Losing Brave, page 26
She climbed into the tiny shower stall, sat down next to Poe, and used the arms of the police jacket to pull her close.
Daddy knelt down in front of Cole and looked him over as Poe ran the tips of her fingers across the dozens of photos that hung above her head in the shower.
She swallowed hard. “I haven’t remembered much about my life. Everything’s a fog. But this . . .” She looked back at the photos, pulled one down. It was a photo of Payton and her sophomore homecoming date, Trig. “This isn’t my memory.”
She pulled down a photo of Dylan and Cole at the same dance.
“This is.”
CHAPTER 27
August 13, 2016
6:00 a.m.
The sun rose outside the window, tossing an orange light through the spotless third-story window. The color clashed with the pink walls and left a peach hue hovering in the air, which mingled with the scent of fresh coffee that traveled up the stairs.
The intoxicating wake-up call that roused Payton out of a deep sleep.
She rolled over, rubbed her eyes, and found her sister’s bed empty. “Dylan?” She sat up, scanned the room, but saw no signs of her. “Dylan?” She looked back at her sister’s bed. Stacks of clothes still covered the bedspread. Her laundry from the day before hadn’t been touched.
Payton groaned, and grabbed her phone off her nightstand. “Hey, Siri. Call Dylan.”
“Just confirming. You would like me to call Dylan Brave?”
“Yes.”
“Calling Dylan Brave.”
Within seconds, the phone rang.
“Yeah?”
“Mama’s going to kill you if she finds out you stayed out all night with Cole.” She kicked her covers off her legs with a violent shove and jumped to her feet. “We have to leave for the bus station in less than an hour, and I hear Mama up and moving around downstairs.”
“We wanted to stay up to watch the sunrise. Must’ve fallen asleep. No big deal. Nothing happened.” Dylan sounded groggy and completely unfazed by the fact she’d just spent the night sleeping somewhere other than her bed, or the fact that if Mama found out, she might never sleep anywhere again.
“No big deal? She’ll be up here any minute!” Payton picked up her brush and ran it through her hair in rapid, painful strokes.
“I’m heading home right now. Okay?”
“You best hurry!”
“I am.”
“I will not cover for you, do you hear me? I won’t lie for you.”
“You won’t have to. I’ll be right there.”
Payton hung up the phone, tossed it onto the bed, and quickly threw on a bit of blush and lip gloss. “That girl’s lost her mind.” She checked herself in the mirror and took a deep breath, then rushed out of the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
Mama looked over at her and smiled. “Hey, Payton. You ready for Charleston?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She grabbed a bag of trail mix out of the drawer and tried to act as nonchalant as possible. “I’m packed and ready to go.” She dumped the mix into her hand and threw the bag in the trash.
“I hope that sister of yours is ready too. Knowing her, she’ll be throwing whatever is in arm’s reach into a bag at the last minute.”
Although she’d sworn she wouldn’t bail Dylan out this time, Mama’s tone convinced Payton she had no choice. “Actually, Dylan’s going to bring my stuff, and she and Nana will meet me at the station.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
She gulped. “Starr wanted to meet for coffee real quick. Boy problems.”
“Again?”
“Always.” Payton headed toward the back doorway.
“Payton?”
She turned to her mama. “Yes, ma’am?”
Her mama walked over and kissed Payton on the forehead. “I love you. Have a great time.”
“I love you too. I’ll see you in a few days.” Payton slowly walked around the corner, glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed, then raced to the front door. She opened and closed it back, and then quietly ran up the main steps and to the third floor.
She was barely back in her room before she heard, “Dylan Brave!”
Payton rolled her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Coffee’s ready!”
“Yes, ma’am!” She rushed over to Dylan’s bed, grabbed a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and threw them on over her T-shirt and shorts. “I hope this idea works . . . Hey, Siri, call Dylan.”
“Just confirming. You would like me to call Dylan Brave?”
“Yes.”
“Calling Dylan Brave.”
Payton began placing clothes into Dylan’s weekender bag and waited for her to answer.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m running home.” She was practically out of breath.
“Don’t come home!”
“What, why?”
“I’m covering for you.”
Dylan laughed on the other side of the phone. “I thought—”
“Yes, well, you thought wrong. Meet me at the bus station. That back bathroom.”
“Why there?”
“Because I’m about to go downstairs, make an appearance, and leave this house as you. That’s why. I’ll change back later.”
“You’re too good to be true, Payton.”
“Yeah. You remember that.”
Dylan laughed. “Okay, I’ll see you in a few.”
Payton grabbed a hair tie, swept her hair into a ponytail, then rubbed the lip gloss and blush off her face. “The things we do in the name of love.”
She took another deep breath, collected herself, and then marched right back down the stairs.
“Hey, Mama.” She slurred her words and acted groggier. Typical early-morning Dylan.
Her mama looked her up and down. “Well, hey, Dylan. Need coffee?”
“Always.”
Her mama slid her cup over. “Black. Just as you like it.”
“Awesome. Thanks.” Payton took a sip and tried to hide her disgust at the bitter, rubber-like taste.
“Hit the spot?”
“Yep,” she sighed, attempting to sound satisfied as she grabbed a chocolate-covered granola bar out of the drawer, peeled the wrapper off, and left it laying on the counter surrounded by crumbs.
“Payton just left. Said you were taking care of getting the bags to the station for you two and Nana?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, well . . . I’ve got to get to work.” She walked to Payton and kissed her on the forehead. “Love you. Have a good trip.”
“Love you too.”
As soon as her mama disappeared from the kitchen, Payton fell onto the counter in a heap, took a deep breath, and smiled.
6:45 a.m.
Dylan stopped at the street corner, placed her hand on the wall, and collected her breath. The cove wasn’t very far from the bus station, but running at full speed was exhausting.
She turned and leaned against the wall and looked out across Main Street. The sleepy town was awake, and the streets were already busy. With this many people out and about, she was positive someone had spotted her at the cove with Cole.
She pulled out her phone, opened Twitter, and scrolled through her feed. Surprisingly, there was no mention of her and Cole’s activities. For once, people were more interested in their own lives to bother with reporting on Dylan’s.
Once she could breath and walk simultaneously, she collected herself and entered the Donuts To Go, walked straight to the front, and threw a five dollar bill onto the glass counter.
“Hey, Gert.”
The elderly woman, in her classic diner waitress uniform, glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, Dylan. What’cha doin’ here so early on a Saturd’y?”
“Heading to Charleston with Payton and Nana.” She tried to sound like she was looking forward to it, but wasn’t sure it worked.
“Sounds like fun.” The woman turned and walked toward her with a coffee pot in her hand. “What can I get ya?”
“A glazed, a chocolate-covered, and a black coffee, to go, please.”
“You got it.” She slowly turned back to the work station, pulled out a tall paper cup, and poured Dylan’s coffee.
Dylan returned her attention to her phone and read a text from Cole. You shouldn’t scare me like that. I woke up and you were gone.
She glanced up, watched Gert grab the donut most covered in chocolate and shove it into a paper sack, then texted him back. Sorry. Payton called freaking out. Oops. ;)
Okay. Well . . . have a great time. Call me if you get bored.
I plan on it.
Love you.
Love you too.
“Here ya go.” Gert placed a cup of coffee and bag of donuts on the counter. “Can’t get a receipt to print, but it’ll be three dollars.”
She placed her fingers on the five dollar bill and pushed it to Gert. “Keep the change,” Dylan said with a wink.
“You know I will.” The woman sauntered away with a smile on her face and her hand firmly attached to the coffee pot.
“Can I take the back door? I need to meet my sister out back.”
“Course.”
Dylan walked around the counter, pushed through the kitchen door, and walked through the back room where Gert’s daughter, Millie, and her husband, Dennis, rolled dough. “I love seeing where the magic happens.”
Millie laughed. “You’re welcome to help.”
“Don’t have time. Nana will be waiting for me.” Dylan pressed her hip against the door bar, pushed it, and opened the back door. The bright sunlight almost blinded her, but she somehow managed to open the sack, pull out the chocolate donut, and shove it in her mouth.
“Hey, Dylan.”
Startled, she spun around, nearly spilling her coffee. “Brody? What are you doin’ here?”
He pointed to a Ford Taurus parked in the alley. “Mr. Monroe had a flat tire. Left it here for me to fix last night, but I’m just getting ’round to it.”
She looked him over. He wasn’t wearing his usual work coveralls. Instead, he was in his dressy Wranglers and a polo shirt. The shirt was wrinkled, the collar stained, but it was his eyes that fully gave him away. They were bloodshot, and his eyelids were heavy. “Rough night?”
“Naw. Just havin’ some fun.”
“Bet you were. Here.” She handed him her coffee. “Looks like you need this more than I do.”
He took the coffee and inspected it. “Black.”
“As always.”
“Least you don’t get the frou-frou drink your sister does.”
“On that note, I’ve gotta go. I’m meeting her and Nana at the station. We’re off to Charleston.” This time, she didn’t bother to act excited. She rolled her eyes and gagged after Charleston rolled off her tongue.
“You should be more grateful.” The tone in his voice caught her off guard. It was weighted, full of sudden aggitation.
“Grateful to go to Charleston?” She laughed in an attempt to lighten his sudden sour mood. “It’s not like Europe or anything. But okay, I’ll get a better attitude about it.”
“Some people don’t ever get to leave this town. Ever thought about that?”
She swallowed hard, realizing she’d hit a raw spot. She straightened her back a bit and nodded. “You’re right. Thanks for the attitude adjustment.”
Dylan looked down at the coffee in his hand. She noticed his fingers tighten around the cup, causing the sides to bend inward. “Well, uh . . . you enjoy that coffee, Brody.”
When he didn’t respond, she pulled the glazed donut out of the bag and walked toward the bus station employee bathroom not too far away.
A loud slam of the car trunk brought her attention back to Brody just as she placed the bag on the door handle and turned. Brody was leaned over the trunk, his hands were curled into fists and resting on the vehicle, but his eyes were fully on her.
“See you soon,” she hollered, before stepping into the bathroom.
7:05 a.m.
Acting as Dylan, Payton arrived at the bus station where even for an early Saturday morning, the area was crowded. The bus pulled in, and its passengers milled around the station purchasing drinks and snacks as she led Nana through the crowd and to an empty seat.
Payton looked around the room and noticed the line to the bathroom spilled out the door.
She set all but one of the bags at Nana’s feet. “I’ll be right back, Nana. Just gonna run to the bathroom.”
“Where’s Payton?”
“She’ll be here any minute.” She crouched down in front of her impeccably put-together grandmother and placed her hand on hers. “You gonna be okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t you bother over me. I’ll be jus’ fine, Dylan. You go right on ahead.”
Payton pat her hand and then stood, pushed through the crowd, exited out the side entrance, and walked to the alley. As she approached the little-known restroom, she grabbed the bottom of her red T-shirt and placed it over the grungy metal surface before turning the door handle and throwing open the door.
Dylan sat on the sink edge with a single bite of a donut left in her hand. “It’s about time you got here.”
“Very funny.”
“I’ve been in this disgusting bathroom for fifteen minutes. It stinks to high heaven.”
“Yet you’re managing to eat a donut. Cry me a river.” She reached into her bag, pulled out a maxi dress, and tossed it to Dylan. “Put this on.”
“Why? We’ve got time. You put it on, and I’ll change into what you’re wearing. Let’s just be ourselves.”
Payton shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“What do you mean, ‘no, ma’am’?”
“I just covered for you. You owe me.”
“Payton, please. I’m exhausted. We stayed up and—”
“I don’t want to hear your sob story.” She pulled Dylan off the counter, removed a comb from her bag, pulled the elastic band from her sister’s ponytail, and started brushing her hair. “Nana’s so excited about this trip, she’s going to talk like a mad woman all the way there.”
Dylan’s hair got tangled in the comb, causing her head to jolt backward. “Ouch,” Dylan screeched. “Watch it.”
“If you’d just hold your head still . . .” Payton started to backcomb the roots. “Anyway, the least you can do is listen to her, and Lord knows Dylan wouldn’t ever give her the time of day. So . . .” She backcombed another section, causing Dylan’s hair to grow in volume and look much more like a Payton hairstyle than one Dylan would ever wear. “She’s all yours, Payton.”
Dylan groaned. “Fine. But only on the ride to Charleston. You get her on the way home.” She shoved the rest of the donut into her mouth. A bit of donut glaze coated her lips.
Payton finished Dylan’s hair, dropped the hairbrush into the bag, and then leaned against the sink, careful to make sure her hands didn’t make contact with the disgusting surface. “So . . . what did you two do last night?”
Dylan mimicked her sister and leaned against the sink. “Just talked about our trip next year and stuff like that.”
“You really are in love, aren’t you?”
Dylan’s grin couldn’t have been larger. “Totally. Like I told him last night, he’s dreamy.”
“You’re lucky to have him. There aren’t many guys like Cole. If any.”
“Yep. He’s the real deal.”
“Well, then all the chaos this morning was worth it,” Payton said. “Operation Parent Trap was a success.”
“It better have been.” Dylan walked into the bathroom stall, used the fabric of the dress to cover the dingy handle to shut the door behind her, then pulled her T-shirt off and tossed it over the door, where Payton caught it and threw it into the bag. They did the same for Dylan’s shorts. “You’ve played me enough times to get good at it.”
Payton laughed. “Nobody’s ever caught on.”
7:10 a.m.
The dress was pinned between her fingers and the door, hanging limp, draped along the length of the stall door. The silver latch was broken and barely hung in place by a rusty screw. If it weren’t for the pressure she applied, the door would swing open and reveal her sitting crouched on the toilet with her toes tightly perched over the edges of the horseshoe-shaped seat.
Perilously balanced on the ceramic throne, she was sweltering in the humidity and had her free hand resting on her knee. While it was early in the morning, the temperatures outside the thick, metal bathroom door were already in the high eighties. And inside the bathroom, with no air conditioning or circulation, she was starting to bake.
Although her skin felt clammy, sweat formed all over her body and caused salty liquid to enter her eyes with a sting.
When the lone working florescent bulb flashed off, she sat with her legs numb and her heart racing. The stench of bleach rose from the toilet bowl below her. The only illumination in the room came from the light seeping through the old exterior door frame.
She listened to her deep breathing as the blood ran out of her head, through her body, and pooled in her feet and calves.
She was frozen in place.
When her vision suddenly became tunnel-like and caused her to go wobbly, she tightly closed her eyes.
The darkness behind her closed eyelids was far more comforting than the semi-darkness of the bathroom stall. She could no longer read the vile words scraped into the black-painted metal walls, or see her reflection in the dingy mirror she could just view through a small opening between the stall door and the wall that barely held it in place.
Numerous voices mingled outside the bathroom door, but her throat was so dry, she couldn’t open her mouth to call out.
Her fingers tingled. Her lips turned ice cold.
Dizzy and lightheaded, she slowly lowered a shaking foot to the ground and peered through the slit in the door.
The metal latch fell to the ground.
CLINK.
She blinked. And noticed the dress in her hand, and that she was only partially clothed.
With her mind in a fog, she pulled the dress on, placed the top of her foot on the bottom of the disgusting stall door, and pulled the door open.
