A Shattered Heart

  "If I'm lucky it was."

  It was meant as a joke. A way to dispel the serious way he was looking at me. I didn't get his intensity. He was a kid. This adult routine from him felt wrong.

  "What happened to you, Kat?" he asked, standing up, all pretenses of casualness gone.

  I gaped at him. Did he seriously just ask me what happened to me? The rage was there. It was always there, but his words had the effect of throwing oil on a fire to put it out. The flames of anger spread through me with an ease of familiarity. Anger was a friend. A beloved friend.

  "You're kidding right?" I asked harshly, leaving the room without another word. I stalked out of the Y, not bothering to clock out and barely noticing Darcie in the front office when I walked by.

  My anger carried me through the lot. This job wasn't working out. Brian and Darcie had made that clear. I almost made it to my car when I heard Brian's voice behind me.

  "Kat, wait," he said, reaching for my arm.

  I jerked free, glaring at him.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that. I don't want you to be mad at me," he pleaded. "I just want us to be friends. Being with you is almost like having him here."

  His words were a quick, sharp jab to my lungs. I gasped as air left them in a rush, punctured by his words. Dan was dead. Gone. I was a reminder of one thing—his death.

  I fumbled for the door handle wanting to escape.

  Brian held me in place. "Please."

  His plea was my undoing. It was a common joke back before our whole world had flipped upside down that Brian was incapable of saying please once he hit middle school. His mom had tried everything to get him to use it more often, from tough love to bribery. Eventually, it was Dan who got through to him. He'd told him that please was a powerful word. That using it too often would make it lose some of its appeal, but that there were certain times that the recipient would need to hear it. Hearing it now, raw and filled with emotion, blanketed my anger.

  "I don't like to talk about him or the others," I warned him.

  "Okay," he said, still holding my arm.

  "And I'm not ready to see your parents."

  "Okay."

  "We can talk about football and all that crap but no music," I said, laying it all out there.

  "Okay."

  "I mean it."

  "Okay."

  I eyed him warily, wondering if he was capable of honoring my rules.

  "How about coffee? Can we talk about that?" He grinned at me. His grin hurt. It was Dan's grin. It was a grin I'd seen a million times.

  I looked away. This was going to be hard. I could sense it with every fiber of my body. It would please Mom and Dad, and Carlton would consider it a victory. "We can always talk about coffee."

  "Good. I'm driving." He slipped past me, headed toward the driver's seat. I gaped at him. He was a cocky one.

  I wasn't ready for coffee with him yet. I needed to prepare myself before an encounter like that. By prepare, I meant dull my senses with liquid courage. "No one drives my car," I said, holding my door with a death grip.

  He plucked the keys out of my fingers. "That's not true. I drove it to your apartment."

  I groaned. I'd tried to forget about that night.

  "Besides, I've seen your driving, and I value my body too much to entrust it to you." His words tiptoed close to the off-boundaries zone but I let them pass. He took advantage of my momentary shock by sliding into the driver's seat and tugging the door closed in my face. He grinned at me behind the glass. I debated pressing the issue but conceded. I really didn't have a rule about driving my car.

  "You never told me what you were doing at Fred's," I grumbled, climbing into the passenger seat after throwing my bag into the back.

  "What were you doing there?" he countered.

  "I'm older than you," I declared, waiting for him to pull out. "You can go."

  "Um, seatbelt," he said, reaching past me to grab my belt and lock it into place. His hand grazed my side where my shirt had pulled up and a flash of awareness flared through me. His knuckles were rough as they scraped across my bare side.

  A flush spread across my chest, making its way up to my neck. This was Dan's brother. I mentally punched myself in the face. Brian was a kid.

  "You're only six months older than me," he said, throwing me off.

  "What?" I gulped. How the hell did he know what I was thinking? The heat moved from my neck to my face. I needed to tell him it had nothing to do with him. I was sure anyone could touch my side like that and it was bound to get a response from me. I frantically searched for the right words so he wouldn't think I was a pervert.

  "I have as much right to be at Fred's as you do," he clarified, steering the car out of the parking lot.

  Relief coursed through me. I was an idiot. He didn't notice the touch because it meant nothing. There was a time we were practically like brother and sister. He was just trying to reclaim a part of that.

  "I guess. I forgot that. I always measured your age by Dan's..." I'd broken my own rules within minutes of us being together.

  Brian didn't call me out on it. "Do you go there often?" he asked, pulling into the parking lot of Starbucks.

  I shrugged. "I used to go once a week or so. That's the first time I'd ever seen you there." My words sounded more accusing than I intended.

  "I was dropping my friend Chad off. His dad owns the place." Brian unfolded himself from the driver's seat. "God, your car is not built for men," he griped, stretching his back.

  I refrained from mentioning he didn't have to drive. Instead, I addressed his first comment. "Fred is your friend's dad?" I asked, climbing out. Talk about small-ass world.

  "Stepdad, I think, but they're close so I guess it's the same thing. You're on a first-name basis with your bartender?" he teased, holding the door of the coffeehouse open for me.

  I rolled my eyes. "It's hard to miss since its on the side of the building in two-foot letters."

  "Can I help you?" the barista asked as the couple in front of us finished paying.

  I gave her my order and waited for Brian to give his. "Why don't you find us a table?" he suggested.

  I bristled. I didn't remember him being so bossy. "Or you could find us a table," I countered.

  His lips quirked with amusement. "I don't remember—" he started to say before switching his words around. "Are you always this stubborn?" he asked instead.

  "Are you always this bossy?" I volleyed back, much to the amusement of the barista, who was still watching us.

  "I need to be," he answered easily.

  I eyed him skeptically.

  "It's true. As a quarterback it's my job to give out orders. It's how plays are made. I guess it's rubbed off into my everyday life."

  "You think?" I said, arching an eyebrow at him as our drinks were set on the counter. I smirked when I saw his name had been spelled as Brenda on his cup. My own was right with of course the wrong spelling. At least they'd gotten the cat part right.

  "So we find a table together," he said, leading me through the busy coffeehouse as we searched for an empty seat. After several minutes of looking around, and short of using intimidation to get a table we were SOL.

  Maybe it was a good thing. We'd made it ten minutes without hitting any of the taboo subjects, but should we tempt fate? "I'll take you back to your car," I suggested.

  "What are you talking about? There's plenty of seats outside."

  "That's because it's the seventh ring of hell outside. No one wants to swelter."

  He shot me a look that could only be conveyed as judgy. "It's not even ninety out and besides, the sun is already going down." He pushed open the door that led to the patio seating.

  I gave his backside a skeptical look before shrugging. We wouldn't be out there long. I could handle it if he could.

  He picked a table beneath an oversized green umbrella, and I had to grudgingly admit it wasn't that bad. Not that I told him that. I expected our conversation to be stilt
ed and repetitive as we circled around my out-of-bounds subjects, but Brian surprised me again by being easy to talk to. Our topics bounced frequently from one subject to another as we both added our two cents on things. Time ticked by and the coffeehouse began to empty out inside, but we kept our spot outside.

  Only when the sun had set and the outside lights clicked on did we pause in our talking. I stretched but was shocked to discover I wasn't anxious to have our time together end. It was still painful to be with him, but it was almost a good painful. It'd been a long time since I talked to someone so freely.

  It was Brian who finally called our gab session to a halt. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. No one wore watches anymore. Cell phones made it unnecessary. Dad was the only one I knew who still wore one, but he was from a different generation.

  "We better head back," Brian said, standing up and tossing our cups in the trash can.

  "Yeah," I said, looking at my phone as if I had pressing plans. Lame.

  "This was nice," he said, slinging an arm across my shoulders as we headed for the patio exit. My initial reaction was to stiffen up, but he was being brotherly again. I could handle brotherly.

  Senior Prom

  "May I have this dance, my lady?"

  I turned in my seat, grinning at the poor impersonation of an English lord. I lowered my soda so I could get a better look at Dan's brother, Brian, who was technically gate crashing our senior prom. A low whistle escaped between my lips as I took him in. The last time I'd seen him dressed in formal wear was nine years ago at his aunt Trudy's third wedding. Of course, that day his face had been set in a serious scowl. He'd been forced into the tedious task of being the ring bearer. As the youngest male in the family, the duty had landed squarely on his shoulders. It was a technicality that all of us had found great entertainment in, especially Dan, who spent endless hours teasing him. Brian tried balking at the idea of being a ring bearer, claiming he was too old. His pleas and even flat-out tantrums had fallen on deaf ears though, and on a hot, humid day in July, he was forced to march down the aisle dressed in a light blue tuxedo, carrying a small heart-shaped pillow, much to all of our amusement. I distinctly remember the tuxedo being more green than blue by the end of the reception after Brian got done with it. Needless to say, he had a point to prove and he spent rest of the afternoon roughhousing with anyone who dared tease him over his attire.

  "You clean up nice," I teased, eyeing him in his all-black suit. "I sorta miss the light blue though," I added with sparkling eyes.

  His own eyes narrowed but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he plucked my Coke from my hand and set it on the empty table. Pulling on my hand he dragged me to my feet and led me toward the dance floor.

  "Wait, your brother," I protested, trying to put the brakes on. My ballet flats refused to find traction on the polished gym floor that had been converted to a dance floor for prom. It was one of the many pitfalls of having our prom in a gymnasium. Instead of having our prom at the Hyatt as previous graduating classes had, our class opted to spend the brunt of our prom money on a relief fund for Haiti. Once the vote went through, it had fallen on the shoulders of the art department to change our plain gymnasium into a voyage undersea. The overall effect had turned out better than any of us could have anticipated, and bright fishes and coral may have covered the plain walls, but they couldn’t disguise the sweaty gym smell of the building. That would take a match and some kerosene.

  "He's busy with the band and you know there's no way he's getting out here on the dance floor," Brian said, nodding toward the stage where Dan was in a deep conversation with the drummer of Liquid Fire, the indie band we'd voted on to play at prom. Dan had been talking about it nonstop since all the votes had been tallied. He was hoping to take over for the drummer, who was being shipped off to Iran in three weeks. Dan had been waiting years for an opportunity like this to present itself. "He'd want you to have at least one dance at your senior prom," Brian added as Liquid Fire started playing one of their slower songs.

  He tugged me close, placing his hands on my waist. My arms looped naturally around his shoulders as I shot one more look in Dan's direction. Dan's back was to me though. He was busy mimicking the drummer on stage.

  "Is that why you decided to crash our prom?" I teased, swaying my hips to the music.

  "Who says I'm crashing it? I'm on the decorating committee," he said with a straight face.

  A giggle bubbled up my throat. Dan might hate dancing, but it was common knowledge Brian's artistic abilities were confined to stick figures. "Admit it, you felt sorry for me."

  "You got me. I knew if I didn’t show up in this dashing suit you would be forced to drown your sorrows in endless cans of Coke while my knucklehead brother plays with the band."

  We both laughed thinking about the can of Coke I'd just abandoned.

  "So, are you excited about graduation next month?" Brian asked.

  I glanced up at him, noticing for the first time that his jaw had lost the boyish look I was so used to seeing. "You have no idea," I answered as Brian moved me effortlessly around the dance floor. I wasn't aware he was such a good dancer. Contrary to Jessica's date, Clint Bass. Even though she was several couples away from us, I could hear her yelp of pain when Clint stepped on her foot. I laughed as she shoved at him to dislodge him from her foot.

  Brian twisted his head so he could see what I found so funny. "I can't believe Jessica agreed to go out with Clint," he said. I nodded my head in agreement. Clint was nice and all, but he was quiet and studious while Jessica was the complete opposite in every way.

  We watched as Clint attempted to twirl Jessica across the floor. His grip on her slipped, making her collide with another couple. Jessica's apology was more of a grimace as she made her way back to Clint, who we could hear apologizing profusely to her.

  "Neither can we, but I think she really likes him."

  Brian's eyebrows shot up with surprise. "No shit?"

  "She denies it, but look at her. Have you ever seen her so docile? Normally she'd be on her tenth dance partner by now. She's been dancing with Clint since we all got here," I said as Zach and Mackenzie joined us on the dance floor. Mac smiled at me as she looped her arms casually around Zach's shoulders.

  "So the underdog gets the girl," Brian mused in my ear, tightening his hold on my waist and pulling me fractionally closer. My chest came into contact with his and I almost pulled away. Dan was the only one who was allowed to hold me this close. But this was Brian, Dan's brother. He was practically family to me. This was his way of giving me a chance to enjoy prom; that was all.

  My body relaxed against his as I tightened my hold around his neck. I rested my cheek against his shoulder as we swayed to the music. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck rustling the few hairs that had escaped the elaborate braid I'd had done.

  "Are you trying to steal my girl?" Dan asked, joining us on the dance floor. His eyes were teasing as he tugged me out of his brother's arms and into his own.

  "You got me," Brian said, holding up his hands in surrender and winking at me.

  I laughed as I nestled into Dan's familiar embrace. "Are you finally going to dance with me now?" I asked.

  Dan blanched, making Brian and me laugh again. Dan loved everything music oriented except for dancing.

  "Did I hear that right? Is Dan the Man finally going to show us how it's done?" Zach asked.

  "You wish, bro," Dan said, slinging an arm across my shoulders as Clint and Jessica and the rest of our crew joined us.

  Jessica's eyes shined as she slipped an arm around my waist, linking us together. Mackenzie moved in on her other side with Zach next to her. Tracey slid her arms around Dan's and Zach's waists, closing our circle. Together we forced Dan to dance with us as a group. We laughed as Dan continued to grumble, though he didn't try to pull away. He would tough it out for the group. It was part of a pact we'd all made so many years ago.

  Clint and Brian were left on the outside of our cir
cle looking in.

  It wasn’t deliberate.

  It was just the way it was.

  Seven

  My head bounced off the mat with a resounding thump. Travis grinned down at me. "Damn, girl, you're off your game today. Or are you trying to let me win?" he asked, his grin slipping.

  "You got me," I said, leaping to my feet even though my last trip to the floor had jarred me pretty good. Travis was right. I was off my game today. I could have blamed it being the early hour on a Saturday, but in truth it wasn't like I'd been up half the night partying. After dropping off Brian at the Y, I'd headed home. I'd felt oddly content and even ended up going to bed early, but nightmares had plagued me the entire night. I'd thrown a T-shirt on and some shorts and headed to the gym as soon as it opened. Travis had plans of lifting weights, but I cajoled him into sparring with me instead. I was desperate to take my mind off my dreams and any hidden meanings they may have represented.

  "Well, hell. Here I thought I was finally kicking your ass," Travis said.

  "Sorry, big boy," I said, rubbing my back, which was a little sore from my last tumble. "I'm done stroking your ego; I'm going to hit the showers. Thanks for the workout."

  "I live to please," he said, looking disgruntled. I could have thrown him a bone¸ but where was the fun in that?

  I spent the rest of the day cleaning up my place, and Sunday I left my apartment to do some painting. I threw caution to the wind and decided to drag my art supplies to the park I'd always loved near my parents' house. The park boasted oversized shade trees, walking paths, and plenty of opportunities to sketch people. I'd painted my fair share of trees and flowers during the years, but people were my passion. Catching their emotions with a paintbrush was a challenge, but one I enjoyed. My art would never hang in museums or sell for millions of dollars, but it was the one thing that belonged to me.

  The park was as busy as expected on a Sunday, but I found a shady spot beneath a large tree with low, sweeping branches near one of the walking paths situated near the basketball courts. My plan was to capture a basketball game onto my canvas.