Page 37 of Broken Pieces
Ivy must have seen me get out of the truck because I hear the diner door open. “What the hell was that all about?” She asks as she picks up one of the bags from the sidewalk.
“Just a misunderstanding.”
She gives me a look like she doesn’t believe me but leaves it alone as we walk inside. I notice the Sergeants are still here. The last people I want to deal with. I am sure they just saw that ordeal and I can only pray they didn’t know it was Brooks in the truck. I really don’t want more rumors about me being spread.
* * *
That asshole didn’t pick me up.
I spent five hours at the diner helping with tables as I waited for him to come back. I had to deal with the demeaning words of the Sergeants. The rumors they were spreading about me. I don’t know how they found out about Logan, but sure enough, they said he tried to kidnap me and its karma for destroying the innocent life of Tyler. Ivy told me to go into the kitchen, but I forced myself to stand up to them.
Now here I am sitting at a table staring out the window waiting for a ride that I know isn’t going to show up. Summer called me saying Brooks got home an hour ago without me and wanted to know if everything was okay. I told her Ivy needed extra help and that I would let her know if I needed a ride.
“You ready to go?” Ivy asks me.
I snap out of the thoughts swirling through my brain and nod.
The drive to the farm is silent. My thoughts going back to the conversation with Brooks and the gossip from the diner. Brooks is right. I can find drugs here and sometimes the pull is strong enough for me to go find them. Especially after thinking about Tyler. He was my first love. He saved me just as much as I saved him. But when I made that stupid decision to go to that party, I didn’t think it meant I would lose him.
I thank Ivy as I jump out of her truck and head into the cottage. I go straight to the cabinet where I know Brooks keeps his whiskey and I drink straight from the bottle hoping it erases thoughts of Tyler.
I can feel the anxiety building in my chest, the sudden oncome of wind in a storm. I do what I can to calm it down, the burn of whiskey not strong enough to calm the raging waters. I drink until I pass out knowing all too well the nightmares won’t stay away.
* * *
The smell of fresh grass and bergamot permeates my nose. I feel like I am floating through the air. I wrap my arms around something hard when I realize it’s Brooks’ body. He is carrying me to my room from the couch I passed out on.
He lays me down in the bed. “I am sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have left you.”
I mumble out a few choice words about him being an asshole.
He responds with, “You owe me a bottle of whiskey.” And then walks out of the room.