The Only Things You Can Take (Wildflower Romance #2)

by Stacy Claflin

  Knock, knock!

  “Come in!” I don’t move.

  “Are you in the bed?” That sounds like Lincoln.

  I sit up and stare at Anchor’s brother. Then I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My hair is sticking out, gnarled and matted. Even with the dim light, I can see bags under my eyes.

  “Sutton?” His face twists, but not with disgust. He looks worried. “Are you okay?”

  I shrug.

  “Can I sit?”

  “Sure.”

  Lincoln sits at the edge of the bed, about a foot from me. “How much weight have you lost?”

  I glance down. “Have I lost weight?”

  “No offense, but you look emaciated.”

  “Doesn’t bother me.”

  He frowns. “Have you thought about going back to school?”

  I shrug again.

  “It might do you good.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Have you thought about trying to work things out with Anchor?” Lincoln glances at my wedding ring.

  I pull my hand under the covers.

  “He was really worried about you.”

  “Was?” I give him a double-take.

  Lincoln lets out a long, drawn-out breath. “He’s drinking a lot. Not worried about anything much right now.”

  My heart drops. “What? He’s drinking?”

  “Yep.” Lincoln’s eyes fill with sadness. “Dad demoted him at work, he’s doing basic labor and doesn’t care. Then goes home and drinks. We all throw away what we can find, but he just buys more.”

  My throat closes up.

  “It’s just all too much for him. He feels like he’s lost you as well as Kady.”

  I look away. “And Kade.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  What have I done? I pushed him away after promising to be there for him, not only at our wedding but the night of Kady’s memorial service.

  “Do you still care for him?” Lincoln asks.

  “Yes, of course!” I push aside the covers. “Where is he now?”

  He glances at his phone. “Should be getting off work. Probably be home in an hour. He stops off for drinks on the way home each day.”

  “He drinks and drives?” I stare at him.

  “Sometimes. If he drinks at a bar, then we can’t take that from him. Other times, he sneaks in the back door and locks himself in his room.”

  “What did I do?” I scramble out of bed and race over to my closet, then grab clothes without paying attention to any of them. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks.” Lincoln frowns and leaves the room.

  I get ready as fast as I can, though I’m slowed down by the knots in my hair. I’ve really let myself go without a care about anyone else. Now Anchor is drinking? He’s always been so strong. I never imagined he would fall like this.

  Then I remember his words to me. He’d said that he needs me and that we need each other to get through this. And I pushed him away.

  I finally get the gnarls out of my hair, only to realize my clothes are barely hanging on me. Lincoln wasn’t joking about my weight loss. I roll the waist of my pants and head outside. When I get to Anchor’s house, his car isn’t there.

  My heart sinks. Is he at a bar? Or did he get into an accident? My stomach lurches at the thought. What if my pushing him away led him to getting hurt or killed?

  I’ll never forgive myself.

  I pace the yard, watching the road for his car. Stopping each time I hear one. None of them is his.

  The front door opens, and his mom opens the door. “What are you doing, Sutton?” She looks ten years older than the last time I saw her.

  Guilt stings. I did this. She’s worried about Anchor. Worried about his drinking, which he wouldn’t be doing if I’d been there for him.

  She probably hates me. And she should. This is my fault.

  “Come inside.” She waves me in.

  She wants me to come in?

  “Hurry up.”

  I don’t argue. Maybe she wants to yell at me. Not that I blame her. I want to yell at me.

  Greer leads me to the kitchen. It doesn’t smell of seasonal snacks. She doesn’t offer me anything other than a seat at the table.

  “I’m sorry.” I sit and play with a napkin. “I never meant for Anchor to turn to alcohol.”

  She sits across from me. “I know. We’re all dealing with our loss in our own ways. You two lost a child. People say there’s nothing worse than that.”

  I meet her gaze. “You lost a grandchild. That isn’t much better.”

  Greer shakes her head and looks away.

  “What can I do for Anchor?”

  She takes in a long breath then releases it slowly. “I don’t know, but I hope you can help pull him out of this. So far, nobody else has been able to. If it weren’t for you, he’d have never gotten through losing his best friend.”

  Guilt stings.

  We sit in silence for a while. The quiet has never sounded so loud. It swirls around in my ears.

  “What time does he usually get home?”

  “Depends on the day.”

  Feels like a knife in my chest. “Do you know the bar he usually goes to?”

  “The one near the construction office.”

  I glance outside. It’s getting dark. “I should probably go there.”

  Greer nods.

  “I’ll make this right.” I can’t look at her as I leave.

  When I get back to my house, Mom comes outside. “I didn’t believe it when Hank said he saw you dressed and going outside. Where did you go?”

  “To Anchor’s, but he’s not there. I’m going to go find him.” I purposefully don’t mention where I’m headed.

  “Will you be home soon?”

  I nod, even though I have no idea.

  “I’m glad to see you out of your room. I love you.” Mom hugs me before I unlock my car.

  “I love you too.” I get in the car and turn the ignition. It takes a couple tries, probably because it has been parked for months.

  Traffic through town is a little thick, but I manage to get to the bar fairly fast. My heart races the whole time. It triples the speed when I see Anchor’s car in the parking lot.

  I park one lane over from him and climb out. My pulse is still racing and I’m shaking. Will he be happy to see me? Angry? Or will he care? Have I pushed him so far that I no longer matter to him?

  Tears sting my eyes. If Kady can see what’s going on, she must be so disappointed. I whisper a sorry to her. I’ve really messed up everything.

  I didn’t think I had anything left to live for, but now I realize how wrong I was. My only hope is that it isn’t too late. That I haven’t ruined everything beyond repair.

  Everything else is a mess. The last thing I want is for Anchor—the one person who has been my anchor—to be wrecked.

  I stare at the door and take a deep breath. It’s time to face the consequences of what I’ve done. I pushed him away in my grief. I didn’t fight for him. For our love, our marriage. I just wallowed in my grief alone until he gave up. Probably hoping I’d come back for him.

  But I didn’t.

  The lump in my throat—the one that never seems to go away—nearly chokes me. I glance down at the beautiful ring he gave me. The one he wanted me to have, that represents our love.

  Then I march toward the door and open it. I hear the music and conversation before I step inside. Pool balls hitting each other. Glasses clinking.

  After spending so much time hidden away in my room, all the noise feels like an assault on my senses—a garish reminder that I can’t really avoid life. As long as I’m breathing, there is no avoiding life.

  My eyes adjust to the dim light and I step inside, then look around for Anchor. He’s not playing pool or in a booth. He’s not playing cards or sitting at an open table with anyone.

  I finally see him, and my heart constricts. My Anchor is slumped at the bar, his head resting on one arm next
to two empty glasses. The other hand holds a beer bottle.

  What have I done to him? He wasn’t like this before I pushed him away.

  “I’m so sorry.” My voice barely comes out a whisper, and even I can’t hear it with all the noise of the bar. I clear my throat then walk over to him.

  He doesn’t budge, so I sit on the stool next to him. And wait. He doesn’t move, and I start to wonder if he fell asleep. At least if he did, that means he can’t drink any more while sleeping.

  “What can I get you?” The bartender startles me.

  I’ve grown accustomed to not talking to people. Not being a part of the world. I stare at him for a moment, trying to regain my bearings. “Nothing, thanks.”

  “You come in, you gotta order something.”

  I glance at Anchor. “I’m with him. Looks like he’s had more than enough for one person.”

  The bartender gives me a double-take. “You’re her?”

  My stomach twists. I’ve hurt him so badly the guy in front of me knows all that I’ve done to him.

  “Sutton?” Anchor asks.

  I whip my attention to him. My already-broken heart shatters into tinier pieces.

  Anchor’s eyes are bloodshot. His skin dry and creased. Dark circles decorate his eyes. A hardness covers his expression. “What are you doing here?”

  I swallow. “I came to see you.”

  “Why?” He brings the beer bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig before slamming it onto the counter.

  “Because we need to talk.”

  “Why bother?” Anchor shoves the bottle away from him, then turns to the bartender. “Bring out another, Reggie.”

  “No!” I hold up my hand. “Some lemon waters, please.”

  Reggie arches a brow.

  “Just water,” I say before Anchor can object. “You said I had to order something, right? Give me two lemon waters.”

  He shrugs then turns around.

  “Why are you here?” Anchor rakes his dirt-caked fingers through his hair, which is longer than I’ve ever seen it.

  “We need to talk. No, I need to talk. I need to apologize.”

  He sighs and tries to get more drink from one of the empty glasses in front of him. “Why?”

  I turn so that I’m facing him, even though he’s facing the bar. “Anchor, I’m really sorry for pushing you away. For not fighting for you, for us. I was so blinded by my own pain that I couldn’t see what I was doing to you. I want to turn that around.”

  “Well, maybe it’s my turn to push you away.” He turns to me, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to talk. All I want is another beer. That’s it. Nothing else.”

  He cracks his knuckles, and that’s when I notice he isn’t wearing his wedding ring.

  I look down at mine and instinctively cover it. “Anchor, I’m really sorry for everything.”

  He waves his ringless finger at me to go away, then he turns back to the bar. “Hey, Reggie! Get me that beer and forget the waters. She’s not staying, after all.”

  My heart shatters even more. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible.

  Anchor turns away from me without a word. He doesn’t have to say anything. His furrowed brows and tight expression say it all. He wants me to leave. Now.

  Sutton

  I’ve been sitting in my car for nearly an hour, watching a steady flow of people walking in and out of the bar. None has been Anchor. I’m playing music, but it isn’t distracting me. Neither is cleaning the car. Except for Kady’s drawing I found stuffed under my seat from before she got sick—or at least before we knew anything about the tumor that wrapped itself around her brainstem, making it impossible for doctors to take out. That distracted me. But not in the way you might think.

  Yes, I held it close. I studied it, pictured her without the crossed eye or puffy cheeks and with her coordination at its peak. But then I let it give me determination—to fight for Anchor, for our relationship, for everything we’ve built over the years.

  That’s why I’m not moving from this spot. If I have to wait until the bar closes, I will. Where else do I have to go? It’s not like I’m in school or working or otherwise expected to be anywhere other than my bed or Kady’s.

  The sky darkens until I can only see the bar’s door because of lights. More people come and go. None of them is Anchor. I continue listening to music. I find two more drawings, a plastic ring from a birthday party, and a half-eaten lollipop.

  Tears threaten as I think about how she’ll never again be able to have another candy. Never be able to draw another picture. These thoughts haven’t eased since the day she left us. I wonder if they ever will. Will the rest of my life consist of me thinking about how Kady and Kade will never get to experience so many things they should have? I have a feeling that no matter how my life moves on, they will never leave me.

  At one point, my mom texts me. I let her know I’m with Anchor and that I won’t be home tonight. I’m not sure if I will be, but I don’t want her worrying if I don’t come home.

  After a while, a stream of people pour out of the bar. It’s two in the morning. Probably closing time.

  I hold my breath, waiting for Anchor. How intoxicated is he? With any luck, just enough to have forgotten that he wanted me to leave him alone.

  Finally, the door swings open and he stumbles through.

  My heart skips a beat and I sit up taller, reaching for the door handle.

  Then out steps a woman in a short skirt and a low-cut top. She puts her arm around him, and together they walk toward his car.

  Is she why he took off his ring?

  She can forget about anything she has going on with Anchor. It’s over. Right now.

  I fling open the door and race over to them, nearly getting hit by a car in the process. I wave an apology and hurry over to them. “Anchor!”

  The woman turns to me. “You know him?”

  I step closer. “I’m his wife.” Not that I deserve the title at the moment, but she doesn’t need to know that. I am married to him, whether or not I deserve it. She needs to respect that, whether she likes it or not.

  “Good.” A look of relief covers her face. “I was about to call him an Uber, but he’s been fighting me.”

  “I’m fine.” Anchor steps away from both of us, about as stable as a baby taking its first step. “I don’t need a ride—from anyone.”

  The woman crosses her arms. “I can’t let you drive home like this.”

  “I can drive juss fine.” All of his words slur together.

  I step closer. “Anchor, just let me take you home.”

  The woman nods. “You can come back for your car tomorrow. We won’t have it towed.”

  He glares at both of us.

  “Where’s your car?” She turns to me.

  “Over there.” I nod over to it, though it’s one of the only cars left in the lot now.

  “Help me with him.”

  We both take one of Anchor’s arms and manage to get him in my passenger seat, despite his drunken protests. I expect him to jump out as soon as we step away, but he slumps into the seat, crossing his arms and muttering.

  I thank the lady, then close his door before climbing back into my car.

  “I could’ve driven myself home,” Anchor mutters.

  “Better safe than sorry.” I start the engine.

  “I could’ve.”

  “I’m not doubting you.”

  He blasts the music. It just happens to be one of the songs we danced to that one night in the barn. I wonder if he realizes it, but I don’t say anything. He might remember when sober, but I wouldn’t expect it now.

  As we near our neighborhood, I debate bringing him home with me or to his house. I end up going to his place, because I don’t want my family to see him like this—and I’m sure he wouldn’t want that, either.

  After he fumbles with the key, I take it from him and open the door. The house is quiet until he glares at me. “I coulda done that.”

  �
��I’m sure you could have.” I hand him the keychain and close the door, locking the deadbolt.

  “You can go now. I’m home.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll help you upstairs.”

  Anchor pulls away from me. “I don’t need your help.”

  Even drunk, he wants nothing to do with me. I ignore my pain and let him try to get up the stairs.

  If my heart wasn’t broken into a million pieces, his attempts would be funny. I give him a few tries before assisting him. He chews me out, but finally accepts my help.

  “You’re going to wake your parents and brother if you don’t quiet down.”

  He mutters under his breath and yanks his arm away from me when we reach the top of the stairs. Then he staggers to his room. He starts to close it between us, but I put my foot in the way.

  “Hey, move.” Anchor glares at me.

  I shake my head no.

  He waves me off then plunks down onto his bed and fights with his shoelaces.

  “Want some help?” I ask.

  “Not from you.” He tugs on his work boot, but that doesn’t get it off, either.

  It hits me how much I’ve really hurt him. I lean against the wall and try to ignore the guilt. It doesn’t work. “Sure you don’t want some help?”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  I kneel in front of him and untie the laces of one boot, then the next. He pulls them off and kicks them across the room before climbing into the bed.

  “You want to sleep in your work clothes?”

  “Don’t care.”

  “I can help you again.”

  “Go away, Sutton.”

  That hurts more than anything else he’s said to me tonight, because it was so direct. I stand silently and recoup my emotions. Before long, his breathing is heavy, rhythmic. I close his door, take off my shoes, then climb in bed with him. If he really wants me out of his life, he’s going to have to fight harder than me. And I’m not going to give up easily.

  He smells of dirt, alcohol, and smoke. I’m tempted to roll away, but I don’t. Instead, I close my eyes and listen to his breathing until I fall asleep myself.