Текст книги "Storms Over Secrets"
Автор книги: J. A. DeRouen
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“Garden” by Pearl Jam
Present Day
I RAISE AND lower my fist three times before I decide to knock on the door. After two light taps, I push up my purse strap on my shoulder and wait. In my other hand, I clench the envelope containing this month’s rent—also known as my excuse for stopping by Cain’s apartment.
I need to see him.
Last week, I sat inside the clinic waiting for him, going over all the things I wanted to tell him—Eddie’s first vet visit that dissolved into a fit of claws and hisses, my zoo trip with Lily and Gage with the spitting llamas, and every other little thing that happened in these excruciatingly long weeks without him. Mostly, I just wanted to hear his voice and make him laugh. I swear, his laugh should be bottled up and sold as an anti-depressant. Sure, Mr. Craig wanted to see him, too, but I may be guilty of suggesting Cain tag along for the visit with me.
When Adam showed up in Cain’s place, it took every ounce of willpower to keep my tears at bay. Adam tried his best to lighten the mood and pretend he didn’t notice the crushed look on my face. It killed me to think Cain didn’t want to see me as badly as I wanted to see him. Has he already moved on?
I knock again, a little louder this time, and the door edges open. I peer through the crack into his apartment, taking the unlocked and unlatched door as a silent form of welcome. I’ll take what I can get these days.
Cain lives in a loft on top of an antique shop in downtown Providence. The brick walls, exposed beams, and oversized leather furniture scream masculinity, very similar to the owner. The room is perfectly still, but as I look over the open space, my eyes land on the man in question.
Damn.
After enduring a several weeks’ long “Cain drought,” the image before me makes my mouth water. There he lays, in all his glory—mussed hair, bare-chested, wearing nothing but tattered blue jeans and glasses. Glasses? I didn’t know he wore glasses, but damn if they don’t look sexy as hell.
Papers litter his stomach and the floor, and a half-dozing Biz is curled up into his side with an ear cocked up and sleepy eyes. Cain’s eyes, on the other hand, are shut tight. The steady rise and fall of his chest is mesmerizing, and my mind wanders to a day not so long ago where I lay in the crook of his arm, my ear to his chest, listening to the pulsing of his heart. I swear I can almost hear it now.
My eyes dance over his skin like fingers lightly brushing a path. My fingers itch to grab and tug his hair. My lips crave to kiss him … everywhere.
I reach the couch and give Biz a tiny scratch between his ears, and he settles back into his spot. Cain shifts his hips to accommodate for Biz, and his lashes flutter as his arm lifts and curls behind his head. Even from behind his lenses, I can count the rows of eyelashes that frame his emerald eyes. That’s right, the man has rows of lashes, thick enough to be the envy of every woman.
I place my rent check on the table and slowly lift the errant sheets of paper off his stomach. A quick hand grabs my wrist before I pull away, and I gasp, butterflies fluttering up my throat.
“It’s five to ten for breaking and entering, Tink. Hand me my phone so I can call the fuzz,” he says with a smirk. He chuckles under his breath when I pull free from his grasp.
“I most certainly will not get your phone, and I hardly believe I’d get ten years for walking into an unlocked house, with a barely closed door.” I release the papers and place my hands on my hips as they flutter to my feet.
“Maybe not, but I have every intention of crying rape.” His eyes dance with laughter, then he turns his attention to Biz. He yanks the dog’s ear and narrows his eyes. “Where were you on that one, Biz? She could have been a masked murderer, ya useless hound.”
“Aw, don’t be so tough on him.” I pout and give Biz a gentle pat.
Cain swings his legs to the floor and sits up, placing the dog in his lap. “He doesn’t like those pansy ass scratches, girl. This guy is a warrior.”
I giggle at the comparison. Biz, a warrior? Ha!
“Whatever,” I laugh, with a wave of my hand.
“Tell her, Biz. I don’t like it soft; I like it—” Cain points to Biz.
“Ruff!”
“To hell with smooth, give it to me—” He points again.
“Ruff!”
I’m laughing so hard at their little performance, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and I can’t catch my breath. The laughter dies down and a silence filled with longing takes its place.
“I like the glasses,” I whisper.
He smiles and scratches his head. “I usually wear contacts. My lashes brush against the glasses, and it drives me fucking crazy. I wear them around the house sometimes, though. I planned on reading a little for work before watching the LSU game, and, well, you see how that turned out.”
I plop down on his coffee table and face him, our knees almost touching. My breath catches as I watch him watch me. The want, the longing for his touch is as strong as it’s ever been, maybe even more with his recent absence.
“I miss you,” I breathe out before my filter catches the confession.
“Yeah,” he whispers with a cringe.
I wait for him to say more, I wish for it, but he remains silent. I pick up my check off the table and hand it to him. He takes it from me and taps the paper onto his other fingers, his gaze never leaving his hands.
“I’m taking Lily and Gage to the movies tonight … you should come. We could stuff their faces with an obnoxious amount of candy and sit back and watch the mayhem ensue. It would be fun. Just like old times,” I say, my voice slowly fading away as I notice the way his face shuts down halfway through my request.
He shakes his head and grimaces. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Celia.”
My shoulders slump in defeat. “Is this really how it has to be? Please, Cain. You’re my friend … my best friend. Can’t we move past this?”
He pulls off his glasses and tosses them beside me on the table, along with my rent check. He scrubs his face with his hands and inhales deeply. When his eyes meet mine, he grabs behind my knees and pulls me closer. Nose to nose. Eye to eye. We have nowhere to hide. I wish more than anything I didn’t have to.
“I love you, Celia. I’m in love with you.” A tear spills onto my cheek, and he winces. My reaction is a slap in his face, and I wish I could take it back. “But I kind of like me, too. And you’re fucking killing me here. So, no, we can’t move past this.” He spits out the last words in a mocking tone, and my heart clenches as I bite my lip to hold back a sob.
He stands and walks away, leaving me huddled over myself on his table. I try, but fail, to pull myself together, and a box of tissues hits the table beside me. I feel his presence beside me, rigid and looming, but I can’t bear to look up and see the disapproval in his eyes. I collect myself as best I can, snatching the pieces of my heart up off the floor and clutching them to my chest as I stand up to leave.
“I don’t mean to be hurtful, Celia, but I don’t know what you expect from me. I’m giving you what you want. I’m respecting your wishes. I only ask you to respect my feelings in return. Asking me to go back to the way things were before I loved you? It’s cruel and insulting.”
My body numbs exponentially with each word he utters, and I feel as if I’m a bystander watching the most horrific collision with no way to stop it. How could he think I don’t respect his feelings? Maybe it’s because I’ve never told him otherwise. What would be the point? My explanation would only cause him to shoulder part of the load that lies solely on my shoulders. The truth in no way changes the outcome. I still can’t love him the way I want to—the way he deserves. Telling him the truth only unburdens my soul, and what’s the point in that? Guilt and I are long-time friends—this is merely another link in a seemingly endless chain.
He lifts the envelope containing my rent check. “Thank you for bringing this to me. But I’ve spoken with Adam, and he’s agreed to collect your rent from now on. I think it’s best.”
I gather my purse off the floor and clutch it to my stomach. “I understand. I’m sorry for bothering you,” I whisper as I turn to leave, shuffling my feet forward with every bit of energy I can muster.
I reach the door and grab the knob to close it shut. Cain calls my name before I click it into place. I open it just a fraction—enough to see him standing there, hands fisted in his pockets, a pained expression etched on his face.
“Just so you know, Tink, I miss the fuck out of you, too.”
I should be happy to know I’m not alone in this. It should ease the ache to know he’s hurting the same as me, but that’s not the way it works. As another tear splashes onto my cheek, what’s left of me unravels for the hurt I’ve caused.
“Hello, Lucas.”
“Are you going to keep your promise?”
“I try to keep my promise every day. But I need your cooperation to make it happen.”
He’s tuned me out before I start the second sentence. My answer is as repetitive as his question. We dance this dance over and again, never changing, never wavering from the script we’ve set.
“I’ve brought something for you today,” I say with as much cheer as I can muster.
“Oh?”
I place the iPod and headphones on the table between us, and Lucas stares at it expectantly. “Some people find music drowns out some of the … noise in their head. I’ve loaded mostly classical music so there would be no extraneous voices. I’d like for you to try it. It could help.”
He shrugs and turns his attention back to his notebook, acting unimpressed with my newest idea. With his refusal of all medications and therapy, I’m willing to try anything. My hand is continually outstretched, but I get minimal participation in return. How do you help someone who thwarts you at every turn?
“Who do you see when you look at me, Lucas?” I clasp my hands on top of the table and wait for his answer. I’ve asked myself this exact question over a hundred times in the past week. Who does he think I am to him? Why does he think I come here? If I’m being honest, the answer is a tangling of vines and branches so deep it’s nearly impossible to locate the origin.
He continues to write in his tablet, but his strokes become more jerky and frantic. My question frustrates him. “You’re the girl who refused to let me go … give me peace.” His hand stops moving, and he narrows his eyes at me. “And now I’m stuck in this place … this hell.”
He leans forward and grabs my hands. My breath catches, and I tense in my chair. This is the first time in years that Lucas has voluntarily touched me.
“Please, Cece, you have to promise to never leave me. I can’t do this alone. Please … promise me.” His voice cracks as he grips my fingers and pulls me closer.
Promises will be the death of me; this is the one truth I know with complete and utter certainty.
I drop my head to the table and touch my forehead to our clasped hands.
“I promise,” I whisper.
When will this pain end?
“I promise,” I say with more force, clenching my teeth to will away the anger, the guilt, the resentment.
How dare I feel this way?
“I promise.” My tears wet our fingers, and Lucas lays his cheek on top of my head.
“I’m sorry I’ve made you sad. I shouldn’t have told you those things.”
As if his statement marks the end of our conversation, Lucas picks up the headphones and places them over his ears. He fiddles with the iPod, and a small smile plays upon his lips. I’ve given him a tiny slice of peace.
He picks up his markers and continues scribbling equations while humming softly to himself. I watch him, thinking back to the boy I once knew, the love we once had.
How did we get here?
My life is suffocated with more regret than I can handle. More blame hovers over me than I can ever apologize for. Audrey and her parents blame me for not saving Lucas soon enough. Lucas blames me for having saved him at all. And now, Cain blames me for not being able to move on with my life.
“How do I fix this, Lucas? How do I make sense of this mess I’ve created?”
I don’t expect an answer. He can’t hear a word I’m saying, but it relieves the tiniest amount of pressure off my chest to say the words out loud. I know my fifteen minutes are almost over, and Audrey will walk up any minute. Just for today, I can’t bring myself to care.
“Please, tell me,” I whisper as he closes his eyes and enjoys the music. “How do I make two plus two equal happily ever after … for everyone … even me?”
“Do What You Have To Do” by Sarah McLachlan
Present Day
I HURRY THROUGH the sliding doors and ring the bell sitting on the counter of the nurse’s station. A young woman sitting behind the desk tips her eyes to mine while popping her gum and playing around on her phone. She doesn’t say a word, but looks to me expectantly. I guess that’s my cue.
“Hi, my name is Celia Lemaire. I’m a therapist from New Horizons Outreach Center. Someone paged me about a patient in need of crisis counseling. Am I in the right place?”
The employee of the month tosses her phone on the counter with a clang and walks to the doorway that opens to the emergency room.
“Someone call for crisis management?” she bellows at the top of her lungs.
I hear a shuffling behind the door, and a blur of blond hair and blue scrubs waves me forward. I grab my belongings off the counter and get moving, passing the gum-popping princess along the way.
“Thank you for your help.” I turn around to meet her eyes, but she’s already back at the desk, phone in hand. “Alrighty then,” I mutter under my breath.
“Hey, I’m Alice. Thanks so much for coming out so late. The SANE nurse is examining the patient right now, so I can give you a little background before you meet her.”
She flips through the chart at lightning speed, and I’m thinking it’s probably the only way Alice runs—all cylinders, all the time. I’m still rubbing the sleep out of my red-rimmed eyes, so I need to wake up and keep up. I’ve recently taken over the majority of crisis management at the clinic, so late night calls are expected. I think Caroline needed a bit of a break, and I needed to fill my time. Idle time and wandering thoughts are my enemy as of late, since my mind always goes back to Cain. Extra work is my best option for keeping busy.
SANE stands for sexual assault nurse examiner, and they are specially trained nurses who are experts at collecting evidence for criminal cases, while taking into account the fragile nature of the victim. If this is indeed a sexual assault, I’d like to know as much about the situation as I can before I meet the patient.
“What can you tell me about what happened?”
Alice blows out a breath and shakes her head. “It’s a sad case. Truth be told, they’re all sad, but this one is gonna stick with me. Eighteen-year-old girl. She’s in her first year of college and practically oozes innocence. One look at her and you’ll see what I mean. She told us she was a virgin before tonight. This was also her very first real date. She thought they were meeting for a midnight picnic in the park. How romantic, right?” Alice bites her lip and looks to the ceiling with misty eyes. “No one heard a word, or if they did, they didn’t come to her rescue. He roughed her up good and left her there. She crawled out of the brush and stumbled to her car and drove over here. She walked in the front door with leaves and twigs stuck in her hair and blood caked to the insides of her legs. She won’t let us call any family.”
“I’ll talk with her, see if she’ll change her mind about that.” I flip through the chart and notice she gave no next of kin.
“I’d appreciate it,” Alice says as she walks away. “Let me check on the progress in there, and I’ll be right back.”
It doesn’t take long before a frustrated Alice returns. “She’s refusing the examination. The SANE nurse on call tonight is one of the best, but she’s not getting through to her. Do you think you could give it a shot?”
“Of course.”
As we approach the curtain partition, I steel myself for what I’m about to see. No matter how many of these calls I take, they never get easier. The look of a woman who has had the most intimate part of herself ripped away is gutting. The loss is palpable, a thick and suffocating cloud of sorrow and loss.
Alice draws back the utilitarian green curtain, and I follow closely behind her. She stops at the foot of the bed, and I hear a quiet sob release.
“Violet, I’d like you to meet Celia. She’s a therapist who works with the hospital from time to time. Just like Marlo, she’s here to help you.”
My eyes dart across the room and lock in on an equally shocked Marlo. I lose the surprised look and quickly train my face back to a smile, and so does she. Why didn’t Marlo ever mention she was a SANE nurse?
I turn my attention to Violet, and sit in a chair at her bedside. She’s curled up in the fetal position, eyes clenched shut, fingers gripping the sheet covering her shrinking body.
“Hi Violet. Is it okay with you if I hold your hand?” I ask softly in an effort not to frighten her.
“Are you gonna try to get me to press charges, too,” she whispers without ever opening her eyes.
I look over at Marlo, and she gives me a tight smile. She shrugs her shoulders as if to say she’s done all she can.
“No, I’m not going to try to convince you of anything. Right now, I’d only like to hold your hand and tell you this isn’t your fault.” I reach over and push her mussed hair behind her ear and run my fingers through to the strands. “Nothing that happened tonight is your fault, Violet.”
I slide my hand into hers, and she flinches slightly before she catches herself. A tear slides out of her eye and travels over the bridge of her nose. “I’m so s-s-stupid. I really thought he liked me.”
“You didn’t invite this. None of the blame is on you,” Marlo says with conviction.
Violet turns toward Marlo’s voice and sniffs. “Why didn’t you press charges? I know you said you regret it now, but what were your reasons then?”
Wait … what???
Marlo winces, but she recovers quickly. Her eyes dart to mine and then move back to Violet. “I had so many reasons that night, and they seemed like the most important things in the world. I’ve never felt so violated, and the thought of anyone examining me felt like salt in a gaping wound. I had drugs in my system, and not all of them were slipped to me by my attacker. Some I took willingly, and I feared the repercussions of my actions. There were people in my life who I wanted to keep my attack from at all costs. That wouldn’t happen if I pressed charges. I just knew I was making the right decision.”
I’m beginning to think I’ve entered an alternate universe, because I don’t recognize the girl Marlo just described. The Marlo I know doesn’t drink anything stronger than Diet Dr. Pepper. The thought of her using drugs is something I just can’t reconcile with the woman I know today. Then again, I know what it means to hide a part of yourself, stow a piece of your life away from the world.
“And what do you think now?” Violet whispers, pulling me back to the here and now.
“That’s the thing. Time brought clarity to the situation, and only then was I able to see things as they actually were. No policeman would have arrested a rape victim for recreational drug use, but at the time, I was petrified. And the person I never wanted to find out about the attack? I haven’t spoken to him since. I made a major life decision based on a person who was fleeting. You know what isn’t fleeting?” Marlo leans into Violet and places her fingers over our clasped hands. “My regret.”
Violet mulls over Marlo’s words. “So you wish you would have pressed charges?”
“I wish I wouldn’t have erased the option. I left the hospital that day, went home, and scrubbed every piece of evidence away with a rough sponge and a hot shower. I scrubbed until my skin was angry and raw, just like me, and every hope of vindication ran down the shower drain.” Marlo inches closer and squeezes our joined hands. “I’m not trying to push you to press charges today, Violet. I’m just hoping to keep you from regretting the decision you make tonight for the rest of your life.”
The room grows eerily quiet with an occasional sniffle from Violet. Minutes pass before she releases our hands and pushes herself up to sitting position. She inhales a deep breath and brushes her hair out of her face.
“I’d like to do the exam now,” Violet whispers softly, the epitome of unimaginable strength laced with fragility.
Marlo nods her head and moves across the room to collect the supplies. I pull my chair closer to the bed and gently touch Violet’s arm.
“I’ll be with you the entire time, Violet. You are not alone in this.”
Her eyes flutter shut, and in direct contrast with her tear-stained cheeks, the smallest of smiles plays on her lips.
“Thank you for that,” she whispers.
“I have to say, Tiny One, you and I make a great team,” Marlo says with hip bump when she meets me at the nurses’ station.
“I think you’re right. We’re like yin and yang, Batman and Robin…”
“Dumb and Dumber?” We both laugh, and she narrows her eyes. “Just so you know, I’m totally Batman in this scenario.”
“Pshh, whatever!” I hand the chart back to Violet’s nurse, Alice, and say my goodbyes and thank yous. I turn my attention back to Marlo. “I’m a little surprised to see you here. How did I not know you were a SANE nurse?”
Marlo shrugs and smiles. “There’s no real reason, I guess. It just never came up. Caroline and I usually work these cases together. I was surprised to see you, too.”
“Yeah, I’ve been taking a lot more of the crisis call lately. Caroline needed a break.”
“Right,” Marlo says with a chuckle. “Sure she did.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“So, that’s how you’re gonna play it? The only person less transparent than you is that ten-foot tall lumberjack you’re wallowing over. I’m impatiently waiting for you both to get your head out of your asses, in case you’re wondering.” Marlo picks at her fingernails and sighs, feigning boredom.
“How about a foot up your ass,” I mutter under my breath.
“There’s the Celia I know. It’s about time.” Marlo slaps my back. “Now if you’d just inject a little of that sass into your love life, maybe you wouldn’t have to take call twenty-four hours a day to distract yourself.”
I shake my head and exhale an irritated breath. I know how it looks to everyone watching. I’m the fool who can’t move on with her life. I’m the stupid girl who clings to the past and refuses to see the wonderful man standing right in front of her. I want to yell, “I see him! I love him!” but that will only pose more questions. I’m not ready for that, so I do what I do best. I shoot for vague. I strive for ambiguous. I evade.
“Things aren’t that simple, Marlo. Not everything in this world is black and white.”
“Bullshit.”
“Huh?”
“I call bullshit.” She rolls her eyes and huffs at me. “Look, Cain’s had his eye on you for what feels like an eternity. I knew how he felt before you and I ever met. This isn’t breaking news to me. But I’ve noticed over the past few months, Celia, you’ve started watching him, too. At first, it was out of curiosity, but over time it’s changed. It’s evolved from friendship, to flirty, to, dare I say, love?”
She eyes me and cocks her head in question, but I bite my lip and remain silent. By the smirk on her face, my expression tells my story even though I don’t say a word.
“Right. So, as I was saying, he’s been waiting for you for much longer than you realize. And as delectable as you are, you sweet little thing, a man can only be pushed away so many times. I’d hate for you to wake up one day and find you’ve missed the Cain Train. He’s not my type, like at all, but he’s got his own swagger, ya know? He’s all ‘Oh, I’m so tall. Look at my ginormous green bean,’” Marlo mimics in a deep, husky voice while grabbing her crotch.
“What the hell? Green bean?”
“You know, because he’s the Jolly Green Giant,” she explains, staring at me expectantly. I shake my head, and she waves me off. “Oh, whatever! You know what I mean. Why am I talking about the man’s green bean?”
“More like bean stalk…” I chuckle to lighten the mood.
“Ugh, Celia! My ears can’t un-hear that shit!” She covers her ears and pouts at me. “Anyway, I may give him a hard time, but I know he would do anything to fix things with you. The question is, what are you willing to do for him?”
“All I can offer Cain is my friendship,” I whisper. “He wants more from me than I’m able to give. If I can’t be everything for him, he wants nothing at all. I have to respect his wishes.”
“Right,” Marlo says, drawing out the word. We walk out together, arm in arm, and she stops me before we walk through the doorway. “Take it from someone who knows all too well what it feels like to wait for someone to wake the fuck up. The day will come when he gives up on you, Celia. You will lose him.”
Her goal may be to spur me into action. She wants me to feel the urgency of her words and race to Cain’s side. Knowing that’s exactly what I want to do, but can’t, makes me nauseous and weak. The thought of seeing Cain with someone else is unimaginable, but I’m in no position to stop it from happening. I give her a nod and a tight smile, hoping she’ll accept my response as the end of the conversation.
“I have to say, I don’t see you as the type to wait for anyone. I take you for a leave ‘em in the dust kind of girl,” I say with a shoulder bump.
After tonight, it’s become clear to me I don’t know Marlo as well as I thought I did. I should know better; things are never as they seem.
We emerge from the hospital as the sun is slowly rising. The backs of my eyes throb from lack of sleep and the change in light. I wince and groan as I fumble for my sunglasses.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t always that girl,” Marlo says somberly. She looks away and bites her lip. “Listen, what you heard in there? No one knows anything about—”
“And they never will. I would never break your trust,” I interrupt. She gives me a tiny smile in return. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Since you didn’t press charges, are you worried that—”
“No. I don’t give him a second of my thoughts.” Marlo lifts her head defiantly as we walk across the parking lot. I sense her words are less than truthful, but it’s what she needs to believe. “I left town within a week of the attack and never set foot back there again. I’ve had no contact with anyone from my past since then. Those memories and that place don’t own me anymore.”
I unlock the door to my car and throw my bag in the back seat. I meet Marlo by the trunk and tip my head toward the hospital. “Do you think she’ll press charges?”
She shrugs. “It’s hard to say. She’s got both of our numbers, and I hope she’ll use them, and that she can pull through this. She’s got a tough road ahead,” she says as she tugs her keys out of her purse. “You’re coming to The Courtyard next Friday night, right? Adam’s performing for open mic night.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Seriously, why do I surround myself with lovesick fools?” Marlo asks with a playful smile.
“Whatever. You’d be lost without us.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I giggle.
We wave goodbye, and my door is nearly closed when I hear Marlo shout my name. I peer out of the car.
“Yeah?”
“Remember what I said, girl. He’s not gonna wait forever, and regret is a bitch with six-inch heels digging into your lady parts.”
She tosses her big curls over her shoulder with a wink and struts across the parking lot like she owns the place. Honestly, Marlo owns whatever room she walks into, and this parking lot is no different.
After she leaves, the air around me seems vacant and lonely. The loss of her snarky mouth and larger than life personality are tangible, and I’m left feeling empty and … regretful. Her warning settles in my bones, travels through my veins, and circles around my heart.
I sit in my car, stock-still, ignition off. My hands grip the steering wheel as sweat beads on my upper lip, and unshed tears burn the back of my nose. There is one thing Marlo and I agree on—I will lose him.
