The Davis Years (Indigo) Read online

  “ ‘Sup?” Davis asked with a yawn.

  “Davis. Please don’t tell me you just woke up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s nearly dinner time.”

  “Okay. I won’t tell you then.”

  “So, how are things?” Codie tried to sound casual, but he knew better. She’d called almost every day since the funeral. And they’d buried his dad four months ago. It was his own fault. Stupid drunk. Davis refused to let himself feel badly about it.

  “Same old, same old. How about you? How’s work going?” Codie had taken a year off after graduating from U Penn’s Wharton School to work for Americorps, and now she had a shiny new job on Wall Street complete with all the bells and whistles. Even with the slump in the economy, Codie hadn’t been at a loss for job offers. Davis had always thought of her as a force of nature. Whenever he said something about that, she laughed him off and told him she was nothing extraordinary.

  “Just loving it. I can’t believe they’re letting me do so much. I just graduated.”

  “I’m sure they’re ecstatic to have your slave labor. I mean, you graduated top of your class from U Penn. Why wouldn’t they drool all over you?”

  “Anyway, what’s going on with you? What’s new? You’re not getting off the hook that easily.”

  Davis took a deep breath. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he needed to tell Codie because she’d understand. “Jemma’s back in town.”

  “What’s she doing there? How long has she been there?”

  “Um, I dunno. I’d guess she’s back here for Emily Rose’s wedding.”

  “Haven’t you talked to her yet?”

  “Nah. She came over yesterday, but I pretended I wasn’t home.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I guess because I don’t know—what to say to her.”

  “After the way you guys left things? The way you talk about her? Like she’s the one that got away or something?”

  “We never really dated.”

  “I know that, but you know what I mean. I would have thought you’d fling the door open and grab her.”

  “I’m not the guy I was then. And I wasn’t a great guy then. But at least I wasn’t a loser.”

  “I don’t think you’re one now. And I don’t think Jemma would, either.”

  “Codie, I live in my dad’s house and I might be homeless if my brothers decide they want to come down here and start stirring things up. I’m a server, and not a very good one, at a crappy restaurant and I just—I suck.” Davis stared at the ceiling, thinking about how true his words were.

  Seth, the attorney he’d hired with the life insurance money, kept trying to call him about the house, but Davis couldn’t bring himself to return the calls. He was afraid Seth would tell him that his brothers’ attorneys had finally gotten in touch with Seth’s office. And that they wanted to sell the house. He didn’t trust his brothers. They wouldn’t care if he had nowhere to go. Sure, he hadn’t seen or heard from them since the funeral, but they could attack without warning. They’d done it before. And with the way they had easily deserted him, leaving him alone to grow up in that house with their father, obviously they didn’t give a crap about what happened to him.

  And since he didn’t want to deal with any of that, he hadn’t called Seth back yet.

  Codie’s voice interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to their conversation. “You should at least talk to her. As much as you beat yourself up over what happened, don’t you think you should do that at least?”

  “Maybe,” Davis said, trying to get Codie to drop it more than anything.

  After they said their goodbyes, he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his sheets. He knew Codie was right even though he didn’t want her to be.

  As soon as he closed his eyes, the memory hit him hard. He’d hurt Jemma so much. He could see the wounded expression on her face when he’d turned her away for what they’d both thought had been forever. At the time, that was what he’d thought he wanted. Only later, when it was too late, would he realize that telling her he didn’t want a relationship with her had been the stupidest thing he’d ever done. And that was saying a lot considering he had no shortage of stupid actions stored up in his file of memories labeled “dumb stuff I shouldn’t have done.”

  Davis walked outside barefoot to get the mail after throwing on a pair of basketball shorts. He limped slightly. There was a dull ache in his right knee that never seemed to go away. He’d been out of physical therapy for months. It was never going to get any better than it already had. He had the painkillers his doctor prescribed, but he didn’t like to mess with those too much.

  Of course his crappy job didn’t offer health insurance, but his brother, Cole, paid for it. Davis knew it was probably out of guilt. The health insurance was the only contact they had, if you could call that contact. Whenever payment was due on the plan, Cole would send Davis a check. No note included. Just a check wrapped in a blank piece of white paper. Outside of a few hints both Cole and Davis’s other brother, Ashby, had made at the funeral about selling the house possibly being a good idea, he hadn’t talked to either of them in a long time.

  Thinking of his brothers seemed to make his knee hurt more. There was only so much he could do about that. The pills made him completely useless when he took them so he couldn’t rely on them. The alcohol helped everything, but he was afraid of turning into his father.

  He stopped himself from rolling his eyes as his neighbor, Ayn, who was home from college for the summer, came up to him in a crop top and cut-off gym shorts. Her belly button ring glinted in the sun. Ayn’s family had moved in next door a few years ago. She had long, black hair and green eyes and was about a foot shorter than him. Her short nose fit well into her round face. Sure, she was pretty, but also annoying. He tried to avoid her most of the time because she asked too many questions.

  Ayn greeted him with a question.

  “So, Davis, this black woman was knocking on your door yesterday. You were home, but you didn’t answer. Is she a Jehovah’s Witness?”

  “Yeah,” Davis said.

  She followed him down to the mailbox.

  “She wasn’t dressed like one.”

  That’s for sure, Davis thought, smiling at the memory of Jemma’s legs. He’d watched her through the living room window. Her jean miniskirt and tank top had nearly been enough to make him run outside to her. But remembering how much of a loser he was cut that idea short.

  “Who is she, Davis?” Ayn put her hands on top of the mailbox and leaned in closer.

  “It’s a long story.” Davis backed away a little and started flipping through the envelopes. A couple of bills and the rest junk mail.

  “Is there a short version?” Ayn raised her eyebrows and followed him up his driveway.

  He paused at the steps leading up to his front door and turned to her. “Sure.” He grinned as he reflected on Codie’s words. “She’s the one that got away.”

  “Really?” Ayn seemed to find this a perplexing thought. Her expression told Davis so.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “You never said anything about a one that got away before.” Ayn stood next to the door, scrunching her eyebrows up in confusion, yet her eyes were bright with that eager look she always got when she thought she was getting hold of a good piece of gossip.

  “Well, now you know something new about me. Imagine that.”

  Davis walked inside, leaving Ayn gaping after him.

  Chapter 3

  She changed her mind. Feeling like a fool for coming to the restaurant, she started toward Mary’s car. She stopped when she heard her name.

  He called it again, more softly this time. “Jemma.”

  She turned. It wasn’t fair for him to still look so good to her. He’d grown his black hair out, but not much else had changed. His baby blues still had the same knee-weakening effect on her. She watched him approach her in his khaki shorts and white T-shirt. The only sound be
sides that of the traffic on the nearby highway was the slapping of his flip-flops against the soles of his feet as he moved across the parking lot. A warm night breeze blew, but that wasn’t what made her shiver.

  “I—well, it’s good to see you,” he said with a smile so sad it broke her heart a little.

  “Davis,” she managed.

  He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his cheek. “You look good. Different, though.”

  She nodded. She’d started wearing her hair in micro-braids during college. Becoming a runner had given some definition to her formerly straight and thin figure. She wore a beige shift dress and gold sandals. She’d even gotten a pedicure—something she didn’t often do—so that her gold toenails matched her sandals. Not that she was trying to impress Davis or anything.

  “You look good, too,” she said, swallowing hard.

  He laughed, but there was no mirth to it. She’d never heard that laugh before. “You don’t have to lie.”

  Davis had always been slender, but now the word stringy came to mind. He hadn’t shaved in at least a day or two. And there was just something about him—defeat mixed with something almost sinister—that made him not the boy on whom she’d once had a large and problematic crush.

  “We should, um, I guess we should probably talk.” Jemma fidgeted with Mary’s car keys. Maybe coming to the restaurant had been a bad idea. She should have just accepted that he didn’t want to see her when he didn’t let her into his house the day before. “You busy?”

  He shook his head. “I was just coming by to pick up my schedule.” He paused for a moment, seeming to puzzle over something. Then he said, “What are you doing here?”

  She wouldn’t look at him as she admitted in an embarrassed mutter, “Looking for you.”

  Davis nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.” She watched him head toward the brick building with its green roof. It was a favorite with the locals and with the truck drivers passing through town on their way to and from the interstate. The place was kind of a dive, but the food was decent. While she waited for Davis, she tried to think of exactly what it was she wanted to say to him, but she kept coming up empty.

  Davis came out of the building and walked over to his black Acura—the one she remembered very well from high school—and sat on the hood. He waved her over. She walked to him, thinking about how she’d once adored that car almost as much as she’d adored its owner. That thing was full of memories for her, both good and bad. It probably still smelled like his cologne inside. She was glad he still wore the same kind. That was one thing she was glad hadn’t changed in all those years. The scent brought bittersweet memories flooding back to her.

  “So what do you want to talk about?” Davis asked, scratching the back of his neck.

  “The way we left things—it wasn’t—it didn’t feel—very . . . final.” She was still struggling to find the words she wanted. After picturing this day for six years, she should have been able to do better.

  Davis laughed dryly. “I dunno. Not hearing from you for six years kinda helped it feel final for me.”

  Jemma looked away. Sure, it’d been a crappy thing to do, but it hadn’t been all her fault. He hadn’t exactly made life easy for her right before she left.

  He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. That was an ass thing to say. I just don’t know what to say or how to feel right now.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Davis. It was just—I needed a clean break from everything and everyone.”

  “Even me?”

  “Especially you.” She blurted the words out before she could stop herself and regretted it when his eyes filled with sadness. “I mean, I went through a lot that year. With Lynette and Smooth and well, you know the whole ugly story.” She hated thinking about her so-called mother and the woman’s boyfriend, and she hated talking about them more, so she left it at that. “It took a lot to get back to normal. Including cutting all ties.”

  “You know, everybody still blames me for you leaving. They don’t say it to my face, but I know,” Davis said, staring across the parking lot. He drew one knee up to his chest and rested his chin on it. He looked so sad and lonely in that moment.

  She had a sudden urge to kiss him and forced herself to push it aside. “Well, you’re not the entire reason. You’re not even most of it. And I’m sorry they’re acting like that.”

  He pressed his cheek to his knee, turning his gaze back to her. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “What else do you want me to say?”

  Davis slid down from the hood and stood in front of her. He reached for her shoulders and then drew his hands back just before touching them. Putting his hands behind his neck, he looked at her with wounded eyes. “Six years, Jemma? Am I that forgettable? Six friggin’ years.”

  She took a step back from him. “I never forgot you. I couldn’t, Davis. I just—couldn’t.” He had no idea how hard it’d been for her to get out of bed every day for that first year. And after that, it seemed the more space and time she put between herself and everything associated with Derring, the more she felt like she’d be okay again one day.

  “You know Tara and I got married? For like . . . six months. Right after I moved back from Pennsylvania. It was ridiculously stupid. She got remarried right after we divorced. And had a baby with some Navy guy or something. Lives down in Hampton now.”

  “Why’d you tell me that?” Her heart seemed to crash against her ribcage. She wondered why Emily Rose hadn’t mentioned it. Tara was Emily Rose’s sister. Then again, considering they’d never been close, maybe it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

  Davis shrugged.

  “I never stopped thinking about you. And believe me, I tried.”

  “I never stopped thinking about you, either. And I never tried to stop.”

  “You got married.”

  “You deserted me.”

  “You broke me.”

  Davis drew in a sharp breath before saying, “I told you I was sorry before you left. I still am.”

  She half-heartedly brushed at his hand as he reached up to push a braid out of her face.

  “How can we fix this?” he said.

  She had to look away before he caught her gaze. “I’m not sure we can.”

  “Why’d you come to talk to me then?”

  “Good question.”

  He made a soft sound that might have been a laugh and started for his car door. She grabbed his wrist. He stopped moving, but didn’t turn around.

  “Be my date to the wedding.” She couldn’t let him walk away from her like that. She hadn’t planned on asking him, but seeing him again and feeling his pulse beneath her fingertips, she couldn’t let him walk away.

  He turned to her, leaving his wrist in her hand. “When is it?”

  She ran her dry tongue across her drier lips. “Saturday.”

  “I’ll have to trade shifts with someone, but I’ll be there.”

  Jemma nodded and let go of his wrist. He pressed his hands to her cheeks. That was dangerous. She was leaving soon and that was good. Only bad things happened in Derring. The quicker she could get to Florida, the better. She pulled away slightly and cleared her throat.

  “So, uh, I have a job,” she said. “In Florida.”

  Davis nodded. “Okay.”

  “I start next month. But I’m leaving soon after the wedding so I can get settled in down in Jacksonville.”

  “That’s probably for the best.”

  “Yeah. It probably is.” She took a deep breath and clasped her hands to keep from touching him. “I still want us to be friends, Davis. I always want that.”

  Davis crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his fingers against his biceps. “And we will. Wedding date. Friends doing friendly things.”

  “Yeah.”

  As she turned to leave, Davis said, “I still have it.”

  She stopped and tried to think of what he meant. “Still have what?”

  “Th
e envelope—the letter, the CD, everything you gave me that day.”

  Jemma’s eyes burned. In her mind, she went back to the day she’d given him the CD she’d made for him. A day she wouldn’t have been able to picture just weeks prior to it. She saw herself leaving him at his front door six years ago. Leaving the only boy she’d ever wanted. And she’d come back to find him a broken man. And still the only one she’d ever really wanted. At least she’d finally come to understand that they could never work.

  “Okay,” she said, not trusting herself to say more.

  “I listen to track ten every night.”

  “I gotta go, Davis. I’ll see you later.”

  He nodded and gave her a little wave. She turned and all but ran to the car. She’d have to go back to Mary’s and dig through her book until she found the track listing. She kept a scrap book of sorts with oh-so-important information like the listing of tracks to the CD she’d made for Davis before leaving home at the ripe old age of seventeen.

  When she opened the book to her “The Davis Years” section, she found the track listing. She pushed the book away and closed her eyes.

  “Lenny Kravitz. ‘Without You’. Of course.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. Why had he said that? There’d been no reason for him to tell her. Didn’t he know nothing good could possibly come out of reliving such things?

  She remembered the words he’d said to her that day six years ago. The last time she’d seen him before she left town. Words that had burned themselves into her heart. I wish it could be us always.

  Chapter 4

  Jemma and Emily Rose stood in the main hall of the community center, sipping from takeout coffee cups. They’d gotten to the center a little early and were waiting on Ms. Fletcher and Michael to show up.

  The large room was almost empty. Most of the chairs and tables were stored away in a closet near the back. Jemma had almost memorized the floor plan and the different ways the tables could be laid out in the room after the previous day with Em Rose and Ms. F. Wedding planning was definitely not for her, but she was determined to be supportive and helpful for her friend. A few days couldn’t make up for six years of desertion, but it was probably better than nothing.