Unveiling Chaos Read online

“So… I couldn’t help but notice you were looking for a certain someone as we were leaving,” Alara said in a light, knowing voice.

  I looked at her out of the corner of my eye as I said, “I couldn’t help it. It was a gut instinct, like when you find a spider in your room and every day for the next week you walk in stealth-like, with a rolled-up magazine, diligently searching the room for any signs of it. It’s a protective instinct.” I nodded confidently as I unlocked the car and looked at her over the chipped roof.

  Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair and a smile graced her lips. “Nobody does that, Naomi.”

  “Sure they do,” I said as I lowered myself into the car. Her laughter cut off as I shut my door and strapped myself in. “And the spider in this scenario is the douche,” I finished when she got in.

  “C’mon, Naomi. He was attractive, you can admit it.” Alara nudged me with her elbow before putting her own seat belt on. I stayed silent as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for our apartment.

  “He was okay,” I said a few minutes later when I still felt her eyes on me.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do,” I replied adamantly, and we spoke of it no more. But honestly…

  He was hot. Like five-alarm-fire HOT. But he was also kind of a dick. Therefore I would not acknowledge his five-alarm-fire hotness.

  I had not been in the mood for college students today. I never really was, but today my tolerance had been particularly low. Between the two football players who came in this morning glaring at my tattoos, and the four sorority girls who had been in for an hour giggling and mocking as they looked through my sketchbooks before the one who’d wanted to come said, “I just can’t destroy my perfect body,” I was done. And then factor in that I only caught four hours of sleep last night, and it was no wonder I was cranky and tired.

  But as I watched—I glanced at the contact sheet Claire had her fill out—Naomi’s ass sway out the door, my lips tipped up into a smile. It was a cold day in hell when a person stood toe-to-toe with me and yelled in my face. Hell, even the two bully football players from earlier quickly swung their gazes elsewhere when I glanced over at them.

  I wasn’t surprised; I knew what I looked like. I was a large, bearded guy with a bunch of tattoos and, in our society, I knew what that meant. It meant mothers with small children crossed the street when I approached, and fathers were terrified of “the likes of me” being brought home by their daughters. And honestly it didn’t bother me anymore, it meant I knew what to expect.

  But Naomi was completely unexpected.

  When I first started “guessing” at her intentions, I knew I was being a bigger asshole than usual. But before I could even think to apologize, she was narrowing her eyes and tossing attitude right back at me.

  The rest of my shift passed slowly, my mind occasionally drifting back to Naomi, and by the end I’d decided to pull up her information and see if I could find her number. I was sifting through the consent forms from today when Claire came out of the back room.

  “Why don’t you come out with us tonight? You look like you need a break. Stacy and I are—”

  “I can’t,” I replied automatically, walking back to my station to pack up. I’d have to look for Naomi’s phone number another time.

  “You didn’t even think about it.”

  I looked over to find Claire pouting and I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need to, and you know that.” Giving her a pointed look, I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. “I have to get home.”

  “Damien—”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Claire. Have a good night and tell Stacy I said hi.” She mumbled her own disgruntled goodbye as I shouldered my way out the door.

  After blowing warmth into my hands, I rubbed them together as I walked down the street in the slightly chilled January night. I briefly thought about Naomi’s backside once more before my mind thought it’d be more fun to torture me with all the things I had to do when I got home… pay bills, write a grocery list, clean out the fridge, check Ellie’s room for alcohol, check Ellie for alcohol… you know, the usual.

  A humorless chuckle left me at the thought, causing several students to throw strange glances my way. Nothing about my life felt normal. I left the house at seventeen, dropping out of high school and taking my younger sister with me. No one had been impressed with either of us. I’d been on the verge of failing out and she was a fifteen-year-old alcoholic.

  Maybe that was the norm for some American families. And maybe with a little tutoring and rehab, along with parental support, everything would have worked out. But the Harringtons didn’t get help—they didn’t need help. They were a family revered for their four generations of Harvard graduates and their impeccable and upstanding behavior. How they managed to get not one, but two rotten apples was beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. It was a clear sign that the saying bad things happen to good people was all too true.

  That was how my parents’ friends had seen us, and eventually that was how my parents came to see us, too. They hadn’t seen the hours I spent in the art studio or the near perfect grades I’d had in my art classes. They didn’t see how hard Ellie had tried in school, only to pull a C average; they didn’t see her expression morph from beaming pride to crushed embarrassment when she showed them a B on an exam, only for them to barrage her with all the things she’d gotten wrong.

  So we left. We didn’t need them… well, I didn’t need them. I could tell, at times, that Ellie still felt like she did, even five years later. But I was determined to show her otherwise. I was determined to show her a better life. There was nothing they could give us that I couldn’t provide. And what she missed wasn’t them, it was the parents they should have been.

  It was hard. Saving up for my own tattoo studio and working two jobs, all while trying to keep a roof over our heads, keep Ellie fed, and most importantly, keep Ellie sober.

  Unfortunately, the most important thing was also the thing I had the least control over. I couldn’t be with Ellie 24/7. At a certain point it had to be her decision to stay sober. But how was she going to give up the one thing she felt had always held her together?

  …

  I pinched the bridge of my nose as I stared at the bills in front of me. Even though there were only two past due this month, which lately I was considering a low number, we would still be struggling because I had to pay Claire back for the advance on my paycheck last month. She always insisted she didn’t care, and that it could wait until I had enough money. But it wasn’t about the amount of money or the length of time, it was about the simple fact of owing her. I could have borrowed a dollar an hour ago and I’d still be itching to pay her back.

  I walked to the single bathroom in our tiny two-bedroom apartment and opened the medicine cabinet before dumping three painkillers in my hand. I tossed them in my mouth and turned on the sink. I was filling a cup when my gaze landed on the trash can. My eyebrows bunched as I focused on the tip of a white plastic applicator wrapped in a tissue. The water overflowed from the cup and onto my hand as my stare bored into the paper. Wiping my wet hand on my pants, I took a quick drink to wash down the pills before bending over for a better view. I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and gently pulled whatever it was from the garbage before unraveling it. The color drained from my face as I revealed a pregnancy test.

  A positive pregnancy test.

  I felt dizzy as it fell from my hand and clattered on the tile floor, landing faceup as if the result was mocking me.

  Ten minutes later, I was standing in the same spot when I heard the front door open.

  “Damien?” Ellie called out.

  “Back here.” My voice was calm and steady, even though calm was the furthest fucking thing from my mind.

  Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she came closer. “So, I was thinking… about what happened with Nick. You really need to—”

  Ellie made it to the bathroom and stopped short, her sentence cutting off as she took
in the scene. I moved my gaze from the floor to her wide hazel eyes. They were glued to the test as I took in her appearance. Her long blonde hair, normally stringy and dirty, was clean and brushed, pulled back from her face in a sleek ponytail to reveal a rare lucid expression. My eyes narrowed further as I noticed her long, loose white skirt and black tank top. She was also wearing several rings and one of her wrists was adorned with bracelets.

  “Where were you?”

  “I… uhh… the mall?” Ellie tried to smile. I narrowed my eyes and saw her swallow before closing her own and softly admitting, “The doctor’s.”

  Her eyes were still squeezed shut when I asked, “And why did you need to go to the doctor?”

  “Damien,” she choked out as tears started running down her face, not disturbing any makeup because she never wore any. “You know w-why.” With a hiccup to her voice, she gestured blindly to the ground in front of me.

  I knew there would be no other logical explanation for a pregnancy test in our bathroom. Ellie and I were the only people who lived here. I had lost any time for friends a long time ago and after some of my things went missing, I stopped allowing my sister’s dubious “friends” over, and since those were the only kind she’d had…

  So the only logical person was Ellie. But hearing her confirm it was like a punch to the chest, and I immediately felt deprived of air.

  My sister. My baby fucking sister was pregnant.

  “Jesus Christ, Eleanor. You’re pregnant?!” Her eyes popped open and she cowered away from my voice as I paced the tiny bathroom, only getting in two steps each time. My mind whirled as I thought about all the expenses. Food. Diapers. Clothes. Childcare. A crib. It’d be impossible for financial reasons alone. I stopped as something occurred to me. “You were drunk, weren’t you?”

  She shrunk further when I bit out a curse and gripped my hair. I turned to fully face her. “You know you can’t keep it, right?”

  Ellie’s eyes grew impossibly large as she placed her hands protectively on her flat stomach and sputtered, “I c-can’t abort him.”

  “I’m not saying to abort it. That’s not what I meant,” I said slowly, trying to find some sort of calm. “But you can’t keep it, Ells. You’ll need to give it up for adoption.”

  “He’s n-not an i-it! And h-he’s m-mine.”

  I kept my voice soft as I asked, “Okay, answer me this… how many times have you drank since getting pregnant?”

  “T-that’s not fair. I d-didn’t know. I just found out for sure, and I haven’t done a-anything today… since the doctor confirmed it, I haven’t even thought about having a d-drink.” She gave me a watery smile.

  “Oh, so you’ve known for what? An hour? Congratulations on not getting drunk for sixty minutes.”

  My heart dropped as her slightly proud smile completely fell off her face and more tears raced down her cheeks. She looked like I’d struck her, and in a way, I had. Ellie could probably take a physical blow a hell of a lot better than a verbal one. But she shouldn’t have had to put up with either, so I needed to get my shit together quick before I said something else I’d regret.

  “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” I raised my hands in defense and she gave me a reluctant nod. She always forgave too easily. “But Ellie—”

  “No!” She shook her head as her arms wound further around her stomach and tears continued to course down her flushed cheeks. “What if his adoptive family is h-horrible to him? What if h-he g-gets taken away and p-put in foster care? I want him to have a r-r-real family, I want him to be l-l-loved. I can love him.”

  I took a step forward and placed my hands on her shoulders, the last of my anger fading as I took in her earnest expression. “I know. But how are you gonna take care of a kid?” I asked gently as I rubbed her upper arms.

  She stood up a little straighter. “I can do it, Damien. I know I can.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll get sober. Completely sober,” she swore. And yes, her being sober definitely needed to happen, but I was thinking about so much more. Like her needing a job and a support system, things she sorely lacked. She had me, but was I really enough? Was one person ever enough?

  It killed me to think it, but, no, I wasn’t enough.

  “And what about money?”

  “I’ll be able to hold down a job once I’m sober.” She nodded repeatedly as her eyes darted around the room behind me.

  “I don’t know, Ells…”

  “Please, D. Please just give me a chance. I-I know I can be g-good for something.”

  And with that my heart completely shattered, destroying any fight I had left. My eyes shut at her pleading tone, and I nodded before pulling her into a tight hug.

  “Ellie,” I whispered after a few minutes. “You’re good for a lot of things.” I started rubbing small circles on her back. “And I promise, we’ll figure something out.” She crumpled against me, and I felt all the worry drain out of her. And seconds later, I felt all that worry land solely on me. But I was fine taking it, because unlike Ellie, I knew I could handle it.

  I missed him.

  I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but that didn’t really matter.

  It was easy to forget about him when I was with Derek or Alara or Sherry. But when I was alone in my room, without my brother or my friends, staring at the phone that used to light up with texts from him every few hours, it was hard. Like right now.

  I hit my phone’s power button, catching sight of the time, 22:48 and no missed notifications. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I lay back on my bed and twiddled my thumbs, an ineffective thing to do when you’re trying to keep yourself busy. Shocking, I know. I groaned and got up before quietly making my way to the kitchen. I could hear Alara and Gabe whispering and chuckling behind her closed door, and I smiled despite my loneliness.

  After opening a few cabinets I found a box of chocolate cake mix. I wasn’t a great baker—okay, I was horrible—but maybe all this free time could finally change that. Not wanting to disturb my roommate and her boyfriend, I grabbed my headphones and plugged them in before blasting my music. I scrolled through my favorites until I settled on “New Romantics” by Taylor Swift. I had everything laid out and was going over the directions when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  “AHHH!” I screamed before quickly spinning around, wielding the plastic whisk like a weapon. Glaring at Gabe, I set one hand over my racing heart while ripping out my earbuds with the hand that held the whisk.

  “Sorry.” Gabe chuckled and lifted his hands, looking anything but apologetic.

  “Sure you are.”

  A moment later his head was in the fridge as he said, “Next time, grab the knife.” Still glaring, I slammed the whisk on the counter. He was smiling as he straightened and shut the door, holding a bottle of beer. “So, what are you doing?”

  “Making a cake.”

  “Seriously?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking around me to see what was on the counter.

  I narrowed my eyes further, practically giving myself a headache. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  His eyes widened slightly and he swallowed nervously. “No reason.” He started back toward Alara’s room.

  “Uh-uh, no way.” I stepped in front of him. “What was that all about?” I asked, jerking my chin toward where he had previously been standing.

  “Nothing.” Gabe’s gaze drifted toward his girlfriend’s bedroom once more before he let out a sigh. “You miss Caleb…”

  “Maybe.” There was no point in lying, I never denied missing him. I mean, why else would I be baking a cake at eleven o’clock at night?

  His eyes flared with a tiny bit of annoyance. “Yet you keep lying to Alara, telling her you’re fine—”

  “I’m not lying,” I said adamantly. “I am fine. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have brief periods of missing him. He was my boyfriend for five years. He’d been a close friend for five before that. If we weren’t together, we were at least texting. Now there’s ab
solutely nothing. And even though he cheated, he was still my friend and… well, I miss him. It’s just an adjustment to be without him, all right? It doesn’t mean I’m falling apart.”

  Gabe’s eyes softened and he nodded. “I understand.”

  I didn’t always appreciate how much of a pushover Gabe could be, sitting back and accepting things that happened to him rather than taking action, but right then, I was grateful for it. I didn’t need someone forcing me to have this conversation. I was pretty certain everyone would think I was crazy for missing Caleb.

  That relieved feeling left as soon as he spoke again. “Alara would understand, too.” He stared at me pointedly, waiting until I nodded before he gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and crossed the apartment to return to his girlfriend.

  Gabe was undoubtedly right. She would understand. But how could I tell her the truth? Alara wasn’t afraid of being vulnerable or weak, she said she was fine simply because she wasn’t sure who to trust with her insecurities. She didn’t know who was worthy of her feelings, and she didn’t know who would cherish them and keep them safe. Her worries were a result of her depression. It was a crippling disorder that slowly destroyed the bright, happy girl I’d known. A girl who never had trouble admitting she was hurt, until depression and society made her feel like she had to justify a pain that had no source. So she dealt with it alone, locking that part of herself away until I, and eventually Gabe, bulldozed right through it.

  But that wasn’t me.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t know who to trust, or that I didn’t trust Alara. I was just terrified of being weak. Period. I’d always been terrified of it. I hid the pain because I didn’t want to deal with it, alone or with anyone else. And it had been working. It was working.

  My shoulders slumped as I looked at the box of cake mix. Without even cleaning up my supplies, I abandoned my task and went back to my room, falling face-first on my bed.

  My chest ached, and if I was the type of girl who cried, I was pretty sure I’d be crying myself to sleep.