The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set: Irreparable #1-2

by Sam Mariano

  The only people he did give a fuck about wanted nothing to do with him, and if his friend Jack Daniels helped him stop agonizing over that, then to hell with popular opinion.

  While he spent the next hour putting a dent in his bottle, he hate-watched some show on Netflix. Instead of the calming effect he’d been hoping for, however, enhanced irritability set in.

  He should’ve known better. Most days he didn't talk to Amanda—her choice, not his—but since waking up that morning to a barrage of text messages, itemizing the things she needed him to do for Caleb's first birthday party the following Sunday, he felt the void in his life more keenly. He shouldn't drink on days he talked to Amanda; it made him surly.

  Not that there was anyone around to care, but he had to deal with it.

  It was also a waste of perfectly good whiskey.

  Draining the last drops of liquid from the tumbler, he set it in the floor along with the half-empty bottle and folded his hands over his stomach.

  "What the hell am I even watching?" he muttered, reaching for the control to turn on something else.

  The phone went off again, alerting him to a new text message. He sighed as he picked it up, prepared to see an addendum to his list—after he’d gone to the store, of course.

  What he saw instead nearly made him lose his buzz.

  He didn't recognize the number, but lighting up his screen was a picture of Willow Kensington, a smile on her face, decked out in her graduation cap and gown.

  Sliding his finger across the screen, he opened the text to see if any words accompanied the picture.

  Nothing.

  Hauling himself up off the couch, he walked over to his desk, wedged in the corner behind the couch, and turned on his computer to check out the phone number.

  A couple minutes later he verified that the number did, in fact, belong to Willow.

  He brought his phone back to life and stared at the message, but his fingers froze, unsure of what to type back.

  It had been six months since he kissed Willow goodbye at the door of their hotel room, and nearly four since he gave up keeping track of her.

  He hadn't even known her for six whole months when his association with her blew his dependable, ordinary life all to hell. Now, less than a year after first laying eyes on her, he was drinking whiskey by himself in his one-bedroom apartment with around two weeks' worth of facial hair. Not because he was actively trying to grow it out, but because he couldn't be bothered to give a fuck.

  His wife and kids, the only life he’d even known since college, were gone. Mostly gone. He was still able to visit them, but only when Amanda had time. As much as he resented her for denying him unsupervised visits with his own kids, when she argued that no sane woman would let her children spend the night with a rapist, he couldn't fault her logic.

  There’d been a time when he had defended himself, attempted to explain things, vehemently tried to reason with Amanda—she knew him, knew he would never, ever pose a risk to his children.

  Except he already had, as she reminded him, when Willow's father swooped into his house, threatening to kill not only him, but his wife and daughter as collateral for the damage he’d done to Willow.

  In a sense, responding to Willow's message seemed like clear lunacy.

  On the other hand, he'd consumed just enough whiskey to remember how much he missed her.

  “Fuck it,” he murmured to himself, typing out, “Good job, brainiac,” and pressing send.

  He was back on the couch, browsing shows again before she responded. “I knew high school couldn’t last forever.”

  A smile crept across his face as he replied, “The whole world is high school, don’t fool yourself.”

  That time her response was immediate. “How have you been?”

  Didn’t have to think about that one. “I’ve been better.” Then he added, “How have you been?”

  “Obedient.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I bet you loved that.”

  “Not really. Sorry about disappearing on you, my parents banned me from… well, everything. I had to start building my life up on my own.”

  “No problem,” he sent back. “I haven’t been in the best place, probably better that you kept your distance.”

  He saw she read his message immediately, but she didn’t respond right away.

  After a couple of minutes passed, he thought maybe she wasn’t going to. He remembered that she tended to go quiet when he pissed her off, so he reread the text. Then, to clarify, he added, “I’ve missed you though.”

  That time she responded right away. “Same here. I would’ve reached out sooner, but I just got my own phone recently. Didn’t want to risk getting caught.”

  “I tried to call your house, but got threatened with a restraining order.”

  She made a sad face and answered, “Sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “How’s the family doing?” she asked.

  Ethan sighed. “Separated at the moment.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Bachelor pads aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” he replied, lightly.

  “Did you forget to install a stripper pole in the living room?” she shot back instantly.

  Cracking a legitimate smile, he replied, “You know what, I did. I bet that’s the problem.”

  “Amateur.”

  She always made him smile when everything sucked. He had forgotten about that.

  “Are you still banned from everything?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve finally earned back my privileges. Which, at this point, is just my car and school.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah.”

  He put the phone down and tried to turn his attention back to the television, but his concentration was shot. His mind kept burrowing back to the last time he saw Willow, to the warmth of her body curled up against him, the sweet infatuation in her eyes as she gazed up at him….

  His phone vibrated again. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” he replied.

  “Want some company?”

  “I’m gonna be honest, I’m a little drunk right now, but I’ll try to sober up.” He paused, then added, “That’s a yes, btw.”

  “Lol, ok. I’ll come over even if you’re not sober, as long as you’re sharing.”

  “You don’t like whiskey,” he sent back, remembering the night in the hotel room when she had tried it.

  “I’ll bring some Diet Coke, dilute the taste a little.”

  “You’re a trooper.”

  “I know,” she replied, with a little smiley face that stuck its tongue out at him.

  Since she didn’t know where he lived anymore, he texted her his new address and told her to stop by whenever, he would be there all night.

  In the hours that ticked by, so slow they seemed spiteful, Ethan attempted to tidy up the house. He contemplated shaving, but settled for just a shower.

  It had been months since he’d taken a good long look at his apartment, and in that time he had forgotten how sad and pathetic it looked.

  When she still wasn’t there at nearly seven o’clock, he sent Willow a text to ask what time she would be over. There was no response, no sign she’d even read it. He scrolled back up, looking at the picture of her in her cap and gown. Since he had nothing to lose anymore, he saved the photo to his phone.

  A knock at the door announced her arrival. Ethan sprung off the couch and made his way to greet her, absently running a hand over the growth on his face, wishing he’d taken the time to shave. Oh well.

  He hadn’t forgotten what Willow looked like, but he had forgotten how vibrant she was in person. At least, he assumed that was it.

  As soon as Willow saw him, a grin made its way to her face. Her gray eyes lit up like he was someone much more exciting than he was, and she came right in for a hug.

  “Hi,” she murmured against his neck, giving him a little
squeeze.

  The smell of her shampoo filled his senses and the feeling of her body against his made him question why he hadn’t tried harder—longer—to get back into contact with her.

  Tugging her a little closer, he said, “Hi right back.”

  She pulled back a little, still with her arms around him, and raised an eyebrow. “You have a beard-thing going on.”

  “I do.” Damn, he needed to get his bearings. She was so… intoxicating, and she hadn’t even done anything yet. “Graduation agrees with you.”

  She finally pulled out of his embrace, and he felt the absence immediately. “I’m not complaining. I’m looking forward to having a summer of relative freedom before college starts.”

  He invited her in, his eyes wandering over the outfit she’d worn—a white denim mini skirt and a green top that only covered one shoulder, leaving the other bare. No bra that he could see.

  Willow’s gaze swept the bacheloresque living room, barren of homey personal affects. A chocolate brown couch was pushed up along the back wall, a cheap coffee table directly in front of it and a mid-size television on a stand along the opposite wall. Beyond the couch he’d set up his laptop on a beat up old desk for work—it was a long stretch from the home office he used to have, but it enabled him to get the job done.

  That was it, the whole living room. The generic white walls empty of photographs that only made him sad to look at, it was a place that could belong to anybody or nobody. Catalog chic.

  “Nice digs,” she remarked.

  He stifled a groan as she made herself at home in his living room, sitting down on his couch and patting the seat next to her. “Come talk to me.”

  Slowly approaching the couch, he bit back the urge to tell her he’d like to do much more than talk to her. Too fast.

  Instead, he smiled faintly and sat down beside her. It was strange, being near her again after so long. She smelled amazing, looked great, and she radiated an energy that never failed to pull him in. Ethan’s memory drifted back to the hotel, his hands tangling in her long hair as he kissed her, pulling her naked body against his.

  “So… relatively free summer? Any big plans?” he asked.

  “Not really. I’ll be working—I got a waitressing job in the city—since I need to pay my phone bill now. Plus I want to save up so I don’t have to work as much once school starts.”

  “Are you not going away to college?”

  “Nope. I’ll be in Chicago. I’d like to get an apartment instead of a dorm if possible though.”

  He nodded, eyebrows rising. “Good plan. I always imagined you’d want to go away to school though, not stick around here.”

  Willow shrugged, glancing at the floor. “It would have been nice, but I decided to stay close to home. I may still go abroad for a semester or whatever. But enough about me, tell me what’s up with you. Anything new?”

  Shaking his head slowly, he replied, “Not really, no. Well,” he amended, gesturing around the room. “Obviously this is new.”

  She nodded, her enthusiasm visibly ebbing. “I can’t believe you guys didn’t work it out. Honestly… I wasn’t even sure you’d want to hear from me.”

  “I did,” he said, lifting his eyebrows. “I tried. You just—you disappeared. I wasn’t sure if you had changed your mind.”

  Her eyes widened. “No, I tried, too, but my parents… they wouldn’t listen to me. They went psycho, they took away my phone and my car, they threatened to take me out of school so I’d have to delay college for a year. They went nuts, and I considered trying to go behind their backs, but… what would I have done if they weren’t bluffing? I didn’t have anywhere else to go or any of my own money. It seemed smartest to roll over, let them think they were winning and start building my escape tunnel with a plastic spoon.”

  Ethan cracked a small smile. “Seems like it worked.”

  “It took longer than I hoped, but…here I am.”

  “Should’ve used a stronger spoon.”

  Willow sighed. “See, where were you with solid advice like that when I needed it?”

  His smile widened. “Well, I’m glad you reached out. I had pretty much given up hope of ever seeing you again.”

  And he’d hated it. Knew it was likely best for both of them—but hated it all the same.

  Nodding slightly, Willow said, “I figured as much.” She let a beat pass. “So, do you live here alone then?”

  “I do.”

  “No girlfriend?”

  He shook his head, holding her gaze.

  Willow nodded contemplatively, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, not meeting his gaze. “Huh. I hadn’t accounted for that.”

  One dark eyebrow rose. “No?”

  That time she shook her head. If he didn’t know better, he would say she looked sad.

  Offering a light, almost playful frown, he asked, “I’m sorry, were you hoping I had a girlfriend?”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “No. Of course I wasn’t hoping you would, but I assumed if you were back on the market… you weren’t on the market for long.”

  “Dating hasn’t really made it back on my priority list. I mean, my life is… still pretty complicated. I’m not divorced, we’re separated. The whole… process seems to be paused for right now.”

  “Do you think you’ll get back together?”

  He didn’t immediately respond. Admitting it aloud seemed like a bad omen…. Then again, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Amanda kicking him out of their house, changing all of the locks, and not allowing him unsupervised visits with his kids could only be bad signs.

  “No,” he said after a minute. “I don’t think so.”

  A hint of a smile flitted across her face. “Well, that seems less complicated, doesn’t it?”

  Ethan shook his head. “We’ve got three kids; it will always be at least a little complicated.”

  “Are things… civil?”

  “Sometimes. Typically it’s more… reluctant tolerance at this point.”

  “That sucks. I’m sorry.” To her credit, she looked like she meant it.

  “I tried to get her to go to counseling with me—you know, like couples counseling—but… no luck.”

  If she thought it was weird he told her that, she didn’t show it. “How are the kids taking it?”

  A little ball of dread unfurled in his stomach and he leaned back. “I don’t even know. I don’t… see them enough to really….”

  At that, Willow frowned. “Well, that’s terrible. Why not? Did she move?”

  Ethan shook his head slightly. “I’m not allowed unsupervised visits. Between Amanda’s work schedule and school and… everything, I don’t get to go over very much. Hopefully now that it’s summer I’ll get to see them more.”

  “Why aren’t you allowed unsupervised visits?” she asked, still scowling.

  Ethan’s eyebrows rose. It was the last topic he wanted to revisit with her, so he hoped she’d let it drop. “Why do you think?”

  Her face fell. “Me?”

  He shook his head firmly. “Me. And, to an extent, your dad.”

  “Oh, my god. Ethan, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I could… talk to her if you think it would help. My dad won’t bother you ever again, and there’s no other reason you shouldn’t have your kids. You shouldn’t allow this. Fight her if she won’t be reasonable. There were no charges brought and I would never give evidence against you. If you fought her, she would have to back down.”

  “It’s not going to come to that.”

  “I can’t believe it hasn’t already,” she stated. “You adore your kids. What is she thinking?”

  “It’s a lot to take in,” he defended. “I put them through hell. She needed time. I’m trying to let her come to terms… It’s not like I can’t see them at all, just not nearly as much as I’d like.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit,” she stated simply. “If I were you, I’d tell her things need to change this summer or
you guys will be meeting in court.”

  “Well, if it comes to divorce, we’ll be meeting in court anyway.”

  “I’m so sorry you’re going through that,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “I wanted to… be there for you before, after everything happened, the way you had been there for me. I’m really sorry I wasn’t able to.”

  Without thinking about it, Ethan’s instinct to comfort her took over and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him. Willow leaned her head back against him, the scent of her shampoo clinging to the air around him, and for a moment it was as if they hadn’t lost half a year.

  “I appreciate that,” he assured her. “But it wasn’t your responsibility. Everything that happened was my own doing. You helped, you didn’t hurt.”

  Tilting her head back to look up at him, she raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I said I loved you on a phone call that your wife was listening to, and she didn’t even know I existed.”

  Pressing his lips firmly together, he nodded. “That’s true, but if you wouldn’t have, your father would have fed me a bullet. I may not be happy about the state of my family right now, but I would say it’s a step up from being dead.”

  “I just wish none of that would’ve come out. Nobody else needed to know about it.”

  “I agree.” Absently, he placed a little kiss on top of her head, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of her again. “You changed shampoo,” he remarked.

  Laughing lightly, she replied, “That’s a weird thing to notice.”

  He smiled, lightly running his fingers up and down her arm with his free hand. “How have you been otherwise? Are you still seeing your therapist?”

  “Once every two weeks. I’m going to cut down to once a month when I start school.”

  “Are you sleeping okay?” he asked levelly.

  “Yes. Once in a great while I have bad dreams about being there, but not about you. You’re only a good memory now.”

  Smiling faintly, he said, “Good. Even though being with me necessitated your plastic spoon escape route?”

  Willow smiled. “Yes. I have no regrets about us. I regret that my father ruined everything, but… never being with you. Those are some of my favorite memories.”