Can't Go Back Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Once we made it to the college, the week flew by. During the day Jillian and I walked around campus, toured the city, and got her dorm set up the way she wanted. Evenings were spent binging on Netflix shows and on my giving Jillian pep talks. With my looming departure, Jillian was more on edge. I’d only planned to stay a few days, but when she asked me to stay until her roommate arrived, I couldn’t say no.

  And then I’d run out of days. One evening was all we had left.

  Leaning against the bar, waiting for our beers, I watched her from across the room. Twelve years of watching out for that girl, and tomorrow I’d officially be off duty. It fucking hurt.

  Sleeping next to her each night this week, I’d had to recall lots of baseball stats. I deserved an Oscar.

  And then there was Erin. She kept me honest. Once I got home, things would be better. She was a great girl. I really liked her, and I hoped she’d fill the void in my life once Jillian was gone.

  “Here, man,” the bartender said. “Put it on your tab?”

  I turned around and grabbed the two bottles he’d pushed in my direction. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Beers in hand, I walked back to Jillian and plastered a happy-ass grin on my face, even though I was dying inside.

  Jillian looked up at me with her warm brown eyes and smiled. “Thanks.” She held out her hand, waiting for me to pass over her beer.

  I looked at the bottles and then back at her. “Oh, did you want one?” I loved giving her shit.

  She cocked her head to the side and glared at me. “Yeah.” She pointed to my right hand. “That one.”

  I laughed and held it out to her, but just beyond her reach. “This?”

  Leaning over the table, she wrapped her hand over mine and pulled the bottle free. “Thanks.” She flashed me a smile and took a long pull.

  “Damn, that one was mine,” I said, frowning. “This was yours.” I held up the beer in my left hand and dragged the chair from underneath the table.

  She took another drink, raising an eyebrow. “Sucks to be you.”

  She isn’t lying.

  “What time is your—” I was caught off guard when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I set my beer down and pulled my phone out. Erin’s picture smiled back from the caller ID. I pressed “Decline” and stuffed the phone back into my pocket.

  “Who was that?” Jillian asked.

  “Erin. I’ll call her later. When’s your roommate supposed to get here?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “Tomorrow night,” she answered, then gave me a sidelong glance. “Did you just send her to voice mail?”

  “What?” I shrugged. “I said I’d call her back later.” I offered Jillian the most innocent smile I could conjure. “This is our last night together, you have my undivided attention.”

  “I appreciate that, but I don’t think it’s smart to send your girlfriend to voice mail. You’re going to be in trouble,” she sang.

  “Me and trouble,” I said, crossing my fingers, “we’re like this.” I winked at her and took another drink.

  “Well, that’s the damn truth.” She smiled.

  “Speaking of truth, how ’bout we play a game?” I grinned, remembering all the times we used to play that god-awful game she’d made up when we were kids.

  “What game?” she asked, scrunching her face up.

  “Do you remember how to play phony baloney?” I asked.

  Jillian took a drink of her beer and nearly spit it out when I said the name. “Oh my goodness, I do!” she yelled. “We haven’t played that in ages. What made you think of that?”

  I shrugged. “Feeling nostalgic, I guess.”

  “If I recall, that really isn’t a game meant to be played in public.” Jillian looked around the bar. “As much as I would love to tickle you to death, I’m not sure this is the place.”

  “As much as I would love to get my ass tickled by you, college girl,” I said, smirking, “why don’t we make the rules a little more grown-up?”

  She leaned forward, intrigued. “What’d you have in mind?”

  “We’ll play the game the way we used to, but instead of the tickling, the loser has to drink instead.”

  “A drinking game?” Her eyes twinkled. “You hate drinking games.”

  It wasn’t that I hated drinking games, I just hated playing drinking games with Jillian. The knowledge that she took antidepressant meds coupled with my deep-seated urge to protect her—even from herself—always overruled the reckless tendencies I usually had. I didn’t know what had prompted me to suggest this, but I’d already gotten her excited, so there was no backing out now.

  “Yes, and if you get silly, I will cut you off.” She couldn’t hold her liquor worth shit. Drunk Jillian was incredibly goofy and completely adorable.

  What am I doing? I can’t leave her here. What if she gets drunk at a party and some asshat takes advantage of her?

  “Griffin.” Jillian called my name, pulling me from my spiraling dark thoughts. “Whatever. I do not get silly.” She smirked. “Are we going to play? I’ll go first.” She bounced excitedly on the chair. “OK, I walked in on my sister and Matt having sex,” she said with a straight face.

  Bullshit. I knew her sister and there was no way in hell Jennifer would have been careless enough not to lock the door. “Phony baloney,” I said confidently.

  Jillian scowled. “Damn, how did you guess?”

  “Seriously? Matt probably has to put it to her through a hole in the sheet. I highly doubt she’d forget to lock the door.” I raised my beer. “Drink.”

  As the grown-up rules stated, if the person guessing answered correctly on a false statement, both players had to drink. “My turn,” I said, swallowing.

  I steepled my fingers, resting my elbows on the table. Since she’d started with a sex-related statement, I decided to keep the theme going. “I walked in on my parents having sex.” I leaned in close and whispered, “Last week.” I delivered the line with my best poker face.

  Jillian gasped. Her eyes searched my face, trying to read me. “Phony baloney,” she said, not sounding too confident.

  I slowly lifted my beer to my mouth, but stopped before I tipped it back. She was wrong; I wasn’t bullshitting. “Drink.” I lowered the bottle and laughed.

  Jillian’s jaw dropped. “What?” she screeched. “Last week?”

  I nodded, smiling. “I stopped by to raid the fridge before heading to my apartment one day last week. When I walked in, the house was quiet, except for the dog going crazy upstairs. I figured Mom had trapped him in one of the rooms and forgotten him. I followed the barking down the hall and opened the door.”

  “Oh.” Jillian clapped a hand over her mouth.

  I sighed. “Oh, it gets worse. I opened the door…” My phone buzzed again. Cursing under my breath, I pulled it out.

  “Erin, again?” Jillian asked.

  I shook my head. “Thor. The guys are going bug-nuts trying to plan the Sig Nu gig without me.” I typed a quick response and hit “Send.”

  “Griff, I’m sorry. I should have never talked you into staying longer. I just…” She trailed off.

  “Fuck them. They can handle shit for a few days.” I waved off her comment and looked at her beer. “Since you got the answer wrong, I can’t take a drink until you do. Bottoms up, Jillibean.” I sat back and stretched my legs out.

  She smiled at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I’d seen that sad grin far too often and it stabbed my heart every time. She picked up her bottle and knocked it against mine before taking a sip. “You going to finish your story?” she asked quietly.

  I took a swig of my beer and continued, “I opened the door and the dog came bounding out. It caught me off guard, and I threw the door open wider and stepped back. The second my eyes lifted from the ground, Mom screamed and dropped onto Dad, pulling the covers over the top of them.”

  “No way,” Jillian said. “Dear God. I am so glad you didn’t tell me that st
ory a week ago. I don’t think I could have looked them in the eye at my going-away party.”

  “It’s funny, Mom still blushes when she sees me.” I shook my head, smiling.

  “And I’m sure there’s no way you’ll let them forget, right?” Jillian smiled. For real this time. Her dark-chocolate eyes warmed, melting away the sadness that had haunted her a few minutes before. That was the smile I’d do anything for.

  “Damn straight.” I killed my beer and slammed it on the table. “I’ve got those two right where I want them.”

  “Your poor parents,” Jillian said, shaking her head.

  Jillian loved my parents and they adored her; she was like a second daughter to them. When we were younger, Jillian had spent more time at my house than at her own.

  “Oh, whatever.” I rolled my eyes and stood, stretching.

  Jillian looked up at me. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to find the bathroom and get another beer. You need anything?”

  Jillian drained the rest of her bottle and smiled at me. “I’ll take another. We aren’t finished with our game yet,” she said, wagging her eyebrows.

  Dear Lord, What did I get myself into? The last thing I’d planned to do was get her wasted. I swallowed my better judgment and said, “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  I woke when I felt the bed shift, but I remained still, not eager to start the day. When Jillian’s door was pulled open, I heard her step out.

  Rolling onto my back, I stared at the ceiling. “Fuck,” I sighed. “Get it together, Daniels.”

  I sat up, thinking about how far Jillian had come. She wasn’t the sad, fragile girl of a few years ago. She was resilient, confident, and ready to carve out her own path. I was so proud of her.

  I kicked off the hideous lime-green comforter she’d bought and went to work gathering my belongings. As I pulled on my clothes and folded the others into my bag, I resolved to follow Jillian’s lead. I needed to set down my own tracks: Mine Shaft, Erin, school…in that order.

  The door was pulled open and I looked over my shoulder. “I’ve been dreading this part since we left Illinois last Friday,” Jillian said, tossing her bathroom things into the closet. Her wet hair stuck to the sides of her face.

  I rose, coming to stand beside her. “Me too.” Her dark eyes were sad. Hugging her to my side, I loosened some of the strands from her face. “I am going to miss you so damn much.” I choked on the words. I’d told myself I wasn’t going to get emotional, but watching her fall apart wasn’t making it any easier for me.

  I wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb, pressing my palm to her face. “Come on, Jillibean. This is too fucking hard when you’re sad. We’ll talk every day. Especially this coming week.” She leaned into my hand and drew in a sharp breath.

  “Promise?” Her voice was thick with tears.

  Brushing her hair behind her ear, I cupped the back of her head and brought her close, kissing her forehead. Lingering longer than I should have, I finally found the willpower to let go. I stepped back and looked her in the eyes. “Have I ever deserted you on that day?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  I hefted my bag off the ground, shouldering it as we walked slowly to the parking lot.

  Standing beside my bike, Jillian sniffled. “I miss you already.” She threw her arms around my middle and squeezed as hard as her small frame would allow.

  My arms went around her and I kissed her forehead. It felt as if a knife had been plunged into my chest. “I miss you, too.” If I didn’t let go now, I feared I never would. A clean break. I swung my leg over the seat and started the engine.

  I reached for her and she put her hand in mine. “We’ll get through this together.”

  “Promise?” she asked, the way she always did.

  I winked. “Forever.”

  She smiled and stepped right up next to me. She lifted my arm and fit herself perfectly to my side. “Where’s your helmet?” she asked.

  “You know I don’t like those things.” She’d always been on me to get one.

  “Damn it, Griffin.” She pushed off me and stared. Her black-brown eyes screamed. “You better start wearing a goddamn helmet.”

  “I’ll buy one just for you when I get home.” I pinched her chin and smiled.

  She pushed me away. “Damn right you will.”

  “I gotta go, Jillibean. I’ll check in all day. Keep your phone close,” I said.

  Her tears were coming fast and furious now. I hated to see her cry, but I couldn’t fix this. “OK.”

  “Have fun this year. You’re going to rock those design classes.” I hugged her one last time before I took off for Illinois. “Bye, Jillibean.” I waved as I pulled out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Three

  What the fuck, man.” My roommate burst into my bedroom. “You going to sleep all day?”

  Without opening my eyes, I skimmed my hand across the small table beside my bed, latched on to the bulkiest object I could find, and hurled it in his direction. “Get the fuck out, Thor,” I mumbled into my pillow.

  The book I’d thrown landed with a thud and an expletive from Thor’s mouth. “It’s already after one. We have a show tonight, Griff. Get your ass up,” he demanded.

  I rolled onto my back and looked at my pissed-off roommate and bandmate standing in the doorway. “It’s after one?” I asked groggily. “Shit.” Pushing myself up, I scrubbed my hands over my face.

  “When did you get back?” Thor asked, leaning his broad shoulder against my doorframe and crossing his colorfully tattooed arms over his chest.

  Swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I stood up. “Around three a.m.”

  “Well, at least you’re dressed,” Thor said.

  I extended my middle finger in his direction and looked down at the boots on my feet. “I was too tired to change when I got home.” But that was only a half-truth. I had been tired from the eighteen-hour drive, but I hadn’t slept a wink. From the moment I’d fallen into bed, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Jillian. I’d left her there, all alone.

  “Griffin…dude,” Thor shouted, waving his hands above his shaved head. “What’s with you?”

  I shook my head, trying to chase away exhaustion and a heavy heart. “Sorry.”

  “You going to be OK for the gig tonight?” he asked.

  I shrugged off my jacket. “Yeah. I’m going to hit the shower. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “All right,” he sighed, shutting my bedroom door as he left.

  I pulled my shirt over my head and headed for the shower. In the bathroom mirror I caught a glimpse of the cursive script circling my right bicep: Always protects. Always trusts. Always hopes. Always perseveres. Never fails. Out of frustration I flexed my arm and watched the words shift as my muscles contracted. My tattoo felt like a lie; I couldn’t protect her anymore. She was on her own.

  I hated feeling so inept. I needed to get over this. Jillian would be fine. She needed to do this. I showered quickly and made an appointment with my tattoo artist, knowing exactly what would make me feel better.

  Downstairs, in the living room, I heard Thor plunking out chords on his guitar. As I walked through the kitchen, the guitar grew louder; he was really working it over.

  “Save something for the show tonight,” I quipped, coming around the corner.

  Thor played a dissonant chord and left it unresolved. “Better now?” he asked, over the fading atonal triad.

  I shook my head. “No, but I will be. I made an appointment with Angelo.” I leaned against the wall and waited for his reply.

  He didn’t say anything, just resolved the earlier chord.

  “You know I wouldn’t be late for a gig if it wasn’t important. The ink won’t take long, it’s small,” I added.

  “It’s cool,” he said, looking up from his strings.

  “Thanks.” I pushed off the wall and brushed my hair back from my forehead. “I’ll meet
you at the bar.”

  He lifted his chin in acknowledgement.

  “Later.” I turned and walked back down the hallway on my way out the back door, to where my bike was parked.

  The steamy September air barreled into me the second I opened the door, as if I had walked into a steaming wall of water. I mounted my bike and pushed the fuel valve down, tickling the carburetor before I hit the choke blade. My vintage Triumph never failed to calm my nerves. I turned the key in the ignition and tromped on the kick starter. The engine roared to life beneath me. I slipped on my sunglasses and tore out of my parking space.

  * * *

  I pulled the door open and stepped into the tattoo studio. Greeted by the familiar buzz of the artists’ tools, I already felt more relaxed.

  Angelo Castell glanced up from the girl he was working on and nodded. “Hey, Griff.”

  “Angelo.” I nodded in reply.

  “I’m just about finished, have a seat. I’ll be ready for you in a few.” He returned his attention to the client in front of him.

  “Cool,” I said, sitting down on the black leather couch that served as the waiting area.

  While I waited for Angelo, I toyed with the idea of calling Jillian. I’d texted her earlier that morning, when I’d gotten home at around three a.m., but hadn’t talked to her since I’d left her dorm yesterday. Her tearstained face in my rearview mirror was an image I wouldn’t soon forget.

  I traced my thumb over her illuminated name on the screen. I wanted very much to hear her voice, but she was starting a new life on the East Coast, and she needed for me to give her space and let her live.

  “Griff, you ready?” Angelo asked, standing in front of me.

  I clicked my phone off and stood, shoving it into my pocket. “Yeah.”

  He nodded to his workstation and led the way. “I’ve got your sketch over here. You said small, right?”