Beautifully Shattered

“She passed out on the couch. We tried to wake her, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to stand on her own two feet. LOGAN and I decided to just let her sleep here, instead of trying to get her back to her place when she was PASSED OUT,” Co

I can’t help the little giggle that escapes. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from groaning. What did Jax expect? For Co

I don’t understand why Jax is so angry; he knows nothing between Co

“What happened to her?” he slurs.

It’s unmistakable that he’s drunk. I check the digital alarm clock. I’ve been passed out for a little over three hours. Co

“What do you mean what happened to her? I just told you she fell asleep. Would you like to know the exact time? Or what part of the movie? Maybe instead of hounding me, you should be sleeping it off.”

I think Jax tries to whisper but fails. “How is she?”

Usually his raspy voice sends my blood into overdrive. It still does but for a different reason. Instead of turning me on like it usually does, I’m pissed off. Who the heck does he think he is? He can’t disappear from my life and ask questions about me. If he wants to know how I’m doing, then he can grow a pair and ask me himself.

“Why don’t you ask her for yourself tomorrow?” Co

Jax says something, but in his drunken state I can’t make out the words. I nearly groan out loud, frustrated that I can’t understand what he’s saying and that I care enough to want to know.

Co

There’s shuffling and I know Co

I hear more shuffling outside then Jax pleading. “Please! I just . . . I need to see her, I won’t wake her up, I promise.”

“This is a mistake, Jax. You need to leave her alone.”

“I can’t.”

“Then stop playing games. She deserves better.”

“I know.”

Minutes tick by before Co

That’s my only warning before I hear the click of the door opening. I feign asleep, hoping that Jax can’t tell I’m awake. My whole body feels on fire, just knowing he’s so close yet so far away. When he halts at the edge of the bed, my heart is thumping, ready to jump out of my chest.

What I wouldn’t give to open my eyes and watch him as he’s watching me. When his fingers brush over my face, it takes all of my willpower not to lean into his touch. I’m pathetic. He traces my cheeks, then slowly he runs his fingers through my hair, like he used to do when we were younger after I patched him up. My breath catches as he brushes his lips across mine.

Thankfully Jax is too drunk to notice. He gives me a lingering kiss on my forehead before leaving. I wait a few seconds to make sure he doesn’t return, but when their voices trail away, I know I’m good. I touch my still tingling lips. What the heck just happened?

I lay awake for awhile. It’s almost four in the morning when I hear Jax leave. I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I forget to feign sleep for Co

Co

“I know, I wish I knew what was going on with him.”

I scoot over in bed and pat the space next to me. He climbs in and raises his arm so I can cuddle into him. I feel mentally exhausted.

“Me too.”

I don’t say anything and relax into Co

“How much did you hear?” Co

“Enough.”

He lets out a deep breath but doesn’t say anything. He gives me a reassuring squeeze. I drift off to sleep in the comfort and safety of Co

I’m not go

After work I spend the entire day searching for the perfect present, but it’s tough choosing something for Logan. He has more money than sense and whenever he wants something he goes out and gets it, which makes buying presents for him an impossible task. After spending two hours with no luck, I give up. I won’t find anything at these stores. I return to my apartment, considering the entire trip back if I should buy him football tickets to his favorite team. Crap! I can’t do that, that’s what I got him last year.

Ugh, times like these is when I could ask my mom’s advice. She was the best present-giver in the entire world. And then it hits me, I know what will be the best present for my brother. With a bounce in my step, I rush into my spare bedroom. When I’m standing outside the closet I take a few deep, calming breaths, knowing that I need to do this even though it seems like the worst idea right now.

Pulling open the doors to the closet, I see the box from my old life on the bottom shelf. I approach the box with shaky legs. I sit in front of it, but make no move to reach for it, not yet. I’m too afraid of what the memories will do to me. I hate that I know I need to do this. This is the only box I have from my old life. After the accident, this is the sole thing that I brought with me to New York. I’ve never been able to open it, and never been able to depart without it either. I have no idea what happened to everything else I owned. Logan took care of everything because I couldn’t. I was too weak.

Closing my eyes, I blindly reach out for the box and trace the pattern in the oak lid. I trace over the seashell imprints my mother had made. Then, I trace over the ocean carvings across the length of the lid. I finally open my eyes and stare at the keepsake box my mother created for my sixteenth birthday. A year before they died.

I carry it back to my bedroom and rummage through my jewelry box for the key. After shuffling around a ridiculous amount of earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, I finally find the key with my watch collections. I hold it up as if I just won a marathon and the key is my prize. I walk over to my bed with the box, count to ten slowly, then count back from twenty, trying to gain the courage to open it. With nervous hands, I slowly unlock it.

I push the knickknacks out of my way so I can locate all the pictures. I find a stack with a pink ribbon around them, indicating my favorite photos of Hadley. I set those back in the box and rifle through the stack with the blue ribbon, Logan’s stack. Knowing exactly which picture will be the perfect one for Logan’s present, I quickly thumb through them. I pass the cliche ones of him as a baby and even a toddler. When I get to the pictures of his soccer days, I slow down, knowing I’m close. After about ten more pictures, I find the one I’m seeking.