This One’s For You Page 28

  I debated on whether to call her, but I knew I’d never get off the phone if I did. I was just going to have to wait to fill her in on all the details once we got back from break.

  Before I could start to doubt myself, I threw off my covers, got dressed, and headed down the hall to look for Owen. I heard their voices before I saw them. I halted and backed out of view before they could see me. My father and Owen were sitting in the kitchen and were in deep conversation. I tried to steady my quick breaths so I could hear what they were talking about. My breath caught when I discovered the topic of their conversation—me.

  “I know you’re worried, Owen,” my father said. “But believe me when I say this . . . she’s changing.”

  I guess I wasn’t the only one who noticed the sudden change in me.

  “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean,” Owen replied. “She doesn’t need to change. Sure, she has something going on with her. She’s holding something back from me, but I’m okay with that. I’m okay with waiting for her to open up to me. I just can’t help but to feel like that day might never come.”

  “Look,” my father said, sighing loudly, “I’m going to respect my daughter’s wishes and let her tell you. It’s for the best. But I want you to know that the Brennan you know, hasn’t always been like this. She was never closed off. She was the most outgoing, spunky girl I’ve ever known. She was a spitfire, full of life, and never held back how she felt.”

  Owen interrupted. “With all due respect, sir. But she still seems to be that way.”

  “Not like she used to be.” My heart caught in my throat at the sadness in my father’s voice. “She, well, all I’m going to say is that a tragic accident happened last year, and it changed her. She’s just a shell of the person she used to be. She lost her spark, her fire, and her love for life.”

  Tears pricked my eyes.

  “I can’t even remember the last time she said ‘I love you’ and feeling like she actually meant it,” my father continued. A soft sob came from me. I clamped my hand over my mouth, silencing my cry. “It’s ridiculous . . . I know my daughter loves me. But she just doesn’t express it in the same way she used to. She’s closed off everyone. She doesn’t let herself feel anything but pain and guilt. She does a great job pretending that everything is fine, but everyone who truly knows her, knows she’s anything but fine.”

  “Yeah,” Owen replied softly. “I think I know what you mean.” He laughed quietly. “The only time she has ever shown me anything is when she’s angry with me—which happens quite a bit. This week . . . it’s been different. It’s like she’s got one foot in the door, but she’s holding back.”

  They fell quiet for a moment. I almost entered the kitchen when Owen continued talking. “I fell for your daughter almost the moment my eyes met hers. But these past few days, I’ve fallen harder for her. I just don’t know what to do or say. I don’t want to push her. I’ve done that and she didn’t talk to me again until the day she invited me to come up here. Which I’m still trying to figure out why she did that.”

  “Because deep down, my daughter wants to open herself up. She wants to stop pushing people away, she just hasn’t figured out how,” my father told him. “The only person she’s stayed closed to is Damon, but apparently not as close as we all thought. She never mentioned you to him, no offense.”

  “None taken,” Owen said.

  “So you can understand why her brothers acted like that when you showed up here with her.”

  “I do. I have a little sister,” Owen said. “And to be honest, they weren’t that bad. And I feel sorry for the poor bastard my sister brings home one day, because he won’t be getting off the hook so easy.”

  Both of them chuckled loudly.

  “What I’m trying to say is,” my father continued, “whatever it is you’re doing, please, don’t stop.”

  “But I don’t even know what it is.”

  “I don’t know either, but it’s working. Each day you guys have been here, I’ve seen more and more of the girl I used to know, and I don’t want to lose it. Just promise me one thing, try not to hurt my little girl, because if you do . . . I’m afraid we’ll all lose her for good.”

  “That’s a promise I intend to keep, Mr. Daniels.”

  “Please,” my father said, laughing softly, “call me Grant.”

  “Okay, Grant,” Owen replied. “I promise to do everything in my power to make your daughter happy if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Good,” my father said. “Now, how about some hot chocolate?”

  I took a deep breath and wiped the tears away from my face. I listened as my father started to open a cupboard, my opening to enter the kitchen. I squeezed my eyes shut, steadied myself, and then entered the kitchen.

  “What are you two up to in here?” I asked, waltzing in.

  I never seen two men jump so quickly in my life than I did in that moment. My father almost dropped the ceramic mugs he had just pulled out. Owen shot out of his chair and quickly walked over toward me. I sat down on the stool at the bar and took slow breaths.

  I could do this. I could pretend that I hadn’t just overheard my father and Owen talking about me. I could act as if I didn’t hear the pain and heartbreak in my father’s voice, or the worry and fear in Owen’s.

  “Making some hot chocolate, want some?” my father asked, flicking his eyes to Owen briefly.

  Owen slipped his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. I didn’t miss the faint smile that danced across his lips. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Like a baby,” I replied. “And yes,” I said, turning back to my father, “I’d love some hot chocolate.”

  “What time are we heading out to the lake house?” Owen asked.

  The sound of a pot crashing to the floor caused me to jump. I looked over at my father, who waved us off as he knelt down to retrieve it. I caught the way he glanced at Owen as he stood back up.

  “You guys are going to the lake house?” my father asked. “For the party?”

  “Not for the party,” I answered. “We’re going to go after you whip us up some of that delicious, warm drink of yours.”

  I could see that my father wanted to press for more information, but he held back. Owen walked behind me and sat down on the stool beside me. My hands were resting in my lap. He reached over, taking my hand into his. I looked over my shoulder and smiled. He gave my hand a slight squeeze and turned to watch my father.

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked.

  My father broke a brick of chocolate, placed in into a pot, and set it on top of another pot of boiling water. He grabbed a whisk, ready for when the chocolate started to melt. He glanced over toward us.

  “She had to go into the office to finalize some paperwork.”

  “On New Year’s Eve?”

  “You know your mother, always wanting to get a head start on everything,” my father said.

  I laughed softly. We carried on small talk as he prepared the hot chocolate. It wasn’t long before he was setting down steaming mugs in front of us. We finished our drinks as quickly as we could.

  “Hey, Dad, where’s the keys to my car?” I asked, pulling on the coat I grabbed from the closet in the hall.

  My father’s eyes shot up from the newspaper he held, his mouth hanging slightly open, and he stared at me curiously. “Y-you’re going to drive?” he stuttered.

  I nodded. I couldn’t answer him verbally. I hadn’t driven in a year, and my hands were already starting to shake. I had no idea what I was thinking, but I figured now was a good time as any to get back behind the wheel.

  “Hanging on the hook like they always are.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I closed the distance between us. I stood on the tip of my toes, and pressed my lips to his cheek. Turning back to Owen, I smiled, and reached out for his hand. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  I STARED AT the driver’s side door of
my Range Rover, my reflection appearing in the gleam of the black paint. I held the keys in one hand, and the door handle in the other. My heart was lodged in my throat. I struggled to catch my breath, and my body was on the verge of violently shaking.

  “I can’t,” I whispered, to no one in particular.

  I let go of the door and rounded the front end of the car. Owen looked up at me with concerned-filled eyes. I stopped a few inches away from him, struggling to find the words. I held up the keys, handing them to him.

  “You want me to drive?” he asked.

  Owen opened my door for me and I climbed in. He jogged around the car, jumping into the driver’s seat, and turned the key in the ignition. I reached up to the visor, pressing the button on the garage opener, and he eased out slowly.

  He came to a stop as we reached the bottom, the gates opened, and he didn’t move the car forward. He glanced over at me. “Which way?” he asked. “You’re going to have to direct me as I drive.”

  “Go left,” I said, managing to find my voice.

  Sitting in the car—my car—was bringing back a lot of memories. All the car rides, all the adventures, all the times that Reagan and I had shared. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window. The car slowed as he came to a four-way stop.

  “Brennan?”

  I opened my eyes and looked over to him. “Keep going straight.”

  For the rest of the car ride, the only conversation we had was when I gave him directions. Twenty minutes had passed, and I jerked upright in my seat as we turned down the all too familiar bumpy road of my nightmares.

  “Stop!” I shouted.

  I took Owen off guard and he quickly slammed on the brakes. I slammed back against my seat. I felt his eyes on me, but I kept staring straight ahead. Staring down the very road that changed my life a year ago today.

  I saw a white BMW speeding down the road toward us and squeezed my eyes shut. I heard tires squealing as they crunched against the gravel. There was a loud crashing noise, metal crunching, and a loud splash just up the road. I could feel the knives stabbing my lungs as they filled with the freezing cold water. I tried to scream, but nothing was coming out.

  I felt someone shaking my arm, shouting my name, but it sounded distant. He was so close yet so far away. I flailed my arms, kicked my legs, trying to propel my body toward him. Every movement I made seemed to be pulling me away from where I was trying to go. I looked around, seeing only blackness in front of me.

  “Brennan!” Owen shouted my name. I was almost there, just a few more feet and I would reach him. He would pull me from my tomb in the water.

  Something patted my cheek, nothing too hard, but it was enough to snap me back to reality. I gasped for air and blocked the blinding sun with my arm. I blinked my eyes for several seconds, trying to adjust to my surroundings. When my vision cleared, a head full of blond hair and bright green eyes were the first thing I saw.

  I released a sob, throwing my arms around Owen’s neck. My tears soaked his shirt in a matter of seconds, my body involuntarily shaking. My throat grew sore the harder I cried.

  Owen held onto me tightly, rubbing his hands up and down my back. He kissed the top of my head fiercely, never removing his lips from me. I pressed my ear against his chest, trying to tune out the sound of my cries by listening to the bray of his heart.

  “I’m right here,” Owen whispered gently. “I’ve got you.”

  He started to rock us back and forth, continuously comforting me. “It’s okay . . . it’s okay . . . it’s okay,” he repeated over and over again.

  It took a lifetime before my sobs faded. The tears continued to stream down my face, wetting my cheeks, and yet I remained quiet. I felt hollow. Like I had nothing left inside me. Once again, I felt like an empty shell of a person. Only this time, instead of doing nothing, I was going to rebuild myself. The slate was clean, and it was time to start over.

  I broke free of Owen’s hold. He cupped my face, wiping my tears away with his thumb. He kissed my cheek as another tear fell. He stared into my eyes, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded and reached for the door.

  We were walking from here.

  I climbed out of the car without saying anything to Owen. I heard the sound of a door shutting after mine and knew he was following suit. I paused at the front of the car, my feet unwilling to move forward, but I fought through it, and pressed ahead.

  A few feet from the car, Owen took my hand into his. I gripped his tightly, afraid to let ago, for if I did, I might lose it again.

  If this road hadn’t been the place of a horrible accident, I would’ve stopped to enjoy the scenery. Lush trees lined the road to my right. Pieces of sunlight broke through the limbs and illuminated the grass beneath it. To my left, trees were sparse, but several types of bushes were prominent. Behind that was the lake, and I avoided looking in that direction.

  We kept walking along the road for nearly a mile before I halted to a stop. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, and I thought I was going to be sick. I felt my hands getting clammy, shaky, and closed my eyes. My breaths came in rapid succession as I felt the onset of an anxiety attack.

  I reached for the locket—and charm—squeezing it with all the might I could muster. Owen closed his hand around mine, caressing the top of it with his thumb, but he didn’t say anything. I tried to think of something to calm me down, but it was pointless. I knew fluffy little kittens and blue nail polish weren’t going to cut it this time.

  A light breeze picked up, and I was surrounded by Owen’s scent. I inhaled sharply, focusing my attention on it. Slowly, but surely, I felt my pulse returning to its normal race. My breathing steadied itself, and my grip on my necklace was letting up.

  I didn’t have to try and guess if we were in the right spot. The half-split rotted tree, hanging on merely by splinters, was a clear indicator we had reached our destination. As I lead Owen across the gravel, I could still see traces of broken fiberglass mixed into the road.

  I stepped off the road, onto the grass, and started down the taunting hill. It wasn’t Mt. Everest by any means, but it was still a bit of a trek. Halfway down the mountain, I spotted a broken side mirror poking out from a bush. I turned my head away, tears stinging the corner of my eyes.

  We came to the edge of the cliff, right where the hillside dipped into a thirty-foot high cliff. I closed my eyes, remembering how I felt as the car teetered back and forth before falling over. I squeezed Owen’s hand tightly, trying to will the memory away.

  “This is where it happened.” I whispered, opening my eyes but refusing to look at him. I inhaled a shaky breath and tried to speak before my voice broke. “Th—”

  Owen pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. “Take your time.”

  I stood there for a few minutes before pulling out of his embrace. I walked a few feet away before sitting down in the grass. I picked at it, tearing it up in my hands, and tossed it to the side. Owen remained silent as he took a place next to me.

  “It was New Year’s Eve, or New Year’s Day, whatever time it was. I can’t remember now,” I said, reaching for the locket again. “Ronnie, the guy at the house the other day, was having a party. It had been raining all day, making the road rougher than usual. I didn’t want to come, but Reagan begged me to.”

  I paused, tilting my head back as a breeze swept over us. I picked up a small rock and chucked it over the edge.

  “The agreement was she’d only have one drink when we first arrived, and then stop so she could drive us back to my house. I had insisted on being the DD that night, but she said I needed a night of fun. I needed to let loose and stop being the responsible one all the time.”

  A tear fell from my face. It only took the one before the rest followed endlessly.

  “I-I . . .” My voice broke again. I took a breath, clamming myself down. “Reagan had more than one drink, though. I’m not sure how many she actually had, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I tried to tell
her that we should call one of my brothers to come pick us up, or that we should crash in one of the bedrooms, but she was persistent about being fine to drive. Against my better judgment, we got into the car . . .”

  I hesitated again before going on.

  “The music was turned up louder than it should’ve been. The both of us clearly intoxicated and focused more on rocking out to music than the road. The next thing I remember is Reagan losing control of the steering wheel and slamming on the brakes. The car fishtailed . . . .”

  I heard Owen suck in a breath beside me. He wrapped his arm around me, and I snuggled into him. I needed his comfort to get through the next part.

  “I think we flipped three times before hitting the tree next to the road . . . then we started rolling down the hill. I remember closing my eyes, and the sounds of our screams filling the air. When the car finally came to a stop, I was afraid to open my eyes. The longest five minutes of my life happened then. Finally opening my eyes, I saw the car was balancing right there on the cliff.” I pointed to the edge.

  “I started to move slowly, unbuckling my seat. Reagan was unconscious next to me, and I tried to shake her awake, but the movements were tipping the car ever so slightly. I tried to open my door, but it wouldn’t budge. I remember mustering up as much strength as I could, my body aching everywhere, and broke out the window. I was almost out of the car when it went falling over the side.”

  A soft cry rose in my throat. I pushed myself off the ground. I had to keep busy in order to keep going. I started to pace around the grass, kicking little rocks as I went. Owen stayed on the ground, but turned to see me.

  “I landed about twenty feet away from the car. I saw it sinking under the water. I realized Reagan hadn’t resurfaced, and that she was still out. I looked toward the car, inhaled a deep breath, and submerged myself under water. I reached the passenger side window, squeezed back through it, and there was just enough light from the moon to see her floating there . . . unmoving.”