Always Us Read online

  Shayla

  IT’S BEEN FIVE LONG, PAINFULLY hard days since we lost Pops. I have spent the past five days watching Trey become a ghost of himself; drinking, sleeping, and barely eating. He’s a shell of a man now.

  I took on the responsibility, willingly, to plan the funeral and take care of everything. Including drives to check on Kathy to make sure she’s okay. Her suffering is deep, but she’s fighting to live day to day to make sure Trey can have all the time needed to grieve his tremendous loss. This shocked me; really, she doesn’t need to fear that her grief isn’t just as important. She and Charles were a match made in heaven, the kind of love people write stories about.

  Kathy helped a little with preparing the funeral, but I insisted that I take most of it on, so she could take some time to come to terms with her loss as well.

  “Hey, baby girl, how you holding up?” I look up from my place in the bathtub and see Lana walking into the bathroom—her bathroom, to be exact.

  “Hey, sorry, I needed to take a bubble bath, but Trey’s finally asleep and I didn’t want to wake him up. Hope you don’t mind that I’ve taken up residence.”

  “No, you’re good.” Pausing, she looks at me with a pitiful sorrow. “How are you?” she asks sincerely, her hand running through my damp hair. Lana’s been the biggest help, hiring a new girl and managing the boutique all by herself. I wouldn’t have made it this past week if she didn’t do all the things she has. Lana helped with the funeral, as well as Kingston. We united like the tribe we are to protect one of our own. Trey is suffering and we all want to take care of him. That notion warms my aching heart just a bit.

  “I’m okay,” I lie, covering up my deception with the best fake smile I can muster.

  “Cut the crap, Shay. You aren’t okay.” Though she is right—so right—I play the confused fool. I’m not the one who lost my father. Sure, my life isn’t peaches and cream at the moment, but I don’t want to be selfish, especially since Trey is the one going through the worst of times.

  “Why would you say that?” I ask, taking a sip of the wine that I brought in with me.

  “Because you have gone through a lot this past week, that’s why. So spill it.”

  I continue to bluff. “I’m fine, Trey lost his father, nothing I’ve gone through can compare to what he’s going through,” I state honestly, concentrating on the bubbles floating around me.

  “Shay, you were attacked, we lost the investment, and you lost Pops, too. We all did that night; don’t be afraid to say you’re hurt, too. I’m not Trey, you can let it out.” All those points are true; however, she’s missing one. One thing I haven’t told anyone plays on loop in the back of my mind, where I wish I could keep it forever. I was diagnosed with PCOS, but also, I have small, benign tumors growing alongside the cysts. I found out a few days ago and it’s been killing me to keep it a secret. Lana places her hand on my shoulder, reminding me to answer her.

  “Yeah…” It’s all I can say; my mind is more filled with worry while my heart breaks daily seeing my best friend—my boyfriend—suffering. It isn’t easy. Trey’s normally styled hair is now in constant disarray. His scruff has turned into a small beard. He spends his time drinking and sleeping away the day, shutting everyone else out. I think that’s the worst part, we’ve barely had a conversation since the night we walked out of that hospital. Emotionally and physically distant being the sum of who we are at the moment.

  “Yeah, what?” Lana asks from her spot on the floor next to the tub, her arms on the ledge and her head lying flat against them, tilted to look at me.

  “I’m so heartbroken for him, L. It’s not fair. He has no one left. I’m having a hard time thinking that someone so great can be dealt such a heavy hand.” When his mom walked out, he lost her, and now his dad’s gone. Being an only child didn’t leave him much to run to. Nodding in agreement, she lifts her head, reaching her hand out to rub my shoulder once again. Lana gets it; she knows I’m right.

  “What can I do to help you, Shay? I want to make sure that you’re okay and not drowning in all this alone.” I lean forward, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. It’s too late for drowning, this has been a shitty week and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get any better, any time soon. My boat left the harbor and shipwrecked, crashing down to the bottom of the sea. That boat being my crushed heart.

  “Right now, you just being here is the best thing I can think of,” I tell her.

  “I can do that. How is Kathy?” Kathy’s emotionless eyes flash in my head, her heart now hollow and empty. I feel like I’m talking to a robot when I call or show up to her house.

  “Not good. I feel like she’s on repeat. You know, reliving that day over and over again.” I take another sip of my wine, the sweet grape taste traveling over my taste buds and down my throat. I think I’m too heartbroken to get drunk, even if I tried.

  “I bet. I couldn’t imagine losing the love of my life.” Her brows lift and she stares at the bottle of shampoo just to the side of her. Lana’s thinking of Kingston, I can tell. I just feel it. I wouldn’t be able to lose Trey, just as much as she wouldn’t be able to lose Kings.

  “No. It would suck.”

  “Amen. The shop’s doing good by the way, I have a ton of cute things to add on the website.” Her bright smile breaks the heavy; giving me the first genuine smile I’ve had all week.

  “I can’t wait to see them, do you need my help?” I sit up and re-adjust myself. I miss clothes, I miss the store, I miss doing the one thing I love. Right now, I wish I could spend the day lost in the boutique to drown out the misery that has recently become my life.

  “No, you just relax and focus on Trey. He needs you.” Trey does need me, he needs me to be strong and carry him through this. I just hope my back and heart are strong enough to carry the load.

  “Thanks, Lana. I’d be lost without you.”

  “No shit, the whole world would be lost without me,” she jokes, and I flick some water at her, splashing her cute face. I love Lana James.

  She smiles and we spend some time talking about the crazy customers she had come in today. I laugh at a few, thankful that I’m able to shut out the world for a while.

  I CHANGE INTO MY WHITE silk nightie and brush out my wet hair before heading back to the bedroom. The room is dark except for the city lights shining through the window. You’ve got to love Seattle; it never sleeps and provides a beautiful backdrop.

  I look to Trey’s sleeping form where he’s laid out on his back, taking up the entire space. The blanket is bunched at his waist and his empty scotch glass is beside him, wrapped in his hand. I feel my heart pinch with pain, I hate that he’s drowning his sorrows in booze; it only adds another vice for him to grow distant from me.

  Like I told Lana, we haven’t talked, touched, or done much of anything since Pops passing, and as much as I try to understand, it sucks being so physically close but yet emotionally distant with the person you love. I want him to open up to me, tell me how much he’s hurting. Lose himself in the comfort of me.

  I lean over his body and carefully grab the glass, making sure I don’t wake him. Since he’s taking up the entire bed, I decide to sleep on the couch tonight. I’m exhausted and have only had a grand total of seventeen hours of sleep in the past five days—sleep is calling to me. Sneaking out of the room, I quietly rinse the glass and place it in the sink, too tired to completely wash it. I’ll just add it to my ever-growing to-do list.

  I look at the gold clock above the TV and see it’s only eight o’clock. My heck, it feels like midnight. Going to the door to make sure it’s locked, I jump back when it opens and Kingston walks in with a bag of Chinese food from our favorite restaurant.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Lana called and said you were still up so I wanted to stop by and have some dinner with you,” he says softly, lifting his shoulders in the air.

  My composed self ceases to exist after this, I break. Tears com
e streaming down my face and I fall into his arms, wrapping them so tight around his muscular midsection. I know Lana is behind me because she grabs the food from Kings, places it on the counter, and then resumes her place behind me, wrapping her arms around the both of us. I’m completely encased by support and love, so thankful not only for Lana calling my brother, but for my brother once again proving to be my hero and showing up.

  “Shh. It’s okay, sis. I’m here, it’s all gonna be okay.” I let everything I can’t hold in anymore, release. Maybe Lana had a point, maybe I need to break on someone and let them listen to my pain.

  “You’re my hero, Kingston. I needed this tonight. Thank you for calling him, L,” I babble into my brother’s chest as I continue to weep for all the tragedy that has stumbled into my life—into our lives.

  “You can always call me when you need me, you don’t have to be so fucking strong by yourself all the time, Shay,” he tells me firmly, pushing me away from his chest and locking his gaze on mine.

  Lana just gave me this speech in the bathroom, as if they both planned it for an intervention. Don’t I need to be strong though?

  “I know, I just feel so selfish for even being upset.” Kingston listens to me as he guides me to the couch. He sits on one side while Lana takes her place on the other. Sandwiched between the two, I cry harder.

  “Why do you feel like that?” Kingston looks at me, worried. My heaving is loud, and I feel my every breath fighting to get out, my lungs feeling way too tight.

  “I don’t know, I feel sad over losing Pops, but it tears me up to see Trey so upset and so lost. I told L earlier that he was dealt such a shitty hand and it’s not fair, because he is the greatest person I know. He doesn’t deserve losing his mom and then his dad,” I ramble, laying my head down in Kingston’s lap. Lana grabs my feet, putting them across her knees, her thumb rubbing circles up the center.

  I need to rest my body, all this crying and lack of sleep is giving me the worst headache. Exhaustion is taking drive over my body, and if I go much longer without sleep, I may become a walking zombie with zero control over myself.

  “There’s nothing wrong or selfish about the way you’re feeling, Shay. In fact, if you didn’t feel this way I would then think you were selfish.”

  Kingston does have a point. I’ve been putting so much time and effort into taking care of the funeral and Trey that I haven’t given myself time to mourn my loss.

  “You’re right, I just miss Trey.”

  “I know you do, we all do. But you need to remember, he’s still in there and it’s up to us to make sure he gets through this,” Kingston says, running his hands through my damp hair. I feel like a kid again, he used to always hold me and play with my hair when I cried about whatever it was I needed to cry about. Kingston hit the nail on the head with that one, it won’t be easy and times are hard now, but I promised Trey I wouldn’t leave his side, and most importantly, that I wouldn’t let him feel alone.

  “True.” I nod.

  Just like I almost told Lana in the bathtub, I almost tell Kings—almost—about the news I received from the doctor. My mind starts to wander back to that day, the memories so vivid it feels like I’m still in that room. I want to push the images of that day away, but the soothing rubs on my head and feet and the warm comfort from my brother and Lana, has me slipping into a dark day dream.

  The white walls are lined with gray cabinets, looking every bit of a hospital room. I was able to get away from Trey for an hour—thankful he finally fell asleep. He hasn’t slept in over forty-eight hours, not since…since Pops died. I woke up this morning to him curled up next to me, his body asleep but his mind still warped with the pain. It showed on his saddened frown, which he wore still in his sleep. I was just about to fall asleep from my own personal exhaustion when my stomach wrenched me out of bed and to the floor in agonizing pain. Trey must have been completely sedated, because the cry that escaped my lips could have woken the dead.

  I had to sit there for a solid twenty minutes before I could move again. I was so scared for whatever was happening; fearful it had to do with Evan’s attack, maybe from the kicks to my stomach with his heavy foot? I don’t know. Just remembering it now hurts me. The doctor told me bruised ribs was the worst of it, but obviously not, because the space between my hips, right where my uterus sits, freaking hurts, and it hurts like it’s striking vengeance on me.

  I rushed to the hospital and told them about my pain; apparently, I have appendicitis. To be sure, they wanted to do more tests, an ultrasound of my pelvis, where the pain was located.

  Now, I’m waiting for the ultrasound technician to come in. The waiting game is the worst. I’ve been completely consumed with taking care of everyone around me that I haven’t had time to worry about the attack. Now, for the first time in this plain hospital room, I’m alone with my thoughts, reminded of that night, hit with the images, the aches and pains.

  I was about to lock the back door when Evan came barreling in, eyes black and his face red in anger. I panicked because just hours earlier, when I told him the deal was off, he almost ripped my head off, calling me terrible names—a tease—a whore—you name it. I was scared, cowering into the corner, afraid to move. I’ve never seen a man, especially a man of power, lose control like that. I was going to tell Trey when I got home, but I never made it there. He came in that door before we closed—angry, demanding me to leave Trey and be with him. Saying he extended his neck to get our piece of shit boutique off the ground—which hurt.

  Our boutique is not a piece of shit, he was just bitter. I know that now. When I told him I don’t want to see him in our store again, and how I didn’t have any feelings for him, so leaving Trey isn’t gonna happen, he pounced. The force of him pushing me had me landing on my back, the air rushing out of me. Winded, I tried to get up, but then he kicked me hard, in my stomach, my ribs, anywhere he could reach.

  I almost crawled close enough to reach my phone that fell from my pocket, but he grabbed my ankles and pulled me under him, there he straddled me and choked me. As I almost blacked out, his lips touched mine, causing me to nearly vomit. I still feel his hands on my neck; the way he squeezed had my vision blurring and my voice screaming out, though nothing but air came filtering out. I was so scared. I saw the devil in his eyes. I flirted with the edge of death that night. Even now I can feel the sensation of bile burning in my throat at the images; my lips burn, feeling like they were touched by poison.

  The door opens and I’m thankful, I don’t ever want to remember that day. Ever. I right myself and regain composure, smiling warmly at the lady emerging through the door.

  “Ms. Donovan, I’m Brooke, I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. You’re having some pain?” She seems sweet, very beautiful, with dark shoulder-length hair and caramel eyes. I immediately settle into an easy comfort with her bubbly presence.

  “Yes, I don’t know why, but I woke up this morning to a shooting pain in my lower stomach, it feels like it’s in my uterus.” She slides the rolling chair up beside me, starting up the screen to the ultrasound.

  “Have you had anything like this before?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have heavy periods and extreme cramping?”

  Thinking back to before I went on birth control, I remember the constant cramping. “I did, before birth control. I would bleed for nine days with constant cramping and had to change my tampon every other hour.”

  “That’s no good, sweetie. I’m sorry. When was your last period?”

  I try and think back, unable to pinpoint my last cycle. It was before I slept with Trey.

  “It’s been almost two months.” Crap. I haven’t had a period, could I be pregnant? Holy cow, I can’t believe I didn’t notice this sooner. I’m on the pill, sure, but they don’t always work…

  “Are you sexually active?”

  My core clenches at the mention of sex. God, I’m like a teenager.

  “Yes.”

  “How often are yo
u engaging in intercourse?”

  My cheeks flush as she acts completely unfazed by her intrusive question. I wince when she spreads the cold gel over my lower stomach.

  “Usually, three to four times a week. Sometimes more.” I sound so childish, like she’s my mom and I’ve been caught with my tail between my legs. I look up and she’s smirking, catching on to my obvious discomfort.

  “Okay, I’m going to run this over your lower stomach and see if we can find out what that pain was. Are you still experiencing any pain?” She moves the wand over my stomach, pushing hard. It hurts when she pushes.

  “It’s tender. Really tender.” Pushing harder, the tender feeling turns into a sharp pain. I wince.

  “I know it hurts, I have to push hard, I can’t seem to get a clear picture.” I stay quiet and endure the pain, hoping she’ll find the damn thing so the torture can stop.

  Her face gives everything away, she looks like she’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear, spiking my heart rate. What the hell is it?

  “Okay, looks like you have a tilted uterus, so we’re going to need to use the transducer and insert vaginally to see what’s going on.”

  “Is that bad, a tilted uterus?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, the doctor will need to be the one to confirm, but we need to see what’s going on first and once we do we can figure out if it is or not.”

  How many times does she tell a woman this? How is she not even fazed when telling me? I’m freaking out, her answer didn’t bring me any reassurance. My freak out is interrupted and my eyes bulge from my head when she pulls out what I’m assuming is the transducer.

  What the hell is that thing? The long tool looks like a long, thin dildo, an angry one! Sure, Trey is gifted and can fill me up like nothing else, but this thing looks alien-like. I’m sure if she enters that thing, it will break me. Promise you that.

  “Don’t look so scared, sweetie, you’re sexually active so it shouldn’t hurt too much.” Her attempt at easing me fails, that things looks dangerous. I don’t care if I’ve had sex, she’s coming at me with a pole, and she thinks I should be calm? How would she feel if I was coming in hot on her with that thing?