Infinitely by Cheryl McIntyre
“Briar.” That’s it. That’s all he says, yet I hear several different emotions in my name. I stand there, not sure what to say. Not sure what to feel as I watch his face shift through the emotions his voice hinted at. Jaxon comes up behind me as Benji’s eyes burn into mine, holding me in place. He releases me slowly to look over my head at his brother. “Why did you let her in here?”
I can’t help it, I back away from the desperation radiating off of him. Jaxon takes my shoulders and reverses me, steering me to the steps. As he pushes me forward, movement behind Benji catches my attention. I freeze, my hand on the railing stilling Jax’s attempt. A girl—a woman—with blonde hair peeks around Benji’s shoulder. I meet her dark eyes. I have a million questions on the tip of my tongue, but she doesn’t appear to be confused by my presence. Benji steps back, swinging his door closed, and Jax nudges me gently. I move down the steps in a daze and he doesn’t stop guiding me until we’re out the door. On the porch, I wrench away.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jax says, but his voice is soft, sad almost. “You need to go home. And you probably shouldn’t come back here for a while.”
I’m shaking. I can’t stop. I’m so hurt and angry. No, there’s no word for what I am right now. “What just happened?”
“Ugh.” He rubs his palms over his face and groans. “Nothing I can explain.”
“Why don’t you try?”
He heaves himself down on the top porch step with a sigh. “I can’t.”
“TRY,” I scream.
“I. CAN’T.” He puts his head in his hands, shaking it slowly. “I’m not allowed, but believe me, Bri, I wish I could.”
Nothing makes sense. I want to march right back in there and confront Benji. Force him to explain if Jaxon won’t. “What do you mean you aren’t allowed?” I wrap one arm across my stomach, suddenly feeling nauseated. He’s supposed to be my friend. I’ve missed him so badly.
“He made me swear.”
“He… Benji? I don’t understand. Please, Jax, give me something. Why does he hate me?”
Jaxon shakes his head. “He…” He stands up and brushes past me pausing at the door. “This is how it is. You need to accept it. I’m sorry. I really am.” He goes inside, closing both doors. I hear the lock click in place and know there’ll be no answers tonight. There may never be answers.
~*~
Mom and I help Dad in the field. Mom insists on bringing the CD player that runs on batteries. It’s bulky and I think the music coming from the speakers sounds weird, distorted, but Mom loves it. We listen to oldies, which I love, swaying our hips as we move down the row. Dad even comes over and swings Mom around, pulling her into his arms to dance. I watch them, only half nauseated by their show of affection. There are some people you can look at and know they’re truly happy. There’s this vibe they give off. The way their eyes meet and hold as if there’s nobody else in the world. The long smiles they share—full of secrets and memories. My parents are those people.
I was one of those people, too, once. I glance over my shoulder at Benji’s house. The sun catches something in the window, glinting and shining. It burns my eyes as I stare at it. Memories attack and I’m reminded of the time Benji’s mom was in a rare state of soberness. We were nine, I think.
She put on an old CD and we all jumped around, dancing and laughing on the front porch—Benji, Jaxon, Payton, and I.
And then Shelby brought out a big basket filled with other old CDs. She had us go through them and pick the ones we thought looked pretty. I didn’t understand the task, sifting through them and reading the labels, searching for something I recognized. Shelby pulled me up beside her and took the discs from my hands.
“Look,” she whispered, her soft cheek against mine. Shifting her hand, she made the sun reflect across my legs. “We’re going to make sun catchers. This side will be pretty every time light touches it.” She ran her fingers over the back. “But you need to choose the ones that you think look pretty on this side.” She flipped one over, showing me the front. “Don’t read the words, look at the pictures.”
She helped me flip through the CDs, complimenting my choices. I chose one that had a picture of half an apple and she smiled. “This is one of my favorites.”
After we had our disks arranged in the shapes we wanted, Shelby drilled little holes into them and showed us how to connect them with clear fishing line. As we stood there admiring them, I asked, “How will you listen to them now?”
Shelby looked sad, her eyes seeming to look through our sun catchers. “I am listening to them.”
Mom laughs and I blink, the past replaced with present. I’m momentarily blinded and I shield my eyes with my hand. When I look back to Benji’s window the light is gone.
“All right, all right. Back to work,” Mom sighs. She fans herself and Dad kisses the top of her head then does the same to me.
I focus on my work, humming along with the music, moving quickly, efficiently, robotically. A big hand takes hold of a stalk as I reach for it and I gasp, reeling around.
“Don’t make me leave,” Jaxon murmurs. “Please.”
That’s exactly what I want to do. I’m not welcome at his house, but he’s allowed in my field? But there’s this disturbing contrast in the expression on his face and the sad pleading in his warm brown eyes that makes me stop just as I’m opening my mouth to rant. His jaw is set, his brow narrowed as he peers down at me, but the rest of his face is childlike. Remorseful, I think. And those eyes…
He should be sorry. He really hurt me. Although, I guess, if I’m being truly honest with myself, it wasn’t Jax who hurt me.
It was Benji.
I walk around him without a word and take the next stalk. We work in silence—except when Jax sings along with some of the songs—until Mom says it’s time to break for lunch. He glances over at me with puppy-dog-eyes and I sigh. With the wave of my hand, I say, “Come on.”
Dad takes off his baseball cap and swats Jax’s shoulder with it. “Briar put you to work, huh?”
“I volunteered,” he answers with a smile in my direction. I try to return it, but I think of Benji’s face the night before and it falters.
Once inside, Mom pulls the fridge open and curses, an unusual occurrence for her. “Briar, can you and Jaxon run down to the store? I completely forgot I was supposed to pick up our order at noon.” She glowers at her watch. “It’s nearly one.”
“I’ll go pick it up,” Jax offers a little too quickly and I know Benji must be working.
“No, that’s all right. I need to exercise King anyway.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You can come along if you want.”
Of course, Jaxon comes along, but I make him ride Grace this time. We’re nearly to his grandfather’s store when he offers to run in and pick up the groceries.
I slide off King and tether him to a post, trying to mask the hurt his words cause. “You can’t keep me out of the store. This is so stupid. I have every right to shop here, same as anybody else. Benji is just going to have to live with it.”
Nerves make my palms sweaty. I dry them on my pants and smooth my shirt. I’m covered in a fine, dusty film of yellow corn pollen. Awesome. Well, this is who I am. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Still, I brush myself off the best I can and run shaky fingers through my red locks, trying to untangle the bird’s nest caused by the wind. It’ll have to be good enough.
Jax goes in before me, his bulky body blocking my view. I run into his back when he comes to an abrupt stop. “Briar needs to pick up her mom’s order,” he calls. I want to hit him, but I control myself and move around his thick frame in time to see Payton switch places with Benji behind the counter. Golden-brown eyes flick my way for just a moment as he hurries to the stockroom in the back.
Suppressing an eye roll and an annoyed groan, I check the bags Payton places on the counter. Jaxon is busy looking through a magazine while he waits for me. I bite my lip and pretend to be looking for something specific. “Mom must hav
“Oh, I’ll have Jaxon run on back and grab you some,” Payton says.
“That’s okay. I know where they are. I’m kind of picky about my fruit. It’ll just take me a sec.” Without waiting for a reply I take off. Once I’m out of sight, I head straight for the stockroom. Benji owes me some kind of explanation and I’m determined to get it. Face to face.
One door is propped open by several stacked boxes. I step lightly around them and peek into the large room. It’s darker here, only one overhead light shining. Its yellow glow barely illuminating a small section, but I would remember my way around this room with my eyes closed. I have so many good memories of this place.
Boxes and crates cast shadows along the walls and I almost miss Benji. He’s seated on the floor, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. As quietly as I can, I slowly approach his still form. Stopping in front of him, my tongue suddenly ties itself into a knot and I’m just staring at him like a creepy stalker. But oh, my God, he is so peaceful and…gorgeous. There’s no malice or fear evident in his features. His face is smooth, relaxed, and absolutely perfect. If I hadn’t watched him come back here a moment ago, I would think he was sleeping.
Not sure how to go about this, I lower myself so I’m eye level with him, but make sure to give him a couple feet of space. I don’t care that he has a girlfriend living with him—if that’s what she is. He was my best friend for as long as I can remember. I want that back. I want to meet this girl and try to be happy for him. I want to be part of his life. If he can’t do that for me after all of our years of friendship, then he at least owes me a reason.
I reach out, and although I want to touch his face, I gently brush my fingers over the back of his hand. His eyes fly open and we’re staring at each other. I’m completely lost in his eyes, all the feelings I’ve tried to push down come roaring to the surface. My stomach muscles tighten. I count my racing heartbeats.
I get to four before he’s pushing himself to his feet. I do the same, but block his retreat as he attempts to move around me. He freezes, breathing hard, causing his chest to rise and fall quickly.
“Why are you afraid of me?” I whisper, unable to mask the hurt in my voice.
Something—some kind of emotion—passes over his face and he closes his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.” He blinks and runs his tongue over his lips. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“I know. I’ll leave.”
His entire body sags in relief and I feel my eyebrows draw together. Out of everything, I think this hurts the most. How can he be so appeased by my promise to leave? “After,” I add, “you tell me why you refuse to see me.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Why do you hate me, Benji?”
What could I have possibly done to cause him to look at me this way?
He pinches his eyes shut, cutting off any clue to what he’s thinking. He opens his mouth and I think he’s actually going to confess, to finally explain his actions to me. But he turns his head and yells.
“Jaxon, get her out of here, please.”
I jump as his voice fills the space between us. Jaxon stumbles past the boxes at the door and I scowl at him.
“Don’t bother,” I say. “I’m going.” After two steps I spin around. Benji flinches. “I’m sorry. For whatever I did. You were my best friend. I missed you every single day. I don’t…understand…” Tears fill my eyes and that’s my cue to leave. Even though I want to run, and even though I want to cry more, I do neither. Payton stands outside the door, her hands knotted in her shirt. I blink rapidly as I brush past her.
“Jax,” Payton murmurs. “Help her with the bags and get her home.” She steps forward and places her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Briar.”
I pause, feeling a shudder run through me. She’s sorry. For what? I wish someone would explain what the hell is going on because I don’t understand.
Jax puts his arm around my shoulder and I allow him to guide me outside, mostly because I need someone to lean on right now. “I’m going to get the bags and I’ll be right back.”
I nod. Whatever. I feel like an idiot. Seriously, it’s not the end of the world. Why am I trembling so badly? This is completely ridiculous. No, pathetic is a more fitting word. Fuck this. Fuck Benji. I’ve been perfectly fine without him. I could care less whether he likes me or not.
Ugh. I’m a shit liar even when I’m lying to myself.
I’m still trying to talk my emotions off the ledge when Jax gets back. He knows better than to talk to me, busying himself instead with tying off the bags and releasing our horses.
Terrible thoughts and unanswered questions chase one another around my mind as we head home. It’s driving me crazy. How can someone be your friend for seventeen years and then suddenly hate you? How does that happen? And why does everyone seem to know what is going on except me? Shouldn’t I know? Don’t I deserve to know?
I notice movement from the corner of my eye. I bring Kingston to a halt and gasp as I understand what I’m seeing. Thick black smoke claims the air, billowing off the house past the empty field as we come over the bridge. Flynn’s home is in flames. Without realizing what I’m doing, I flick the reins, coaxing Kingston into a full gallop. There’s only one thing on my mind.
Flynn.
“Briar, WAIT,” Jaxon yells.
I don’t hesitate. Although I’m going as fast as I can, it feels like it’s taking forever to get there. Flynn’s mom is stumbling across the yard, her hands extended in front of her. Her face is masked in horror. The pure terror morphs her usually beautiful features into something so grotesque I’ll never be able to erase the image from my memories. I know she’s screaming. I can hear her, but I don’t understand what she’s saying. And, God, I can feel her fear. I rake my eyes to the other side of their property. Flynn’s father, Axel, is on his knees. A man I don’t recognize is looming over him, something raised over his head. To see Axel, a bear of a man, so large in size, brought to his knees is devastating. I can’t stop the bile from rising in my throat.
But this is not what has Flynn’s mother running and screaming. Because now that I’m closer, I understand what she’s saying.
“NO Flynn. STOP.” She falls to the ground, sliding across the grass. Her body twists in ways a forty-something-year-old shouldn’t move as she rolls over the ground. I think I hear the fracturing of a bone, or maybe it’s the roof of their home splitting into flames, I’m just not sure.
Flynn’s running from the direction of the barn, hurtling toward the man in front of his dad. What Mrs. Amos sees—what Flynn does not see—is another man on his heels. Only, this man has a gun. The silver steel of the gun glints in the sunlight, casting a glare across the man’s face as he points it directly at Flynn’s back.
I don’t have even one second to process. It’s all happening too quickly. In the time it takes me to look from one side of the yard to the other, a deafening crack fills the air, and Flynn’s feet leave the ground before he careens, face first, into the dirt.
No. Oh, my God. No.
Kingston spooks and bucks. I dig my heels into his sides, but I’ve lost all control of him. He turns away from the fire, away from the men with guns, and goes in the direction of home. I want to stop. I want to help them. I have to help them. They’re like my second family.
I love them.
I yank on the reins and King slows, but he refuses to stop. Inhaling deeply and preparing myself for the pain, I throw my leg over and slide from the saddle. My feet hit hard, my knees buckling. The air is forced from my lungs as I hit the earth on my side and continue to roll too many times to count. As I lie on my back fighting for breath, ashes fall from the sky. They float ever so slowly down.
Down.
Down.
A breeze sweeps through, spinning them up high into the sky before whisking them away.
When I finally find my air, it’s filled with smog. I choke and gag, but pull myself up to my feet and run. There’s another gunshot
Please. Please no more.
I catch myself with my fingers and push back up. A third shot is fired. I’m knocked down, tackled from behind. Pain shoots through my midsection and I think I cry out. I must because my throat feels raw.
No. No. No. No.
Please. Please, no.
Jaxon’s lips press against my ear. “Stay down,” he pants. “I don’t think they’ve seen us.” I struggle, unable to breathe under his weight. “Shh. It’s all right. They’re leaving. They’re leaving. Hold still.”
I wiggle my hand underneath me and pry the cell phone from my pocket. I yank my arm out from under my and Jaxon’s weight and dial 911. Before I can hit the send button, Jax knocks it from my fingers, sending it sliding down the hill.
I squirm beneath him, trying to scream in outrage. He folds his hand securely over my mouth, silencing me before I can make a sound. A car roars to life, followed by another. The ground crackles as tires roll over debris. Debris that was once Flynn’s home. Minutes pass before Jaxon lifts himself off me and pulls me to my feet. I try to take a full breath, but it’s so full of smoke and ash, it hurts, and I choke again.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I cry. Tears sting my eyes and clog my throat. “We need to call the police.”
Jax jabs a finger in the direction the cars went. “Did you see their cars? Fucking, Christ, Briar. Those were the fucking cops. You call them, they’re coming back to kill us.”
What? No. I try to remember what I saw. It happened so quickly. My focus was on the Amoses not the men’s cars. I close my eyes and replay the scene. The man standing in front of Axel, the one with his arm poised for attack—it was a police baton he held. My body trembles as I recall the other man. The bullet striking Flynn, hitting him with such force he was airborne for a moment. Then he landed in front of a car, his face smacking the dirt drive. And the car… It wasn’t one of our small, local police, but it was a cop car. Why would police do this? Why would anybody do this?