The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set: Irreparable #1-2

by Sam Mariano

  Relief flooded through her entire being. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of.” Then, thinking to explain all the phone calls, she added, “You didn’t answer my texts, so I got worried.”

  Blowing out a sigh, he said, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get to my phone.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the house.”

  Willow blinked, trying to recall him mentioning he was stopping by to see the kids. “Oh.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”

  “Always good to hear,” she said, attempting a joke, but she regretted the words as soon as they were out. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” She tried again, then slammed her palm against her forehead as that comment came out sounding even more insecure than the first.

  “No, not at all,” he said. “Caleb’s sick, it’s a… real mess over here, actually. I just had to help Amanda strip the bed again—” He faltered, maybe realizing, as she was realizing, that it felt weird for him to tell her that. “Um, anyway, yeah, so… I’m so sorry I didn’t call or text.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, reaching into the grocery bag for something to snack on. “I can wait. Or, if you have a key hidden out here, I could get started cooking.”

  He paused just long enough before answering that she knew what he was going to say. “I don’t, and… I’m actually not sure when I’m going to make it back. I’m about to head out right now and pick up some Pedialyte and crackers, but I don’t want to leave if he’s still throwing up.”

  “Right, no, of course,” she managed, nodding her head vigorously despite her level tone.

  “Can I get a rain check?” he asked apologetically.

  “Yeah, of course. No big deal.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I feel like an asshole.”

  “It’s fine, you were busy with your son and… everything. It’s fine.”

  Ethan sighed and the line fell silent.

  Willow broke the silence. “Well, I should get going before the neighbors call the cops,” she said lightly.

  “I’m—”

  She interrupted. “Sorry, yeah, I know.” Smiling slightly, she said, “We’ll reschedule, it’s fine. Go get your Pedialyte. I hope your son feels better.”

  “Me too, thanks.”

  She nodded, and experienced another beat of awkwardness before saying, “Okay, talk to you later, bye,” and ending the call before he even had a chance to respond.

  Brave face falling, Willow scowled and pushed herself up off the floor, bending to scoop up her groceries and heading back outside.

  Once safely inside her car with the groceries in her passenger seat, she debated what to do. She had already told her moms that she was going to have dinner with Brian, so she couldn’t haul the groceries into her house without an explanation.

  Sighing, she pulled her phone out and simply typed, “Hungry?”

  The message was read within a couple of seconds and he typed back, “Always.”

  Willow nodded, tossing her phone into the passenger seat and throwing her car in reverse.

  ---

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Brian said as he dug his fork into a heap of food and looked up at her, “because I’m really, really not, but I didn’t expect you to keep cooking for me. Won’t Mr. Boyfriend hulk out when he finds out you’re sharing your domestic goodies with another man?”

  Smiling slightly as she stabbed a considerably smaller bite with her own fork, Willow said, “Mr. Boyfriend is otherwise occupied, otherwise the goodies would be all his.”

  He nodded. “Seems legit. That’s why all the ladies share their goodies—better step it up, Mr. Boyfriend.”

  “He’s steppin’ it up, all right,” she muttered. “Just not for me.”

  Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “Mr. Boyfriend steppin’ out already?”

  “Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. He just stopped over to see his kids and I guess the baby is sick, so he ended up staying and helping out and he forgot to let me know.”

  Brian nodded, lowering his eyes to his plate. “I see.”

  She shot him a look as he took a bite. “It’s no big deal. I just had all these groceries already and I didn’t want them to go to waste. Plus I already told my mom I’d be at your place tonight, so… here I am, at your place.”

  Brightening as if remembering something important, Brian extracted his phone, swiping the screen and framing up a picture.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Hey, he might as well see the dinner he’s missing out on. Plus your mom will see actual evidence that you were telling the truth tonight. This is a win-win for you.”

  “I’m not trying to make him jealous,” she muttered.

  “Hey, he’s spending the evening with his ex-wife, what can he really say about it anyway?”

  “She’s not even his ex-wife yet,” Willow pointed out. “I have literally no idea what—if anything—is even going on there. Is the divorce in progress? Have they even filed paperwork yet? Where’s his ring? Because I’d bet my life he hasn’t gotten rid of it yet.”

  Brian responded in the worst possible way—with silence. No ribbing, no crass jokes, not even a lighthearted expression on his normally expressive face. Just sympathetic-feeling silence.

  “You think I’m an idiot,” she stated.

  “I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he returned. “I do think it’s possible you may have rushed into things a bit.”

  “It wasn’t just me!”

  “I didn’t mean you—I meant you guys. Realistically, why no news about the divorce? Why are you so sure he still has the ring? Why are you being the one thing I’ve never seen on you myself—insecure? You’re not an insecure person, so it’s him or the situation, something is clearly wigging you out.”

  “Wigging me out,” she repeated, biting back a smile. “Is that, like, an official diagnosis?”

  “It’s my professional opinion,” he said with a nod, loading up another fork.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, focusing instead on cutting up her food and eating it. Finally she put her fork down, cleared her throat, and said, “I got this crazy offer today, like… off the charts wild offer. An internship at a gallery in New York. It sounds like it could turn into something if I took it. But it’s in New York.”

  “So, what’s wrong with New York?” Brian asked, eyebrows rising.

  “Ethan doesn’t live there,” she stated.

  His tone dropped to a more serious decibel. “I see.”

  Willow braced herself for him to tell her how stupid she was to even consider passing up an offer that could launch her career for a man who had a whole life she wasn’t a part of, but he didn’t, because he was Brian.

  “I get it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Pulled in two different directions. Love or career. You’re not even the legal drinking age yet and he has a wife and three kids. Big, big stuff.”

  “This is going to sound stupid, so don’t make fun of me, it’s just… I’ve never felt this way before. And I know, I know… that’s not saying much. But it’s just… I can’t even explain it. It feels so much deeper than I can logically explain. It feels like the kind of thing I’ll never feel again, no matter how many relationships I have spanning however many years. It feels like something I only get once.”

  “You’re in love,” he said, simply.

  Crossing her arms, frustrated, she shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Nothing simple about love,” he told her, smirking.

  Willow’s arms remained crossed and she avoided Brian’s gaze. “I know how it sounds. But we haven’t even had a chance to be together yet, and I’d have to leave for this internship in two weeks.”

  “What are the chances of you getting another internship like this one?”

  “Probably not good. But what are the chances of me finding another Ethan?”

  Brian grimaced, and Willow blushed.


  “Shut up, don’t even,” she said, turning an even deeper shade of red.

  Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he said, “Okay, okay. I won’t make fun of you. I want to, but I won’t.”

  “My life is a joke,” she stated.

  “It… kind of is,” he allowed. “Just don’t make any rash decisions. Think it through. Consider all you’d be giving up in both scenarios. Once you’ve got a clear picture of that, make the decision you think you’ll regret the least in 20 years—you know, when you’re Ethan’s age.”

  Willow rolled her eyes. “He is not twenty years older than me.”

  Brian grinned. “I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t allowed to make fun of you and I needed an outlet, so it fell to him.”

  Willow sighed. “I feel so… awful.”

  “Well, you’re in love, so sure.”

  “No, I mean about tonight. It’s not like I could actually be mad at him for standing me up to take care of his sick kid, but it definitely made me feel… second best. Which, I am, and I have to be okay with that. It’s not like I’d want it any other way—he’d be a pretty epically shitty dad if he put dinner with his new girlfriend ahead of helping take care of his sick child, right? And I wouldn’t like that—I like that he’s a great dad. I mean, I don’t have much experience in that department myself, so it’s nice to see, but… it’s definitely not the romantic picture I always envisioned. It’s definitely messier.”

  “Well, expectations and reality don’t usually match up, especially the romantic sort. I don’t have those kinds of responsibilities, so luckily I can’t really speak to that, but…”

  “I feel like I have to be cool about it or I come off like some young idiot or a Disneyesque wicked stepmother type.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t really help you there, except to say that’s what you’re signing up for. When you are looking at what you’re giving up in both scenarios, make sure you acknowledge that. Right or wrong, petty or fair, that’s how it makes you feel.”

  Willow nodded and retrieved her fork, stabbing a piece of chicken and shooting Brian a playful look. “I think I like you better when you’re making fun of me.”

  Offering a grin and a wink, he said, “That is my main appeal.”

  Ethan lay sprawled on the stripped bed, bare foot hanging off the side with a warm body wedged snugly against him.

  “Well, we did it,” Amanda murmured lowly, her raven hair spread across his old pillow as she gazed up at him.

  Ethan nodded, looking down at Caleb stretched out between them. “I can’t believe we ran out of sheets. That’s never happened before.”

  “Your fault,” she returned. “You wouldn’t stop making the damn bed.”

  “I had to do something, and besides, I’m optimistic; I kept hoping it was over.”

  Rolling her eyes with a slight smile, she said, “I tried telling you. You just never give up, do you?”

  Smiling slightly, he said, “Not usually, no.”

  Her eyes softened a little and she looked up at the ceiling. “Remember when Alison wanted that damned Elmo for Christmas and they were out of them everywhere? I mean, everywhere.”

  “Except for South Bend,” he said with a nod, his smile growing.

  “And you went—”

  “Without telling you,” he added.

  “Without telling me, and they ended up getting a truck at our store, so I bought it…”

  “But I got that damn Elmo,” he stated, shaking his head.

  She chuckled. “The look on your face.”

  “I was sure I was going to come home a hero.”

  “I always loved that about you. Always made me feel safe, like you’d always take care of things.”

  Smile dying, Ethan merely nodded. It was a nice memory but he had ultimately failed to always take care of things—which he hoped she wouldn’t point out.

  Instead of rubbing salt in the wound, she said, “Thanks for staying tonight.”

  “Of course. Thanks for letting me.”

  “I’m sure you had better offers,” she said lightly, not looking at him.

  “What better offer is there than cleaning up explosion after explosion of vomit?”

  Nodding solemnly, she said, “You make a good point, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Obviously you weren’t.”

  Darting a glance at him, she hedged, “So, I was thinking.”

  When she didn’t go on to explain what she was thinking, he drawled, “Okay?”

  “Maybe we could, I don’t know, go to dinner one night.”

  His heart nearly stopped. “You and me?”

  “No,” she said, quickly. “I mean, I meant all of us, like us and the kids.”

  “Oh. Right, yeah, that would be…good.”

  “It’s just, I mean, only the two of us would probably be weird.”

  “Too date-like,” he offered.

  “Exactly.” She looked uncomfortable. “You thought I meant… I mean…”

  Ethan offered a slight smile. “It’s fine, I just misunderstood. Yes, a family dinner would be great. Just let me know, I’ll work something out in my schedule.”

  Her gaze drifted, falling to his chest. She looked almost confused as she remarked, “It’s weird that you have to work a family dinner into your schedule.”

  He agreed with her—or would’ve, months earlier, when it was still weird for him. When rarely seeing his kids was still foreign and barely tolerable, when his whole role in life had been obliterated and the people who once counted on him carried on with him barely even a part their lives.

  “Well, it’s not my life anymore,” he stated. “Obviously not my choice, but…”

  Amanda’s eyebrows shot upward, disappearing beneath her bangs as her blue eyes went wide. Scoffing lightly as she pushed herself to a seated position on the edge of the bed, she said, “Yeah, no, you were a complete saint, I’m the heartless bitch. How could I forget?”

  He tried to sit up, but the movement caused Caleb to stir. “That’s not what I meant, Amanda.”

  “Isn’t it?” she fired back.

  For a moment, he said nothing. “Okay, you know what, maybe it is. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head, clearly annoyed with him. “You don’t get to blame me for this, Ethan.”

  “I’m not blaming you. Blame has nothing to do with anything—what good does blaming each other even do?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her eyes glistening with unexpected tears. “I don’t know, but you don’t get to feel like this is easy for me.”

  “I’ve never, not even for one minute, thought that.”

  “I didn’t sign up to be the bad guy. I didn’t cause this. You did.”

  A little more slowly, he eased his arm out from under Caleb. The baby shifted, rolled over, but remained asleep.

  Sitting upright on the bed, Ethan looked over at Amanda, who’d gotten her tear ducts back under control.

  “I know,” he said evenly. “And I’m truly sorry for that.”

  “I’m the one who has to handle all of the fallout. All of it. I’m the one who made you leave, I’m the reason the kids don’t get to live with their father anymore, I’m the reason I’m doing everything on my own now, and God forbid I miss you for three seconds, because it was all me. You, you’re the fucking model husband, you’re even a model fucking cheater! You apologize, you mean it, you keep trying, you’re there whenever we need you, you offer to go every fucking extra mile and do whatever I need you to do to fix it. So how, how do I not look like the bad guy? Because no one else knows what I know. And honestly? I wish I had that kind of ignorance. I do. I wish you still looked like the model husband when I look at you, Ethan.”

  Ethan shook his head tiredly. “I wish that, too, Amanda. I honestly don’t know what more I can say on this subject. Nothing I say seems to make a difference.”

  “That’s just it, Ethan. What apology, what magical thing could you say that would make up for
what you did?”

  He knew she had every right to feel the way she did, to be angry at him, but the human part of him—tired of being relentlessly beaten over the head by mistakes he deeply regretted—snapped.

  “I don’t know, maybe I’ll ask Willow; she seems to have managed.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened beyond what he imagined physical limitations would allow. Blue fire blazed in her eyes and her jaw slowly inched open like a drawbridge, lowering to release a fleet of battle-trained soldiers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, pushing up off the bed. “That was—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Get out!” She stood, jabbing wildly toward the door.

  “I’m—”

  “Get the fuck out.”

  His socks were still in the washer, but he wasn’t about to point that out. “I’m going. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I still want to do the dinner.”

  “Fuck off,” she said, glaring daggers.

  “Sorry,” he said again, backing out of the room. He made a quick stop to peek in on Alison and Jackson, but they were both sleeping, so with a sigh, he made his way down the stairs and out of his old house.

  ---

  Ethan debated calling Willow that night after he got home, but it didn’t feel right, so he decided to call her the following day instead.

  Then tomorrow came and he got a break in a case he’d been working, so he had to go to Detroit.

  Three days passed before he was able to ask Willow back over after leaving her holding the bag—literally—outside of his apartment that night while he played house with his own family for a few hours.

  She wasn’t saying she was pissed, she wasn’t doing any of the things she normally did when she was pissed, but he felt confident that she must be pissed.

  He called her to let her know when he was on his way home, but she sounded unenthusiastic.

  “Have you heard if Caleb’s doing any better?” she asked.

  He hesitated. Her tone was even and he hated the thought that his children could even possibly be a source of contention between them, but he also felt weird discussing them with her.