by Amelia Wilde
Feel different.
Feel cherished.
Feel alive.
“Progress.” Brynn moves away from her computer, her blue eyes holding mine. I hold my breath, hoping she stops inquiring about him. This isn’t the time for a deep conversation. At least not about him. I’m not ready. “Have you spoken with Scarlett?”
“Why?” Thinking about my other best friend terrifies me. Is she going to ask me about Michael’s party? No, she’s going to take all the memories I have left of him with her. The fear’s enveloping me and freezing me into place. My stomach is ready to hurl my dinner, and the adrenaline is rushing through my veins.
“She wanted to talk to you before she left for the ranch, you ignored her.” Brynn takes off her earring. “Last night we were on the phone and she asked me to give you a message, ‘have her call me.’ She’s hurting. Michael’s birthday is coming up. Her best friend and sister is ignoring her, and her mother is… being a bitch.”
“Do you think she’s trying to hook up with Anderson?”
“Ah, so we circle back to Anderson,” she plays with the hoop earring in her hand. “Scarlett wouldn’t cross the line if you tell her that you’re interested in him. Is that why you’re avoiding her?”
I shake my head, sipping some tea. I’m avoiding her eyes. She can see through me. How can I explain to her that I’m not ready to discuss Anderson without saying it out loud? Scarlett loved Michael more than anything. What would she say if I tell her I’m falling for someone else? Fuck, am I falling? “Things were great before she visited. I had handled the upcoming dates well until she came back.”
Lame, lame, lame, Aspen. At least deliver a better lie.
“Then?” She crosses her arms. One perfectly styled eyebrow raises in a “you can do better than that” gesture.
Scoffing, I lower my gaze to my toes. The sight of chipped nail polish is better than her expectant glare. Explain, Aspen, give me more.
“All the emotions in the world swirl inside me. I’m afraid of … Scarlett brought Mike’s memories,” I confess, lifting my head. Her arms crossed, waiting for more.
“Then, there’s Anderson and all these…” I gesture my hand around myself. I’m doing a poor job explaining the fluttering wings inside my stomach, the fast thumping of my heart when he’s around. My breath catches when he touches my skin, sending an unknown warm that flickers a fire inside me. Nope. That is a conversation one has during a slumber party at fifteen while braiding each other’s hair. It’s not an adult conversation that you with your best friend during your early thirties. “There’s no name to describe it, not now. I can’t talk about it.”
“What’s the plan? Open the doors to this new thing or drink yourself into a state of forgetfulness?”
I hate that she knows me so well. Of course she does. We’ve been living together for almost fifteen years. That’s a lifetime.
“Do I want to be in an inebriated state of bliss?” I smile, knowing what she’s asking but circling a little before I touch what she wants. “Yes! The buzzy feeling and the numbing is delicious. Just as much as when I spend hours working. And I have no room to think about anything.”
Lifting my boo-boo fixer mug, I flash another smile. “See this? It’s tea. I decided to drink tea instead of whiskey.” Sipping once more, I straighten my back and splay it all for her. “I’m not saying Anderson and I are perfect for each other. But I think we’re good for now. My plan is to protect my heart while enjoying his company.”
“Fuck. Are you listening to yourself?” She rolls her eyes. “Give yourself a chance to live.”
“Says the woman who—”
“Please, don’t bring my bad dating habits into the conversation,” she warns me giving me the stink eye. “You can’t possibly compare my bad luck to your…what is it? You’re closed off from the world. Michael died eleven years ago, honey. He wouldn’t want to see you wasting away.”
Sounds simple; convincing myself to find someone else isn’t, though. I feel like a storm is coming my way, and I’m afraid this one might be bigger than the one I endured with Michael. Allowing myself to feel isn’t about Anderson, Michael, or anyone else. It’s about giving me a chance to live—to experience something new, different. “I decided that I’ll find the balance, and learn to sail through my emotions. Locking everything away only causes mayhem. Exercising control by feeding the void wasn’t smart.”
Brynn’s lips hide a smile.
I give her a “maybe I’m growing up” glance. “I’ll go back to therapy, continue my medication and learn to cope in a less bitchy way.”
“You’re not a bitch,” she reminds me. “There’s emotionless and there’s being a bitch. I’d punch you in the face if you were the latter.”
“As always, there’s so much love coming from you.”
“I’m that amazing,” she says, jokingly. “Are you considering quitting the hospital?”
“Whatever we do, it’d be a mutual decision, Brynn. I don’t go anywhere without you.” The thought of opening a pediatric practice is growing on me. I’m not ready to voice it. There’re many things I’ve neglected throughout the years, including myself. It feels like the right time to take the reins of my personal life while deciding the future of my professional career.
“Give me a few weeks to get ahold of myself, Brynn. Then you can ask me what we’re doing next.”
“Fine.” Brynn brushes her dark hair from her face. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be done. We can have a midnight snack before we hit the pillow.”
Me: I got your message. I’ll call you soon.
“There, I’ll call my mother,” I say to no one, slipping the phone into my pocket. Item one is done. I check it off me a to-do list for this morning. I have three weeks of vacation. Twenty-one days to rest, relax, and I’m already hyperventilating. What do I do with my free time? Brynn suggested cleaning the house. I finished that three hours ago. Afterwards I walked Hugo. Then I made a to-do list. Going to the hardware store to choose a new color for my room is number five. After that is cataloging the cookbooks we never used; emptying and cleaning the fridge is at the bottom of the list. Text Austin is second.
I haven’t spoken to my brother in a couple of weeks. Our relationship is nothing like the one I have with Mom. I want to believe we’re close. Not tight, but if either one of us needs to bury a body or is sick, the other would be rushing over with a shovel or chicken soup in hand. We have a close connection, even when we don’t see each other often. It’s a shame since we live only an hour away from each other. Our schedules never coincide, my night owl schedule clashes with his nine to five.
Me: U alive?
Austin: Are you alive? Can you notice the difference between these questions?
I chuckle. I love to tease him. Abbreviating or shortening sentences while texting is something he hates.
Me: That’s not an answer, Aussie. Are you available?
Austin: For you, monkey, always.
“I’m not a monkey,” I protest before he can say hello.
“What’s up, squirt?” He sounds so close to Bugs Bunny the way he says it. He started doing it after I graduated med school.
“Not much, butthead.” I stick out my tongue, even when I know he can’t see me. “Just checking in with the big brother. How are you doing?”
“It’s Wednesday, one in the afternoon and you’re not working,” he states the obvious, sighing. “Should I worry?”
“No, I took some time off.”
“What’s going on, sweetheart?” He’s probably jumping in his car, ready to drive toward me. “Talk to me, Aspy.”
“I went to San Jose with my neighbor. We spent less time there than we thought. And now I have three weeks off.”
“Nice start, now give me the whole story.” He sounds bossy, worried. “Aspen, you need to talk to someone. I’m always here for you, what’s going on?”
Austin is a great listener. I don’t remember if he’s always been like that, or
if it happened as he started to work as a counselor. Either way, he never judges me. He just tries his best to guide me through the mayhem inside my head. My therapists have never been as easy going or understanding as he is with me. Sitting on the couch, I close my eyes and talk for what feels like hours about my life. The beginning is easy, Sophia is sick. Getting to the present is not a smooth ride.
“Deep breaths, Aspy,” Austin reminds me as I stir toward the end of the story. “Brooklyn is right, you have to find a new place. You’re incredibly dedicated. The hospital will lose one of the best, but you’re pushing yourself too much. We can’t save everyone.”
“I can’t leave it behind.”
“Tell me about this guy, Anderson. Is he hot?”
“Hot is putting it mildly.” Between laughs and chuckles, I tell him more about Anderson.
“How hot is his friend?” Austin’s voice sounds flirty. “We could double date, you know.”
Thinking hard about him, I can’t come up with details. Hair color, eye color…Kevin is handsome, well-built. Tattoos dance all over his arms. As Anderson said, he’s his partner. I felt a pang of jealousy and relief. Liking and being attracted to a taken man, a gay man in a commited relationship, was perfectly fine. Acceptable.
“Hm. He’s good looking, I think.” I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling. “I couldn’t see too well with the lights. So, that’s the story. These next days are going to kill me. There’s nothing to do and too much to ponder about.”
“Have you spoken to Mom?” He changes the subject.
“No.”
“It’s been years, Aspen. Try talking to her, she has some news.”
“What news?”
“You have to talk to her, Aspen,” he insists. “Please, help me.”
“After things settle.” I sigh. He’s right. Dad is gone. She’s the only parent I have, but can I deal with her while I’m already having a hard time with everything that’s happening? “When can I see you?”
“Pick a day and I’ll take you to dinner,” he offers. “Friday. Let’s go out on Friday, you can come and crash at my place afterward.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I tell him. “Thank you for listening.”
17
Aspen
Uncertainty, oh how much I hate the fuck out of you. I hate this—the wait, the lack of news. No news is good news. Anderson left on Tuesday, right after we arrived from San Jose. It’s Thursday night, and he’s not back yet.
“It could take a few days,” he said, kissing my lips. “When I’m back we’ll talk about us, Aspen.”
“Are you okay?” Brynn pauses Breaking Bad, which is making me anxious. Anderson denies it, but he’s been close to Scarlett’s ranch. It’s where drug dealers and cartels swarm, killing law enforcement without batting an eyelash. I nod. “Because you’re shredding your organizer.”
I look down at my lap. My hands are fidgeting with the pages, tearing them up.
Anderson: Are you asleep?
The muscles of my back relax, knowing the mission is over. Wherever he is, he’s safe.
Me: No, where are you?
The doorbell rings, I jump off the couch running toward the entry and swinging the door open.
Anderson stands in front of me. He has a few bruises on his face, but his sexy grin is stamped on those full lips. “You’re okay.” Finally, I exhale.
He pulls me into his embrace, my feet leaving the floor for a few seconds. “I fucking missed you.”
As he settles my feet back on the floor, my hands reach for his face. I stand on my tiptoes as I lower his lips to mine. “Welcome home,” I murmur, kissing him deeply, letting go of the anguish and worry.
“So this is what the fuss is all about. Having someone waiting for you after a mission.” Anderson’s hands rest on my hips, he pushes me against the wall, his erection pressing into my waist. The kiss intensifies, the urgency increases with every second that passes. This isn’t just a casual hello. At least for me it’s a, “don’t leave me without news for this long, the past couple of days were hell without you.”
“A, I’m heading to bed,” Brynn breaks the spell, bringing me back to reality.
“Good evening, Brooklyn,” Anderson greets her. “I apologize for showing up this late at night.”
Brynn shakes her head smiling. “On the contrary, thank you for showing up; she was driving me insane.”
“Good night, my mouthy friend,” I growl, glancing back at her. She gives me a “you’re lost” look.
Anderson caresses my ear, running his hand along my cheek, his eyes tender, maybe even loving. “You were worried about me?”
“Friends worry about each other,” I respond, lifting my trembling hand and touching the perimeter of the open cut above his left eyebrow. “We need to clean this. I might have to stitch it.”
The long sleeve jacket he wears has a couple of purple marks, one on his chest and the second one on his stomach. Circles. “You got shot!”
“Brooklyn!” I panic, my voice a shrilling sound. My hands start unfastening and ripping the garment apart, but it is harder than I thought. Anderson pushes something on the top and takes it off. I pull up his t-shirt running my hand over his inked chest. There’re a couple of light bruises but nothing I should tend to immediately.
“Did someone die?” Brynn calls out.
“No, I thought he was shot and…sorry,” I say staring at the bruises. “Without this thing, you could’ve died, Anderson.”
“I always use protection.” He winks at me.
“We’re all good, then?” Brynn comes closer looking at the bruises too. She squints and twists her lips. “I agree, without a vest this would be fatal. Make sure they drop you by my OR if the armor doesn’t work.”
She starts walking away, waving at me. “Have fun playing nurse, Aspen. I’m wearing your noise canceling headphones.”
Her comment reminds me of college. Those times when Michael would drop by to visit me and…Tension grows in my face and my limbs. My mind replays Scarlett’s news, her impassive face from that day. “Mom called. Mike. He died.”
What if the next time he leaves, there’s a call telling me that Anderson died? The thoughts accelerate inside my head. The fear of losing him becoming intoxicating. Who would call and say, “Aspen, it’s Hawk, he died.”? No, he can’t die. My breathing quickens, becoming shallow. I feel lightheaded, tired. This time I recognize that I’m right on the edge of the abyss. I should retreat, push him out of the house and my life. Close the door behind him, and never let myself feel. I’m too close. And if I take a misstep, I’ll fall again, smashing my head once my heart ceases to exist. It’s a place I don’t want to visit. The last time it took me years to come out of it.
Breathe, Aspen. Don’t lose it in front of Anderson.
The anxiety is choking me. Air, I need it.
“Aspen, stay with me.” Anderson’s voice is urgent. “Breath, slowly.”
I can barely hear myself as I gasp for oxygen. The tips of my fingers begin to tingle, my arms lose feeling, black dots obstruct my vision.
“One, two, three,” he whispers close to my ear, holding my hand and slowly raising my arms over my head. “You’re doing a great job. Concentrate on your breathing.”
“It’d be best if you leave now.” I can barely say the words, but I blurt them. “The longer you stay, the more it’ll hurt when...”
“Why would I leave?” He kisses the back of my neck. “Aspen, I’m new to relationships and love. However, you can’t ask me to give up what’s growing between the two of us.”
Damn it, he feels it too. This makes things harder, yet easier. Rip the band-aid off and let it air. The wound will close if you let it air.
“Give us a chance.” He slides his hands, tracing a line from the tip of my fingers down my sides and to my waist. I arch with his touch, wanting him to continue but he stops holding me closer to him. “I refuse to give up what I’m feeling for you. Do you know how fucking great it is to k
now someone is waiting for you after a fucked-up day at work?”
“I’m scared of falling off the cliff,” I breathe the words, sucking in his musky scent. I’m fighting the need to run away from him; fighting the need to beg for his touch. So many emotions clutching my throat, squeezing it tight along with my heart.
“Sometimes the best part of the journey is falling, gliding, and never letting it go.” Anderson kisses the top of my head, my eyes, my nose, peppering my face with kisses leaving a trail of love all along it and kissing my neck. “This is right, my heart agrees and my soul demands it.”
“I’m broken. My heart is shattered. It’s impossible to fix it.”
“We are going to collect every fragment and melt them together along with my heart. So they never fall apart,” he whispers in my ear. His assurance is weaving a safety net at the bottom of the cliff. “Allow us to continue this journey. Falling in love is a different kind of adrenaline I’ve never experienced. You’re opening my eyes, injecting hope and teaching me how to love.”
My mind races with the possibilities, a whiplash of reservations erase them at once. “What if it doesn’t work?”
He nuzzles my neck. “I like long-term challenges. We have a lifetime to fall in love over and over.”
My chest tightness. I grip his waist needing his support. Anderson’s strong arms encase me, warming my soul and allowing me to feel safe. This is either the eye of the storm, or the end of the hurricane. Soon I’ll know if I must pick up the debris or search for a bigger bunker for shelter.
“I’m not planning on leaving you, Aspen,” he whispers nibbling my ear. “Unless you want me to go.” His lips gently brush mine. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
“Please,” I exhale the word, staring at his forest green eyes. “After I clean the wound.”
“Whatever you say, Doc.” His shoulders settle, his smirk draws me to him. I fight the urge to kiss him again, and hold his hand taking him to the bathroom where I can work my magic.