From the Embers

by Aly Martinez

  Desperate for an escape, I took the kids to the park, then out for frozen yogurt, and eventually to the mall to ride the carousel. I was exhausted beyond reason, but being with my kids was the only thing that eased my splintered soul. The house was blisteringly quiet when we got back. None of Luna’s sugary giggles or Eason’s rich laughter.

  He wasn’t there to ask me about my day. Regardless of my answer, his wide smile made it so I knew it was about to get better.

  He wasn’t there to sit outside and bullshit about nothing, his animated stories making the weight of life seem lighter.

  To be honest, he didn’t even have to talk. Just knowing that Eason was there, outside in the pool house, working on his music gave me a sense of comfort I’d never expected to find again.

  My own pain stung, but my sympathy for Eason was the true slap across the face and it only made me hate Rob and Jessica that much more.

  Utterly unable to keep my lids open for any longer, I fell asleep for a while after the kids went to bed, but within hours I was right back up. I covered the bedroom floor with rows upon rows of the text printouts I’d requested. It was a tedious process, matching up timelines, looking back at my old messages to figure out what he’d told me he was doing while he was with her, then doubling back to see if any photos were taken on those days. And what were Jessica and I talking about in our old conversations while they were sneaking around behind my back? I was mentally piecing together a puzzle for which I only had about half the pieces.

  The worst part was that I had this visceral need to know why they had done it, but deep down, I knew that none of it mattered. Knowing wouldn’t change what had happened. No matter how many lies I uncovered, it wouldn’t unbreak my heart.

  After the revelations of the last two days, I began to feel like our entire life together and my friendship with a woman, who I’d never thought could betray me, had been nothing more than an illusion. Carefully crafted and expertly carried out, leaving Eason and me fools in their games.

  When Rob and Jessica had been lost in that fire, so many secrets perished along with them. Some apparently had only been scattered to the breeze for a while. Regardless, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, we were still smoldering in the ashes of that night, a hotspot yet to be discovered, growing brighter even a year after their deaths.

  And as I flipped the page to the next set of their messages, my lids almost as heavy as my heart, the embers of their betrayal suddenly ignited into a conflagration that would consume us all.

  EASON

  Even before I’d lost Jessica, I was no stranger to heartbreak. There weren’t many songwriters who were. In my younger days, a woman had cheated on me with a coworker. Another left me for her ex. One just went straight up off the rails and called my mother to tattle about how I hadn’t bought her enough flowers. It was all part of the journey, and closure was nothing but part of the process.

  However, as it turned out, raging at a ghost was as unfulfilling as breakups came.

  There was no one to be mad at.

  No tear-filled arguments long into the wee hours of the morning.

  There were no lies to sort through. No pleas to stay. There wasn’t even the satisfying slam of the door as I stormed out, my head held high, my self-worth in the gutter but knowing I deserved better.

  Jessica had been sleeping around behind my back with the man I considered my brother.

  I didn’t get to drive to Rob’s house and bang on his door in the middle of the night, demanding answers to questions no one should have to ask. There were no insults to exchange, no punches to be thrown, and absolutely nothing I could do to soothe the hurricane brewing within me.

  So I packed my daughter and my guitar and left in the middle of the night. I hated leaving Bree alone with the fucking phone, but I couldn’t stay. The memories the four of us had made in that house before the fire had once been comforting. The afternoons around the pool, laughing and drinking. The impromptu dinners Bree and Jessica would plan where Rob would insist on grilling. The countless times Rob and I watched football, or basketball, or any sport that was in season on the big screen while our wives chatted about everything under the sun.

  Now, those memories were poisoned by doubt. Tarnished by deception and lies.

  Had he been fantasizing about her as she walked around the pool in a bikini? The very same pool my bedroom overlooked.

  Had the dinners all just been a ruse so she could see him and play footsie under the table I currently ate dinner at each night?

  While my eyes had been glued to the game, was he plotting a moment to get her alone, maybe pin her against the wall in the hall I walked past every day?

  I had to get out of there, even if it meant temporarily getting away from Bree too.

  I needed downtime. A place to think and process. No peace would be found, but I’d lived without it for over a year. I could make it awhile longer.

  I managed to secure a cabin just north of Gatlinburg with digital twenty-four-hour check-in. It was a small two-bedroom—perfect for me and Luna—with a killer view of the mountains.

  I had no idea how long I would stay. I’d booked the place for a week, figuring I’d rather lose money and skip out early than be kicked out before I was ready to go back.

  The first day, Luna and I explored the area. It was relatively secluded, save for a few cabins in the distance, but we found a grocery store about thirty minutes away and bought enough Goldfish crackers, crayons, and coloring books to keep Luna busy.

  We hiked. We snuggled on the couch. I even managed to turn down the temperature on the hot tub so we could use it like a swimming pool. But when night fell, without the distractions of being a father, my mind assaulted me.

  When was the first time? The first kiss? The first touch? Who initiated it? Who wanted it more?

  When was the last time? The Thursday before the fire? Did he cop a feel in the kitchen when I was setting up Pictionary? Was she hoping I’d get drunk enough to not hear her fucking him in the bathroom?

  How goddamn blind had I been not to have seen it?

  Since the day I’d found music, writing had been my outlet. When times got tough and it all became too much, I’d settle behind my piano or drag a guitar into my lap and the chaos would flow from the depths inside me, through my fingers, and out into the world.

  When news of the fire had spread through my connections in the music industry, a producer I’d been dying to work with reached out to extend his condolences. He ended the call with, “This kind of heartbreak should make an incredible album for you. Hit me up when you’re ready to start recording.” I wanted to reach through the phone and snap his fucking neck.

  What I’d been through wasn’t a run-of-the-mill breakup that inspired heartache-filled ballads. I’d damn near lost everything. I wasn’t capitalizing on the death of my wife and friend. And even if I wanted to, writing meant reliving those emotions, dissecting them, tearing them down to a fundamental level, then piecing them back together in a way that was brutal and succinct yet still pleasing to the ear.

  There wasn’t enough fame or fortune in existence for me to be willing to relive the night of the fire. I leaned on Bree, talked to a therapist, but I never wanted to live in a world where someone somewhere was singing lyrics like “I’ll be right back.”

  Fuck. That.

  But this… This wound. This pain. This absolute and utter betrayal. I needed to get it out, shred it, patch it back together, and then move the fuck on with my life.

  So, with my guitar in hand, while Luna slept, I got to work.

  By the next morning, I was no less pissed off or jaded, but at least I had something to show for the anguish. It wasn’t as much a song as a stream of consciousness in C minor, but it was getting there—and eventually so would my heart.

  Over the last forty-eight hours, sleep had been an afterthought. I’d doze off, catching a few hours here or there, but reality didn’t allow my mind to stay silent for long. Though, wh
en Luna’s nap time rolled around and she nodded off in my arms in the middle of her favorite cartoon, I started thinking it might turn into a snoozefest for both of us.

  “I not sweepy,” she whined, already half asleep on my shoulder, her arms tight around my neck.

  “Baby, you were already asleep,” I whispered, lowering her into the travel crib. “Daddy loves you. Get some rest.”

  “Nooooo,” she drawled, but that was the last of her objections before she flipped to her stomach, tucked her blanket under her arm, and drifted off again.

  I hadn’t made it two steps out of her room before there was a gentle rap on the front door.

  “Bree?” I said, our eyes locking through the glass.

  She lifted her hand in an awkward finger wave, and even with how surprised and physically drained I was, I still couldn’t stop the smile as it broke across my face.

  I hurried to the door and swung it open. “Hey, what are you doing here? Come in, come in.”

  She walked inside and I leaned out, searching the driveway.

  “Where are the kids?”

  “They’re at home. With Evelyn.” She slid her eyes around the cabin, the front door feeding into the large living area with a bedroom on either side and the small kitchen tucked into the back corner. “I was waiting until nap time. Is Luna asleep?”

  “Yeah, I just got her down. Perfect timing.”

  “I hope it’s okay that I came. I mean… I know things with us are—”

  “Good,” I finished for her. With one arm over her shoulder, I dragged her in for a hug. The messy bun on the top of her head tickled my nose, but damn it felt good to see her. “Me and you, we’re good, Bree. Rob and Jessica’s shit is not ours, okay?”

  She tilted her head back, and on any other day, it would have been the cue to let her go. She would have smiled, stepped away, and we’d be nothing more than two friends who had shared an embrace. But now, after all the bullshit and not seeing her for far too long, I just didn’t want to.

  So I didn’t.

  And neither did she. Instead, she slipped her arms around my waist and peered up at me with tired eyes. “I know, but you wanted space—”

  “Not from you. Just from…all the other shit. I needed to work some things out, and I couldn’t do it back at the house.”

  “How’s that going for you?”

  Fuck me seven ways to Sunday. I had no idea what was happening or why the constant roar in my ears suddenly fell silent, but I’d been at rock bottom long enough to know not to waste time questioning the good or I could miss it altogether. “Better now.”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, resting her forehead on my pec, hiding her face.

  It wasn’t exactly what I had been expecting to hear. Although, I didn’t know what I should have anticipated, either, and it sent my brain off like a hamster on a wheel, finally showing up to work. All the gears started spinning in tandem. I’d been so happy to see her that I hadn’t truly considered why she’d driven all that way.

  “Wait, why didn’t you bring the kids?”

  She sighed. “Eason, we need to talk.”

  Four simple words hit me like a brick house. Nothing ever good came from someone saying, “We need to talk.” It was never followed by, “Let’s go out to dinner,” or “We won the lottery.” We need to talk was universal language for I’m about to stir shit up, and if history was any indicator, the universe was going to use a damn blender when stirring my life.

  Releasing her, I took a step away, suspicion ricocheting inside me. “Why? What’s going on?”

  Her green eyes sparkled in the mid-day sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the mountains. “I found something on Rob’s phone that I thought you needed to see.”

  Relief rained down over me. Thank God. I’d already seen the phone. Worst case, she was going to tell me they’d been together on my birthday or something equally as disgusting.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s just, they were together a lot longer than you think.”

  “Okayyy,” I drawled. “I kinda assumed that when I saw the first text about them switching from a different number.”

  Her lips thinned and a stifling sadness filled the air. “Yeah, but it was…a lot longer.” Taking my hand, she covered it with both of hers. “Let’s go sit down, okay?”

  If I could build a time machine, I would go back to that moment. I’d laugh and hug her again. Tell her none of it mattered. Rob and Jessica were the past and they should stay there. I’d offer her a beer, insist we go sit on the balcony, and then get lost in the view—and not that of the mountains.

  But I didn’t do any of that, and I would regret it for the rest of my life.

  Losing my patience, I tugged my hand away. “What the hell is going on? Whatever it is, just say it. You’re freaking me out.”

  Chewing on her bottom lip, she stalled. “Eason…”

  “Say it,” I ordered.

  And then she dealt me the most devastating blow I would ever endure. “I think Luna might be Rob’s daughter.”

  BREE

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he thundered, his voice rattling the windows.

  That was not how I wanted to tell him. On the four-hour drive, I’d considered every possible way to break that news, but none of them would have been any less crushing. There was no gentle way to take a sledgehammer to Eason’s heart. But he deserved the truth.

  When I’d first read the texts, I debated with myself about waiting and telling him when he came home. But if he’d hated Rob and couldn’t stand to be in the space he’d once lived after finding out about the affair, he might have never wanted to come back after hearing the truth. And I wouldn’t have blamed him one bit. The betrayal burned like lava inside me too.

  My husband fathering a child with another woman.

  That woman being a wolf in disguise, posing as my best friend.

  And once again, I had to share that unique and profound misery with one of the best men I’d ever known.

  First thing that morning, unsure of what else to do, I’d called Evelyn to watch my kids and gone to him. He deserved to hear it from someone who cared about him, and I mean truly cared about him. Not the bullshit façade Rob and Jessica had crammed down our throats.

  I reached for him, needing to touch him, needing him to know I was there, hurting right along with him, but he scrambled away.

  “That’s not possible,” he seethed, the muscles on his neck straining.

  God, this was going to hurt.

  “I don’t know when it started with them. I haven’t gotten that far in the messages. But the night after Luna was born, Jessica sent him a text message saying you had just gone home to get her a few things and for him to come meet his daughter.”

  Eason’s eyes flashed wide and rabid, but I kept talking, hoping for the Band-Aid effect.

  “Rob told her not to say that, that Luna could still be yours. She called him after the text, so I have no idea what else was said.” I dug my phone from my back pocket. “And then I found this picture on his personal phone of him smiling, holding Luna at the hospital.” I turned the screen to face him. “I’d seen it a dozen times but never really looked at it. There are tons of pictures of us visiting Jessica in the hospital. The same when you guys came to visit us after Madison was born. But look at the clock.” My voice cracked and tears I swore I wouldn’t show him welled in the corners of my eyes.

  This wasn’t about me. I was allowed to be angry. I was allowed to be hurt. But my job, first and foremost, was to make sure he was okay. Because, no matter the situation, he would have done the same for me.

  “We came and visited the next morning. I remember because we got there around ten after I’d insisted on stopping to get her breakfast from that brunch place we loved so much. We were not at the hospital at six twenty-six that night or any other night, but clearly he was. Either Jessica convinced him or Rob must have thought there was enough of a cha
nce Luna was his that he risked going up there.”

  “Oh, God,” he mumbled, the hope draining from his face right along with the color. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Rubbing the center of his chest, he stumbled to one of the wooden chairs surrounding a rustic dinner table and sank down. “She’d sent me home to ger her pillow and a bunch of other random shit she’d said she’d forgotten to pack in her hospital bag. It was a whole damn list, including stopping to get Coke. The kind with crushed ice, not the ones we had at home. It took me for-fucking-ever to find it all. And when I got back, Rob was there.” Planting his elbows on the table, he buried his face in his hands. “It didn’t seem weird at the time. Why didn’t I think that was weird?”

  “Because you trusted him. Trusted her.” I dropped into a squat beside him and rested a hand on his back. “They played us both. This isn’t on you.”

  “But it is on me!” He lurched to his feet and sliced his hand through the air, pointing at a closed door. “That is my daughter. That little girl is my entire fucking reason for living, and you’re telling me she might not even be mine? It wasn’t bad enough that he was fucking my wife, but the son of a bitch took my baby from me too?” Swiping out his arm, he cleared the decorative candles from the center of the table. They fell to the floor with a loud crash, breaking just like the man in front of me.

  Ducking under his arm, I hurried in front of him. “Stop. Eason. Come on. Think about it. It doesn’t matter.”

  “How does this not matter? He took everything from me. My whole fucking life is a lie. Please God, Bree, tell me how to make this feel like it doesn’t matter.”

  I stared at him at an utter loss.

  I’d been trying to do just that for days, even before I’d found out about Luna, and I still hadn’t figured out how to stop letting a ghost stomp on my heart. There was only one person who ever gave me solace. It was probably wrong given the situation, but as his toffee-brown eyes bored into mine, so much pain carved into his handsome face, I would have done anything to take the agony from him.