CHAPTER FORTY-NINE Chad

My eyes popped open, and I immediately felt soreness in my hands and wrists. The room was quiet and dark, with a slit of light along the edge of the blinds clueing me into the fact that artificial light from the patio was illuminating the night into what I now realized was my childhood bedroom.

I rubbed my aching hands, noticing I couldn't bend two of the fingers on the right one, the dominant hand. My thoughts were jumbled as I struggled to focus on where I was. Closing my eyes again, I suddenly recited my social security number in my head to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming. A weird trick I used when I thought I was losing my mind.

After sitting up in bed, my eyes made out the shapes of the dresser and the outlines of doors. One to a closet, one to a bathroom, and one slightly ajar that led to the hallway. Two chairs from the dining room, one on each side of the bed, sat empty. People, most likely my folks, had been sitting in them.

A memory flashed through my brain and sent panic directly to my chest. Clint.

"Oh shit," I whispered, holding my hands up and despite the darkened room, discovering the results of my rage. Both hands, particularly the right one, were visibly swollen.

One by one, like pictures in a photo album, images of me losing control raced through my conscious mind. Where was he? I felt my breathing quicken instantly, so I focused on remaining calm. Deep breaths, Chad, I thought.

A cell phone lay face down on the nightstand next to me. Reaching for it, assuming it was mine, I picked it up and turned the face of it over, tapping gently to illuminate the screen. 2:12 A.M. A screensaver image of Cole lounging on his deck stared back at me. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing concerning what I'd done came to the rescue of my regret. I had absolutely lost my proverbial shit, and now here I lay wondering how to pick up the pieces.

With sudden clarity, I could visualize Clint sitting across from me and talking. I'd been surprised to see him, to find myself in that situation after so many months of silence from him. I remember wondering how he could just show up like that and act like the situation would be normal after what he'd done to us.

His words were hanging in the air as I tried to focus on what he'd first said about wanting me to take him back. I'm not sure I'd heard a single thing after. "We'll finish our house in Beaufort." I'd heard that. He'd said that. "You'll bring the food truck there." He'd said that too. I think those statements hit my last nerve directly on the bullseye. Anything said after that was jumbled in my brain.

The entire scene unfolded like a rerun in my mind as I sat in the dark. One I didn't particularly want to watch. I tremored violently as the rest of the act spread like a wildfire in a hurricane. I'd jumped across the table and… and… Tears leapt from my eyes when I replayed the film footage in my head.

"Oh, God!" I gasped, panting at the reality of my behavior.

Yelling. Screaming. Fists. Bodie. Rat. A driveway. Cole. The memories ended there.

"Oh, no," I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. "Oh, please no."

"Chad?" a voice spoke. I waited and listened. "Chad, honey. Are you awake?"

I was awake. I didn't want to be just yet, but I was, in fact, awake. Time to face the music.

"Hi, Mom," I whispered, opening my eyes.

"You okay, honey?" she asked, sitting in a chair near the bed.

"I think so," I replied.

"You gave us quite a scare, son."

I bit my lower lip in frustration about what I'd done. "I can just imagine," I admitted. "How bad was it?"

"Bad enough that you had to be dropped off here."

"I lost it, Mom," I confessed, my eyes welling quickly. She held my hand. "And I'm not sure why?"

"He's here, son," she whispered, looking toward the bedroom door.

"Who?" I asked, following her eyes to the same door. "Who's here? Cole?"

"Clint," she confirmed, looking back toward the door. I'm not sure if she thought I might revert to a crazed madman at her news, but she seemed surprised when I didn't react negatively. "Clint's here. In the guest house."

"I heard you, Mom."

It's a strangely disconcerting feeling when you think you've destroyed people's image of you as a loving and kind person after an event like I'd just participated in. Participated in? Try again, Chad. You were the headline performer.

"He hasn't come out since yesterday afternoon," she said. "I left a sandwich and pasta salad outside the door to the guest house," she added. "He brought it inside, I noticed."

"That's nice." I lifted my cell to check the screen. Nothing. "Have you heard from Cole?" I asked. She stood, avoiding eye contact, and made her way to the window where she lifted the blinds. She remained there, staring out the window. "Mom?"

"Cole brought you home, honey," she said, not turning around. "Stayed for quite a while."

I held my phone to her as she turned around, crossing her arms like she was protecting herself. "He hasn't called or texted," I said. "That's not like Cole."

Mom cleared her throat. "Well, honey," she began. "Your father and I were… well… we were talking about what happened." She stopped talking while I studied her face.

"And?" I asked? "What were you and Dad talking about exactly, Mom? Discussing what happened with my outburst, or what?"

"Not just that, honey," she said, returning to the chair by the bed. She settled in before returning her gaze to me. "Why didn't you tell Cole why you and Clint ended your relationship? Or at least how Clint ended it?"

"I said enough about it," I defended.

"Did you?"

I diverted my eyes toward the window. "What would telling Cole every detail help with? I'd just look like another jilted person who says crappy stuff about their exes," I explained. "That's not me, Mom. You know that."

"And I agree with your concerns, Chad, but then you go and let out such pain at the betrayal, and in such a public way as well. Even Dad and I are surprised, but I sense Cole may think you still carry some very strong feelings for Clint."

"Well, he'd be accurate, because I do have some very strong feelings regarding Clint," I admitted. "But I can explain to Cole why I reacted poorly. He'll understand after he knows the real reason."

"Do you know what the real reason is, son?" she asked. "Because, unfortunately, your father and I already told Cole what actually happened. But your reaction to seeing Clint should be a concern, even for Cole."

I glared at her. "And why would you do that?"

"Because he asked. Because your father is angry at Clint and needed to dump his anger somewhere. None of that is an excuse, but Dad thought you'd finally come out of your funk this summer. I'm only going to guess that he wasn't ready to see that you hadn't."

I didn't want to know what happened after her and Dad revealed the truth, but I also didn't like hiding from bad news either. "How did Cole seem? After?"

"Cole is a quiet man, Chad. I'm sure you know that," she stated, fussing with her necklace. "Your father and I don't know a lot about the man. We tend to go off our trust of you and your good judgment of folks, but I get the impression that he understands the pain of a breakup."

"He does," I agreed. "And he says he's completely over his ex."

"Does he think that you're over yours?" she asked. "Over the same ex that showed up here after months of no contact, and currently sits a hundred feet away from where you and I are right now?"

"Of course I'm over Clint," I defended. "He bailed on me, Mom. With a note, I might add."

"Then explain to me what yesterday was about, son. Can you do that?"

I opened my mouth, ready to list a million reasons why I lost it, but slowly shut it again.

I couldn't answer her question.