Sugar and Gold

by Brea Viragh

  “Get in the truck and I’ll drive you home,” Isaac answered. “I don’t want to upset you.”

  I scoffed. “I think it’s a little late for that. Honestly?”

  “Any further, I mean.” He drummed his fingers on the side of his head and waited for me to respond.

  I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Es, come on, get in the cab. Here are your clothes.”

  Somehow, having him toss my garments to me made me feel worse. “Like a whore.”

  Isaac stopped, his boots skidding in the dirt when he turned. “What?”

  “Used and thrown out. Toss my clothes to me and that’s the end. God, Trent was right.” I hated myself for saying so, knowing it would spark a confrontation I didn’t want. Emotions ran thick and pulled my mouth, worked my jaw like a puppet master. I let them have me. “I am a tramp.”

  “Don’t bring him into this. Don’t you dare,” Isaac admonished.

  “He told me to stay away from you. Said you were scum. I should have listened instead of opening my legs again. You’ve been using me, haven’t you? All those nights I let you in my bed, and there you were. Hating me. I thought we’d moved past it and yet here it is. All the shit you told me you were working through.”

  Isaac heaved himself over the open tailgate in one smooth move. His hands were on my shoulders, shaking, in another. “Don’t you dare say something like that.”

  “Like what?” I had a difficult time meeting his eyes. “Calling you out on your emotional train wreck of issues?”

  “No. Calling yourself a whore. I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.” Another shake, as though the motion would help the sentiment sink in.

  I had difficulty grasping the finer aspects of our talk. The lower half of my body burned from his intrusion and the small, base voice in my head wanted him once again. The rest of me readied for a good fight.

  “If you’re going to insult me, at least have the decency to give me a good argument for my time.” I struggled to rise, searching for the rest of my clothing.

  “You aren’t making any sense.”

  My hands shook as I tried to clasp the bra behind my back. When all attempts failed, I threw the thing as far away from me as possible, giving in to my frustration. “I guess this was payback. I opened my legs instead of opening my mouth. What I don’t understand, Isaac, is why you can’t let it go. How you did something selfless for me and then expected me to take the fall with you. I should have spoken to the police, you’re right. There were so many things I could have done for you and didn’t. But you know what? I never asked you to save me. I didn’t then, and I didn’t now. You were kind and generous. It doesn’t make you entitled to payback.”

  He snapped his lips shut and they hardened into a fine line. “I know it doesn’t entitle me to payback.”

  “You decided to use me to make your point. I get it. Point made.”

  “I didn’t do this to hurt you on purpose. I couldn’t stay away from you, and all the while—” He ran a hand through his hair. “All the while I couldn’t help but feel bitter. I let it out in the open from the start. You knew I was working on it. You knew.”

  “Whatever, Isaac. Just take me home.”

  He stared after the long-gone trajectory of the lacy straps of my bra. “Are you sure you don’t want to go get—”

  “It’s fine,” I cut him off, bunching the shirt over my head. “Leave it for someone else to find.”

  “Listen, I didn’t mean to cause offense.” He rocked back on his heels, kneeling in front of me. “It came out before I could censor myself. I know it wasn’t right to expect you to say something, but I’d hoped...I’d hoped you would. Then. And now. Yet you still couldn’t say anything. Not even when I was threatened with handcuffs in the middle of a damn coffee shop.”

  “You know what? It may have taken me a while, Isaac. Sure, it took me a while. I know it and I apologize. The kicker? I called the police and you were already gone.” I was keenly aware of his scrutiny while I shimmied into my pants, knocking my tailbone against the metal rim of the pickup bed. “I know it doesn’t count for anything when you’re fucking me, but at least you should know. I did try. Consider this my gift to you.”

  “Sugar, I messed up. Forget I said anything.”

  “Oh, consider it forgotten. I’ll gladly put this whole experience into a file of ‘Essie’s Worst Mistakes’ and burn the folder. Now get in the truck and take me home.” The demand burst out and I found I didn’t want to censor my words. I wanted every barb to bite deep. Clambering over the tailgate, I stalked to the passenger door and took great pains in slamming it behind me.

  Night noises dimmed in the interior cabin. Each inhale brought a fresh scent of him, my lady parts still thrumming from his attentions. I hastily rubbed my cheeks with my hands before bestowing a light smack on them.

  “Wake up, woman,” I cautioned my reflection in the side mirror. “You’re an idiot.”

  It took Isaac longer than expected to make his way to the steering wheel. When he did, he stared straight forward, expression pensive. “Do you want to hear me apologize? Tell you how hard I’m working on getting better?”

  My laugh was cold. “I’d like nothing less.”

  How embarrassing it would be to see him after this. Tensions be damned, I knew better than to step too far out of line. Rules and regulations were in place for a reason, and until this moment I’d followed them like a silly schoolgirl. I delighted in the known, took pleasure in coloring inside the lines. Then Isaac came home and ripped the pages from my hands until I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. I wasn’t sure of myself.

  Keeping my hands on my lap, I made a point to stare out the window. Tense silence hung between us, keeping us apart. The miles passed in a blur. Isaac took the back roads to my little cabin in paradise, tires edging the white lines. At last the old clapboard came into view. Lights burned in the windows, those I’d left on in the off chance I would have a late night at the bakery.

  Ah, I couldn’t wait to fall into bed with Frank in my arms. Finally, a man who wouldn’t bend me over and shove it in in all the wrong places. All the dog wanted was food and a place to sleep. It wasn’t much to ask.

  Isaac threw the truck into park and I lurched forward from the sudden cease in momentum. “I want us to be friends, Essie. Tell me if it doesn’t work for you—”

  “It doesn’t work for me.”

  Isaac sighed. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

  His nearness was starting to affect me in a cellular way. My lungs hitched on each inhalation as though I could not catch my breath. I tried not to peek at the nape of his neck where sweat-slickened bronze skin begged for my touch. And the muscles...I wanted to moan and run my nails along the planes of his torso.

  “I don’t care what you say or how you feel,” I said finally. “You can hate me all you want. The feeling is mutual.”

  “Aw, come on. I can explain myself if you give me a chance.” Isaac wiped the back of his hand across his brow.

  “Sorry, not interested.” I swallowed the burp in time, before it burst through my lips and betrayed my nerves. Each flayed ending struggled for normalcy and failed.

  “I shouldn’t have said I hated you, and I’m sorry. It’s wrong and untrue. I shouldn’t have expected you to come forward after I sacrificed myself, either. It was stupid to expect. I know. I really do love you.”

  His admission had a sliver of guilt embedding into my heart. “Stop trying to make up for what you said. Honestly, Isaac, I understand how you’d feel betrayed. But telling me you hate me after an orgasm isn’t the best way to get to a breakthrough.”

  Thinking about it now had a mottled flush coloring the tips of my ears and my gastrointestinal verbal distress ready to make a grand entrance. I pushed out the door before I made a bigger ass of myself.

  “I wish I had a better way to explain myself. But I don’t.”

  “You want to make amends? Then leave m
e alone.”

  He got out of the truck and stepped forward, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  I whipped around to face him. “Excuse me?”

  “I told you once, I plan on sticking around. Through the thin layer—and let me emphasize, thin layer—of hatred I may or may not still feel for you, there’s a healthy dose of love. I’m not giving you up when I know we can work through this.”

  Awkward laughter bubbled from my throat and spilled out like a fifth-grade science project. “Give me a break.”

  “We’ve got some issues, you and me. And if you’re done pretending you feel nothing, then I’m done pretending I can live with the status quo. No more secrets. Remember?”

  “I’m not interested in couples therapy with you. For poop’s sake, I’m not interested in being a couple with you.” Not after tonight. “Period.”

  “We’ll see. I’m ready to change your mind when we talk this over.”

  “Still not interested. Things tend to go south pretty quick when the person who says they care can also say, in the same breath, they hate you.”

  Isaac shrugged a single shoulder. “You really want me gone?”

  “Yes!” I exploded. “I want you gone. Really. I want to forget any of this ever happened! I want to go on with my life without complications.”

  “Without me.”

  “I...yes.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door and get my stuff,” he said at last.

  I lifted my lip in a half growl, willing him to keep his distance. “I’m perfectly capable of walking myself to the door, thanks. I’ll have your stuff in a garbage bag on the porch by tomorrow afternoon. Let’s be honest, there’s no way I’m letting you step foot in this house again. You go do whatever it is you want. You will anyway. Go home. What happened is over. Finished. Kaput. And it’s never going to happen again.”

  His dry chuckle infuriated me even more. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  The porch came into view and I hurried toward the light. I didn’t need to see to know where I was going. My feet followed the path instinctively. If I could reach the door before Isaac, then I had a good chance of shutting him out and avoiding any more of this messy scene.

  Luck seemed to favor him, though, because the instant my sneaker slapped down on wood his hand was on my elbow, drawing me away from safety.

  “You won’t talk to me? Fine, then you’ll listen.” Leaning against the wooden support, he reminded me of a young gunslinger from the wild West. One of those dark and untouchable enigmas fighting for justice. Damn myself, I wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel those long fingertips stroking and lighting a fire inside me.

  No. I shook my head until it ached. No such nonsense.

  “I was taken by the moment. Can you understand?” he said softly. “I wanted you for so long, so fucking long, and it finally happened. My heart knew what to say but my brain took a backseat.”

  “Your heart told you to tell me you hate me? What kind of a man are you?”

  “The kind who loves you with all his flaws.”

  “Shut up. How dare you?” A chill traveled from my spine to my toes and back again. “You can’t love me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. It’s...it’s a lie.”

  “I don’t see any lie. We’ve known each other for a long time.”

  “Too long. We know too much about each other.”

  He moved a step closer. “Excuses.”

  “We are different people who want different things out of life. I want to run my bakery and you want—”

  “You.”

  Slapping to get him to release me, I forged ahead. “Forget it. Pretend you never met me.”

  “A little hard to do when you’re wrapped around my heart.”

  “Sure, make me feel worse.”

  “I’m speaking the truth. I went away for three long years thinking about nothing but you. There’s still a lot to work through, I know. I’m trying. Let me make this right.”

  “Three years in which I didn’t think about you at all.” I said it to hurt him, of course. “There you go.”

  The sentence rattled him; I could tell from the way his skin twitched involuntarily near his temple. The flush of mottled red creeping up his neck.

  A dull pulsating began in the pit of my stomach, and I remembered the unyielding chill of the pickup at my back. The sweet taste of Isaac on my tongue and hint of fall perfuming the air. Instead of giving in to emotion, I leveled my gaze.

  He ran his hands through his hair again until each strand stood on end, and I fought the urge to smooth them down. “Jesus Christ, woman, it isn’t a battle. You don’t have to get the fucking shield out whenever I start to probe deep. I see it on your face.”

  “I don’t do that.” I shook my head at his tone. “It’s called self-defense when someone is insulting you. Nothing more and nothing less.”

  “Yeah, I thought so. Next time you want to play games with someone, sugar, find another sucker. I’m done.”

  “Isaac, wait.”

  He held his hands up, taking careful steps backward. “You have nothing else to say to me. Nothing I want to hear, at any rate. Go back to your bakery and your customers. I’ll call the Health Department and make a full confession. A little confidence boost for you. You can be right about me after all.”

  “I don’t want to be right about you!” I yelled after him. “I want—” Stopping short, my lips flapped but the words refused to come.

  I didn’t know what I wanted.

  I watched him walk away, watched him get into his truck. I turned away, unable and unwilling to watch him leave. How had things gone downhill so quickly? Before I even realized it, the past had risen from the grave and reached out a skeletal hand to claim me.

  Now I stood on shaky legs, the backs of my eyes burning as I remembered...

  BLUE AND RED LIGHTS flashed, first one and then the other. Car doors slammed and there were seconds, mere seconds for me to make a run for it. Instead my feet grew roots and I watched the old brass doorknob for signs of movement. One turn and it would be over. The party, the methamphetamines. My life. Everything.

  Was this divine intervention to keep me from making the wrong choice? It sure felt like it.

  I cast a wide-eyed, panicky glance at Isaac. His brows drew together and there was no more prankster. No more easygoing fellow ready to protect my virtue.

  “Go!” he whispered roughly in my ear. A large hand found its way to my shoulder, pushing. Insistent. “Go now, sugar.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” I whirled around and grabbed his hand, squeezing it white-knuckled. “Isaac?”

  His gaze darted to the door. “If you don’t leave now, they’ll catch you, too.”

  “Come with me!”

  “They have my prints on the bag. I can’t go. They’ll come after me and how would that look?”

  “How did they get your—”

  “Go!”

  I glanced at Trent and Brad, thinking it kind of odd they were using their t-shirts to hastily shove the bags of white powder into any hiding spot they could find. They were frantic, like chickens with no heads, scampering about with no real purpose.

  Isaac’s fingernails bit into my skin. “Go!”

  A final shove had me stumbling toward the hallway and the small back door across from the bathroom. I didn’t look over my shoulder as I went out, just started running. Couldn’t turn back for fear I would be caught once more. Caught in the web of attraction that kept drawing me to Isaac’s side. Though it tore me apart to leave him to face the consequences, I had no choice.

  Isaac stomped his feet heavily, drawing the attention to himself and giving me the much-needed time to make an escape.

  I ran.

  Ten days later he was in shackles in the courtroom, alone. Brad had been released on a technicality—contaminated evidence—and Trent because his father used to be a bigwig. Where were the fingerprints? the former mayor insisted. My son is
innocent! It’s the Howard boy. He concocted the whole scheme and took advantage of Brad and my son.

  When the time came to point fingers, both boys did so in unison, and both pointed to Isaac. Their scapegoat.

  I was watching from the gallery when Isaac turned to me and pleaded. Not with words, but with his eyes. I understood keenly his request. Tell them the truth. Don’t let the others get away with this.

  Instead I found my lips zipped tighter than a miser’s coin purse. And I watched the light leave his eyes as Isaac realized I wasn’t coming to his defense.

  I DIDN’T BLAME HIM for being angry with me. I’d been selfish, focused on protecting my dreams instead of his. There were nights I couldn’t sleep as I raged at my own weakness. Why hadn’t I stood up for him? After all he’d done for me, with what did I repay him?

  My silence. His forfeited future.

  And yet I still wanted him. Foolish woman. I wanted him to reach for me. Even now, I wanted him to run after me and say it had all been a mistake. He hadn’t used the word love at all. He hadn’t used the word hate in the same sentence. It was all a product of my overworked imagination.

  Instead I listened to my own footsteps as I paced the porch.

  “Goddammit!”

  The expletive had me turning around in time to see Isaac slamming the truck door and rushing forward.

  “I told you to leave!” I nearly screamed, pointing toward the pickup. “Don’t you get it? There’s nothing left to say!”

  He was coming for me. He was reaching for me. Running and saying—

  “You’re going to listen to me this time.” His hands on my shoulders, I had nowhere to go. My eyes locked with his, a moment before his lips fell. Our tongues clashed in a silent battle of wills with no winner.

  His mouth sent a fire scorching its way through my body until I ached for him. He was the only man who had ever made me want him to the point of insanity. The one who brought pain along with pleasure. His touch lanced through my heart, stabbing deep.

  Isaac crushed me against his chest as a storm of emotions raged through me. The unique flavor of him took me under until each nerve ending stood to attention. Those muscled arms banded around my torso, our hearts matching tempo, both galloping, racing.