Nix & Scotlyn: The Wedding

  Nix’s car was in the driveway, but the house was dark. Ten o’clock was early for him to be in bed. I didn’t know if I was relieved or not. I wanted desperately to talk to him, but everything felt disconnected and cold right now. We seemed to have lost that one magical strand in our relationship that had always been perfect— our ability to communicate. Even when I could only speak through handwritten notes and gestures, Nix had known exactly what I was thinking as he listened with his eyes and his heart. We’d formed an instant attachment to each other, and for the first time, it felt as if that attachment had splintered.

  I’d sat through a two hour lecture on phlebotomy and had hardly heard a word the professor said. My notes were scattered and disorganized, and now I would have to spend an hour rewriting them before next week’s final.

  I walked into the house, flicked on the light and laid my book bag on the kitchen chair. The house seemed extra quiet and dark. I tiptoed down the hall to our room to take off my shoes and change into something more comfortable for my note writing session. The bed was empty.

  “Nix,” I called toward the bathroom. No answer. Only his car was home.

  I went back to the kitchen and pulled out my phone. No text. No message. It was not like him. And now, my overactive imagination would have fun trying to figure out where the heck he was. After finding the scented sweatshirt, I’d spent the drive to work and most of the morning trying to devise a story of how the perfume had gotten on Nix’s sweatshirt. Clutch had said several things that went right past me, and he sensed that something was up. But, being Clutch, he didn’t ask, and I was relieved. By my lunch break, I’d convinced myself that there was a reasonable explanation for the perfume and that I was just being silly. But coming home to an empty house and no message from Nix telling me why he’d be late had me fretting again. Of course, the logical thing to do would’ve been to call him, but I wasn’t in the mood to be sensible.

  My stomach ached with hunger. I grabbed a yogurt from the refrigerator and pulled out my notebook. The messy scribbles on the pages worried me. I only hoped I could make sense out of them. Most of my classmates used tape recorders during the lectures, but I found I learned more by writing notes during class. My years of silence had made me highly skilled with a pen, and my handwriting was nearly as speedy as my typing.

  I stirred the strawberries around in my yogurt and took one bite. It tasted sour and unappealing. I dropped the spoon into the container. As empty as my stomach was, I had no appetite. My phone rang just as I picked up my pen, and my heart leapt a little. It was Taylor.

  “Hey, Scottie, since the guys are out together, I figured it would be a good time to call. I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Wait, Taylor, did you say the guys were out together?”

  She got quiet. “Why? Is Nix at home? Clutch told me they—” Her voice broke.

  “No, Taylor, don’t freak out. Nix isn’t home. He must be with Clutch.”

  It took her a second to compose herself, and for a brief moment, I felt a little less ashamed about my own conclusion jumping.

  “Shit, you scared me. I thought Clutch had lied to me. Nix didn’t let you know they went out?”

  I was embarrassed to have to admit it. “No, but I was in class, so he probably didn’t want to bother me. But I’m sorry I scared you.” I picked up the pen and doodled. “Shit, Taylor, do you ever wonder if these guys are worth the heartbreak? Sometimes, I envy that you don’t live with Clutch. You still have some independence.”

  Her laugh spurted through the phone. “Independence? Have you met my mom and dad?”

  I drew a heart with the word Nix in it and put down the pen. “I have, and you’re right. What was I thinking? What was the favor?” I still had no explanation for Nix not telling me he was going out, but I felt better knowing where he was.

  “My final project this quarter is to design a summer wedding dress.”

  I knew where this was going, and after the ill-timed proposal, being a model for a wedding dress was the last thing I wanted to do. “Taylor, can’t you ask Cassie or Finley to model for you?”

  “Oh, come on, Scottie, please? Finley and Cassie are both too short to be good models.”

  “So, I get the honor because I’m an Amazon woman, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Let’s face it— you look as if you stepped right out of a magazine. You’re a perfect wedding dress model. Please. I even have your measurements from the business suit I designed last quarter. They are probably still the same. I can use those, and when the dress is nearly finished, we can do a fitting. You will hardly have to do a thing.”

  I sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Yippee! I can’t fail with a model like you. I could just cut arm holes in a pillowcase and attach a fluttery skirt and you’d be gorgeous.”

  “Thanks, Taylor. That’s sweet of you.”

  There was a pause. “I’ve got to say, you sound a little down,” Taylor said. “Everything all right?”

  I swirled the spoon around in the yogurt. “Everything is great. I’m just tired, that’s all. You know work and school— it’s a lot.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “Where’d you say the guys went?”

  “Not sure. Clutch said they were going out for burgers and beer. Hey, are you still going out to Finley’s rescue barn on Saturday?”

  The outing had seemed like so much fun, and I was dying to see the place, but at the moment, I had little enthusiasm for anything. Of course, sitting at home and moping around had even less appeal. Petting animals always made me happy. “Yep, I’m going.”

  “Great, see you then, and thanks for putting up with my design projects.”

  “Sure thing.” I put my phone on the table and stared down at my notebook. Something told me my head wasn’t on straight enough to decipher my notes tonight. I scooted the chair back and went in to wash up and get ready for bed.

  From the bedroom, I could hear the loud stuttering motor of Clutch’s Chevelle. The front door opened and shut. Nix’s familiar footsteps sounded on the wood floor of the family room. Normally, just the sound of Nix walking into the house would make me smile, but I was feeling out of sorts and uneasy about everything. Nix and I hardly ever fought. There had been a few times when we’d been a little pissed about something, usually something that eventually gave us a good laugh and a reason for great make-up sex, but this time seemed different. The hardest thing about it was that whenever I was upset about something, or I’d had a bad day because my mind had fixated on my family’s accident, or when things were just going shitty, Nix was my best friend. He was the one person who I needed to see or be held by to feel better. I couldn’t turn to him, and I was feeling incredibly alone.

  I finished washing my face and walked into the bedroom. Nix had turned on the stereo in the family room. I took a deep breath and walked out. His feet were propped up on the coffee table, and he stared at the blank television set with a beer can between his hands. Music rained down from the speakers overhead. From the heavy lidded look on his face, he was already drunk. He’d heard me walk into the room but didn’t turn to look at me. And just that small, cold non-gesture felt like icy fingers taking hold of my heart.

  “You went out with Clutch?”

  He nodded and lifted the can to his mouth. I blinked back tears. Crying was the last thing I needed right now.

  I walked into the kitchen and grabbed my notebook before heading back toward the hallway.

  “Clutch wanted to go out because he’d been at work since six in the fucking morning and needed a break.” His words were slowed by the alcohol. It was rare for him to get this drunk. I stopped and looked at him, confused about why he had the need to let me know about Clutch’s work schedule. Especially since I worked with the man.

  I was about to walk to the bedroom when the reason for him letting me know hit me. I’d used getting to work early to open up for Clutch as an excuse for not crawling back in bed with Nix. I
stopped and stared down at the notebook in my hands. It had been stupid to include Clutch in my lie, but the unfamiliar perfume smell had knocked the wind from me. The getting to work early excuse was all I could come up with.

  “Not sure what the hell is going on, Scotlyn, but you’ve never lied to me before.”

  His accusatory tone brought tears as I spun around to face him. His pale amber eyes were glazed and unfocused. He was drunker than I’d ever seen him.

  “It seems trust is disintegrating on both sides of this relationship,” I sobbed, and ran from the room. I would have given anything to have that superpower men seem to have to make women cry. Or, the ability to avoid crying when it was extremely counterproductive would have been nice too.

  I heard his footsteps in the hallway behind me.

  “Goddamnit, Scotlyn, talk to me. Tell me what the fuck is going on?” The hurt in his face was as agonizing as the ache in my chest. My throat seized up and the words lodged there. There were times when, if I was in enough despair, my voice would leave me again. I felt that strangling silence as I looked at him through my tears. I wanted to bring up the sweatshirt, but I was scared. I was afraid of his reaction. And so, I retreated to my safe haven of quiet.

  It seemed he had to make a conscious effort not to sway on his feet. For the first time since we’d met, it felt as if we were two strangers staring at each other. I was torn between wanting to walk over and slap him and wanting to fall into his arms. As badly as I wanted this all to stop, it seemed, tonight, things had gotten a lot worse.

  “So, now you’re just going to stop talking? Great, why don’t you just write it all down in your fucking notebook then.” He turned and walked out. The sliding door opened and shut. The lounge scraped the cement floor of the patio.

  I stood there in the center of the room so stunned by his words, I couldn’t move.

  Chapter 6

  Nix

  Sleeping on a lounge isn’t so bad for an hour or two, especially if you’re shitfaced, but an entire night on a chaise is a whole different thing. My head felt as if someone had driven nails through my skull with a drill. I hadn’t gotten that drunk since I’d graduated high school and, with the way I was feeling, I wouldn’t be doing it again anytime soon. Worst of all, I was going to suffer the agony of my stupidity all day at work and none of it had helped dull the pain I’d been feeling inside.

  When Clutch had complained about having been at work since six in the morning, it’d felt as if someone had kicked me in the gut. I couldn’t think of any reason why Scotlyn would have lied except that she didn’t want to get in bed with me. And that was when I started ordering the shots. Clutch figured something was wrong, but he never pried. Although, after the sixth shot, he placed his big hand on my shoulder and said ‘bro, whatever it is, that tequila is just going to make you hate life more in the morning’. Turns out, he’d been right.

  The sun was still low in the summer sky, and it was surrounded by the infamous June gloom, the fuzzy mist that hung around in early morning. I was thankful for that cloud cover today. I sat up and looked around the small yard. Before Nana had died, we’d made the decision that Diana would take the cash assets, and I would get the house. Both were about equal in value, which made things easy.

  Scotlyn and I loved this house. Scotlyn had planted flowers around the borders the way Nana had years before. Something about the wood fence, small expanse of yard and flowers had always reminded me of one of those vintage home pictures from the fifties where the mom would be standing dressed in her knee length dress and salon hairdo watching the boys play in perfectly clean striped t-shirts and greased down side parts.

  The shower turned on. Scotlyn was getting ready for work.

  My brain had been plastered last night, but I could still vividly recall the few minutes with Scotlyn. They were bad. Even in my hazy state of mind, her hurt expression had pressed into my memory, and I couldn’t forget it. And somewhere during the tequila hurricane in my head, Scotlyn had mentioned something about our trust in each other disintegrating. I’d had no idea what she was talking about, and when she lapsed into frustrating silence, something she did whenever she was really upset or worried, I got pissed…and mean.

  I got up and went into the kitchen to start coffee. It would take the whole damn pot to clear my muddy head today. There was a yogurt cup on the table with the spoon still in it. I picked it up to throw it away. She’d hardly touched it.

  The shower turned off. There was no way we could both go to work today with this much shit between us. I walked into the bedroom just as Scotlyn came out of the bathroom with a towel on her head and dressed in only her bra and panties. She looked much thinner. As she reached up to pull the towel off, her rib cage looked far more prominent than I remembered. I’d been so self-absorbed in my own misery, I had apparently not noticed that she wasn’t eating.

  She seemed to sense what I was thinking and quickly reached for her shirt on the dresser. Her hands shook as she pulled it on.

  I swallowed hard as she lifted her blue gaze to me. That same hurt was still there, and I wasn’t completely sure how to wipe it away. “I’m sorry, baby, I was drunk. I’m stupid when I’m drunk. You know that.”

  She nodded.

  “God, Scotlyn, please don’t. We need to talk about this. I’m fucking dying here.” As I spoke, tears streamed down her face, but I could sense that silence had gripped her. It was her mechanism for dealing with pain, but for me, it was pure frustration.

  I stepped closer. Her face was just as beautiful in sorrow as in happiness. It was a face that I’d fallen in love with from just a crumpled up picture, and it still stole my breath every time I looked at her. She smelled of fresh soap, and citrus shampoo and everything that had been right in my life. I had to convince myself not to touch her. I wanted more than anything to pull her into my arms, but I dreaded her reaction. “Tell me what I’ve done, Scotlyn. Please don’t shut me out. Please tell me why the hell this is coming apart? I’ve never needed anything as badly as I need you.”

  Her lips parted slightly, and for a second, it seemed that I’d broken down the wall. But then she reached for her jeans.

  “Look, Scotlyn, we’ve got no house payment and things are going well at the shop. Why don’t you ask Clutch if you can cut down on your hours? You’ll have more time to spend on your homework. You’re doing too much.”

  She sat down and pulled on her jeans.

  I stared down at her. “Please, fucking talk to me, Scotlyn.”

  She peered up at me. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. It seemed to take all her energy to speak. “I’ve never been on my own,” she said weakly.

  The ache in my head migrated to my chest. “Is that what you want?”

  “Lincoln took care of me. Then you took care of me. But I’ve never been on my own.”

  My jaw clenched at the mention of his name. “So, you’re comparing me to Lincoln?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Her body shook with sobs. “I like working and going to school and being a member of the world again. I wasn’t part of it for a long time. Don’t take that from me.”

  “Then what? What is it? Last night you mentioned something about trust. What have I done to make you mistrust me? You’ve got to give me something, baby. I’m going fucking nuts.”

  She shook her head, and the mute button was turned conveniently back on. She got up and went back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

  I walked out of the bedroom and had to convince myself not to throw my fist into a wall.

  Chapter 7

  Scotlyn

  “You know, Cass, I think I’m going to skip today.” I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder and poured myself a cup of coffee. “I’ve got finals next week, and I should study.”

  “No, you’ve got to go. It’ll be good for you. Warm, stinky barn animals staring up at you, begging for love and attention. Besides, Finley and Rett are really excited about us coming. Look, the sun is
coming out early. It’s going to be a beautiful day. And, I promise I won’t even ask why Nix looks like shit. I won’t bring up anything, unless you bring it up first. So put on your barn clothes. I’m picking you up in fifteen.” Cassie was always good at the no arguments closing.

  “All right. See you then.”

  I nibbled on the piece of toast that was more charcoal than bread. My appetite had shrunk severely, and I knew my weight was dropping. But I just couldn’t work up the desire to eat. My heart was so broken, and my head was always in such a state of disarray, eating just took too much energy.

  After I’d fallen into my usual, embarrassing blubbering state of tears and sobs, I’d lost my nerve to ask Nix about the sweatshirt. His harshness the night before, drunk or not, had been too much for me to bear. He’d never spoken to me so coldly, and I felt sick every time I thought about it. I hated always being so absurdly sensitive and easily upset. It was something that I still had not been able to conquer. Many people liked to shower me with praises of having courage and strength, but I couldn’t see it. I was still a mess deep inside, and when things went awry, my courage and strength were easily toppled.

  Nix had gone to work early, and I was glad to have the house to myself. I went to the bedroom and pulled out my jeans and boots. Finley had warned us not to wear sandals, unless we wanted toes smashed by hooves. My jeans suddenly seemed a size too large. Hopefully, a day outside at a barn would give me an appetite.

  ***

  “Oh my gosh, this place is so darn cool.” Taylor leaned forward to get a better view through the front windshield. “I love the red barns with the green trim.” She sat back. “O.K., that’s cuteness to the max. Do you guys see this?”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and scooted forward to get a view from the backseat. Rett was walking a mini horse out of one of the barns. He was wearing a white t-shirt, jeans and a cowboy hat.

  “Shit, Rett dressed as Rett is already a fantasy, but Rett with a black cowboy hat pushed down low over that long blond hair—” Cassie said. “It’s like having the world’s hottest cowboy crash into the world’s hottest surfer to make one incredibly outstanding man. If his picture cuddling little, rescued barn animals doesn’t spur on donations then I have no right to use a camera.” It was rare to hear Cassie gush on about any guy, but she was right— Rett made everything around him dim in comparison.