun will set, and death will come. The only thing you have a choice in? How you deal with it…when it does. —Wes M.

  Saylor

  Two days later, I was sitting next to Gabe while he read to Princess. She was still failing so he’d called hospice in. One of the nurses from the main hospice team came a few times a day to check on things, but since my mom was constantly around they didn’t stay. It wasn’t normal for hospice to approve of something like this, but in the end, it was about the patient. And Gabe was high profile so they didn’t mind. Besides, my mom wasn’t just any nurse. She was amazing, the best at what she did.

  Eric called at least thirty times a day — he was staying with his best friend and thought it was the coolest thing in the world that he could spend the night on school nights for the entire week.

  And I was stressed.

  Not because of the situation.

  But because I couldn’t focus on anything, not even my music. It was like, the passion that had once been there, the passion that Gabe had introduced me to, had been sucked dry. I literally had nothing to offer, nothing to give.

  That evening, I walked into the piano room — the one littered with pictures of Gabe and Kimmy — and sat at the piano.

  My fingertips grazed a few of the notes, but nothing. I felt nothing.

  “Sometimes,” Gabe’s voice said from behind me. “It’s not passion that brings forth the music, but desperation.”

  “I feel desperate,” I whimpered. “I also feel a bit lost.”

  “Hmm.” His hands moved to my shoulders. “Play it out.”

  “I can’t even find the beginning, let alone the ending, Gabe.”

  “So?” He pushed down on my shoulders. “There’s gotta be a middle in there somewhere. Find that.”

  I slammed my hands down onto the piano.

  “Good,” he encouraged.

  I slammed them again.

  “Better.”

  I lifted my hands to slam them a third time, then cracked as my hands fell gracefully across the keys, playing a song I didn’t even remember practicing.

  My hands flew across the piano as I played.

  Body overheated, sweat started to pool at my temples, threatening to drip down my face.

  By the time I was finished, my chest was heaving, like I’d just run for hours without stopping.

  “Beautiful.” Gabe took a seat on the bench and faced me. “Thank you, for what you did, for what you’re still doing.”

  I looked away. “I feel helpless.”

  “Don’t we all?” He sighed. “Sometimes, there’s really nothing to do but sit and stare at a wall… and wait for the inevitable.”

  “Stupid wall,” I grumbled.

  Gabe cracked a smile. “I miss you.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I did. I wasn’t avoiding him, but I was giving him space. Allowing him time to grieve, allowing him moments with her.

  “I need you,” he whispered. “Even when I’m with her, my thoughts are with you, my heart was never fully given back to me, but the pieces I still had, were stolen the minute I kissed you. The minute our lips met. So don’t for a second think I don’t need you. Don’t think I don’t want you. Because I do. I. Need. You.” His mouth met mine, gently at first, and then with more urgency as his hands dug into my hair and tugged. “So beautiful.”

  “I think I love you,” I blurted. “I’m so sorry.” I collapsed against his chest. “I’m so sorry I love you. I’m sorry.” I trembled. “I can’t help it.”

  “That’s romantic.” He chuckled against my hair.

  I smacked him, as tears threatened to pour. “I’m trying to apologize.”

  “For loving me?” Gabe asked, just before his mouth met my cheek. His eyes roamed over my body then my face. “Why the hell would you apologize for giving me one of the most treasured gifts in your possession?”

  “Because…” My lips trembled. “It makes it harder on you.”

  “Isn’t that for me to decide?” He tilted his head. “And just so you know, Saylor, you’re mine. That love you feel for me? It gives me strength. Your fa
ce is all I see when I close my eyes, Saylor. So please don’t apologize for your love — don’t say you’re sorry… when I’m not…”

  I sighed and hugged him.

  Gently, he pushed me away, and his hands fell onto the piano.

  “Split in two,” he sang, “Loved by one, and then another. Pulled in a direction and then the other. If I could breathe you in, all of you, every day of my life, it wouldn’t be enough. My heart was captive long ago — then you stole it away, you helped me grow. Now I’m staring at my crossroads with a choice to make, wondering how in the world I even thought there was one way to take.”

  His hands flew over the piano, muscles tightened in his forearms as he leaned forward and continued singing.

  “My biggest fear, is not the ending of this life, but going through it without you by my side.” He repeated the chorus and closed his eyes, humming the haunting melody in such a way that I felt hypnotized.

  “Letting her go will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do — but I’m doing it so I can say goodbye to her — and good morning to you. Tell me it’s not too late to ask for a second.” He smirked but continued singing. “Third, fourth, tenth date.” His hands slowed. “Loving you will always be easy because when I look into your eyes I know you see the real me, so be my love, be my rain, be my clouds, be my pain.”

  “My biggest fear, is not the ending of this life, but going through it without you by my side.” He stopped playing.

  The room fell silent.

  “That was beautiful.”

  Gabe turned. “It’s your song.”

  “My song?” I repeated.

  “Saylor’s song.” His smile returned. “I know it’s not very creative, but, it’s yours.”

  “No.” I put my hand over his. “It’s ours.”

  Gabe’s smile lit up my world as he leaned in and kissed me across the mouth.

  “One more left,” I whispered against his lips.

  “One more?” He pulled back.