Sacrifice Read online

  I grab some ground beef out of the refrigerator and start to make spaghetti. Everleigh loves it, so I hope that she’ll eat it. Her appetite hasn’t been good lately and it worries me. She’s so tiny to begin with. Our neighbor, Olivia, says she’ll eat when she’s hungry, but I’ll feel better when she’s eating again.

  I try to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, but it’s hard. I’ve struggled all day to keep busy, to immerse myself in whatever I was doing, playing mental games with myself so I don’t think about the date.

  The knob to the old gas stove falls off, landing in the middle of the pan. I just stare at it, wondering how in the hell I got here.

  I snort, remembering exactly how I got here . . .

  “I gotta go get Crew,” Gage said, shaking my shoulders gently.

  I opened my eyes, trying to pull my brain out of the dream I’d been having. “Crew? What? What time is it?”

  “It’s after 2. He called me from Southie. He got into a fight tonight and I need to go pick him up at the police station.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “I wish I was, babe. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  I sat up, still half asleep. “Gage, Crew has to stop this. I know he’s having a hard time right now, but he can’t keep acting like this.”

  “I agree. I told him yesterday that it’s time to grow up. I get he’s pissed off. I know his entire life plan has changed over the last few months, but he’s lucky he’s not in a wheelchair.” Gage sighed, the burden of worrying about his brother weighing him down. “He’ll come around. He’ll realize eventually he was just given a second chance at life. He’s strong and he’s smart. He just needs a little bit of time to figure things out.”

  “He’s had time, Gage. He does this every time things get hard for him. With me, your mom, now wrestling. He can’t just do what he wants and forget his actions have an effect on other people!”

  He roughed his hand over his head. “He’s my brother, Jules.”

  I knew he was gonna go and I knew I couldn’t demand he didn’t. It was Crew, after all. And as much as I wanted to slap the shit out of him, I loved him in my own way. But still, I tried. “I don’t want you to go. The roads are bad.” I looked into his eyes and, as usual, was putty in his hands.

  “Babe.” His voice was soft, his eyes clear as a bell. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

  I kissed him for what I thought was the last time that night.

  But it proved to be the last time I’d kiss Gage for the rest of my life.

  The ringing of my cell startles me. I clear my throat and feel my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I take a deep breath and pluck the knob out of the pan, placing it on a paper towel. I check the caller ID.

  Crew.

  I send it to voicemail and put a pot of water on to boil.

  When the ringing starts again, I don’t even look. I just let it ring because I know it’s him and I can’t handle dealing with him. Not today.

  After Gage died, I tried to push Crew out of my life altogether. Seeing him, talking to him, looking into his eyes was like salt into a wound that was already seeping in so many ways. But in typical Crew fashion, he did what he wanted.

  I had done everything short of a restraining order to convince him to stay away. No matter how much I yelled, cried, pleaded—he was unrelenting.

  There is a part of me that appreciates his help. There’s some peace in my shaky world just knowing that, frustratingly or not, he will be by sometime each week. That Ever and I aren’t alone. As much as I roll my eyes and act all offended, a little part of me sighs in relief when he knocks on the door.

  But he can never know this.

  At the end of the day, it’s his fault I’m a widow. He’s the one that couldn’t get his shit straight and got my husband, his brother, killed. He’s the reason all of our lives were turned upside down and he doesn’t deserve to have it skated over.

  Even more, we both know there will be a point when he will walk away. If there’s one thing Crew Gentry does, it’s that. His calling card is walking away when things get hard or something else looks more interesting.

  That weighs heavily on my mind. I want Ever to have a relationship with him; she loves him to pieces. But I’m terrified of the day he lets her down and I have to see her heart break. I know how painful that is.

  “Hello?” His voice wrapped around me through the telephone, the deep timbre making me relax. I’ve needed to hear his voice for days, but haven’t been able to get in touch with him.

  “Crew! Finally! How are you?”

  “Hey, Jules.” I can hear his grin through the line. I flop back on my bed, ignoring my father shouting from the room below.

  “How are you?” I ask again. “How’s wrestling? How’s Minnesota?”

  The line gets muffled before he clears his throat. “It’s good. Real good, actually. It’s a different life here. So much going on all the time.”

  “I bet. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I miss ya, too. How are things back there?”

  “Good. School’s good. I get through each day by thinking this is my last year and I can come be with you. And every day is a day closer to Christmas break and you coming home. Just three weeks now. I haven’t seen you in so long.”

  The line goes quiet and a sinking feeling creeps through me. “I’m really excited to see you, Crew.”

  Crew blows out a breath. “Look, Jules. I know I was supposed to come home, but I don’t think I can. There’s so much going on up here and I wouldn’t be able to stay home more than a few days, anyway . . .”

  I grab a jar of pasta sauce and focus on dinner. I jump at the sound of someone banging on the door. I walk to the curtain and peek outside. I’m not at all surprised at what I see. Or whom.

  His hands are stuck in the front pockets of his jeans, his Carhartt hanging open. A white thermal shirt is stretched down the length of his torso. His shoulders are hunched over as he scans the area, taking everything in.

  With a heavy sigh, I twist the lock and open the door. “What?” I ask, one hand on my hip.

  His face is solemn, his eyes hesitant. I know this day is as hard for him as it is for me, but it should be. He’s the reason we are both miserable. But as much as I want to slam the door in his face, I don’t.

  “Can I come in?” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.

  “Why?”

  He looks at me and holds my gaze. I feel my throat burn. I roll my eyes, lest he see my moment of sympathy, and head to the kitchen. I leave the door open behind me. When I hear it close, I don’t look back, not sure if he’s followed me inside or took off. And I don’t really know which I prefer.

  I head to the stove and grab the pasta and strain it.

  “You all right?”

  I shrug but keep my back to him. “Am I supposed to be?”

  A chair is pulled back and the coins in his pocket jingle as he sits down. “I just . . . I wanted to check on ya today.”

  “Well, I’m fine. Making dinner, as you can see.”

  “Didn’t you see I called?”

  “I did.”

  “Why didn’t you answer?”

  I set the spoon down and close my eyes for a minute. I’ve avoided this conversation like the plague all day, a situation I don’t want to think about, never mind discuss. A situation I’m in because of him. And here he sits, not taking the hint, showing up at my house even though I’m obviously not taking his calls and forcing me to discuss it. Fuck him. “Because I don’t really have anything to say to ya, Crew. Another year has gone by without Gage. Thank you for that.”

  He looks at the floor and suddenly I feel terrible. He closes his eyes, wincing as my words, filled with such poison, hit him full on. Any other day and he would’ve just spouted off something back. He would’ve smirked, said something cocky, and walked out. But today’s not just any other day.

  “Crew—”

  “Nah, Jules. Don’t apologize.”<
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  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I said not to apologize.” He’s watching me carefully, his eyes somber. He’s apologized to me so many times and I’ve never accepted it. Now he won’t accept mine. Not sure what to do, I turn back to the stove. I fiddle with the knob, trying to get it back in place while feeling his eyes on me.

  “Remember when I talked him into surfing with me on the 4th of July that year?” His voice is soft and if I wasn’t listening for it, I might not have even heard it. “And he swore a shark was circling his board?”

  I nod. I remember that day. Gage was standing on his board, shouting at Crew to get out of the water. Crew just sat on his and laughed and then paddled to Gage and they floated in together. Later, we had a bonfire on the beach. We told stories over marshmallows until the sun nearly came back up again.

  I feel wetness touch my eyes and I bat my eyelashes to try to keep the tears from falling.

  “Damn it, Julia. I’m so sorry. If I could switch places with him, I would.”

  I turn to look at him and he’s watching me, the same pain that’s downright killing me inside is also written all over his face. It’s enough to send the tears down my cheeks, hot against my skin.

  We look at each other and something sweeps across his face. It’s a look of resolution, I think, like he’s just decided something. All I know is that for the first time since the funeral, he reaches for me.

  He stands and takes the few steps to me. “Come here,” he says and pulls me against him. My body stiffens momentarily, thrown off by the gesture as much as the physical contact. As my cheek hits his chest, I come to my senses.

  “No,” I breathe, trying to shove him away. “Don’t touch me.”

  My voice betrays me and cracks. His shirt is a haze in front of me, the tears blurring everything together. I press both palms against his chest and push with everything I have. “Get back, Crew.”

  He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps both his arms around me and pulls me in so tightly that I can’t get free.

  “Crew!” I say as everything inside me erupts. I try to pull away, hitting him in the sides where my hands are pinned. “Stop it!”

  It sounds more like a plea than a command, the words broken with my sobs. I need to get away. I know that. But it feels good to be comforted, to have someone to lean on. And I can’t get away, anyway. That in itself feels good, to not have to think about whether I should or shouldn’t let him be nice to me for once.

  Crew has never broken the barrier between us since Gage’s death and I’m not sure what’s changed. It feels strange having his arms around me, but so familiar at the same time. I can’t force myself to pull away, even though a voice inside me tells me to. My emotions are so mixed that I can’t think straight.

  I lay my head against the rough material of his jacket and give into the tears that have battled me all day. I try to keep it reigned in, trying to keep it from splitting me into two. I knew I’d have this moment eventually, but I thought it would be in the bath after Everleigh went to bed. Having this moment with Crew almost makes it worse.

  We stand there, in the middle of my kitchen, and mourn together—the loss of someone we both loved. For a moment, I set aside blame and fault and what could’ve been and just allow myself to grieve with the only person alive that feels the pain I feel.

  I allow him to hold me while I release the emotion in waves. He just holds me tight and doesn’t say a word, rubbing my back with one of his calloused hands.

  Finally, I sniffle back the tears and clear my throat, wiping my eyes with my hands before pulling away.

  He opens his mouth to say something when Everleigh rushes into the room and throws herself at him. I take a step back and he bends down and hugs her, his eyes trained on me as she babbles on about her day. I use the opportunity to grab a tissue and dry my face before my daughter sees.

  “Are you staying for dinner, Uncle Crew?” Ever asks, zipping Crew’s jacket up and down. “Mommy is making spaghetti. She’s a good spaghetti maker!”

  I keep my face blank, not sure what I want. Half of me wants him to leave, to have to suffer the night alone. To give me the space I need to miss my husband.

  The other half wants him to stay, to have another person sitting at the table. For a distraction for Ever . . . and maybe for me.

  Crew kisses Everleigh on the head and stands, clearing his throat. The lines on his face deepen and he drops his gaze slowly to my daughter. “No, monkey. I’m going to head on out now.”

  “No . . . um . . . you know . . . if you want to stay for dinner, that’s fine.”

  “Yay!” Everleigh cheers, doing a little dance.

  A surprised look flickers across his face at my invitation. I’ve never invited him for dinner. I’ve never really even been nice to him in so long. I don’t even know why I am now. Maybe my defenses are down.

  Maybe time is starting to heal wounds.

  I’m not sure but I don’t have the mental wherewithal to think about it.

  “Sit by me!” Ever says, tugging his hands towards the table. “Please! Maybe Mommy will make us some orange Kool-Aid. I only get that on special nights, but if you’re here, it’s like a special night! Right, Mommy?”

  She looks at me and beams. I glance quickly to Crew and think I see him press something into Ever’s palm.

  He forces a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Darkness passes through his eyes and he gives me a hollow smile.

  “I’m sorry, monkey. I can’t stay tonight. Maybe some other time.”

  He reaches for the late notice on the table and sticks it in his pocket.

  “Crew—” I begin, but he silences me with a look I can’t quite read. He shakes his head and leaves as quickly as he came.

  CREW

  I had to get out of there.

  My head is a fucking mess and I know, from experience, this isn’t a problem liquor is going to solve. I’m not sure running will fix it either, but it seems like the healthier alternative.

  Leaving them tonight was harder than normal. Typically, I just head out and do my shit. I manage to block them out and focus on whatever, whoever, is in front of me. But not tonight. Tonight carries so many memories, regrets, what-if’s that it’s almost unbearable. Just seeing that look in her eye, like I’m the thief that stole her world, just about broke me down.

  I start down the sidewalk, tugging my hood over my head. I loosen my shoulders, twisting from side-to-side as my feet find a rhythm on the pavement.

  A cold burst of air rattles my lungs. I pick an object in the distance and jog towards it.

  I plow forward, waiting for the numbness I normally feel by this point settle over me. But it doesn’t come. I run faster, the pace causing acid to pump through my veins. I relish it. The physical pain should block out everything else.

  I focus on my breathing, in, out, and turn a corner towards the park.

  ‘Another year has gone by without Gage. Thank you for that.’

  As much as I hate it, she’s right. Gage flipping his car two years ago tonight on an icy bridge was my fucking fault. I’ve drank myself nearly to death over it, I’ve cried over it, I’ve tried to escape the guilt in every way possible. I’ve fucked whores, I’ve hit punching bags, I’ve ran so many miles that you could probably lap the whole fucking planet with my steps. But none of it changes anything.

  I fucked up. My life is what it is because of me. No one else.

  Losing Gage, especially the way we did, was a wake up call. A little too late, no doubt about it, but I realized that I had to change. Yeah, I could be pissed about losing everything that mattered to me: my girl to my brother, my mom to cancer, my career to a fucked up neck injury at the hands of a prick, and my brother because I couldn’t keep my temper. I had to stop using these things as an excuse; I had to quit making things worse . . . and I needed to try to make things right with the one other person that was also affected by nearly every one of my mistakes.

  I oft
en wonder what her life would be like if she hadn’t met me that day or if Gage would’ve gotten to her first. I wonder if she would be happier.

  I exhale as I turn a corner. I’ll never know the answers to those questions, but I do know that I need to try to make sure her life isn’t completely fucked because of me. I owe that to her. To Gage. To Ever. To myself.

  The steps come easier. My breathing regulates and I feel my body falling into rhythm. If only my mind would follow suit, everything would be golden.

  But it won’t.

  The chill in the air reminds me of early summer in Minnesota. I think back to my days at the University there, back to the days when wrestling was my life.

  Wake up, practice, hit a few classes, practice, then maybe find a girl to spend a couple of hours with. Repeat.

  It was such a wild time in my life, so many things changed so quickly. I was a poor kid from Dorchester one minute, a collegiate champion the next. A kid destined to work the docks and then destined to be the ‘next big thing’ in Mixed Martial Arts.

  It was surreal and exciting. I woke up in March of my freshman year and realized I had barely talked to anyone from Boston since I left the summer before. I hopped a plane and went home to more than I ever expected.

  “Crew, look, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  I stood in the doorway of Gage’s bedroom, wondering what the fuck was going on.

  My brother with my girl.

  Her dark hair was spread across his lap, a smile on her face by Gage. I’d never felt so torn, furious and destroyed at the same time.

  “I can’t believe what I’m fucking seeing here.” I took a step back to prevent myself from ripping my brother into shreds, thinking maybe there was a logical explanation. I hoped to God there was some sort of easy way to explain this off without it being what I thought, what I feared, it was.

  “Her parents got shit-faced one night a couple of months ago and she called me in hysterics—”