I tried to open my eyes, but they felt matted together like they did when I forgot to take off my mascara before going to bed. And heavy. My eyelids felt as though they were weighted.
Images flashed through my head of corpses with coins over their closed eyelids. Was I dead? Or somewhere in between realities? That would explain why echoey voices filtered in and out of my head, but sounded as though I were underwater.
Warmth. Finally. If I were dead, I wouldn’t feel any warmth, would I?
At first, just a slight warm pressure rested on my frozen arm, then my entire body felt like it did when I would lie in the sun. I loved the sun. If only I could remain beneath the warm rays forever.
Something niggled at my brain that said that was impossible. That I had to come back to the cold, to reality.
“Charity?” a familiar voice beckoned. “Can you hear me, honey?”
“Daddy?” I cried, but I wasn’t sure if the one word escaped my lips, which also felt as though they were crusted together.
“Yes, sweetheart. It’s me. Can you open your eyes for me? We’re all worried about you.”
Warm wetness slid down both sides of my face. I blinked, trying to bring my surroundings into focus.
“That’s good, honey. Take your time. I’m right here,” my father coaxed.
I forced my eyes to open, but then it hit me why I hadn’t wanted to. The texts. Nathan’s cries to forgive him … came rushing back like a giant wave, holding me beneath the surface where I couldn’t breathe.
The water caught in my throat, choking me. No, not water, a sob threatened to choke me as I tried to speak, to confirm it wasn’t a dream. “Nathan … He … Did he really jump, Daddy?”
Warmth pressed in on both sides of my face, then my forehead. “Yes … I’m sorry …” My father’s voice trailed off, along with the warmth of his hands and lips. I concentrated on moving my hand, to hold him beside me, instead of leaving me, but I couldn’t find the right muscles to make any part of my arm work; it just felt lifeless. Why couldn’t I move? What had happened to me? Had I fallen off the bridge, too? If I lived, maybe there was a chance Nathan had lived too.
“Charity … baby …” my mom’s voice came out scratchy sounding. “Why would Nathan —”
“Melissa,” my dad interrupted. “I asked you not to do that!”
Even though I longed to go back to sleep, I had to know. I had to know if Nathan could still be alive. I blinked again, trying to bring the rest of the room into focus. My father’s face and my mother’s finally came into view.
“Dad …” I pushed out.
My father moved past my mother to stand by me again. “Yes, honey?”
“Did they … did they find …”
My dad turned his head to look at the bottom of the bed. “Have you heard?”
Although my head felt as if it were strapped to the bed, I forced it up a notch to follow my father’s line of sight. Brock. Oh, God! Brock. If I hadn’t been with Brock …
Brock nodded. “I finally got in touch with a paramedic buddy of mine. He said a fisherman saw him go in —”
“I can’t …” Tears flooded my eyes again. “Must be wrong … Nathan can’t be dead. He can’t be!” Brock stepped toward me, and I screamed, “No! No! I can’t! No! Get away from me! He’ll see!” My body shook beyond my control as the shouts and thumps started up again. Then the noises faded away as the lights dimmed.
But I could hear him crying out for me. Begging me to forgive him.
My name echoed within the darkness. Over and over and over. Make it stop, I screamed. Stop calling me. There’s nothing I can do. Nothing anyone can do.
Then, thankfully, the dense cloud encased me again, and I welcomed it. The opaque curtain shrouded me from the cries, blanketing me in inky darkness.
Chapter 19 – Brock
Shocked by Charity’s screams for me to get away, I just stared at her as the nurse and attendants stormed into the room and shoved me out of their way. “I’m sorry, Charity.”
“Brock,” her father said softly. “Maybe you should go. Thank you for calling and letting us know. We’ll call you if anything changes in Charity’s condition.”
I glanced back and forth at Charity’s parents, the two people who hadn’t even answered their phones when the paramedic tried to call from Charity’s phone. It wasn’t until I’d called her grandmother, who had then called them, that they knew their daughter was in the hospital. The two of them had been at a New Year’s Eve party and hadn’t bothered to answer a call from their own daughter’s phone.
But all I said was, “Okay.” What else was there to say really? Charity blamed me. Even though it hadn’t been my idea to go to her beach house, to make out in the pool, to have sex … she blamed me. Okay, so maybe it was my fault. For turning off her phone, for telling her not to go to him when he was right outside the house.
Although I was certain the drugs had already taken effect, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning over and kissing her. Even passed out, she looked like a princess with her red lips and dark hair against her pale skin. Like Snow White. I wished I could be the prince to awaken her and take her away from this nightmare, but I could only offer her one thing. “I love you, Charity, and I’ll never stop, no matter how much you try to push me away. I won’t give up on you again.”
I straightened, flashed a look at her parents, then left the cold hospital room. At least she was warm with the extra blanket I’d insisted the nurse bring. She’d been shivering, and no one had noticed. Her parents had just sat there for hours, tapping on their iPhones.
Not sure whom I was most angry with, I crashed through the double doors of the ER. The list was long. My father. My ex-wife. Charity’s now-dead ex-boyfriend. Morgan, a girl I’d never even met. Charity’s parents. I hated them all for hurting her.
Not Charity, though. I understood now. Understood why she came across the way she had at first. She must have always been trying to get attention, to please her parents … then her ex.
If only she could see that I wanted nothing from her but her. Her smile. Her laughter. Her carefree spirit. That’s all I wanted from Charity.
The sun was just peeking up beyond the horizon on the other side of Tampa Bay as I made my way back to Clearwater, to Caitlyn’s house. Hopefully, she hadn’t woken up yet, and I couldn’t imagine that she had. Normally the day after she went out partying, she’d sleep past noon.
New Year’s Day. My mother had said once that whatever you did on the first day of the year would set your path for the rest of the year.
God, I hoped not.
Last night, my mother’s superstitious belief had crossed my mind, making me think of making love to Charity all night and into the next day. That would have been an extraordinary way to spend the new year. But no. Because of one stupid boy, I’d spent the first hours of the new year holding back my ex-wife’s hair as she puked her guts out. Been shunned by the one woman I couldn’t get out of my head no matter how I tried. Kicked out of the hospital by her parents. And now I had to go back to Caitlyn’s and figure out how I would protect my unborn child.
“Life freakin’ sucks!” I screamed inside the vehicle.
And yet, I knew that nothing short of losing everyone I loved would make me think of throwing myself off a bridge, not even for a second. It would kill my mother. And who would take care of my sister if she ever got attacked again? No one, that’s who. Committing suicide might seem like an easy answer, but I’d never be so weak and selfish. It simply wasn’t in me to give up.
As soon as I turned onto Caitlyn’s street, I extinguished the lights. I also didn’t hit the garage door opener. Instead, I parked in the driveway, closing the door of the SUV as quietly as possible, then let myself in the front door of my old house, the house I’d once thought I’d raise children and grandchildren in.
No demanding voice greeted me, so Caitlyn must still be asleep. I plopped down on the couch, slumped forward, then buried my head in my hands.
“I need help, God!” I cried softly. I hadn’t spoken to God since my father got arrested. My father had failed me, making me not want anything to do with fatherly figures, earthly or otherwise. But I couldn’t think of anywhere else to turn. “I need to find my way out of the mess of my life.”
No other words came to me. If God didn’t understand what I needed, then chances were he wouldn’t be able to help.
My eyes closed, seemingly of their own accord, and I felt my body collapse to the side, almost as though someone had nudged me to lie down. My legs found their way up to the sofa, but again, I didn’t question my body’s ability to function; I was just content that I was able to move.
Suddenly, I was so tired. I needed to sleep. Maybe when I woke up, I’d be able to think more clearly.
Chapter 20 – Charity
“No! Don’t!” I screamed, darting up in my bed and throwing back the purple comforter to cool off. Every inch of my body felt like I was on fire.
The moment I opened my eyes, my skull throbbed as though someone were using my head as the main drum in a marching band. I didn’t even remember getting drunk, but I must have gotten totally wasted. Too bad, I’d been nearly alcohol-free for nine months.
I quickly lowered myself back to the cool sheets, then slowly inched my way out of bed, making my way to the bathroom on my hands and knees.
With great effort, I pulled myself up in front of the sink and flicked on the light and immediately had to cover my eyes with one hand while I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for the bottle of ibuprofen with the other. Lotions and toners I never used fell onto the counter, but I ignored them, my thoughts only on getting medication down my throat to ease the vice-like grip that had seized my head.
My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the bright light, but I had to use my hand to cup a handful of water from the faucet. Water dripped down the front of my chest, but at least I got the four little brown pills down my throat. It had been nice not needing the magic pills for so long, since I hadn’t woken up with a hangover since I’d stopped going out with Nathan.
Nathan. The dream came back — hard. It had been so real. I blinked, trying to bring my face into focus. The reflection that stared back was worse than my nightmare, what with the long black streaks of mascara streaming down my cheeks.
My eyes fell to my shirt and I tilted my head, trying to remember. I’d worn the NBD dress Mom had bought me, the sleek black strapless dress that was more sheer lace than fabric, knowing it’d get attention when I went out for New Year’s Eve.
New Year’s Eve … The beach house. I’d changed into the Ray’s T-shirt at the beach house.
“Oh my God!” It wasn’t a dream. My hands fell from my face, knocking the glass bottles off the counter and sending them crashing to the tile floor. I tried to escape the face in the mirror but slipped and went careening to the floor. My hands skidded through the white mess and came back an odd shade of bubble gum pink.
I screamed as the benign smudges transformed into crimson spots, then formed into streaks that looked like snakes slithering down my wrists, dripping all over my knees and the floor. “Oh, my God! Somebody help me!”
The bedroom door slammed against the wall, then my dad was there, picking me up. “Charity! What have you done?”
“My head!” I cried. “My hands. I’m … Oh, God. Nathan!”
“I know, honey.” My father lifted me up on the counter. “Melissa!” he screamed, and I raised my hands to cover my ears, but then saw the blood and cried out again.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
My mother peeked in, then slammed her hand over her mouth. “Charity Jane, what have you done?”
“Go get the medicine the doctor gave us!” my father ordered and my mother darted off, but not before shaking her head.
Why was she mad at me? I wasn’t the one who’d put too many bottles of expensive lotions into the damn cabinet. I didn’t even use the crap. She was the one who was always trying to get me to wear different stuff to protect my face so I’d be as flawless as her one day.
As mad as her disgusted look made me feel, the pain I felt inside my chest overshadowed my anger, which caused more tears to fall. “I just wanted ibuprofen. My head hurts so much.” My father ran his hands down the back of my head, and I fell against his chest. “I can’t believe he did it, Daddy. Why would Nathan do this to me? I thought we were friends. He said we’d always be friends.”
My father leaned back. “Charity, you weren’t …” His words broke off, and he rubbed his eyes. “It’d kill us if you … if you. God, please don’t —”
“Dad!” I blurted out, cutting him off. “You thought … you thought I was trying to slice my wrists!” I pushed him away, but I couldn’t find a place to hop down that didn’t have broken glass. “I’m not suicidal. I would never —”
He tugged me back against his chest. “Thank you. If something happened to you, I’d lose both of you.”
As much as I wanted to believe my father, I didn’t. I knew he’d miss me for a little while, but I doubted my mother would. I knew she loved me. But really, I was more of an inconvenience to her than anything. If it weren’t for me, she’d feel free to do all the traveling she wanted, instead of my father always harassing her that it wasn’t right that she wasn’t home for me.
“Here!” My mother nearly charged into the bathroom, but then remembered the floor and stopped fast. The water in the glass she clutched swayed, threatening to spill onto her silk robe. She thrust the glass toward my father, then dumped the pills into his hand, which he offered to me.
I narrowed my eyes. “What are they?”
“Just sedatives the doctor prescribed.”
I popped them into my mouth and downed the entire glass of water, hoping it’d help quiet the pulsing in my head.
My father lifted me off the counter and set me in the tub. “I’ll be back with a dust pan. Melissa, clean her up.”
“But my sandals …”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Melissa! You have three hundred more to take their place. Take care of your daughter for once in your life.” And he left the room.
My mother pressed her lips together as though she were holding back a cry. She never cried. Well, rarely. This was twice in two days.
“I’m fine, Mom. I can clean myself up.”
She stepped gingerly over the glass. “No. He’s right. Those pills work pretty quickly. I don’t want you to fall.” She lifted the T-shirt over my head, then turned on the water. She checked the temperature, the way she used to do when I was a child, and tears poured down my face again as I thought about what my father had said to her.
I wanted to touch her, but my hands were a mess. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s only a few bits of glass. Not as bad as it looks. It just scared me. I love you.”
She looked up then and hugged me. “I love you too, Charity. I’m so sorry … for everything.”
“Me too.” I nodded. “Okay … now you need to get cleaned up. I’m just going to rinse off and go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, honey.” She closed the door to the tub. “I got it,” she must have said to my father because I heard the tinkling of glass pieces as she swept them into the dustpan. “It’s all cleaned up, Charity, but still be careful getting out. It’s a little slippery.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, then shut off the shower.
I wrapped a towel around me and made my way back to my bed.
The moment I lay down, the tears started again, but within seconds my black cloud came to me once more and I embraced it, happy to drown in its nothingness once more.
Chapter 21 – Brock
The sound of dishes clinking together and a timer going off made me smile. I loved it when Mai cooked breakfast on Sunday before church. It made it worthwhile to wake up.
I opened my eyes, but didn’t see my room … or Mai’s couch. The leather crinkled below me as I tried to edge myself up.
Caitlyn’s house. With
her uncomfortable leather sofa and black-and-white deco furniture. Not Mai’s comfortable house. I should have used the Uber app and gone home after I’d dropped off Caitlyn’s car, but I was so tired, and I knew we needed to talk anyway.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she crooned. “I can’t remember the last time I woke up before you. I made breakfast. You want it here or in the kitchen?”
My stomach flipped. What did she think? That we’d gotten back together last night? That we’d had make-up sex and all would be forgiven?
“Just coffee,” I said.
She set down the mug of black coffee, then sat down across from me, pulling her leg up underneath her. The cheerfulness she’d displayed a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by her attempt at a pout. Didn’t work anymore, though. Not when I knew she could don that fake mask at will.
“I thought …” she whimpered, dropping her head like a rebuked puppy.
“Cat.” I shook my head, waiting for her to look up. Once she realized I wasn’t falling for her games, she’d knock off the act; she always did.
“What?” she growled.
That was quick. She was finally learning. “What were you thinking going out drinking?”
“I only had two —”
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud, Cat! Will the lies never stop with you? You spent half the night hugging the toilet.”
Her lips trembled. “Maybe someone slipped something into my drink.”
I slammed down the mug and stood, then grabbed my wallet and phone off the table and headed toward the door. I’d walk home before I had to hear one more lie from a woman I wasn’t even in a relationship with.
“Wait!” she cried. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I was just so upset …”
I closed my eyes. “More lies …”
The leather creaked, and her bare feet hit the wood floors. “I’m sorry.”
Love Until It Hurts (Crazy Love Book 2) Page 13