RECTIFY: A REDEMPTION NOVEL Read online

  “You are?” I shouldn’t be surprised, just because we haven’t known each other forever it doesn’t mean we didn’t develop a unique friendship considering our circumstances. As usual, it was selfish of me to think that her feelings wouldn’t be hurt by my unexplained absence.

  “I assumed you needed time, and for the record, I tried to tell Jagger that. But to assume I couldn't be both your friend and Taylah’s makes me wonder whether you know me at all.”

  Her voice shakes, but she cuts herself off before breaking down. She's more upset than I thought.

  Either way, I'm responsible, and just as I predicted, I need to make it better.

  “I know it's not enough, but I'm sorry,” I offer.

  “Dakota was worried about you,” she says ignoring my apology. “If I'd have known how you felt, we could’ve come up with something to say to her. Together.”

  Between her and Jagger bringing up Dakota, my insides tighten at the thought of mistaking her curiosity for distress. “What did you say to her?”

  “I told her the only thing I could.” She turns and looks at me with defeated eyes. “I told her there was nothing to worry about. I assured her repeatedly, but she wouldn’t budge, and eventually I told her to ask you.”

  “She only asked me once,” I say defensively. “But I deflected.”

  “How about you just start from the beginning?”

  Not wanting to rehash the nitty-gritty details I explained to Jagger, I tell Emerson the part that explains the miscommunication of our friendship best.

  “I always thought Hendrix and I would end up together.” I give a humourless laugh at my naivety. “I don’t even know how I thought we would overcome that shitstorm, but I genuinely believed we would.” I try and hide my resentment, keeping my voice as even as I can while explaining myself. “Then your best friend shows up on the scene and I realise everything that I thought would bring us back together, were the exact same things that pushed him into her arms.”

  “Sasha, I never expected you to be okay after they got together.” The irritation from earlier has dissipated, sympathy in its place.

  “Somewhere deep down inside I knew that, but it doesn’t change how it made me feel. It’s like I’m on the outskirts. You and Jagger, her and Hendrix… And then there's me. The one everyone pretends to like and put up with, just because of Dakota.”

  Her eyes widen. “What do you mean just because of Dakota?”

  “She is the only reason I will ever have to be around Taylah and Hendrix, and I was hoping I could avoid it entirely. Leave it up to Jagger to maintain their relationship.” It sounds so petulant and self-centred when I say it out loud, but it's the truth. “Dakota is old enough, she doesn’t even really need to bother you or Jagger with that stuff. Her and Hendrix have always been self-sufficient when it comes to their relationship.”

  “Regardless of my relationship with Taylah, you are Dakota’s mother, Sasha. There’s nothing negotiable about that.” She holds my stare. “You should’ve spoken to us about it. If you thought Jagger wouldn’t understand, you should’ve known I would.”

  “Where’s the fun in that,” I joke, trying to lighten up the mood. “I’m sorry, Em.”

  “You can have the space Sasha, but we’re all still a family.”

  Choosing not to disagree, I give her the most relevant answer. “And sometimes families have fights.”

  “And strong families, always make up.” She stands up and leans in for a hug. I hug her back, trying to absorb her confidence and her strength while she whispers the simplest words of encouragement. “You have been to hell and back for this family, Sasha. Don’t let a broken heart be the thing that wears you down.”

  She goes back inside, and I take a few minutes to myself, mulling over what she said when Dakota comes out handing me my phone. “Here. It was ringing.”

  I take it off her and check the missed call. I don’t recognise the number, so I don’t bother calling it back. Before I get the chance to hand it back to her it rings again.

  “Hello.”

  “Sasha.” My body reacts to the voice before I can even be sure it’s who I think it is. “Sasha,” the man repeats, my name a rough and hoarse plea. “It’s me, Jay.”

  His name has goosebumps erupting all over my skin.

  Trying to appear unaffected, I look at Dakota, and put my finger up signalling her to give me a minute. She heads back in without thinking twice.

  Needing the support, I sit back down, my legs momentarily unable to keep me up.

  “What are you doing calling me?” My voice is steady, a complete contradiction to the haywire beats in my chest. “How did you get this number?”

  “You called me off it.” I think back to the day Lily hurt herself, and remember Holly tying up the main line, forcing me to use my own phone. An honest slip-up, I never thought he’d take notice and call me back. “You know I’ve been dying to speak to you.”

  His voice gives off the slightest slur. “Are you drunk?”

  “More like sedated,” he clarifies. “It’s been a long day.”

  The sadness from earlier returns and I offer up a small reminder of the only light I know he has. “How’s Lily?”

  “She’s perfect.”

  There’s a long stretch of silence between us as he seems to get lost in his own thoughts “Is everything okay, Jay?”

  At my question, a loud exhale travels through the phone. “Why is that such a hard question to answer?”

  His response seems like it’s a question he’s asking himself instead of answering me. “Are you, okay?” I repeat. I know he’s not. It’s painfully obvious, but there’s also nothing I can do. It doesn’t feel like my place. Regardless of how tight my body is wound up over his existence the last few weeks, and how messy my mind is remembering the past; I know nothing about this man. I’m so removed from whatever it is that pains him, and I need to accept it. No matter what.

  “I want to see you,” he says more steadily. “I need to speak to you. Please.”

  After the progress I made with Emerson and Jagger tonight, I know even more so his request is a tall order. “I’m sorry Jay, but it isn’t a good idea.”

  “Once. That’s all I’m asking,” he begs, losing the mixed streaks of arrogance and confidence that usually accompany those words.

  “Jay, whatever it is you think you have to do. You don’t. I don’t need it.”

  “Please, Sasha.” His pleading scratches at my heart. “I need it. Tonight, I fucking need it.”

  It shouldn’t hurt me to reject him, especially after everything he did to me, but his grief is palpable, and regret begins pulling at my unreliable heartstrings. “I’m sorry for your loss, Jay,” I start. “I really, really am, but that’s all that needs to be said between us.”

  Feeling the presence of someone behind me, I turn to find Jagger standing in the doorway. His eyes cold, brows furrowed, and hands clenched.

  I turn away not wanting to watch the signs of his silent wrath, potentially turn into a conversation I’m not willing to have. Unsure of how much he heard, but confident enough to know he’s put the pieces together, I try and finish up the conversation with Jay. “Look. I will try and call you back, but you need to get some sleep, you need to be your best for Lily, tomorrow.”

  “That’s it,” he croaks. “You’re really not going to let me see you.”

  Arguing with him in this state, and now with an audience isn’t going to end this conversation any faster, so I concede. “Tomorrow.”

  “Really?” His tone becomes hopeful, and I hate the way that makes me feel.

  “Bright and early.”

  I slide the phone off my ear and reluctantly face Jagger. He’s as still as a statue.

  “Who the fuck was that?”

  I try not to be rattled by the anger radiating off him. “You mean you weren’t eavesdropping?”

  “I was coming to ask if you wanted dessert,” he says through clenched teeth.

 
“Oh. Well, in that case, I’m fine.” My voice is an octave higher than it needs to be as I think of the quickest way to avoid this conversation. “I think I’m going to go home.”

  Solely focused on my phone call, he repeats. “Who was that?”

  I sink back down to the chair and bury my face in my hands. I could lie to him. “How much did you hear?”

  “A name that brought back a fuck ton of memories. Ones where you drenched my shirt in a million tears over what he did to you.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tell me it wasn’t him. Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

  “It’s none of your business,” I argue defensively. “Our talk inside wasn’t an invitation to discuss the ins and outs of my life choices.”

  “Tell me it’s not him.” His voice is full of desperation. “Anyone in the world Sasha, but not him.”

  “What does it matter, anyway?” I huff with defeat. “You’ve already made your mind up. Assumed the worst.” I get up to face him, not bothering to hide my hurt. “I’m the stupid one, right? And you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “Sash.” He reaches for me, and I flinch back “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Don’t.” I put my hand up between us, dismissing his piss poor apology. “I have to go home. I need to get out of here.”

  He steps closer to me, crowding my personal space. “How did you even reconnect with him?”

  “Now you want to ask the questions?”

  Reminiscent of our younger years he rolls his eyes at me before grabbing my shoulders and steering me back down to the chair. He sits beside me and asks again. “I know it was him, so please answer the question.”

  Leaning back into the chair, I lose the fight under the weight of his insistence and answer him. “He brought his daughter into the centre.”

  “That dude has a fucking child.”

  “Don’t get all high and mighty, Jagger,” I scold. “Once upon a time you weren’t a great dad either.”

  The insult singes my tongue as it leaves my mouth. It’s below the belt. So low. It hurts me, just as much as I intended to hurt him.

  “You’re comparing me to Jay fucking Evans,” he seethes.

  “I’m just saying, we’ve all changed. Maybe he has too.”

  “So you would just do me and Hendrix wrong like that? After all this time?” Unknowingly he gives life to the reasoning behind all my choices. Everybody else is a priority but me.

  “You both have all you need,” I say, challenging him. “This interest you have in my life right now is pure selfishness.”

  “Your decisions affect us all.”

  “They do, but just like I lived with you going to prison, and I’m living with Hendrix picking the other woman, how about you two live with my decisions for a change?”

  “But, him?”

  He misses my point, too hung up on Jay. “There’s nothing to worry about. If you weren’t such a hot head and listened to the whole conversation. Properly. You would’ve heard me take a hard pass on meeting up with him.” It’s a lie, but it’s as necessary as my next breath. I run with it, convincingly throwing him off. “Instead you conjured up a whole fictitious scenario and got your dick in a twist.”

  “Why’d you get so damn defensive then, huh?”

  “You called me stupid, Jagger.” This seems to put him back in his place, the disbelief on his face retreating; becoming a bit more apologetic. “It’s my life, and contrary to what you may think, you don’t have any say in the decisions I make.”

  “That’s not fair, I’m just looking out for you.”

  I nod because I understand, but it doesn’t change anything. I stand to make my way inside. Looking back before leaving, I catch his eyes and glance at him apologetically. “Don’t act so surprised. We both know life’s not fair.”

  It’s always been like this with Jagger, we love each other fiercely, but whenever one of us has a point to prove, it’s like repetitive rounds in a boxing ring. Each swing is an underhanded insult or an unexpected revelation.

  The worst part is tonight, everything I told him is the truth, but he doesn’t really want to listen. I’m sick of keeping my truths to myself. I don’t want to be the only one making sacrifices, trying to hold it all together. After all these years, I want to try and be me.

  * * *

  I leave their house in a bundle of confusion. Tonight we managed to take two steps forward only to take three steps back. Knowing that Dakota was staying back for her weekly sleepover meant that I left as soon as I could, guilt-free, with nothing but Jay on my mind.

  Jagger’s warnings were exactly what I anticipated they’d be, but instead of being the deterrent it initially was, his demands make me want nothing more than to show him he doesn’t get a say in what I do or who I talk to. It’s rebellious and childish, but right now, it’s so damn appealing.

  I get home in no time, and after a quick shower, I settle into bed with my Kindle. It’s only nine, but there’s nothing I love more than quiet reading time before bed. And after the night I’ve had, I need to numb my mind, reduce my anxiety, and just take a few moments.

  I’m about an hour into my book when my phone beeps on the nightstand. If Dakota was home, I wouldn’t bother looking up from the book, choosing to worry about it in the morning.

  But just in case, I grab it and swipe at the notification. It opens to a message from an unknown number, which I now recognise as Jay’s.

  Unknown Number: I’m sorry for calling you earlier.

  I check the time and notice it’s close to two hours since he called. Debating whether or not to respond, another message shoots through.

  Unknown Number: But I’m grateful you agreed to tomorrow.

  I try not to overthink what tomorrow will bring, hoping I can explain that I accepted the invitation with the intention to reiterate my stance on reconnecting with him. But a part of me is unmistakably curious to hear what he could possibly have to say.

  I get lost in my own thoughts, imagining a million different scenarios. Unfortunately, with each one, my resolve weakens, and the idea of reacquainting with Jay instead of pushing him away, sounds more and more attractive.

  I choose not to type out a quick reply and toss the phone aside to continue reading. I don’t know why, but I keep looking at my phone wanting him to reach out again, even though I’ve given him no reason to.

  After re-reading the same sentence for ten minutes, I pick up my phone and give into the distraction.

  Convincing myself that sending a follow-up message is all in good faith, I offer him my condolences.

  Me: It seems like you had a rough day, I’m so sorry about your loss.

  The phone rings almost immediately, and I drop it in shock. I contemplate not answering, but I just invited the dialogue, didn’t I? If I hear his voice, and his vulnerability, I’ll be coerced into a world where only forgiveness and empathy exist. Texting doesn’t feel as consequential. The call goes to voicemail, and I wait to see if he leaves a message. He doesn’t. Instead it rings again, and I have no choice but to answer it.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey.” His voice is nothing but exhaustion. The off-kilter tone he had earlier now missing. “I’m not much of a texter.”

  “I wasn’t expecting a response.” I put a hand over my mouth as he chuckles. I didn’t expect that to sound as rude as it was. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say on a sigh. “I’m just not used to this.”

  “Talking on the phone?” he jokes.

  “I mean seeing you. Talking to you.”

  “Do you want to get used to it?” Gravel laces his voice, all the possible meanings to his loaded question flutter around in my lower belly.

  “I don’t know if I can handle that.”

  “No rush, Pretty Girl. We’ve got time to figure it out.” That damn nickname has me wanting to burn up in flames, my body unable to contain its response to hearing it. Without
thinking, I blurt out, “Come over.”

  “What?” His hesitation has me ready to retract the words when he beats me to it. “Fuck the explanation. Tell me where and I’ll be there.”

  “Sorry,” I offer out of shock. “I don’t know what just came over me.”

  “Who cares, let’s take advantage of it before the sun rises and common sense takes over.”

  I smile to myself, his simple statement the very reason I became so captivated by him in my youth. Everything was tomorrow’s problem, and for someone who was as uptight, and insecure as I was, his lease on life was the antidote I needed.

  “So, I take it you’re coming then?”

  “Wait. No.” My stomach drops. “What about your daughter?”

  I blow a breath out in relief, his concern about Dakota another reason I want to get to know this Jay. He’s caring and courteous to my circumstances. A side of him I don’t know. “She’s at her dad’s.”

  “I’ll call an Uber,” he rushes. “I’ll be there soon.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “I’m temporarily at my dad's place.”

  I mentally calculate the distance between his place and mine. “Do you know where Freeway Ridge is?”

  “I’m sure the Uber driver does.”

  “Okay, I’ll text you the exact address.”

  “See you soon, Sash.”

  He hangs up before I can say bye. I flick him a text with my address and bolt off the bed to change out of my pyjamas. I slip into a fresh pair of leggings and put on a bra. Nothing sexy, just to ensure my clothes stay on.

  Covering up with a long, white tank, I finish the look with a perfected messy bun that looks somewhere between I didn’t try too hard, but I still care what I look like.

  The cynical part of me half expects him to bail, so when the doorbell rings, I’m a little thrown off guard. I take one last look in the mirror and deem myself presentable enough for his company.