Blindspot (Daydream, Colorado Book 1) Read online

  “That would be lovely, yes!”

  “All right, now it is then,” Mason chuckled and put his phone on speaker. He walked towards a wardrobe in his hallway and sat on the floor to open the bottom drawer, leaving the phone on the floor next to his crossed legs. He riffled through it and found several photo albums stacked near the back of it. He pulled them all out in front of himself and cracked open the first one. A smile stretched across his face as he looked through photos of the first day Sage had run The Bakery. They’d had a huge relaunch party, introduced so many new products Sage wanted to try for years, and had an amazing time the entire day.

  Mason remembered it had been one of the best days he had ever had.

  “You there, boy?” he heard Orson ask and he smiled.

  “Yeah. I found the albums, just looking through them to see what they are. I don’t suppose you remember what your album looks like?” he asked, closing the album in front of him and setting it aside to pick up another one.

  “Oh, um… has a colorful front side… pages… that kinda thing,” Orson said and Mason rolled his eyes fondly.

  “Does it happen to have photos in there too?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess. Okay, let me look through these real quick and I’ll call you back?” he said, and Orson agreed quickly before hanging up.

  Glancing through several more albums Mason found ones from birthdays, weddings, camping trips and just random days spent with friends. Each photo brought a smile to his face, and he found himself relaxing for the first time in days. He scooted back until his back touched the wall and propped the next album on his bent knees.

  This one seemed to be from just a few years back. Sage had organized a sleepover for the two of them, and they spent the whole night watching terrible movies, giving each other awful makeovers, and eating everything in sight. They acted like children and felt the need to document it all on camera. Sage had developed the photos and put them into the album as a gift for Mason’s birthday. He filled the pages with stupid commentary, and it was the best gift Mason had ever gotten. He chuckled through the entire album, memories making him warm on the inside. He hadn’t felt better since his nightmares started, and as usual, he had Sage to thank for making everything better.

  Flipping the album closed, he set it aside to take with him and put it somewhere closer to him. He figured just having it near would make him think of the photos and bring a smile to his face.

  He reached for the last album in the pile. This one with a huge, floral print cover in the ghastliest colors he had ever seen. He pulled it towards himself, grunting at the weight of it, and reached his fingers under it to pick it up. He lifted it halfway up before it slipped from between his fingers and clattered to the ground, opening on a random page and spilling several photos. Rolling his eyes at his own clumsiness, he picked up the photos, glancing at them and realizing he had found the album Orson had asked for. He piled up the loose photos and tucked them back inside.

  One of the photos caught his attention, as it was larger than the rest and sticking from outside the album. He pulled it out and turned it around. All of the joy he had found as he looked through Sage’s gift drained from him as he stared at the photo.

  An aged treehouse in the background, beaten by both the years and elements but still standing firmly. A boy on the left, short and skinny, wrapped up in the arms of another boy, much taller and darker than himself. Their young faces were smiling at the camera, and Mason remembered he had suggested he could levitate the camera and turn it towards them so they could both be in the photo.

  Drew had teased him he just had to use his magic for everything, and Mason had scowled at him and did it anyway. The photo turned out terribly. It was out of focus, the two of them were located somewhere in the bottom left corner, and half of Mason’s left ear was missing. But their smiles were beaming, their friendship was stronger than ever, and there was a magical summer just waiting to unfold in front of them.

  A summer, neither of them knew, was the last one they’d spend together.

  Waking up in his childhood bedroom felt even weirder than he could have ever imagined. It was like one of those cheesy teen movies where a fifteen-year-old magically woke up in the body of an adult, but everything around them remained the same and they had no memory of the years in between. Drew did remember the years in between, but not as if he had lived them. It was more like he had a vivid dream that stayed branded into his mind long after he woke up.

  He heard his parents talking from the kitchen, pots and pans clanging and their voices carrying through multiple closed doors. It was all so normal he wanted to scream. He’d stayed in bed for almost an hour after waking, knowing that as soon as he got up and went downstairs his precarious peace would be shattered by whatever they had to say to him.

  A knock on his door broke through the silence in his room.

  “Yes?” he called out; voice rough from sleep.

  “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. We’d love it if you’d join us,” he heard his mother say. She sounded more like she was allowing him to make decisions about how to proceed with this than like a snowplow, pushing her way through to do what she intended to do. If he knew his parents at all, it was his father who had talked her into letting up a little bit.

  “Yeah…I…I’ll be down in a few…” he said, dreading whatever was waiting for him, but knowing there was no point delaying it. The sooner they got it done, the sooner he could pack up his bag again and leave.

  “Okay…” she said, and he could hear the steps creaking as she went back downstairs.

  He got up quickly, not allowing himself the chance to change his mind and just pretend he went back to sleep. A quick hop to the bathroom had him feeling slightly more human, and he raided his bag for a pair of warm jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. He pulled on thick socks, and with that, he really had no other reason to linger in his room.

  He went downstairs slowly, as if waiting for someone to jump out at him from behind every corner. And it wasn’t that he had ever felt unsafe in his home, but there were times…when it felt more like a trap than a home.

  Reaching the kitchen, he saw his parents sitting around the table, another spread of food in front of them. His father was eating a bowl of porridge, The Daydream Gaze hovering slightly over the table, the pages flipping with a soft rustle whenever he reached the end of a page.

  “Morning,” his dad said, taking a sip of coffee and Drew nodded at him, sitting down between them. He reached out to grab some coffee for himself, but before he knew it, his mother was already pouring it, adding a splash of milk and half a teaspoon of sugar. Another thing that hadn’t changed. His habits.

  “Sleep well?” his mother asked as she piled food on his plate. Just like last night, it set him on edge.

  The bunny shakers hopped over to him with little thumps, and he shooed them irritably.

  “Fine,” he responded, stomach churning, but not from hunger. He didn’t think he’d be able to eat a single bite. He saw her flinch at his tone, and he wanted to feel bad, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault, he tried to tell himself for the millionth time. His brain knew that. But his heart wasn’t really on board.

  “Drew…” he heard her start pleadingly, and as daunting as it was, he wanted to get this over with.

  “Vera…let’s eat breakfast in peace…” his father said, but Drew didn’t want to wait anymore. This song and dance was exhausting, and he wanted to know what he was doing there so he could leave.

  “No… no, I’d rather do it now,” he said. Silence fell over them as they looked at him apprehensively. “Whatever IT is?”

  The silence that answered him only served to fuel his anger.

  “Maybe your father is right. We should try this again tomorrow, it’s your first day back,” his mother suggested, shifting uncomfortably.

  “It could be my last day if you told me what this was all about,” he said pointedly.
/>   “Just… eat your breakfast Drew,” his father said, flustered.

  “You want to sit here and eat and pretend that you didn’t hire a complete stranger to track me down and ask me to come back here after all this time? I want to know why!” he demanded, palm slamming on the table in frustration and sending the shakers tumbling.

  His mother flinched, her mouth working over the words she wanted to say but couldn’t bring herself to. It was his father who answered him in the end.

  “We cleaned out Troy’s room this summer.”

  That name was like a sucker punch to his abdomen, a hit so hard that his vision swam in and out.

  “W-we found… Drew, sweetie, we found his journal,” his mother continued on, reaching for him across the table. He curled back into himself, scrambling to his feet as quickly as he could. That burning desire for answers vanished with the mention of that name. All he wanted to do now was leave.

  “Forget what I said, I don’t care,” he whispered.

  “We saw what he wrote,” his mother said shakily, words edging on hysterical.

  “I don’t care!” he said, louder now, looking between the two of them as he backed away from the table.

  His father was staring him down with stoic determination that did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes, and his mother had tears already rolling down her cheeks. He refused to be guilt-tripped by it. He may have wished for this very conversation over ten years ago… now it was too little, too late.

  “Son, please… we need to discuss this as a family,” Ray entreated. “I know we didn’t believe you after the funeral… you have to know how sorry we are—”

  Drew couldn’t listen to another word. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was suffocating. All these secrets had eaten up all the air in the room. He turned on his heel, sparing a second to grab his coat before he was out of the front door and fumbling to get into his car. His chest was heaving.

  “Drew!” his mother called tearfully from the front porch.

  He shut her out with the slam of the car door, wishing he could do the same with his spiraling thoughts. He knew he shouldn’t be driving, but the need to be gone was too much, and he stuck the key in the ignition, reversing and pulling away.

  Distance.

  He just needed distance.

  It had worked for him before. He just needed to outrun these thoughts and feelings. Keep going, don’t look back, don’t think about it. Keep going.

  He had caught his breath back by the time he reached Main Street. By then, his limbs had begun to shake, making it hard to grip the steering wheel, to know how hard to press on the accelerator.

  No, not now!

  He felt his vision blur, and the now familiar, buzzing sound started ringing in his ears. He could feel it approaching, so he parked haphazardly in the nearest available spot as the pins and needles set in, leaning back against the head rest and closing his eyes tight.

  “Don’t give in. Stay awake,” he coached himself, but it never really worked. His words started to slur. Phantom pain made his chest ache, and cruel laughter echoed in his ears before that scream, that terrible, awful scream, ripped through his mind. And then everything went black.

  “SIR!” he came to, to the sound of someone smacking their palm against his window and calling out for him. “ARE YOU OKAY?”

  “Y—yeah…fine,” he rasped, but his voice was barely audible.

  “Sir!!” The woman called again, trying to jiggle the handle. With shaking fingers, he unlocked and opened the car door.

  “Are you okay?” The woman asked once again, when he managed to drag his legs out, sitting on the edge of the seat and leaning on his knees.

  “I’m okay,” he whispered pushing himself up and out of his car, barely remembering to lock it as he looked around, scouting for an escape from his memories. The woman kept calling after him, asking if she should call the ambulance or help him somehow, but he couldn’t stay there.

  In front of him was the old Wexley’s Coffee and Leaf, now updated with a flashier sign and interior that had gone through some form of revamp since he had last seen it.

  He pushed his way inside, the bitter smell of brewing coffee beans and pungent steeping tea leaves assaulting his senses upon entry. He kept his head down as he headed towards the counter. He didn’t want to be recognized, he didn’t want to exchange pleasantries or catch up. He didn’t want to answer the question of why he left and never came back.

  Luckily, the young girl manning the register wasn’t familiar to him, she simply stared at him with an expectant, bored look that most teenagers adopted while working their first jobs.

  “Coffee, please. Black,” he requested, like it was some kind of defiance that he didn’t add the milk, like this girl in front of him even cared.

  “You want it to go?”

  He looked behind himself. It wasn’t busy and he probably shouldn’t be driving again anytime soon. “I’ll grab a table.”

  She snapped her gum as she nodded; a small bubble popping and letting off a faint gold sparkle like a miniature firework in front of her face. She blinked, unphased. “Anything else?”

  He shook his head and handed over the total, moving to grab a table in the corner by the window while he waited. His order was complete in minutes, floating over to him on its own tray. Soon his shaking hands were nursing his cup, rattling it against the little saucer it was placed upon as he tried to relax and calm down.

  Two hours passed.

  Two hours and his head was still spinning. His parents knew. They believed him. After the years of pain it caused him to know they didn’t care enough to know what he had to say, they finally knew the truth. And yet none of it felt like it was enough.

  Three coffees deep and wondering if the shaking could be blamed on his emotional state any longer, he was about to take another sip when someone snagged his elbow as they were walking by. His cup went flying, showering a rain of coffee onto his sweater, the table and the tan pants this unknown person was wearing.

  “Shit…” he heard the person whisper from above him and he lifted his eyes upwards.

  It was a man around his age, tall, strong and friendly-looking, despite the growing brown stain on his pant leg. Courtesy of Drew and the upheaval that was his life.

  “Sorry…I was all up in my head, Jesus, I’m an idiot,” he started apologizing, looking around himself to find something to wipe the coffee off…everything. He heard the man chuckle and looked up again to find him smiling and shaking his head.

  “It’s all good. Bad day?” the stranger asked kindly.

  “The absolute worst,” he heard himself say before he even thought about it. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but if he did, he felt like maybe a stranger would be the best option he had.

  “Sorry to hear that,” the man said and then extended his hand towards him. “I’m Ben.”

  “Drew,” he said, taking the hand and giving it a firm shake.

  “Haven’t seen you around before. You new?” Ben asked and Drew let out a snort at the question.

  “In a way, yeah,” he said, deciding against talking about it after all.

  “Got it. Listen, I’m in a hurry for a job consultation, but here’s my card. Give me a call if you wanna grab a beer or something while you’re here,” Ben said, offering the card.

  Drew stared at it for a second before taking it.

  “Why?” he asked and Ben laughed.

  “I’m new too. Moved here a few months ago. It sucks to be the new guy in a small town,” he said, and Drew nodded.

  “Yeah…it does…” he agreed.

  “We should stick together,” he added on a laugh. Drew really liked how friendly and easy-going this man was.

  “Okay…” he said, sounding like he had a vocabulary of a five-year-old, but the day was shaping up to be the hardest he’d had in a while, and he was just about ready to keel over.

  “Awesome. Okay, I have to split. Hey…this is kind of weird to ask, b
ut there’s nobody else here. I’m in a rush to the consultation and it would suck to show up all messed up.” Ben pointed to his ruined pants and then looked back up at Drew. “Think you could help out?”

  Drew watched the man wiggle his fingers for emphasis and frowned.

  “What?” he asked and the man shrugged.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not made of magic,” Ben said and everything inside Drew froze. He looked up at Ben and tightened his grip on the edge of the table.

  “Yeah, well…neither am I.”

  He had no idea what was up with people that day, but they were selling out of everything Sage baked at the speed of light.

  Usually, they were busy and tended to sell out most of their goods, but to have to reach into reserve batches of cookies and pastries several times that day was very much out of the ordinary. Mason didn’t really understand, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t welcome the chaos that helped him get out of his head and focus on something else.

  He excused himself for the third time that day and walked to the back to ask Sage for more muffins. He walked in to see him and Ben laughing, catching the tail end of their conversation.

  “…found a new friend,” Sage said happily.

  “Someone other than me wants to put up with you?” Mason teased having no idea what they were talking about, but he had to do his best to put up a happy front for everyone around him. He didn’t want them to worry.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Sage rolled his eyes with a smile, accepting the joke easily. “You’re the only one insane enough to befriend me.”

  “Not my greatest accomplishment, I’ll admit,” Mason said, and Sage stuck out his tongue at him.

  “I’m like a friendship lottery jackpot. But actually, Ben found a new friend yesterday,” Sage said happily.

  Mason quirked an eyebrow at the handyman. “Good going, Ben. Growing roots in Daydream and all,” he said, getting a tray of assorted muffins out and a tray of glazed donuts before sending them to the front.

  “I have all the roots I need right here,” he said, hugging Sage close. “But this guy seemed cool. Oh, and get this… he’s—”