Infinitely

  Flynn kicks a stack of scrap wood, sending pieces flying across the barn. I jump, startled. I’ve never seen him like this. This angry. This…hurt. I want to hug him. Tell him I’m sorry. That I didn’t mean it. But I know it’ll only make things worse. Yet, I can’t make myself turn around and leave.

  “Just go, Briar. I don’t want you here,” Flynn murmurs.

  I look at the dress, but now I don’t see just a yellow sundress. I see weeks of back-breaking work, sweated through just to make me smile on my birthday. “You’re wrong, Flynn. You do mean something to me. I do love you. I’m just confused. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Please just fucking leave,” he says, his voice hoarse with desperation.

  I take one last look at him, trying to memorize his features as if I’ll never see him again, before climbing up on Kingston. I dig my heels into my horse’s sides urging him to outrun the crazy emotions tearing at my insides.

  6

  Benji

  I’m disoriented when I wake up. The ceiling is unfamiliar, yet recognizable. The light shining through the window is too bright. I close my eyes and cover my head with the blanket. The smell that surrounds me has my senses on overload. Memories pierce through my blanket bubble unmercifully.

  Birthdays, Christmases, Mom refusing to wake up, Grandpa and Mom fighting. Highs. Lows. And everything in between. The good and the bad.

  I’m home.

  I flip the blanket off and look around the room. It’s sparse, but there’s a hell of a lot more here than what I had at the shithole apartment I lived in with Mom and Jax. I’m on a real bed. It creaks with every move I make and I relish the sound. There’s a dresser on the opposite wall—the same one I used before. It’s old and the wood is scraped and nicked with age. It makes me smile.

  And then I remember last night. I saw her.

  “Briar.” I say her name aloud for the first time in three years and for some reason, it makes my throat constrict like an invisible hand choking me.

  I say it again. Louder this time. My chest aches. I roll onto my side and stare at the window. She’s just a few feet away. Two panes of glass separating us.

  I can’t believe she left the pulley up. It took all my strength not to use it. Not to place a note on it for her to find.

  I close my eyes as the image of her burns bright behind my lids. Briar has always been pretty in a sweet, average way. The all-American girl-next-door type. A little shy, a little awkward, and a whole lot of gangly in the cutest way. And honestly, I started to wonder if I had built her up in my head over the years. But one look at her last night, even through a dirty window and into a dimly lit room, and I knew I hadn’t. If anything, my memories were a diluted image of the real thing.

  Maybe it’s the time that’s passed. Maybe it’s because I’ve missed her so much. Maybe it’s just because she’s older now. But Briar isn’t pretty anymore. She’s not cute or awkward.

  Briar’s beautiful. And all sorts of sexy.

  It pisses me off on so many levels. One, because she should be mine. All this time—she should have been mine. Two, because I can’t fucking have her. Three, because regardless of whether I can have her or not, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything—not excluding a high. Four, because she will never want the me that I am now. Five, because I know someone else has her. And six, because I missed out on everything. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing.

  I’m six levels high on the My Life Sucks scale. I’m pretty damn sure it shouldn’t even go this far and I could keep on going. I just put the little bit of family we have left in danger by coming home. I have no future because when Delphi finds me—and it is only a matter of when—he’ll pick us off, one by one. I can’t do that to my family. I know I can’t stay, but I have no money and nowhere else to go.

  I rake my fingers through my hair, yanking on the ends. I need the pain. It’s a hell of a lot better than drowning in the shit my life is made up of.

  The door opens slowly. A bleach-blonde head comes into view before the rest of Megan’s thin body. She closes the door just as quietly as she opened it and crawls back into bed. Her feet touch mine. They’re cold and it’s hard not to pull away. I silently add her to the list that makes my life a shit storm. It’s not her fault. I knew who she was when we met. That’s why I chose her. But now I just want out of whatever the hell this is.

  I need her. Not the way a man needs a woman. Not because I love her or want her. But because she can set part of my life back on course. It’s just a piece, but it’s a vital one.

  “Good morning,” she whispers. Her breath is ashy as her lips brush across mine. Her hair smells like smoke. It doesn’t bother me like it would most non-smokers. I’m used to it, I guess. But at the same time, I don’t want her mouth on mine. I put my hand up, pressing it against her chest, and push her back slowly.

  “Megan,” I start. I rub my face and sigh. “I told you it was going to be different here. You and I…”

  “I know.” Her dark eyes search mine for several seconds before she lays back and places her arm over them. “I remember,” she adds stiffly. “No drugs. No drinking. No sex. No fun. That about right?”

  I laugh softly. “Pretty much.” I sit up and swing my legs onto the floor. I can feel her eyes on me as I pick up my jeans and search the pockets. My hand hits the familiar plastic and I pluck the baggie out. I turn so she can see me count them. I’ve been cutting down, weaning myself for a few days now—ever since Jaxon and I called Grandpa to tell him Mom was dead. But today will be Megan’s first day. For my plan to work, we both need to be clean. It’s not going to be an easy road.

  I count them all just so she’s aware I know exactly how many pills there are. I hand her three and pop two into my own mouth. She doesn’t swallow them like I do. Instead, she pushes herself up and places them on the nightstand. I watch as she picks up the TV remote and smashes the small pills into dust, careful not to lose any. Even though this isn’t the way I take mine, I can’t look away. And even though I can still feel the path the pills took down my throat, the craving hits me ferociously. Just from watching.

  The sickest part is when she bends forward and snorts the powder up her nose it makes me horny as hell. I want to lick the remaining dust from the stand, the remote, her nose, and then fuck her hard until mine kicks in. I feel my dick grow hard, thickening beneath my boxers, and it takes a shit-ton of effort I really don’t have right now to stay where I am.

  Megan’s tongue darts out and swipes up the little remnants left over, and then turns to me. She leaves the tip of her tongue out, the oxy powder like a paste there. I can’t hold back any longer. I lean into her and suck it off her tongue. As soon as the taste is in my mouth, the guilt sets in. I pull back. Close my eyes as I swallow it down, and then shove myself up.

  I need to get away from her. Away from the baggie. Away from everything.

  As I slide my jeans on, I realize I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t want to hang out with my grandpa while I’m high. Jax is no kind of company anymore. And I can’t really go anywhere. Shit. I can’t even go outside because then I risk seeing her. Briar. I don’t want her to see me like this.

  That was the deal I made with Jaxon. The deal I reiterated with Payton. If I’m going to clean up, it’s on my terms. In my own way. Part of it is staying away from Briar. It was hard enough last night just for those few seconds. If I saw her up close, in person, I don’t think I could take it. And I sure as shit can’t see her disappointment and disgust when she realizes what I’ve become.

  7

  Briar

  I go home to put in my hours cropping. Dad’s already out in the cornfields. By the way he’s moving slowly down the row, pausing at each stalk and shaking it gently, I know we’re pollinating today. It’s better than bug picking.

  Running into the house to put the sundress back in my room, I shout a hello to Mom. I make it to the third step before she calls me into the kitchen. I do an about face and stride into the
room kicking off my flats.

  “What’s up?” I come to an abrupt stop, my feet sliding on the floor, when I notice the male form sitting at the table.

  Mom smiles, her whole face beaming. “Briar, you remember Jaxon. Look how big he is.”

  Jaxon turns around in the chair with a huge grin, showing off two adorable, deep dimples. He looks like a darker version of Benji and my heart jumps, trying to escape my chest. I cannot believe how tall he is or how broad his shoulders are. He looks like a linebacker.

  “Oh, my God, Jaxon.” My voice is high-pitched and squeaky, but I don’t care. I am so happy to see him. He stands up, pushing the chair back with his thick legs and my mouth drops. “What the hell, boy? Did you swallow a giant?”

  He laughs loudly and the deep tenor shocks me. “I’ve been eating my veggies.”

  “Jaxon, you’re huge. You’re like, a grown-up. What in the world?”

  He wraps me in a hug. His arms are like steel. “I am a grown-up. I’m nineteen now. Just had a birthday.” Though I’m a year older than him, I forgot our birthdays were only days apart. His two days before mine. “Benji said I finally hit puberty, five years too late.” He laughs again, his chest rumbling in my ear. “I’m taller than him now.”

  “Where—where is Benji?” I ask, and my voice shakes, giving away how important my question is. I clear my throat in a weak attempt to hide it and shift uncomfortably.

  Jaxon’s movements mimic mine. “He’s not really a morning person.”

  I know this isn’t true. Or at least it wasn’t before they had left. Benji was always the one to wake me up when we were kids. Throwing pebbles at my window or pounding on the front door until he got me up and alert. Then we would take off on some adventure or help each other with the chores. Even if we had school, he’d show up an hour before we had to leave. Most days, we would be out until the sun was long gone, and then we would spend most of the night secretly sending notes on the line. But we aren’t kids anymore, I guess. I wonder what else has changed in the past three years, but I don’t ask. Just nod and smile as if I could care less.

  “Briar, go catch up,” Mom says with a shooing motion. “I’ll help your dad for a while.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. Getting out of farm chores when school is out is limited to major illness or impending weather. I might be home from college for summer break, but that doesn’t mean I get to live here for free. I thread my arm around Jaxon’s and head out the back door to take a walk. We move past the barn and I look up at him. “I’m really sorry about your mom,” I murmur. I know it’s inadequate and he’s probably sick of hearing it, but I don’t know what else to say.

  He doesn’t look at me, his gaze moves back to his house instead. “Thanks,” he says. “It’s weird, she was never really there. Always out drinking, or taking off with some guy, ya know? I always missed her. But now that she’s gone…” He shakes his head and turns to face me, unlinking our arms. He runs a hand through his jet-black hair causing it to stand up. “I guess it’s because I know she isn’t coming back this time, but I don’t miss her anymore. Is that totally fucked up?” His dark eyes bore into mine and he looks so sad my heart clenches.

  I realize I’m shaking my head. “No. I don’t think it’s fucked up at all. People grieve differently. You’re allowed to feel anyway you want.”

  With a sigh, he hooks my arm and we start walking again. “Maybe it’s being home. I missed this house so bad. I missed you. How’s Kingston?” He smiles, his eyes lighting with excitement.

  I pull him back toward the barn, my feet shuffling quickly. “Come see.” I grin up at him, remembering how much fun we had riding. Jax and I were so small we always rode together when there weren’t enough horses. And he loved King. He would even help me clean his stall.

  Kingston whinnies excitedly the moment he sees us, and I swear he knows exactly who Jaxon is. He nuzzles his nose into Jax’s chest and stomps. “Hey there, buddy. Do you remember me? We had some good times, you and I.” Glancing around, Jaxon asks, “You got any apples?”

  “A bribe? Already?” I laugh and grab one from a basket, wiping it across my shirt before I hand it over.

  With a shrug, Jax palms it and holds it out to Kingston. “Whatever works.” He smirks at me, showing off his dimples.

  “Later this evening, when I’m done helping Dad, we could go for a ride,” I offer.

  “That would be great. I haven’t ridden a horse since we moved.”

  “Really?” I can’t even imagine not being able to ride.

  He scratches King behind the ears before looking over his shoulder at me, sadness in his eyes again. “We talked about this. Coming home. How it would be.”

  My throat goes dry and I can’t think of anything to say. We stare at each other until he breaks the silence. “He missed you.”

  Three words. That’s all it is. But the effect they have on me is ridiculous. I feel my face get hot. My hands get sweaty. My stomach clenches. “He did?” It comes out barely more than a whisper, but it’s such an important question. Because I missed him every single day he was gone.

  “We would lie in bed on nights Mom didn’t come home, and we would imagine it. What it would be like, ya know? How the house would look, and if you had changed. We even talked about how the first thing we’d do is get you and take Kingston out. Go down to the falls like old times.” He turns around then, facing me. “Do you remember when Benji was supposed to be watching me and we snuck out there because I had never seen the falls before?”

  I nod. The memory as vivid as if it happened yesterday. “I slipped on the rocks and fell in,” I say. “Almost went over.” My fingers squeeze against the scar on my palm where I had tried to catch myself on one of the sharp rocks.

  “Benji saw you go down and he jumped right in without hesitation. He dragged you back and you got so mad at him because he could have gotten hurt. You guys were always like that.”

  I tilt my head inquisitively. “Like what?”

  Jaxon grins at me. “You were both so worried about the other one. You never stopped to think about yourselves. I remember waiting for you to thank him, but you never did. You just yelled at him for risking his life.” He gives me this look that I don’t understand before he goes on.

  “I asked him later that night if it bothered him the way you were more angry than grateful.”

  My stomach knots with guilt. I was so angry with him because he scared the hell out of me. He could have been hurt and it would have been my fault. But at the same time, he was my savior. My knight in shining armor. Why hadn’t I thanked him? I know I was grateful. I remember thinking he was my own personal superhero. Why hadn’t I said the words to him?

  “What did he say?”

  Jaxon shrugs, smirking. “He explained you weren’t angry, just scared. And then he said you didn’t have to thank him because he jumped in more for himself than anyone else. I was too young at the time and I didn’t get it.” He shrugs his wide shoulders again and turns back to King, running his hands over the dark mane. “I get it now.” He glances back at me and laughs at the expression on my face. “He didn’t want to lose his best friend.”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip and move to the other side of my horse, running my hand over his back. “He can come riding with us, too. Benji, I mean. If he wants to.”

  Jaxon straightens up, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’ll ask him. But just so you know, he has a lot of shit to do today. Unpacking. And Grandpa needs him to help at the store and stuff. We aren’t living with him for free.”

  “But you don’t have to unpack or help at the store today?”

  His shoulders rise again. “I’m helping at the store this afternoon. And I kind of unpacked already. I didn’t have much.”

  I feel like he’s hiding something, but I let it go. I’m certainly not going to push the issue, even if I am dying to talk to Benji. “All right, well, if he can make it, he’s welcome.”

  Jaxon nods and gives me another hug
. “I’ll see you later?”

  I return the nod, watching him as he goes. I keep my gaze glued to his back until he disappears inside. I head out to relieve Mom. Just outside the field, I realize I forgot my iPod and walk back to the house instead. I climb the stairs two at a time up to my room, snatching the iPod off my nightstand, and sneaking a peek over at Benji’s window. The blinds are still closed. I make a split-second decision and grab a sheet of paper. My pen hovers over the paper as I decide what I want to say. With Jaxon, it had been comfortable. Easy. Outside of the shock of seeing his growth spurt, it felt like he never left. But I’m not sure it’ll be the same with Benji.

  I decide to keep it simple.

  Welcome back.

  I fold the paper in half and pull up the screen. Leaning out my window, I attach the note to the line and fasten it with a clothespin. The pulley doesn’t want to move at first, rusted from weather and three years of non-use. I tug as hard as I can and it moves with a squeak. My eyes dart to the window across from me. After making sure the blinds are still drawn, I pull hand over hand until the message is on his side. I slide my screen back into place and hurry out to help Dad.

  ~*~

  My arm muscles are burning by the time Dad taps me on the shoulder and gestures to take the headphones off. I slide them back to rest on my neck. “Am I done yet?”

  He rustles my hair. “Halfway there. Let’s take a break and get some lunch.” I nod and follow him up the row. It’s hot and my hair is sticking to my neck. Once inside, I ask Mom to braid it for me. Dad and I throw grapes at each other as we eat and Mom pulls my hair twice as I try to dodge.

  “Hold still. And you two better clean those up.” She tugs my braid, attempting to hold me still.

  “Not it,” Dad says quickly. He smiles wickedly as he pops a grape into his mouth.

  Damn. In our family, calling “not it” is law. If you call it, everyone has to abide by it. Mom ties off my hair and I push my chair back, shooting Dad an evil look. He laughs as I slide to the floor and begin retrieving our red and green missiles. Mom glides the trashcan over to me and I toss them in one at a time. The screen door opens with a creak and I hit my head on the underside of the table.