Beautifully Broken 1: If You Stay

“I don’t like it,” she tells me now, referring to Pax.  And me seeing Pax again last night.  “He’s not good for you.  He’s going to break your heart and leave me with the pieces to put back together.”

I stare at her. “We’ve been through this.  Your opinion has been noted.  Is there anything else?”

I stand in front of her desk with my hands on my h*ps and what I hope is a defiant expression on my face.

Madison purses her lips, then shakes her head.

“No.”

“Good.  I’m going to go finish my side-work, then I’m out of here for the day.”

“Can you come back and help tonight?”

I shake my head. “No.  You didn’t schedule me and I have plans.”

She glares.  “With our resident drug dealer?”

I glare back.  “He’s not a drug dealer and it’s not your business.”

“You’re my sister, so it is my business,” she tells me snappily.

I don’t bother to answer, I just head out to the dining room.  Tony is whistling at the bar and I edge up to him, perching on a bar stool.

I smile at his tuneless song.  “Tony, you’re always happy.  Why is that?”

He glances at me as he slices limes.  “Why shouldn’t I be?  I’ve got everything I need and a pretty little wife at home.  My life is good.”

I nod. “Good point.  It’s the simple things in life that are best, right?”

He nods and examines me, his knife paused mid-slice.

“Why the long face, mia bella?  Do I need to break someone’s legs?”

My gaze flies to his and he is laughing.

“Are you talking about Pax?” I ask.  “Has Maddy been trying to get you on her side?”

Tony sobers up.  “I’m on your side. And her side.  I’ll break the legs of anyone who gives you a hard time, period.  Either of you.  It doesn’t matter if it is this kid or someone else.”

I eye him and he seems to be serious. I picture big, gruff Tony swinging a bat and shudder.

“What do you think about ‘this kid’?  You talked with him the other night. How did he seem to you?”

Tony seems to consider that as he leans on his burly arms against the bar.

“It’s hard to say.  He seemed nice, polite.  Respectful.  That says something right there.  At least his jeans aren’t hanging around his ass, like some of the other punks his age.  But he’s got baggage.  You know that already, though.  You always were attracted to things that needed fixing.  Remember that old stray dog you dragged in when you were little?”  He looks up at me and then without a beat adds, “Oh, and by the way, the kid is here.”

“What?” My head snaps up and I turn to find Pax walking through the restaurant door. I have no idea how he knew I was here.

Tony smiles and hums and continues wiping the gleaming wooden bar down as I head toward Pax.

“Hi,” I say as I stop in front of him.  I stare at his face, trying to assess his mood.  Did the therapist appointment go well?  I’m not sure if I should ask.

“Hi,” he answers, then he smiles.  He seems tired, but definitely okay.

“Did you come for lunch?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“Nope. I came for you.”

“For me?” My questions comes out more like a squeak and Pax smiles.

“Yes, for you.  I want to get out of town for a little bit, to clear my mind.  You game?”

I stare at him, into his hazel eyes.  He seems troubled and tired. “You want company?”

“If it’s you.”

If it’s me.  My heart lurches.

I nod, knowing that I would agree to anything now.

“What do you have in mind?”  I ask, knowing that it doesn’t really matter.

He stares down at me.  “The lake hasn’t begun to freeze yet.  I was thinking we could take my boat out one last time before I have it winterized.”

I’m nodding before I really even think about it and head for the door.

Pax tugs on my elbow.  “You might want to get your coat.”

He’s laughing now and I have to laugh too.  I’m an idiot. It’s cold outside, and even colder on the water.  I head to the back and grab my coat, ignoring Maddy sniping about my side-work. 

When I return to Pax’s side, I grasp his arm. I can’t help but notice that my fingers fit perfectly inside the crook of his elbow.

I leave my car at The Hill, and ride with Pax out to the Pier.

“The vomit smell cleaned up nicely,” I observe, as I sniff the interior.  It smells like leather and pine car freshener.  Pax shakes his head.

“Yeah, a good detailing will do that.  I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Probably not,” I answer absently, as I stare out the window.  The wintery trees blur past as we leave The Hill behind us.

It only takes a few minutes to drive to the pier and the boardwalk looks so lonely this time of year.  Most of the boats have already been taken out of their slips for the winter.  It almost seems abandoned here.

Pax heads around to the trunk of his car and after burrowing around for a minute, pulls out a heavy blue parka.

“It’s going to be cold on the water,” he tells me needlessly.  “So why don’t you bundle up in this?”

He helps me pull it on and when I look sufficiently like the abominable snowman, we head toward his large speedboat.

I decide it must have costs thousands and thousands of dollars, but I don’t say that as he helps me climb aboard.  I choose to sit on the floorboard, out of the wind, and he starts up the engine.  The roar slices through the silence and we are quickly puttering out of the bay.

Before long, Pax’s face is red from the wind.  It’s been a mild winter so far, but it’s still frigid out here.  The water makes the wind absolutely bitingly cold.

“We’d better not go too far out,” I yell to him.  “You’re going to freeze to death.”

He rolls his eyes and continues to steer us past the huge lonely buoys that mark the channel-way into the bay.  When we’re out in open water, he finally cuts the engine and the silence seems enormous.

He drops down onto the floorboard next to me.

“You’re right,” he says, leaning into me. “It’s f**king cold.”