4. Brixton

Chapter 4

Brixton

PRESENT DAY

M y back stiffens as I slowly step out of the truck I rented for while I’m in Oakland.

What the fuck is he doing here?

With one fist clenched tight and the other clutching a bunch of brightly colored shopping bags, I stalk up the few stairs to the front door of Allie’s house in Golden Gate Heights and give it a hard knock. I twist my head to glare at the offending car parked in the short driveway.

I guess I shouldn’t be shocked. It’s the baby’s birthday.

Allie opens the door in a frenzy, her blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail. Her cheeks flush a deep pink when she looks at me. Her shoulders lift in a tiny shrug. “There wasn’t anything I could do,” she mouths.

Squaring my shoulders, I enter the small foyer. I won’t let him into my head this time. I refuse to let him add to all the guilt that festers and feasts on me daily.

If he and Allie had been home instead of at the arena, they’d have been safe and protected. They would have gone to their hospital and seen their doctor when Allie’s water broke instead of shuttling to a completely foreign one in Oakland with an Uber driver who fucking walked away from the accident he caused without a scratch.

I know some of that is illogical and unreasonable, but I can’t help the way I feel.

And I feel responsible even though I know I wasn’t. Not really.

A loud squeak jolts me as I step into something squishy. “What the fu?—?”

“Language,” she admonishes me, wagging her finger. “It’s just a toy. One of the million you’ve sent over the past few months.”

I lift an eyebrow, my gaze moving around the foyer and then into the kitchen toward the back of the house. It’s a minefield of toddler toys.

“She likes to be able to see everything she has so the toy chests really aren’t too effective.” Allie blows a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. “It doesn’t help that Amazon boxes by the truckful show up every other day with deliveries for her.”

I snicker. “Careful or I’ll up the frequency to daily.”

Allie rolls her eyes. “If you do that, I will seriously have to move. As it is, it feels like we’re growing out of this place and it’s only the two of us.”

Her shoulders slump, her eyes darkening. I drop my gaze to the floor.

It’s like a huge ass elephant in the room.

I never understood why people celebrated the anniversary of loved ones’ deaths. It always seemed morbid to me, why you’d want to dwell on that moment as opposed to all the great ones.

But losing Davis the way we did, feeling that sliver of hope that things could go back to normal only to have it incinerated by the doctor’s words… I’m so sorry, he’s gone …how the fuck can I not constantly replay it, today of all days?

And I hate like hell it’s my niece’s birthday.

I suck in a breath, paste on a fake smile, and hold up the bags. “Sorry, I’ve gotta add more to the mix today. The rest are in the truck that just pulled up behind me.”

Her eyes pop open wide in horror, color dripping from her face. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

I chuckle. “Your face was priceless. I wish I’d have snapped a picture.”

Allie lets out a sigh, I guess of relief. But can she blame me? How could I not spoil the kid, especially for her birthday?

So I let her believe there really isn’t another truck behind me. It’s the path of least resistance.

“Unca Bee,” a tiny voice cries out, followed by the slapping of bare feet against the tile floor.

I reach down to grab Julianna around the waist when she comes flying at me. Gripping her tight, I toss her into the air. Her blonde hair fans out as she sails upward.

Her belly laughs get me every time. So damn contagious.

I hold her up and blow raspberries on her pudgy belly. “Happy birthday, Jujubee,” I say. “How old are you today?”

“Two,” she yells.

“So smart.” I set her back down on the floor and hand her the gift bags. Her eyes light up like Fourth of July fireworks and she drags them into the living room to tear into them. Allie covers her face with her hands.

“Papa, I got presents,” Julianna says. The rustle of paper follows. I cringe at the sound of my father’s voice. Why the fuck did he have to be here now ?

“Don’t worry. I’ll help clean up.” I wink at Allie, ignoring the knot twisting my gut when I hear his footsteps in the hallway .

She narrows her eyes at me. “Oh, you’d better believe you will.”

I shrug. “I don’t understand why you bother when she tears the place apart again the second things are in order.”

“Because I can’t live like I’m trapped inside of a toybox?” Allie shakes her head.

But her words fade out when my father’s dark eyes meet mine.

They’re accusatory and cold.

Just like always.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, my mind going completely blank after the greeting because what the hell else do I really have to say that wouldn’t completely sever the very delicate ties that still somewhat hold us together?

“Brixton.” He pauses. “I didn’t realize you’d be in town today.”

“Yeah, well, we’re playing the Sun Arena tonight.” I can barely croak out the words through the lump in my throat. I’d told our manager when we were arranging tour dates that this date was to be avoided at all costs and that he needed to pull it from the schedule. But money talks, and once the dollar value of a sold-out Sun Arena show was calculated into the tour revenue figures, I was told it was going to be added on.

I haven’t been back to the Sun Arena since that night.

And to add insult to injury, I can’t spend the time I want with the two people on the planet who actually give a shit about me today because I have to relive the beginning of the nightmare all over again.

A flicker of a shadow eclipses his stoic look. “You’re playing a concert? Tonight?”

I bring a hand to the back of my neck and fist my hair. “Yeah, the record company added the extra date on the calendar.” I force my lips to curl upward. “Hey, do you want to come along? You could stay in the VIP box and watch from there. It’s not loud and you’d have a great view?—”

“You really think I would want to go to some concert tonight?” His voice is incredulous, like I just suggested he paint his whole body blue.

“It wouldn’t be just some concert. It’d be me on stage.” I give my head a shake. “You’ve never seen one of my shows.”

He scoffs. “How can you even think of performing? Don’t you have any respect?”

A rush of breath expels from my lungs, the rejection slicing into my heart like a dagger with a searing hot blade. “It wasn’t my choice.”

“You’re the star, right? You don’t get a say?” he snaps.

“Richard,” Allie says, laying a hand on his arm. “Come on. You know he’s not trying to be disrespectful?—”

I hold up a hand at Allie. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got this.” Then I turn back to my father, my pulse hammering a hole in the side of my neck. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t miss him every day? That I don’t wish it had been me every freaking day ?”

“But it wasn’t.” Dad squares his shoulders. “And now he’s gone, even though he had such a full life here with his fiancée and his beautiful daughter.”

“So because I’m single, my life isn’t full and therefore, isn’t worth anything?” My eyes narrow into a glare at my father.

“You’ll never have what he did. You’re not the same.”

“Is this a dig because I’m gay? Or because I’m disrespectful? Or because I’m self-absorbed and locked in on my career?” I grit my teeth. “It’s always a new problem with you so forgive me for not being too swift on the uptake.”

Dad doesn’t say anything. Allie is stunned into silence. Hell, I don’t even hear either of them breathing.

Dad opens his mouth to say something but snaps it closed before the words are out. Doesn’t matter. His silence shouts volumes.

“I have to get going,” he mutters, slipping his feet into his shoes. He pulls on his jacket and moves past me. With a final nod at Allie, he opens the door and stomps out.

The door slams shut. My insides quake. Shit, I’m already to the point of damn near shattering. Why the hell couldn’t he have just made up a bullshit excuse about not being able to make it, like he normally does when I ask?

Today, he had to twist the knife.

I know it doesn’t help that I’m practically a carbon copy of Davis and my mom. I get that it must be hard to look at me and see everything he lost. But fuck, everything he still has stares right back at him. Why can’t he recognize that ?

Allie puts a hand on my back. “Don’t let him get to you. It’s a hard day for all of us. He just…” She sighs. “He just has the worst way of dealing with it.”

“He’s been like that toward me for my whole life. If he didn’t treat me like I was worthless, I’d be shocked to shit.”

Allie shoots me a look. “Language,” she hisses.

“Sorry.”

I sink to my knees next to where Julianna tore into the gift bags. Ruffling her hair, I nod at all the toys and wrapping paper that litters the floor. “Are you gonna help me clean that up?” I ask her.

“Yes, Unca Bix.”

Allie hands me a photo album. “Here, look at this. I put it together for Jules. What do you think?”

I pause, my fingers gripping the cover page of the album before I’m ready to open it. My heart aches as I flip through the pages of Davis and Allie throughout their relationship. I’m in some of them, ones where they came out to see Sin City perform and we posed for pictures afterward. There are pictures of them wandering around wineries in Napa, engagement photos, and pictures of them visiting Italy, Sicily, and Portugal, their last big trip before Allie found out she was pregnant. They called it the babymoon.

My chest tightens at the selfie of them at the Sun Arena concert on the night Davis died.

The last picture they’d ever take together.

“I think it’s perfect. She’s going to love it.” I struggle to get the words out, but I know Allie needs to hear them.

“I’ve been showing it to her every night before bed, pointing out Daddy and telling her all about our adventures.” She raises a tear-filled gaze at me. “I want her to hear everything wonderful about him. And me telling her is the next best thing to her knowing from experience.”

I nod because my throat is too tight to speak. I hand the album back to her and a white envelope falls out. Brows furrowed, I pick it up from the floor and hand it to her.

“Oh,” Allie says, taking it from me. “I don’t know how that ended up in here. It must have been mixed in with the photos.”

“What is it?”

She takes a breath and stares at it. “A letter I got from the person who got Davis’s heart.”

I shoot up off the floor. “From the donor? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“What good would it have been for you to know? The hospital forwarded it to me because they couldn’t divulge my address to him for privacy reasons.”

“So you have the name of the person?” I don’ t know why but I have to see that letter. I have to know who took a part of my brother.

“Yes, but why even think about it now? It’s over. It was a nice gesture and it made me happy to know someone’s life was saved from that tragedy. ”

“I want to read it.”

“Brixton, what good will it do you?”

“I just need to read it. Please.”

Allie bites down on her lower lip and waits a hell of a lot longer than I’d like before handing it to me.

I pull the white sheet of paper out of the envelope and scan the contents. My nose tingles, tears thick in my throat as I pore over each sentence.

And then, my jaw drops, the final blow coming with crushing force when I get to the end of the letter. I almost choke on a gasp when I look down at Allie, her eyes pooling with tears.

God bless you and your family,

Chase Hartley

She knew. She fucking knew. And she never told me.