Page 70 of Chasing Xander
Wiping her face, she got out of bed and left her room. She stopped in the hallway and glanced toward the room Xander was in. His door was closed, and the lights were off. What was left of her heart broke. Shaking her head, she tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. She flicked on the light, then stopped. The table was clean, and the few dirty dishes had been placed in the sink. Xander had cleaned up? A small sob slipped past her lips, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.
Taking a deep breath, she blew it out slowly. All he’d done was clean up. It wasn’t a big deal. She flexed her fingers and took another deep breath before rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. There had to be something in the house that would distract her. After all, eating her feelings was the best way to get rid of them, right? Ice cream. She needed ice cream, even though she knew there wasn’t any. She opened the freezer. There, in a white box, was the top layer of her high school graduation cake, the one thing she hadn’t thrown away when she cleaned out the refrigerator before she left for college. She carefully took it out and peeked through the cellophane circle on the top of the box. It was a small round cake with white icing and multicolored flowers decorating the edges. In the center was written:Do Great Things.Kylie shoved the box back in the freezer, slammed the door shut, and rested her forehead against it as the memory of that night swept over her.
“You’re saving the top of my cake?” Kylie tilted her head and watched as Nammy Joyce put the box in the freezer. “Why?”
“Because it’s a reminder of all you’ve overcome to get where you are.” She turned to face her. “And when you come home from college next summer, we’ll take it out and eat it.”
She laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to do that with a wedding cake? Eat it on your one-year anniversary?”
“Yes, but there’s no rule that says you can’t do it with other things, too.”
Kylie scrunched up her face. “A year-old frozen cake? Won’t it be gross?”
Nammy Joyce’s familiar cackle filled the kitchen, and she shook her head. “Honestly, child, I don’t know about you.” She sat at the table and took Kylie’s hands. “You’re destined for great things, Kylie. You’re a fighter, and there’s nothing in this world that can stop you once you put your mind to something.” She patted her hands, stood, and kissed the top of her head. “I’m incredibly proud of you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her throat clogged with emotion.
“Well, it’s been a long day, and this old lady is tired. Good night.”
“Night, Nammy Joyce. Love you,” she called as her grandmother disappeared from view.
Kylie’s breath caught. Twisting around, she slid her back down the fridge and landed on the floor with athump. She hugged her knees to her chest and cried. Her nerves were raw, exposed, aching, the pain tearing through her, magnifying her sobs.She can’t be gone. She can’t.Her shoulders shook, and her body jerked as she fought to catch a breath.
I can’t do this.She pulled her knees closer, squeezing them so hard her arms went numb as she rocked back and forth. At least that pain made her forget the black hole devouring her heart and soul. She needed to make the pain stop, to be able to forget, to silence her thoughts.
She needed a drink.
Scrambling to her feet, she once again tore through the cabinets and then the pantry. Nothing. Not a drop of alcohol anywhere, not even a bottle of celebratory champagne. Her heart raced, and her hands shook. Just one drink. That’s all she needed to dull the pain. Maybe Nammy Joyce had something stashed in her room. Kylie rushed upstairs and searched through all her grandmother’s drawers, which were mostly empty because Nammy Joyce’s stuff had been taken to the nursing home when she’d moved there. She turned her attention to the closet, but the sight of the bare hangers froze her in place. Arms hanging limply by her sides, she stared at the nothingness.
What am I doing?This was how it had started with her father…
He carried her upstairs and into her room, just like he’d done every other night. Easing her down onto the bed, he pulled the covers over her, smoothed the hair back from her face, and placed a kiss to her forehead. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.
“I miss Mommy,” she cried.
“So do I, baby girl. So do I.” He pulled away, and his eyes were damp. “You go to sleep now, okay? Daddy needs to take care of a few things, but I’ll be back soon. You stay right here.”
She nodded, but all she really wanted was for him to stay with her until she fell asleep. But he got up and left, closing her door. The sound of the latch made her heart jump. She pulled the blankets over her face and cried until her little body couldn’t handle it, and she fell asleep, exhausted.
Hours later, the sound of a table crashing to the floor startled her awake. Eyes wide, heart racing, she jolted upright in bed. “Daddy?”
“Cock-sucking, mother-fucking, dirty sonofabitch…” There was another loud crash and then more cursing.
Slipping out of bed, she snuck down the hallway to her parents’ room. The door was open a crack, and she peeked inside. Her father was ripping all of Mom’s dresses off the hangers, flinging her clothes out of the dresser, and throwing her jewelry boxes against the wall. Each crash made her cringe until she was a shrunken ball in the hallway.
Crash!
He grabbed their framed wedding picture and beat it against the edge of the vanity,shattering it and all of Mom’s makeup and perfume. He attempted to reach for another picture, but he wavered and fell over. Tears streamed down Kylie’s face as fear and horror and sadness warred inside her. What was wrong with Daddy? Why was he acting like that? Legs shaking, she pushed to her feet and ran to the home office at the opposite end of the hall. She clutched the phone and retreated to her room, where she hid in her closet, behind her big box of stuffed animals, and called Nammy Joyce. She would know what to do. She always did.
That was the night she’d lost her father, too.
Kylie’s eyes filled with more tears, and her vision blurred. She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands. For the first time in her life, she understood why her father was drunk all the time, why he chose to avoid life and all of his responsibilities. It had to be better than the constant, jagged pain of dealing with such a devastating loss.
“Kylie?”
The sound of Xander’s voice made the very last shred of her control snap. “Oh God,” she wailed. “I can’t… She’s gone… I—I…”
In the next instant, his arms were wrapped around her, and she was cradled against his hard, warm chest. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
