Текст книги "Torn"

Автор книги: Kim Karr

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Once again, I dash in front of him. I am not going to allow any space between us and he’s not going to walk out of this room until we talk. “Why was she holding your hand?”

“Come on, Dahl, you really want to talk about Ellie right now?”

I grab his face knowing exactly what he’s inferring by calling me by that nickname. “River, listen to me. I’m going to say this again—I am not interested in being with Ben. I am not in love with Ben. Whatever you think you saw, he wanted to talk to me about your sister. And I know you know what I mean. I just heard Xander tell you to tell me.”

I stare into his green eyes, searching for any sign of confusion. But when his mouth drops open and he says nothing, I know for sure that he knew about them. From there, my irritation only builds. I jab my finger into his chest. “Yeah, like I thought, you knew the whole time and again you didn’t tell me something.”

He tries to reach for my hands, but I jerk away. I stare at him, my irritation flaring as I cross to the other side of the room. My rage mixes with hurt as I’m once again left wondering if I can trust him.

Grabbing my wrist, he swings me around to face him. “Stop walking away from me. Let me explain.”

Shaking my head, I try to free myself of his grasp. “Oh now you want to talk. It was okay, though, when you were the one walking away!”

His lip turns into a sneer. “That was different.”

I laugh a little, now completely enraged. “The only thing different is that I was doing nothing wrong,” my voice cracks.

His eyes close, and when he reopens them all I see is pain. He leans closer to me, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I was only protecting you. Because I wanted to save you from a heartbreak you didn’t need to experience.”

“River, I already knew that he came close to cheating on me. You were saving yourself from having to deal with how Bell and I would take it. I saw her face tonight when she looked at him. She clearly didn’t know, either.”

He sighs deeply. “I don’t care how any of this affects me, you know that. I didn’t want to dredge up sad memories for you or for my sister.”

I stare at him and his grip loosens and moves to catch my hand.

I yank my hand from his. “River!”

“What?” He looks genuinely sympathetic.

I move back, frowning, and cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t have to pity me. That part of my life was long ago. Ben can’t hurt me anymore. It really doesn’t matter to me who the girl was. But what does matter is that I have to be able to trust you.”

He shoots me a look I don’t understand. “You can trust me, we’ve been through that.”

“You’re not making it easy on me. Is there anything else I should know about?”

River’s stare is unwavering as he looks deep into my eyes, but says nothing.

I need to escape this small space. I feel like I’m being torn apart from indecision—believe, don’t believe, trust, don’t trust. My stomach twists over his silence. Not knowing if he doesn’t want to talk about his sister anymore or if maybe he’s too drunk to talk at all, I head toward the door. But this time he gets there first. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him. My mouth is already open to say something, to scream at him to just talk to me, but he stops me with his lips. He flattens his mouth hard against mine, and for a few moments I allow it—letting the physical sensations block everything else out.

But then I stop kissing him and step back. We stand there so close, but so far apart. When his gaze flickers down my body, I can feel the heat between us. He grabs my elbows and steps into me. Again I don’t resist. But this time, as soon as his mouth is on mine, I know where this is leading.

I whisper, “Please don’t. You need to talk to me.”

He licks his lips and swallows. “No, what I need is you,” he says as he drops his hands to my waist and yanks me to him.

I put both of my hands on his chest and shove him back. “Stop it!”

His face twists and his eyes narrow. He lets out a sound of frustration and the smell of alcohol is evident on his breath. He leans into me and through clenched teeth he whispers, “Why? Are you thinking about him?”

Understanding he’s drunk and doesn’t mean what he’s saying I calmly respond, “No River, I’m not. You know that. It’s just we can’t avoid talking by using sex this time. You need to help me trust you—talk to me, tell me what’s eating away at you. Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

He shakes his head in disbelief, his anger flaring. “There’s nothing we need to discuss right now.”

“I think there is.”

“Fine, Dahlia, have it your way,” he mutters, then he opens the door and slams it behind him.

My heart is in my throat and I can’t catch my breath. Looking down, I see the red ribbon lying on the floor and suddenly I can’t feel my own legs. I fall against the door, using it for support to help me stand. I suck in a breath and try to will away the tears. But when I hear the smashing of glass from the kitchen, I fall to the ground and cover my ears as the tears finally fall and my sobs escape me.

Chapter 17

Everywhere

Relationships are made up of so many different emotions, but the one thing that keeps a relationship strong is love. Can doubt weaken such a strong bond? Not if two people don’t let it—right?

I understand that River wants to protect me, but at what cost? I am trying so hard to keep my trust in him, even through all the hurt his secrets have caused me. But hiding things, keeping things from me, has strained our relationship. He didn’t tell me about his sister getting in an accident the night we first met, then he didn’t tell me that he knew who attacked me, and last night I found out he knew about his sister and Ben. For our relationship to work, I need to make him understand that he can’t keep hiding things from me in this way. What’s strange is I know I should doubt his intentions right now, but deep down in my soul, my faith in him is unwavering and to me, that means our love is still strong.

My relationship with Bell has been amazing. We instantly became friends after our very first introduction. Over the past year, we’ve grown so close, so finding out that she’s the girl Ben was communicating with behind my back in college was shocking—not only for me but it had to have upset her as well. I know I have to talk to her, but I’m not quite ready.

And truth be told, I’m not even mad at Ben about this. After our breakup and reconciliation, I got over it. And besides, I agree with Ben that it’s old news. But that’s about the only thing we agree on. As far as I’m concerned, there is no relationship between us on any level. But Ben, fucking Ben, doesn’t seem to want to accept that I’m with someone else. Why would he come into our house? What was he thinking? Why would he follow me into our bedroom? And then purposely push River’s buttons with his crude remarks? What does he want from me? I’ve made my feelings clear to him.

Then there’s Xander. He knew about Bell as well. When did he find out? Did he know the whole time or did River tell him?

There’s also Grace. I feel really bad I haven’t talked to her and I know I have to face her and talk through our issues.

And of course there’s Ellie. I know River loves me, and he isn’t interested in anyone else. Sure I do. But she’s after him. I know it. Whether he sees it or not, she is. And it bothers me that she’s always around lately, like she’s waiting for the pieces to fall, so she can be there to pick them up.

As the darkness turns into dawn, I lay awake thinking about what has happened between us. I’m not sure if I ever dozed off, but I did walk over to the door at least ten times and grab the knob, though I never turned it. I wanted to go out there, to see him, to be with him. But I couldn’t. River’s tendency to keep secrets from me is not something I know how to handle until he’s in a more coherent state of mind.

My phone rings and I sit up to see who’s calling so early in the morning. When I see it’s Ben’s nephew, Trent, I answer immediately.

“Hello?”

“Dahlia,” he says in a trembling voice.

“Trent? What’s wrong?” Instantly, concern washes through me.

“I need help. I’m in trouble. Can you come get me?”

“Trent, where are you?”

“Don’t tell my mom, Dahlia.”

“Okay, just tell me where you are.” I am panicked and worried, ready to agree to anything just so he’ll tell me where he is.

I have to strain to hear his voice as he sniffles and tells me where he is before hanging up.

Jumping out of bed, I dash into the bathroom and then into our closet to throw on some clothes. I don’t stop to brush my hair; I just pull it back messily. When I get to the living room I see River facedown on the couch, a bottle of vodka on the floor next to him. I try to wake him up, to tell him where I’m going, but he doesn’t respond. I have to go, so I grab my keys and hurry out the door. I shouldn’t be that long, especially since as soon as I hit the freeway, I drive as fast as I can. I’ve talked myself into not calling Serena until I find Trent, but wonder if I should call Grace. I reach for my phone. Shit! I left it at home. Despite the light rain, I manage to get to Newport Beach in less than fifty minutes. I hope it’s fast enough.

My heart races as I park in the lot near the Ferris wheel. Walking past it, I head behind the concession stand. The smell hits me instantly. Rows of garbage cans and trash lead the way down to what must be the back alleyway of the fairway. I stop immediately when I see them among the stacked boxes and empty beer kegs. Ben is squatting down in front of Trent, who is sitting on the ground, supporting himself against the building. His legs are outstretched and his head is back. I’m not sure if he’s awake or asleep. One of Ben’s arms is in a sling. He’s talking to Trent, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Trent seems to be moving his lips, but his eyes are closed. He looks so different. The once muscular young surfer looks to have lost at least twenty pounds, he has bruises on his arms, and seems frail. What happened to the boy with the big smile and dimples, just like his uncle? The boy on the ground is not the Trent I know.

Ben leans in closer—why I’m not sure. But when Trent’s head falls to the side and Ben lightly slaps his cheek, alarm seizes me. “Is he alright?” I yell.

Ben looks up at me, surprised. “Thank fuck. I need help. Help me get him out of here, will you?”

I rush over to them. Trent’s body has gone limp. Ben props Trent’s arm around his neck and does the best he can to lift him up to his feet. Trent’s eyes open and he sees me. “Dahlia, you didn’t tell my mom, did you?”

With tears in my eyes I look into his vacant face. “No Trent, no I didn’t.”

“Good,” he mutters and he tries to stand on his own. “I can do it,” he says to Ben.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with him?”

Ben motions for me to grab Trent’s other arm and I do, wrapping it over my shoulder. Once we have Trent secured between us he looks over to me. “Let’s get him to the car first, then I’ll explain.”

Trent shuffles his feet as we assist him and Ben leads the way to his BMW. I open the door and Ben manages to get Trent into the backseat. Once he’s closed the door Ben looks at me. “Did you know about him?”

“Know what?”

“That he’s a drug addict.”

I bring my hand to my mouth and my stomach turns. All I can do is shake my head no. Why wouldn’t Serena have said anything?

“I figured you didn’t. Serena’s in denial and my mom is so distraught over it; she’s not seeing things clearly. Do you mind helping me get him to the house?”

“Of course I don’t mind, but shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?”

“No, he doesn’t need that. He’s high. He needs to detox. I’m going to help him do that.”

“You are? Are you sure you should do that with Grace?”

“No, fuck, I don’t want her to know. We’ll take him to our house. Mom or Serena can’t see him this bad. Will you help me?”

I blink my eyes knowing there is no way I can say no. “Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That he was here.”

“He called me.”

Ben nods his head. “Yeah, he left me a message and as soon as I heard it I came.”

“Did he tell you anything else?”

“No, just not to tell his mother.”

“I think he’s in some kind of trouble. He’s an addict. He keeps mumbling about owing people money.”

He kicks the tire of the car, then he turns and heads to the other side of the car. “You coming?” he says, pointing to the passenger door.

“Yeah, but I’ll follow you.”

He shrugs and gets in his car. I’m wet and cold, so I turn the heater in my car on full blast. Following Ben to our house, his house now, feels so strange. It’s a short drive, but it feels like it takes forever. I’m facing a deluge of memories as we get closer to the house. Memories that haven’t surfaced in a long time. Flashes of our life together. Him as a young five-year-old blond-haired boy—making friends with me and playing with me in the sand. Him as a rebel teenager—the strong resilient adolescent who was with me when I heard the news about the plane crash that forever changed my life—the one that killed my parents and my aunt. Our first kiss and our first time together on the beach. Images flash through my mind of the church altar and the stained-glass window reflecting upon it when Ben came and found me and told me I would never be alone. He was always there for me. He was my rock.

Even though I’ve known that he’s alive for a while now, seeing him interact with Trent, I actually feel it. He’s here, right now, taking care of his nephew. Being the rock he always was. Somehow it’s enough for me to let go of my resentment. I’m able to forgive him for the choice he made and tears slide down my cheeks. The man who was my friend through everything isn’t gone and I suddenly feel relieved. As my negative feelings toward Ben dissipate and are replaced with happy memories of our unbreakable bond, I know what I have to do. I have to actually talk to him. Maybe accept his apology. Maybe even be his friend. I think I can do that. Grace was right—I owe him that much.

I know River won’t be happy that I’m here, but he’ll have to understand that I came for Trent, because of Trent. I also feel that by letting go of my anger toward Ben, it may ease the stress on my relationship with River. To be honest, I don’t think Ben is even the issue between River and me anymore; the issue is really our inability to communicate effectively.

Arriving at the yellow house with the white picket fence, I wipe away my remaining tears and take a deep breath. I can do this. I can do this for Trent. I can do this for Ben. With a newfound determination, I hurry out of my car and help Ben. We manage to get Trent into the house. Once we get him settled in bed, he mumbles something I can’t understand, then he seems to lose consciousness again.

Alarmed, I grab Ben’s arm. “Is he okay?”

Ben looks at my hand and then pulls the blanket over Trent. He nods his head before wistfully saying, “He will be, just give him some time.”

Ben walks into the bathroom and I stare at the broken boy lying in the bed. A sixteen-year-old with his whole life ahead of him. A young boy who loved cats and dogs now a teenager in need of help. As I leave the room, I’m hopeful he can overcome this because he has so many things to look forward to.

Closing the door behind me, I notice boxes everywhere. Ben must have decided to move back in. I walk out to the living room and I stand there shivering, soaked to the bone.

Following me out of the room, Ben hands me a towel and says, “Here, dry off.”

I take it and wrap the towel around my shoulders. He walks over to the fireplace and stacks some Sterno logs. As he lights them, they easily catch fire and I can feel their warmth from where I stand.

“I’ll be right back,” Ben says as he leaves the room.

Walking over to the desk that Ben must have taken from Grace’s attic, I use the house phone to call River, but there’s no answer. I don’t leave a message because I know telling him where I am on voice mail will only piss him off more.

Ben returns a few minutes later having changed. He looks like he always did—khaki shorts and a white T-shirt. I have to remind myself that everything that has happened was not a dream. My trance is broken by the awkwardness of the moment as he hands me a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and says, “Here, put these on, so you’re not sitting here in wet clothes.”

Accepting the dry clothes, I go into the hall bathroom to change. I can’t help but think how strange it is to be here with him, in the house I shared with him for so many years. It used to be such a place of comfort but now everything is so different, and it feels unnatural to be here.

When I come out, I head toward the living room and drop my wet clothes near the door.

I can see that Ben’s reading something on his phone.

He looks up at me. “I have to find a facility to check Trent into immediately. Can you help me?”

“Sure, what can I do?”

He hands me his phone. “You could make a list of all the rehabilitation centers in Orange County and I’ll start calling them. I haven’t bought a new computer yet, but you can search for the numbers on my phone. It’s the one thing besides my journal I brought back with me from New York City. I think you even know the phone number,” he says with a weak smile.

Thoughts of him having to establish an entirely new life and then having to leave that life trigger something I never expected to feel for him again—sympathy. I haven’t really spent any time thinking about how all of this impacted him; I’ve been so focused on how his leaving affected me. Coming back here and starting over can’t have been easy.

We spend the next few hours trying to secure a spot for Trent. Once I’ve compiled the list, I leave Ben to the phone calls and go to check on Trent. I move my hand to his forehead and he stirs, mumbling something about money he owes. When I come back to the living room, Ben tells me he got Trent on six waiting lists at private centers.

Sitting on the couch, I throw my legs up, completely exhausted. Ben sits at the opposite end and stretches out his legs. Uncomfortable at the familiarity of the situation, I scramble to sit up. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs, resting my chin on them.

Smirking, he watches me as he absentmindedly rubs his arm.

“How bad is it? Did you go to the hospital?” I ask.

“Fuck no. Caleb just popped it back in place.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course he did.”

We sit in silence as I stare at the sling and then I have to ask, “When I checked on Trent he was mumbling that he owes people money again. Do you know who?”

Furrowing his brows he says, “I think he was selling and owes some dealers. When he’s more coherent I’ll find out who and how much and see what I can do to settle his debt.”

I let out a long silent sigh because there is nothing I can say to that. Trent suddenly yells and Ben rolls off the couch and hurries to check on him. When he comes back I ask, “Are you sure he shouldn’t be in the hospital?”

“Yeah Dahl, I am. I can do everything for him they can.”

“What do you mean?”

Sitting in one of the chairs he tells me, “When I was in New York I taught drug management and volunteered at a rehab center.”

“Really? What made you get into that?”

He looks at me, his blue eyes sad. “I had to find something to do that made me feel useful. I was looking for purpose and those kids needed someone. It worked.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do here?”

He props one elbow on his knee and hangs his head between them. Then he turns his head toward me. “No, I haven’t. I can’t do anything right now. First, I have to get my finances in order, reestablish my identity, and get through the legal proceedings. The frenzy will start once the press gets wind of the case and it will be hard to stay out of the public eye. I’m sure reporters will be hounding me. So until the trial is over, I can’t even think about what I’m going to do.”

At the glimpse of his pain, my heart sinks as I think of the life he has to rebuild and the hurdles he will have to jump to do so. I feel another sudden wave of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ben. I had no idea.”

He takes in a deep breath and slowly blows it out. “This isn’t how I ever imagined we’d end up.”

“I know Ben, neither did I, but . . .”

He stops me midsentence. “Stop Dahl, don’t say ‘but’ yet,” he says with a frown.

Rising, he moves over to me. He sits on the coffee table and faces me. He grabs my hand. “I don’t know what I was thinking back then. Why I left you here. I want so much to take it all back. Do it differently. I know I handled everything wrong. But do you think you can forgive me?”

Pulling my hand away, I keep quiet, letting my silence answer for me. Just because I can have a conversation with Ben about his situation doesn’t mean I can forgive his actions; I’m just not sure I am ready to do that.

“I know this is hard for you, but I feel empty without you . . . I want to go back to where we were. Do you think you could try?”

“Ben, I’m sorry, but no. I’m with someone else now. We can’t change the events that led us to where we are.”

He looks away. He doesn’t say another word and neither do I. We both remain quiet for a few moments, and then when I stand up, he grabs my arm and bluntly asks, “Are you happy with him?”

I take a deep breath and answer his question honestly, knowing this is going to hurt him. “Yes, I’m happy. Really happy.”

He grabs for me again, this time pulling me to his lap. “Give us a chance. Give me another chance. I need you.”

At this point I’m staring at him openmouthed, then I jump up and shake my head back and forth. “Ben don’t do this. I just told you how I feel.”

“Come on, Dahl, it’s just the two of us here. Be honest. This is about us.”

My eyes narrow on him. “‘About us’? What do you mean ‘us’?”

“Fuck, Dahl, you know what I mean. We can start over right now. You could be happy with me, too.”

I look at him, he’s the same man he always was, and even though I know I no longer feel for him what I once did, making him understand that is difficult. But my expression must be enough of a reply because he gets up and crosses the room to look out the window.

Knowing that the difficult part is over, I address something that’s been on my mind. “Ben, can I ask you to do something for me?”

Turning around, he grins. “Sure, you know I’m always up for anything.”

I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Can you please stop antagonizing River every time you see him? I really don’t appreciate you bringing up our past to my fiancé. It’s just not appropriate.”

A pained expression crosses his face. “That’s one thing I’m really not up for.”

I sigh, disappointed that Ben hasn’t changed a bit. Completely exasperated, I start toward the door, knowing it’s time for me to leave.

“Wait. Can I ask you something now?”

When I turn back, it’s with a forced smile. “Sure.”

He stands up straighter. Subtle, but still noticeable. “When did you meet him?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Can you just answer my question?”

My voice comes out low. “I met River one night while we were in college and we talked, but that was it. It wasn’t until last year that I saw him again. Aerie sent me to do an interview.”

I glimpse disappointment on his face. “Makes sense,” is all he says and I don’t ask why. Feeling uncomfortable with this discussion, I look out the window and see that it’s starting to get dark. “Shit, what time is it?”

He looks at his watch. “It’s six. Why?—do you have a curfew?”

Deciding it’s best to ignore his sarcasm, I just say, “I need to leave. Are you going to be okay here with Trent?”

“Yeah Dahl, I think I can handle it.”

“You’re going to call Serena tonight? Right?”

“Look, I told you, I’m not calling her until the drugs are out of his system.”

“You can’t keep this from her. She’s his mother. She has a right to know. She’ll be worried sick.”

He cocks his hip as he leans against the doorway. “When the fever and chills set in; it will be the toughest part.” Then he braces his one hand up high on the frame. “Dahl, telling the truth is not always black and white. Sometimes it’s best to stay in the gray so you don’t hurt the people you love. Telling her now, bringing her here, would only cause her pain. I don’t want her to suffer. So why would I do that?”

What he said makes sense and I almost have to agree with him. I don’t want Serena to see Trent like this, but I can’t justify not telling her, either. “You have a good point but I still think she should know.”

He sighs and moves toward me, stepping into me. “I don’t doubt that’s how you feel. It’s just everyone handles things in different ways. You’re an idealist. I’m a realist. Neither is right or wrong.”

In the past I’d have smiled and complimented him on his keen observation. Now though, it doesn’t seem right so I simply nod and move away. “I’m leaving now. Call me if Trent needs anything.”

With a smirk, he asks, “What if I need something?”

I grab my wet clothes and reach for the knob.

He steps around me and blocks my way. “Please, don’t go.”

I look at him. “Ben, please move. I really do have to go home now.”

He stands unmoving. His brow creases and he drops his head. He runs his hand through his hair and then moves to the side.

I step forward to the door and yank it open, hurriedly leaving.

Walking to the car, I think about what Ben said—life isn’t just black and white. With that in mind, I am going to give River the benefit of the doubt. I really want things between us to get back to normal because if they don’t—I’m not sure we will make it. I hope our time apart has helped his anger because I really want to sit down with him and have a real conversation. To be honest, I just don’t think anything good ever comes from heated confrontations. My parents used to have many violent disagreements, and I never wanted that kind of relationship for myself.

On the drive home, I think maybe I should stop at a store and buy something to wear. River isn’t going to be happy that I’m wearing Ben’s clothes. But I decide to just go home—he’ll understand why after I tell him about Trent and what happened. He has no reason not to.

I scan the radio searching for songs that will make me smile—music is the one thing that always makes me happy. I thump my hands against the steering wheel and just listen to the beat of the music throbbing in my ears. Listening to each song, the lyrics seem to play out in my head—they tell me a story. Every beat plays within me, as natural as the sound of the rain hitting the ground.